Glitter and Greed (Brooklyn Brothers #4)

by Melanie Munton

  I would follow him anywhere.

  Even when I was dressed in next to nothing. Even with my heart close to beating out of my chest. Even with clammy palms and trembling legs, I trusted Luka to get all of us out of here alive.

  “Should be almost there,” he murmured quietly over his shoulder as he took another sharp left turn, down another dark, narrow tunnel beneath the city.

  This was obviously an older section of the underground system. Whereas The Slaughterhouse was mostly cracked concrete, steel doors, and newer metal piping, this tunnel was lined with aged stone and dirt floors. Our path was lit by torches sporadically placed along the walls. The fires flickered, casting a yellowish glow and illuminating our three shadows. Rome walked behind me, playing his part as bodyguard in this ruse, with Luka leading our three-person charge into Hell.

  Luka was back to assuming his cover as The Undertaker, a ruthless fighter with a nasty temper. And I, once again donning the metal collar around my neck, was back to being his property. His slave. Proof of his faux pet-loving debauchery. The rumors of his fight with Dozier had already spread among this crowd of criminals and had apparently garnered Luka even more clout. Human traffickers respected him.

  He was struggling with all the lies. I could tell.

  But sometimes, lies were essential—necessary—to survival. Tonight, The Undertaker was in the market for another pet. Or two. As for Rome, there was nothing suspicious about bringing your own backup to a place like this.

  Rome just wasn’t our only backup.

  Ace and Enzo were both positioned somewhere in the intricate tunnel system, ready to move in. Cris and Nico were waiting at the entrance to the tunnel, near the abandoned 91st subway station, ensuring that no one made it past them with Gia or Luciana in tow. And, if all went according to this insane plan, Bryce and the NYPD calvary would storm the place when Luka gave them the signal.

  Frankly, it left a lot up to chance.

  But it was the only move we really had if we wanted to be inside that auction room when the sales took place.

  Sometimes, there was just no way to avoid risk.

  The farther we walked through this cavernous system, the more uneasy I felt. Not just because I was exposing so much skin in this sheer white dress that put the skimpy, diamond fringe bikini underneath on full display. But because I found it incredible that such powerful men would all be willing to congregate in such an enclosed space with only one way in or out. Luka speculated that they relied on the ironclad secrecy of the place. There was also the added bonus of having more control over the captured women’s movements.

  One-way traffic meant fewer opportunities for escape.

  It was also possible they assumed they were safe from discovery because you literally had to have the code Ivanov had given Luka just to find this place. No doubt, one could easily get lost in the vast system of dark, hollow channels. Each one looked like the one before it. Nothing differentiated them. No markers.

  I felt claustrophobic.

  Being buried alive was one of my biggest fears, and this was feeling eerily similar. The narrow walls felt like they were closing in on me. The air was thick and musty down here, dense with centuries-old dust and debris. You didn’t come from a village like mine without harboring a healthy fear of being buried alive. The cartel favored this means of torture so heavily, you heard stories every week of people disappearing, never to be seen again. Rumors would quickly spread that the missing were buried somewhere in the desert, their desperate screams for help going unheard. Every now and then, a random passerby would discover some remains. Buzzards might lead law enforcement to a body, but it was too late by then.

  Many of my nightmares ended with me being trapped in the dark.

  Beneath the earth.

  Slow, lonely suffocation.

  Light from ahead of us spilled across Luka’s body, bathing mine in shadow behind him. “Here we go,” he said over his shoulder in a low, ominous voice. “Stay right by my side, Cat. If anything goes down, you hide somewhere and wait until it’s safe to come out. Then you run like hell back to the entrance. You remember the code?”

  Staring at his profile, I nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Sí.”

  His only response was the clenching of his jaw.

