Page 25 of Arran's Obsession

“Probably trying her luck.” I pressed the engine button, my lights illuminating the deserted plot.

Excitement was high when the game was running. People lied and begged for a place. It was one of the reasons we kept it so locked down.

Though not the main one.

“That’s the thing,” he continued. “I don’t think she’s lying. She has ID.”

What the fuck?

“I’m on my way,” I said, then hung up.

I was only fifteen minutes from the warehouse which sat at the west side of the centre of town, everything beyond giving way to an industrial zone along the river, including the location of the boathouse.

But instead of putting my foot down, I took a second to pull up the camera feed for the basement. Select few had access to this. The paying guests in the suites above, some in a room with drinks on tables, others locked up with one of the working women, getting off on the scene.

The violence. The blood.

My access allowed me to see everything, including the exterior shots of the applicants arriving. The camera gave mea clear view of a slim, blonde woman, faking confidence as she stepped up to Geoff, one of the newer doormen.

I froze with recognition, suddenly sickened.

A lucky lookalike, not Natasha Reid at all.

Whatever she said worked for him as the fucking moron had let her in. Locked her in with twenty men who’d do anything they could to be the first to fuck her. They wouldn’t stop. No one would listen. The rules were clear, and they’d kill each other to get inside her pussy.

And to own her for weeks after.

Genevieve had walked into the path of my car and now into my game. If I couldn’t reach her, she was lost to me.

At last, my muscles unlocked, and I stamped on the accelerator, speeding to intercept as fast as I fucking could.

Chapter 9

Genevieve

My breathing came in quick pants, my hand crammed to my mouth so I didn’t scream out and give myself away. For twenty minutes, I’d hidden high above the warehouse floor, making it to the gantry then scrambling up a frame to lie flat on the roof of the captain’s office the American woman had told me about.

I’d been seconds ahead of the men. So many of them, each in a skeleton mask and bare-chested. Some with black warpaint daubed on their flesh and across their eyes. All with hard muscles and savage yells when the siren indicated their release from pens either side of the open space. They’d fought each other even before they’d located any of the women.

The first girl had been caught right below my hiding place.

A redhead with pale skin and freckles on her shoulders. She’d screamed out a mix of fear and lust, her dress ripped from her and her limbs held down by two different men, then three. Another pitched into the fight and instantly reigned dominant. Huge, with dark skin and rippling muscles, he’d clashed with her attackers, blood flying from hits and two contestants knocked unconscious so their bodies landed prone next to hers.

At the far end of the space, another woman had made a break for it, and some of the pack had taken off in furious pursuit. The ones left around the redhead weren’t ready to give up.

They brawled for her, but the huge man stood over her body, keeping them at bay and dealing out lethal hits. Black tattoos down his arms moved with his swings. He’d bared his teeth in clear warning. Finally, he’d caused enough damage to the others that it gave him the space he needed to open his jeans.

He’d freed his dick and knelt, tearing away the last of her clothing to expose her naked form. Then, so strangely, he’d ducked to make eye contact and laid a tender kiss on her lips. The woman sobbed and threw her arms around him as if the act of hurting the other men around her had been a gift.

He whispered something then fucked straight into her where she lay, his dick penetrating her until their bodies were flush together. Both breathed hard. Blood decorated her skin, red specks alongside her freckles. Then the two of them writhed in it, their desperation-edged moans adding to the yells of the sport others were having elsewhere.

Only at their moment of sexual connection had the losers left them alone.

At that whole scene, I’d been able to peek.

I didn’t dare now.

Metal creaked. A footstep?

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