Just then, a knock sounded through the apartment, and she couldn't help but stiffen, her eyes shooting over to the front door.
“It's okay, darling. The food is right on time.”
He quickly got the bags, paid the person at the door, and closed it before coming back to her.
“I hope you like tender chicken drowned in gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans.”
Her mouth watered at the aroma that filled the room as soon as he opened the containers.
“Yes. That sounds perfect!”
Another growl from her stomach chose that moment to follow her words, and Bret barked out another laugh, but at least this time, he didn't look like he was going to bust a gut.
“Okay, okay. I'm starving. Happy?”
“I will be once you finish eating,” he replied, grinning.
Nikki wanted to moan as the first piece of chicken seemed to fall apart in her mouth.
“Oh my God, this is good.”
Bret nodded, chewing his own steak. Nikki happened to glance over and spied the food on his plate. Her eyes widened at the sight.
“Dear Lord, are you seriously going to eat all of that?”
“What?” Bret looked down at the two plates in front of him. One contained two steaks, and the other had mashed potatoes and green beans. He looked over at her, confused. “Yeah, why?”
Nikki shook her head as she took another bite and couldn’t contain the moan this time. “Just seems like a lot, that's all,” she said, flushing at her rudeness.
Bret grinned. “Darling, I'm a bear and a growing boy. Have to have my protein!”
Before long, Nikki couldn't take another bite. She felt like she was going to explode and couldn't remember the last time she had eaten that much. She looked down at her empty plate in shock.
“I ate it all! No wonder I can't move!”
Finishing the last bite of his own food, Bret chuckled. “You were hungry. Nothing wrong with that.”
Standing up, he started to stack the plates, but Nikki stopped him with one look.
“You paid and set the table. I’ll clean up.”
She saw the protest forming and added, “Please.”
He still hesitated but nodded. “Okay. I have some paperwork to do. I'll start on that until you're ready to head back down.”
Nikki got up when he headed for the couch and in minutes, had the table and kitchen cleaned.
Once finished, she stood in the doorway of the living room and stared at his bent head, his focused expression as he stared at his laptop. She shook her head at the piece of metal on the coffee table. It looked just as ancient as the hunk of junk that had been in his office that morning, but she didn't say anything. She wasn't here to change the man; she was just there to work.
He caught her looking and smiled. The sight of that smile did something to her, something she hadn't felt in years, if ever.
“That was fast. You ready to head downstairs and tackle my mess?” he teased as he stood up and stretched. The black T-shirt highlighted every tight muscle that protruded from the action, and she could barely nod, unable to speak past the lump in her throat as she watched him. Embarrassed, she turned around and tried to stare at anything but the man in front of her.
Walking back into the office didn't give her the same amount of horror as it had that morning. The little pile of papers was stacked neatly in one corner of the desk, the rest filed away accordingly, and the furniture, all of the furniture, gleamed. Best of all, there was a brand-new desktop sitting on the desk, waiting for her.
“Now that's what I'm talking about!”
Bret laughed. “I'm glad you're happy. Now I better get this place ready to open for the night. You going to be okay?”
She didn't answer, already immersed in setting up her system.
The door closed quietly as she started to work.
Bret left the office but didn’t move far before he had one of his trusted bouncers watching the door. Nodding to the man at the door, he walked into an empty bar and spied Travis sitting on a stool facing the door, a beer sitting on the counter behind him half full.
“Hey,” Bret said, sliding on the stool beside him. His waitress had come in a few minutes before and was on the other side of the club, wiping tables down and putting the chairs on the floor. Seeing Bret, she walked over behind the bar counter and handed him a beer. Nodding his thanks, he popped the top and turned back toward Travis.
“Hey,” Travis responded.
Bret noticed his narrowed eyes scanning the empty room. “What did you find out?” Bret asked tensely. The fact that his Alpha was more alert than normal was a red flag, and Bret tensed even more.
Travis shook his dark head and met his eyes, the black orbs showing the surface of his wolf, the rage barely hidden by the essence of his human side. That was never good.
“It's bad,” he said grimly. “We’re talking the worst scum imaginable.”
Bret wasn't surprised, and his own eyes hardened as he waited impatiently.
“Her husband is mob, but that I could have handled myself. It's the sex trafficking ring that Jackson discovered.”
Bret felt his heart drop. Son of a bitch. He knew the look of rage and had a feeling Travis was remembering another type of ring, an underground shifters ring that had almost destroyed the woman he loved.
“Is he sure?” Bret asked harshly. He thought of Nikki back in the office and glanced over. His guard was still stationed by the door, making him feel a tad better but not by much.
Jackson Maddox was ex-military like him, but where Bret was Army, Jackson had been special OPs, secretive shit that Bret didn't even want to know about.
He saw Travis’s jaw clench as he nodded. “Yeah, he found a small trail of breadcrumbs the bastard left.”
Meaning bodies.
Bret thought of Nikki and imagined her lying in a ditch somewhere, and his bear fought to break free, the coarse hair barely visible to the eye.
“Calm down, Bret,” Travis ordered.