  Not much had been spoken between us before we entered the tunnel. We’d fucked in bed that morning and later in the shower. He’d taken me against my apartment door when he’d seen what I was wearing. And we’d made out like crazy in another dark alley on the street right before entering the abandoned station. He’d attacked my mouth like we hadn’t fucked three times in a matter of hours. Like he hadn’t seen me in months. Or had never even kissed me at all, for that matter.

  We’d done a lot of not talking.

  Stifling guilt had been consuming me, hour by hour. Ever since my missed opportunity to confess the full truth that I’d omitted from my personal tale of woe. Luka didn’t know everything, but he deserved all the details. I owed him that.

  And as we were about to come face-to-face with countless, nameless devils, I suddenly wished we had talked. Not just about the secrets I still protected, but about what I’d been feeling. The truly important matters. Emotions that, if left unsaid and unshared, would be wasted.

  Who knew if I’d get another chance to tell him I was in love with him?

  No, I will. Our story will not end today.

  When we entered the dome-like room, my icepick stilettos clicking with every step I took, I felt a moment of surrealism hit me. I’d heard the stories, of course. I’d felt the fear since Luciana was taken. I knew places like this were real. But seeing it with my own eyes somehow made it all too…horrifying.

  For all intents and purposes, the space was fairly plain. Weathered brick and stone made up the walls and dirt-ridden floors. More torches lined the walls, accompanied by antique standing candelabras placed all around the surprisingly colossal room. I had no idea what this space had been used for when it was constructed, but it was massive. And at the front of the room was a rusted iron gang plank that hung from the ceiling by thick metal chains.

  There was no question…that’s where the women were lined up. Showcased. Purchased.

  I nearly wretched.

  Fighting back the image of Luciana being forced to stand up there to be gawked at before having money thrown at her, I let my gaze trail over the rest of the room. Men in expensive suits stood in anticipation, facing that gang plank. There were at least two dozen of them, of various ages, sizes, and ethnicities. A few were covered in tattoos, one wore a ponytail at the nape of his neck, one had a gold front tooth, another wore multiple layers of chains around his neck, and one was puffing on a fat cigar. Each of them was surrounded by armed men that stood guard at their boss’s back. Those men, in particular, watched our entrance to the room with suspicious, intense regard. Looking for a threat, waiting for sudden movements. But those deranged-looking men weren’t the ones holding my attention.

  I wasn’t the only woman here. There were two others.

  I had prepared myself to see kidnapped women in chains being led around like dogs on leashes.

  I had not prepared myself to see them on the other side of the gang plank. What they looked like after they were bought and owned. These two other women were seemingly in my same—fake—position. Wearing outfits similar to mine, scantily clad with lingerie beneath transparent dresses. One was a beautiful, young black woman in a neon orange frock, standing close to one of the apparent bosses. She stood so still with her head lowered, you’d think she was sleeping on her feet. I had to squint just to make sure she was even breathing.

  The other woman, a rail-thin redhead with pale white skin, was far less controlled. She was fidgeting with her hands and nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot. She wore an emerald green sheer dress and a jeweled bikini underneath. My heart fractured into a million pieces when I saw the bruises on her arms and legs.

  Even more disheartening was the r
ealization that she was new to the game.

  The black woman wasn’t.

  How long had these two women suffered at the hands of their captors? What had they already endured? Did they still hold any hope of being rescued?

  I was lightly nudged by Rome from behind. A clear message to play my part and act the submissive pet. I immediately lowered my head and watched my heeled feet move as we ambled through the room.

  “You must be the one they call The Undertaker,” one of the suited men said in a French accent as he approached Luka. He was on the short and thin side, with silver hair and leathery skin that had seen too much sun.

  “And why must I be?”

  I had no doubt that chilling voice was making the other man quake in his Gucci loafers.

  Gucci Loafer huffed. “I was told you looked like the kind of beast parents tell fearsome tales of to their children. Are you as lethal in a cage as everyone says?”

