by Naomi West
“It starts late. But I understand. Just thought I’d mention it.”
Sara went out to the hostess stand to report in and get her tables for the night. As she went about taking orders and serving customers, the thought kept coming back to her. This was the way to solve all her money problems. She could pay off the tuition and keep Ian in his school. One night. Couldn’t she handle one night?
It wasn’t like she was a virgin or a saint. She’d slept with plenty of guys, and some one night stands. Some drunken escapades she barely remembered. Maybe if she got drunk enough, she could do it. Wasn’t she crazy to turn down all that money? It was only sex. Only a few hours of the use of her body. How bad could it be?
Every time she pictured it, though, the idea turned her stomach. She’d be bid on by men who wanted to screw her. Then they’d take her who knew where and do it. And she would have no say over the guy. What if he was too rough? What if it was painful? No, there was no way. No amount of money was worth giving up that much self respect.
As her shift ended and she collected her tips, there seemed to be a thick wad in her pocket. But as she counted, there were a lot of ones. More than she thought. She walked out with a few hundred in tips, but that wasn’t enough to cover even the rent and groceries, let alone have extra for the school bill.
Sara sat in her car, clutching her wad of cash, staring ahead at the brick wall of the restaurant. It was only one night.
She picked up her phone and sent a text to Jessica. “Where is this auction?”
Jessica texted back a few minutes later with the address and added, “It’s in some warehouse.”
The address was in the city, in an area that was one of the worst. She swallowed hard and again weighed her options. One awful night to keep Ian in his school, or have to tell him he’d be going to public school in January. With all the violence and drugs and lack of real education. She shook her head. She would do anything for her son, and apparently, she’d do anyone.
“Thanks,” she sent back to Jessica.
“You sure about this?”
“Yup.”
By the time she got home, she’d decided the only thing she could think of was her next step. If she let her mind wander too far into the future, she felt sick. Right now she needed to call her neighbor.
“Hey Patty,” Sara said when the woman answered. “Would you be able to keep Ian overnight by any chance?”
“Oh sure, honey. Do you have a date?” Patty’s voice dripped with hope and excitement.
“I do.” Sara forced a smile, hoping it would make her cheer sound genuine.
“Oh, I’m so excited for you! How nice. Don’t you worry. He’ll be just fine here.”
“I’ll get him in time to take him to school in the morning.”
“Okay, that’s just fine. Have a great night.”
When she got home, Sara went inside and took a shower. She did her hair and makeup like she was going on a real date. She guessed she had to make these guys want to bid on her. She stood in front of her closet in her lacy underwear, deciding what to wear. She settled on a tight-fitted dress that she normally wore a cardigan over. It was a little short and a little low cut and very tight.
When she thought she looked as slutty as possible, Sara got back in her car and drove to the address Jessica had given her. The apprehension welled in her chest. Good thing she hadn’t eaten tonight. She’d be puking it all over herself.
She pulled up to the warehouse and watched the people heading into the building. They certainly didn’t look like nice, upstanding citizens. They weren’t the classy parents at Ian’s school, or even the customers at the high-end restaurant she waitressed at in the mornings. But they also didn’t look like some kind of street thugs. There were a lot of motorcycles, but these guys looked okay. Maybe like the guys who came into the restaurant where she worked with Jessica. Sometimes they got drunk and said crass things to them, but mostly, they were harmless.
One man wore jeans that were clean and loose-fitting, but not too baggy. He had on a button down shirt and a leather jacket. He was dressed decently. When he turned back to get something from the pack on his bike, she saw his face. Whoa. This guy was actually gorgeous. Short dark hair, a close-trimmed beard, and eyes that even from this distance looked intense. As he moved, his muscles strained his jeans and jacket. He looked tough, but she thought if she ended up with a guy like that, maybe she wouldn’t mind sleeping with him so much.
The hot guy went inside and as she got out of her car, another man on a motorcycle pulled up. This one almost sent her back to her car. He was exactly what she didn’t want. Long, scraggy beard that looked both unkempt and greasy, t-shirt dirty with grease smudges and stretched over his round belly. Jeans that needed a belt, they were falling down so bad. Maybe hadn’t shaved or washed his hair in a week. When he saw her, he gave her a leering grin and made a kissy face at her.
Somehow, she sucked up the courage to go inside.
Chapter Two
Saxton Mirth took his gun from his bike’s pack and tucked it into the back of his jeans. He never went anywhere without it, and these days, he was prepared to use it at any moment. He had to find the guy who killed Liam. And when he did, Saxton would empty his gun into him. Every time Saxton thought of Liam’s death, he wanted to punch something, and he wanted to find who was responsible and beat the piss out of him before killing him like he’d killed Liam.
Saxton locked up his bike and headed for the door of the large warehouse. This Christmas party had better be good. Plenty of food and booze, plenty of women. The last thing he wanted to do was celebrate. After losing his second in command to cold-blooded murder, revenge was the only thing on his mind these days. It was consuming him.
