Page 152 of Double Bucked

But could I take them all before they take Ransom out?

That fear is enough to keep me in check. For now.

The guard comes back around. I ask him, “What am I walking into, exactly?”

His gaze levels with mine. “A feeding frenzy. Good luck.”

He reaches for a glass doorknob, twists it, and opens, gesturing me inside. I enter the room and immediately understand the warning.

What was, I assume, a once-elegant library has been transformed into a den of sin. The room is dark, lit only by flashes of blue and purple strobe lights. Grecian statues have sex toys hanging off them. The music is loud—this dull, roaring heartbeat. A sick, slow thumping. Women and men hang off each other. Clutching each other. Dancing. Moaning. Fucking.

I’m spinning. Every step I take feels like I’m pushing through wet sand. I stumble over a bottle of champagne left on the floor, kicking it, and fall forward, barely catching myself on the table.

A hand slides over my back. Female. I feel the nails. The sharpness tingles all through my body as she purrs in my ear, “Having trouble, honey?”

“Poor baby,” another voice chimes in beside me. Lips find my throat. “Let mama kiss it better.”

Get off of me, I want to say, but my throat is tight. Dry.

And my body…it’s responding. Warming to their touches.

I hate myself for it.

The mix of uncontrollable arousal and intense revulsion makes me shake. The lionesses, encouraged, continue their onslaught of bold touches.

I need an out.

There’s a sudden flash of light. I glance up and see a door open and close, a man exiting it.

Bathroom.

I extract myself from the women. Untangling them is like stepping out of an octopus embrace, but I manage it. My body is so heavy it feels as though there is someone grabbing my ankles, dragging behind me as I force myself forward toward the bathroom.

I push inside. I’m met with bright, clean light, and when the door closes behind me, it muffles that horrible noise. There are other men in here—shirtless, their bodies glistening, chatting loudly together—but I ignore them and grab hold of a sink.

I turn on the water and splash myself. My face is numb. I barely feel it.

I don’t recognize the man in the mirror. Hair askance. Clothes stained with sweat. Color drained from my face.

There’s a tag on my ear. I touch it. Pierced through my earlobe is a plastic, yellow tag. On the tag, a QR code.

I’ve been tagged. Like cattle. Like fucking cattle.

“Amigo!” An arm is flung around me. I’m accosted by a spicy cologne and a crooked grin. “Look who joined the party!”

It’s Rafe. Ransom’s friend. From Maeby’s. He’s wearing no shirt, tight pants, too much glitter, too much cologne, and the same yellow tag in his ear with his own unique code.

“First time, eh?” he continues. His eyes are wide, but his irises are small, tiny dots. “First time’s always a shocker. Go with the flow, yes? Look at you. The ladies love you.” He catches my chin and gives me an affectionate shake. Like a dog. If my limbs weren’t rubber, I’d murder him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial. “If you want,” he offers. “Keeps you…up ’n at ’em, as they say.”

Cocaine. Party drugs. This is not my scene.

But…

I feel like I’m underwater. I need to get my heart rate up.

I need to find Claire. I need to find Ransom.

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