  Curious, I very discreetly peeked up at Luka. And shivered when his mouth curved into the coldest smile I’d ever seen on his face. “Anytime you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  Gucci Loafer’s confidence wavered for the briefest of moments before he tipped back his head and laughed. “Non, non. I have men to do that dirty work for me. My battles are fought with a checkbook.”

  Did he not think that whatever he did with that checkbook was dirty work? Going underground—where the sewer rats lived—to purchase human beings went beyond dirty. It was inhumane. Deplorable. Sadistic.

  And he’d made that remark with such a thick dose of arrogance, I could have choked on it. As if he were looking down on Luka for doing something so lowly as fighting, using his own fists to take care of business. He was looking at my man with an upturned nose, like he was some kind of uncultured barbarian. To make matters worse, I felt his lecherous gaze swing over to me and rake down my body, making my skin crawl.

  Luka snorted. “Some men can’t instill fear or respect without a checkbook. Clearly, my reputation precedes me.” He shrugged. “But I don’t even know your fucking name. Nor do I care.” Then he leaned in close, invading the other man’s space. “And don’t ever look at something of mine like that again.”

  He shoved past Gucci Loafers, shoulder-checking him as he went. I actually had the crazy impulse to smirk when the other man winced and stumbled back a step. That had certainly been no act on Luka’s part. That wasn’t The Undertaker playing his role.

  That was all Luka.

  As discussed, Luka didn’t look back at me, didn’t pay me much notice. It wasn’t like he was supposed to be a doting boyfriend, showering me with tender affection. The implication here was that I was his fuck toy.

  Toys weren’t cared for.

  They were simply used and thrown away when they’d fulfilled their purpose.

  Luka pushed his way through the small crowd and carved out a spot for the three of us in the center of the room. It amazed me how quickly these uber-wealthy men, who wielded God knows how much power and influence above ground, got out of Luka’s way. His brawler form attracted immediate notice, if not caution, not to mention the rumors they’d all probably heard about him. They came down here with their silk suits and diamond-encrusted watches, and they were cowing down to an ex-military Brooklyn gym owner.

  Even in that decrepit hellhole, pride crept up my spine.

  He was mine.

  That man belonged to me.

  A heavy wooden door in the corner of the room slowly groaned open, the creaky hinges cutting off the low murmurs around the room. Everyone’s attention was riveted on that door as a blond-haired man, whose head was too small for his body, came into view. Strapped across his bulky chest was a semi-automatic weapon, his fingerless-gloved hand gripping the hilt, finger poised right over the trigger.

  Then…they walked out.

  One by one, the captive women shuffled out in a single file line, their wrists bound together in front of them. My lungs seized, everything getting caught in my throat. So many emotions whirred through my mind in seconds—anger, disgust, rage, sympathy, sadness, and…hope. I prayed with every fiber of my being I would see Luciana. Gia too. If they were here, we could get them out. If not, the situation, and their safety, would be a lot grimmer. The women filed out the door and walked up the rickety steps onto the gang plank.

  No Gia or Luciana.

  My heart instantly dove off a cliff into despair. But I remembered Luka saying Ivanov had told him this was a big, “inventory-clearing” sale. Could these ten women be all there was? Surely there were more coming?

  I waited for someone to address the room. Someone had to be in charge, right? Like an—I gagged—auctioneer? Sure enough, just before the door closed behind the last woman with a resounding bang, another armed G.I. Joe came out in front of a dark-skinned man.

  My blood ran cold.

  Oh…Dios.

  Por favor, no, no, no.

  I barely stifled a gasp, but a noise still escaped as I wobbled in my heels. Rome steadied me with a hand on my arm.

  I knew that man.

  Would have recognized him anywhere. The man in the sharp maroon suit and open-collared shirt was none other than Alonso Garcia.

  Kingpin of the Garcia cartel.

  And. He. Knew. Me.

  I bent my head so low my neck ached. I could not, under any circumstances whatsoever, raise my head again. Because if he saw me, my life would be over. I would be finished. Everything changed for me in that moment. I needed to get Luciana out of here if I saw her. But I had to do it without Alonso seeing me. At all costs.