Partly, he was so obsessed because he felt like he should have found out who was responsible by now. It had been six months since Liam was found dead. And not just found dead, but found shot in the back of the head, his body left in a heap of blood and brains in a dark alley. The club patch had been torn from his jacket and shredded.
Saxton’s MC, the Jagged Souls, might have more than a few enemies. But no one would ever do such a despicable thing. There might be fighting and sometimes someone was hurt or killed, but you didn’t just flat out murder someone and not even have the decency to look them in the eyes when you killed them. And then to further disrespect them by tearing a club patch? You might as well have issued a command for all out war. And no respectful MC would do that. No one wanted war.
Whoever had done it needed to know that you didn’t mess with the Jagged Souls like that and that you most definitely did not murder the second in command. The guy who’d done it was either incredibly stupid or had huge balls. Either way, he was a dead man walking.
But Saxton’s leads had grown cold and he felt no closer to avenging Liam’s death than he had the day he got the news. He was getting anxious over it and his anger grew by the hour. Probably why his guys had nearly kicked him out the door. He needed to take a break, they said. He needed to loosen up. Maybe having a night to relax would help clear his mind and help him think. And the party was in the part of the city where the murder had taken place. Maybe someone there knew something.
The door of the warehouse closed behind him and Saxton paused to take in his surroundings. Huge, open space. Metal walls. Stage at one end, bar at the other. A few small tables set up in between. It didn’t seem well designed for mingling. The stage was well lit, but the rest of the place wasn’t. Would there be some sort of entertainment, then? Maybe it was a stripper party. That’d be okay.
It was pretty well packed and, to his dismay, he saw mostly men. Well, so much for picking up a lady and getting laid tonight. He’d have to settle for getting drunk instead. He started to walk to the bar, when someone tapped on a microphone. Saxton turned his attention to the stage, where a man stood in front of the mic.
“We’re about to begin. Gentlemen—or not so gentle men—get your cash ready for these hot ladies!”
Hmm. So this was an auction? Not much of a party, but Saxton had plenty of cash on him. He always carried tons of cash. A few grand should be enough to win the bid for a hot little piece. Maybe he wouldn’t end up alone tonight after all.
His guys must’ve known what this was when they sent him here. He wondered if they would be meeting up with him after all, or if he was on his own. So, they thought he needed to get laid. Needed to really loosen up and forget himself for a night. Then that’s what he would do, and he’d do it well.
He continued to the bar and ordered a drink, then found a seat at an empty table in the back. What was he in the mood for tonight? Brunette? Blonde? The rare red head? Didn’t matter much, really. So long as she gave good head and let him do her from behind.
He downed a large gulp of his drink and took stock of the other waiting and horny men. Several back patches featuring MCs in the area. He knew all the MCs in Chicago and its surrounding areas. Was part of his job as the Jagged Souls leader to know the other MCs and their leaders. To make friends where it benefited them and to know who wasn’t friendly at all. He had talked to every one of them who wasn’t a straight-out enemy in the first week after Liam’s death. No one knew anything. Then he’d gone to the leaders of the MCs who were considered enemies, and still, nothing.
The patch shredding made him believe the murderer was a biker. If it had been a random shooting, something not related to their lifestyle, why would anyone bother to go that far? How would they even understand how significant a back patch was and what it meant to deface one? A non-biker probably would think it was just decoration on the back of a leather jacket, not a sign of status and loyalty. Wouldn’t know what it took to earn that patch or how much it meant to the wearer. Had Liam had enemies no one knew about? Something in his personal life maybe? Maybe he’d nailed the wrong woman or screwed someone over on a business deal.
If Liam had had any hint that someone was after him, though, he would have come to him. He wouldn’t have walked around waiting to be killed. He’d have backup with him, and more likely, he’d go after whoever was after him and get to him first. Liam had been the second in command for a reason. He didn’t play games and he didn’t mess around and he didn’t get himself shot in the back of the head.
Too many unanswered questions, and it was turning his stomach, like it always did, to think too hard on it. Saxton slammed his empty glass on the table. A waitress who’d been near leaned over him.
“Need another?” she asked.
Saxton nodded once and she took the glass. When she returned, he handed her a ten—enough for a tip—and wasted no time finishing this drink off, too. His mind started to go fuzzy at the ends and it was enough to let him focus on himself and his throbbing dick. It’d been far too long since he’d been laid.
The guy returned to the microphone and blabbed on and on about how amazing these women were and that they deserved top dollar. Right. Because anyone okay with joining in an auction to sell themselves off for the night was clearly a high-class woman. He harrumphed to himself and let his finger trail around the edge of his empty glass.
Not that he minded. In fact, he didn’t prefer high-class ladies at all. Too much hassle. He needed someone he could throw on the back of a bike and go, not someone who worried so much about her hair that she complained over wearing a helmet or letting the wind have its way. And these women tonight were surely the biker-loving type or they wouldn’t be here.