At the command from his Alpha, the bear retreated, and Bret took a deep breath before taking a long gulp of his beer. The cold liquor shot down his throat, but it didn't help to put out the fire of rage that coursed through his veins.
Just fucking great. Now we have two rings to take down!
“Jackson said a drop is supposed to happen Friday, which gives us three days to prepare.”
“Drop?”
Travis’s jaw tightened again. “Yeah. A group of girls is being transported. Midnight. Near the warehouse off of Cedar Street.”
In short, they were being sold.
Bret ran his long fingers through his black hair as his thoughts raced. Three days wasn’t long to plan, but it would be enough.
Travis placed his beer back on the counter after taking a swig. “I’d feel better if Nikki stayed at the pack house.”
Bret shook his head. “She won’t go. She barely consented to staying with me, and she’s still hesitant. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safe.”
“It’s not a matter of keeping her safe, Bret. It’s a matter of twenty-four seven protection. At the house, they’ll have less of a chance to snatch her.”
Bret silently agreed with that assessment, but he wasn’t going to force her to go, and Travis acknowledged his look with a sigh of his own.
“Fine, but I’m sending Noah to help. I trust him. I’ll pull Patrick from the detail I have him on, temporarily, and have him stay at the house.”
Bret nodded. “Thanks, Travis,” he said quietly as they stood up from the bar. The waitress unlocked the door just as the first few customers strolled inside. With it being Tuesday night, it wouldn’t be jammed, but even during the weeknights, it could get busy.
Travis slapped him on the back. A normal man would have gone tumbling under the pressure, but Bret didn’t move.
“You’re family; it goes without saying. And believe me,” Travis added, a glint of satisfaction glistening in his blue eyes, “I’ll
get pure enjoyment out of killing the bastards selling girls on the black market.”
So would Bret.
Chapter 7
It had only been three days, and Nikki hadn't left the club or apartment. Sam and Vanessa had been by to visit, but that was it, and Nikki was okay with that. She didn't want company. She wanted to remain hidden and invisible. Bret had been gone a lot, and she didn't know where, nor did she really care. Well, she did in a way, in a confusing, exasperating way, but with a mental shrug, it was what it was. She wasn't dead and hadn't been hit in three days, so she was more thankful on that score. The bruises had faded to a nasty purple and yellow highlight, and she probably looked like death, but again, she didn't care. She had no one she cared to impress.
She stayed locked in either the office downstairs getting his books in order or the apartment, trying to pretend her life wasn't as fucked up as it was. Her feet dragging up the back steps to his place, she sighed, more tired than she had let on to anyone. Sleep was still elusive, just out of reach each night. She looked behind her and spied her ever present shadow of protection. She really didn't know Zach, but for some reason, she did feel safer knowing he watched her back. He was silent, barely speaking, but he was there.
“Thanks, Zach,” she said over her shoulder.
Not expecting a reply and not getting one, she started to open the door, but Zach moved, stopping the motion of the door.
“Wait.”
One word and she froze.
Zach slowly pushed her back behind him and withdrew the gun he always carried.
“What is it?” she asked, forcing the words out past a tight throat.
Fear had her in its grip as image after image of her husband or his hired thugs flashed through her mind.
The apartment was dark and silent, which was normal at one in the morning, but it was the narrowed look of the man beside her, the intensity that turned his dark eyes almost red that concerned her.
“I don't know,” he finally responded. “Stay behind me.”
With that, he finished opening the door and stood there for a moment as he looked around. Suddenly, Nikki heard him growl, and her heart seemed to stop. She knew that sound.
Oh, God.
“I'm going to shift. Don't panic.”
Bones cracking, breaking, and mending filled the silence as she watched in shock, fascinated by something she still didn't understand.
A huge black bear stood in the doorway, the gun on the ground beside him. He turned, his eyes black, and stared at her. Nikki saw his gaze shoot down to the gun and then back at her. She got the point and bent down, picking up the cold metal with a shaking hand.
“I hate guns,” she whispered. It almost seemed like he rolled his eyes but turned his furry head and walked into the apartment. His steps silent, he stayed by her side.
A crash from the bedroom stopped them both in their tracks for a split second, but then Zach took off with a vicious roar, jumping over the back of the couch with a clean line of his large body. Another crash and then the scream. Nikki was frozen, the gun at her side, limp. The scream was cut off as soon as it hit the silence. She couldn't move, paralyzed. She should have been safe. She should have been…
Suddenly, she saw the shadow and, without thinking, lifted the gun and fired, missing the target completely.
“Fuck, Nikki. It's me!” Zach shouted, dodging the next bullet. She jerked, and the gun fell from her shaking fingers. Her breathing ragged, she felt him beside her as he bent down and picked up the gun.
“Thank God you're a lousy shot. That would have fucking hurt,” he muttered, straightening. He walked over and bent down to what remained of his clothes, rags now. He grabbed his cell from the pocket of his torn jeans.
She turned and flipped on the light by the door, but that was probably a mistake, as she gasped, her eyes widening even further. A mostly naked man stood in front of her, his dark head bent as he put the gun in the shorts that hung loosely from his hips. He put the cell to his ear as he caught her look.