  I’d never been more terrified in my life.

  “Welcome, friends,” the Garcia leader said in greeting. “It’s nice to see some new faces here tonight, especially on such a special occasion.”

  The monsters around me all chuckled. As evil as it might sound, people like this just needed to be massacred. Wiped clean from the earth.

  “But I won’t waste any more of your time,” Alonso continued almost pleasantly. As if he were welcoming his guests to his dinner party. “We all know the rules here, yes? Quite simple. The highest bid takes home the prize.” He waved toward the lineup of women. “May I present, lot one of three. Sale opens now.”

  One of three?

  Appalling, yet my hope was restored. They could both still be here.

  I wanted to laugh hysterically at how civilized these demons pretended to be. There were no paddles or signs to make a bid. The men simply called out their price, their despicable voices echoing off the arched walls. Some of them won easily and some women were fought over between more than one man, their price climbing sky-high in the end. Tension rose as the night wore on, some of the buyers clearly miffed at losing a girl they wanted. Luka bid a few times for appearances sake, but unfortunately, he couldn’t make his move yet. I wanted all of these women rescued by the end of the night and returned to their families. But my highest priority was my own family. And Luka’s.

  After each woman was sold off, the second lot was brought out. Ten women per lot.

  Lot Two…nada.

  I felt sweat beginning to dot my forehead as anxiety crept up. If they weren’t in the last lot, I had no idea what I would do, what Luka would do, or what the hell was going to happen next. Nothing would ever be normal again. There was no way I could get my life back until Luciana had hers.

  The second lot was sold off and removed from the room with little drama.

  I waited with bated breath as the third and final ten were brought out and lined up. Alonso stood at the front of the crowd, his back to me, so I felt it somewhat safe to peek up through my lashes and watch as they were revealed. The tall blonde in front, the short brunette, the tiny Asian, the curvy blonde with tattoos on her waist, the—

  There she was.

  Gia.

  It was a struggle to control my body language when she came into view. We didn’t want anyone in this room realizing that we knew her, so I had to minimize my reac
tion. Amazingly, Rome and Luka remained completely still. They had to have been losing it on the inside, but whether it was their military training or what, they were able to show no outward reaction at all.

  When the door closed behind the women, there was no Luciana.

  Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I forced myself to concentrate on the matter at hand. Gia’s life was still in danger, and I had to help her. She had not only become a friend to me, she was in her own separate category, being that she was Luka’s sister. Given time, I could see our friendship blossom into a sisterhood.

  I would focus on Luciana later.

  Right now, Gia was the priority.

  She was second from the end, so we had to wait impatiently for the men to haggle over the other women. When I looked her over, wearing the same black bikini that all the women wore, I was grateful to see her skin free of any noticeable injuries. Her long black hair hung down to her waist and was a little tangled. She kept her gaze downcast, so I couldn’t see her face. All in all, she appeared okay. At least on the outside.

  If she would only look up, she would see that her brothers were here to save her. Then again, maybe it was a good thing she didn’t. In her frightened, desperate state, there was no telling what she would give away if she saw Luka and Rome.

  Luka made an appropriate number of bids on the other women, but unfortunately, there was no way to hide his interest when all attention fell on Gia. His voice boomed throughout the room when he called out his opening bid. Unsurprisingly, the other men looked reluctant to bid against him.

  All except for Gucci Loafers.

  “Three hundred thousand,” the man announced loudly, sending a hush over the room.

  That was by far the highest bid of the night. Luka peered around at the man who stood to his left, no doubt shooting him a warning look. When I slid a discreet side glance at him, the inept Frenchman was grinning widely—and snidely—at my boyfriend.

  “Told you,” Gucci Loafers sneered. “I do all my fighting with my checkbook. Comes in handy, though, non?”

  Luka was going to kill him.