Saxton sat back and watched as the first woman came out on stage. A black-haired, full bodied woman with huge knockers. Wasn’t really his style, though. He preferred a nice ass. She was apparently lots of guys’ style, though. She danced a little and made sexy faces at the men and went for just over 4k.
The next woman was a blonde, but didn’t do much for him. She was hot enough, but she had this attitude like men better bid on her or else. Sometimes that cockiness was nice, but he wasn’t in the mood tonight. He wanted someone who wouldn’t give him any hassle. Easy, simple.
Most of the girls went for between four and six thousand. He didn’t mind that price since most of it was going right to the girl. The worst was when you knew what you paid went right to the pimp and the poor girl doing all the work got little. But in this case, the women seemed happy to be participating and they were getting most of the reward. They wore hot lingerie that showed off the goods and appeared comfortable on the stage, offering themselves up. Either they were professionals or really needed the money and were okay doing whatever they had to to get it.
By the seventh woman, though, he was getting annoyed. Plenty of them were hot. He wouldn’t mind screwing most of them. But none of them were hot enough that he wanted to pay up a few grand for a few hours. She would have to be really exceptional for him to make that commitment. Especially when he could walk a block or two and get a screw for a hundred bucks.
Just as Saxton was thinking about leaving, the last woman was sent out on the stage. He had stood to leave, but when she walked out, he stopped. What in the world? This woman was wearing a dress—a full dress. The other girls had barely been wearing bras and panties, but this one was all covered up in a deep red that clung her skin.
She also look terrified. She was blonde, and it looked good on her. Nice and light golden hair framing her pink face. Her makeup was heavy, and he guessed she didn’t wear it like that often. The makeup helped the fact that she’d gone pale with fright, but it didn’t hide it entirely.
What in the world was she doing here? Did she not know what this auction was all about? If she was so afraid, why was she doing this at all? Did she need the money that badly?
He watched her, captivated. Where the other women had stood up there, shaking their booties and giving sexy little dances, this woman just stood there, her fingers rubbing the bottom hem of her dress.
Something inside him stirred. His dick was hard, yes, but it was more than that. He had a sudden urge to protect her. Maybe because she looked so fragile and these guys seemed too harsh. Any one of them might break her. But he would take her home and give her a nice fuck. Not violent, but just rough enough to make her scream in pleasure. She looked like she hadn’t had a good lay in a long time.
The man behind the mic said, “Meet Cinnamon. She’s just as sweet as can be. Take her home and lick her all over.”
The woman’s face went pink when he said this. She must have been embarrassed and he wondered who had talked her into this. Or why she needed money so badly that she’d do this? She didn’t look like an addict, so drug money was out. Maybe she had a sick parent or something. Yeah, Cinnamon seemed just sweet enough to sacrifice herself for someone she loved.
He stood toward the back, his eyes trained on her, watching her every reaction.
“Who will start the bidding for this piece of sweetness?”
A man at the front shot his hand into the air. “A thousand bucks!”
Cinnamon’s eyes widened, then when she looked at the man who had bid, she gulped.
Another man spoke up. “A thousand five!”
She seemed a little less dubious of this one. But Saxton knew him, and he was not a nice guy. In fact, most of these guys weren’t nice when it came to girls. The more Saxton stared at her, the more he knew she didn’t deserve one of these creeps. She deserved better than him, too, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He could step in and save her, though.
Saxton raised his hand and said, “Two thousand.”
Several people turned to look at him. But he was watching Cinnamon. When their eyes met, her face relaxed. Good. He knew he was pretty good looking. It’d never been hard for him to get a girl. But right now, she was the only one he wanted. And she seemed to be okay with him bidding, more so than the others.
The guy up front who’d made the first bid narrowed his eyes slightly at him and raised his hand again. “Two thousand five!”
Several men jumped in quickly after that and sent the bid up to five thousand. They must be hot f
or the quiet, delicate type. Or were they imagining all the ways they’d try to break her? Maybe they thought they’d get her to do anything because she wouldn’t speak up. She’d be nervous and compliant. And she’d be taken advantage of.
“Six thousand!” Saxton said, his hand in the air again.
Cinnamon gave him a hopeful look. Seemed like she wanted him as bad as he wanted her. He raised an eyebrow at the guy up front, challenging him to outbid him. The man’s hand twitched like he was going to raise it, then he folded his arms over his chest and grunted at him.
“Going once,” the guy with the mic said.
Saxton looked over the crowd to see if anyone would dare bid against him.
“Seven,” came a hard voice from across the room.
Cinnamon looked over and her face drained even further of color. And rightly so. Darien, the leader of a rival MC, was a nasty man. Tonight he looked as greasy as ever with his shiny black hair hanging in stringy pieces around his face. He wore his leather jacket, but also leather pants. His jacket had spikes along the shoulder. Unnecessary.