“Bret is slightly bigger,” he said ironically.
That was an understatement. They looked like they were about to fall off, but it was the blood on his broad chest that had her eyes glued to him.
Ignoring her stare, he answered the voice on the other line. “Yeah, it's Zach.”
She didn't hear the rest, as her gaze left the blood on him and shot over to the door of the bedroom. The scream… Someone had been inside waiting for her. By the looks of Zach, whoever it was didn't pose a threat anymore, but that didn't make her feel better. For all of her struggle to remain hidden, her husband had found her.
Throat tightening, she took a step back toward the door, but Zach stopped her, grabbing her arm.
He ended the call, his large hand still on her arm, and closed the cell.
“Where do you think you're going?” he asked calmly.
She jerked her arm out of his grasp. The fear threatened to bring up her sandwich she had had a few hours before as she struggled to breathe.
“He's found me. I have to leave,” she choked.
She turned again, but the door slammed shut behind her, and she squeaked before turning to glare at him.
“If you leave, you're dead. I just killed a man, so you're not going anywhere. Bret is on his way.”
It could have been minutes or hours. She didn't know; time was irrelevant at the moment. Bret shot through the door, and his dark eyes found her immediately, sitting on the couch a few feet away.
He stalked over to her, and she gasped as he pulled her up and into his arms. He tightened his embrace, stealing what breath she had.
“Bret, let her go. The poor girl can't breathe!”
He loosened his arms, but he didn't let her go, and she drew in her first real breath since it had all happened. Her heartbeat slowed, returning to normal as she stood there. Bret was here. She didn't question her feeling of safety in his arms. Only that she was safe, at least for the moment.
“Are you okay?” he whispered harshly against the top of her head.
Nodding, she pulled free, and Bret relinquished his hold reluctantly.
Travis stood behind him, along with another man she didn't know.
“Nikki, this is Noah, another of my enforcers,” Travis added.
She got a good look at the men, and her eyes widened. “Why are you guys half naked? And why is there blood on you?”
She knew why Zach was covered in blood, but so were Bret, Travis, and Noah. There was blood on their chests, but they all had jeans on, so she was thankful for that at least.
Travis didn't answer her as he turned to Bret.
“Take her down to the club. We’ll clean up here and be down.”
The command was more than the words, but Bret seemed to understand as he nodded.
Once downstairs in the bar, Nikki couldn't sit still and started to pace.
“Are you going to tell me what happened? And where have you been?” she demanded, her hands on her hips as she glared at him from across the room where he stood by the long bar.
Glasses clinked as he made himself something to drink, and she waited impatiently for the explanation that never came.
“In due time.” His head snapped back as he gulped down his scotch on the rocks.
And for the first time in her life, she growled with frustration, suddenly sick of being treated like a child, like fine china that would break with one touch, one word. It was all she could do not to stomp her foot like said child.
Bret shot her a look over his shoulder, and something flashed in his eyes, something she couldn't name.
They stared at each other, their eyes locked.
The door opened, breaking the strange connection, and she watched as Travis, Zach, and Noah entered the room, still in their jeans, but the blood was gone.
Bret and Travis shared a look, and Bret nodded as he turned from the bar, leaning back against the small counter.
Before she could say anything, Trav
is cut to the chase as he stared over at her. “The body has been removed. Nikki, did you know your husband was selling girls on the black market?”
Shock hit her as his words felt like a punch to the gut.
“Jesus, Travis!”
“Damn, man.”
Travis ignored the outbursts of his men as he kept his eyes on her.
“What?” she whispered, her stomach heaving with the urge to puke. A sick feeling invaded at his revelation. The room spun, her thoughts racing with his sickening words.
Girls. Sold. Black market.
Nauseated, the bile rose, and Bret jumped toward her just as she heaved, little bits of bread and lettuce coming up and hitting the trash can just in the nick of time.
Gagging on the bile, someone held her hair as she bent over, her shoulders heaving as the yellow acid choked her.
“Fuck, Travis! Was there a point to blurting it out like that?” someone asked from above her. It could have been Bret or one of the other men. She didn't know.
Nothing left to throw up, Bret led her over to the small loveseat against the far wall and sat her down.
“Bret, what is he talking about?” she whispered, finally lifting her gaze up, way up, to meet his.
Sighing, Bret ran his fingers through his rumpled hair as he sat down beside her, the trash can at his feet.
“Your husband is involved in sex trafficking, Nikki,” he finally answered. “We got word that a drop was happening tonight, which is where we were. We saved three girls—fifteen years old.”
If she had anything left in her stomach, it would have come up then.
“Samantha took them to a safe house,” Bret added quietly.
Nikki felt her eyes burn and closed them before the first tear fell. She had thought it was awful when it was just her, but to find out that other girls had suffered...that it wasn't just her…
Bret hated how pale Nikki looked, and he hoped Travis was fucking happy with himself. He resisted the urge to glare at the damn man but kept his eyes on Nikki and her waxy expression of horror. He knew why his Alpha had done it, but that didn't mean he liked it. Travis had wanted to see how much she had known, but given her sick reaction to the news, she hadn't known shit.
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