Page 45 of Cruel Dreams

I clamp my mouth shut.

Spike cuts Quinn loose. She flicks a glance at me over her shoulder and begins to climb, her dress tangling between her legs. He follows her, his muscles bulging as he grasps the ladder’s rungs.

Ash steps close to me, and I swear his eyes soften, just for a second. That, or the moonlight is playing tricks on me. He cups my cheek in his palm. His skin is smooth and warm.

“I can understand what Zane sees in you, Stella. Strength.” He slides the glasses I forgot I was wearing off my face and tosses them aside. They skid across the deck. “Beauty. Intelligence. If I were any other man, I might have fallen for your charms myself. But I don’t buy used cars.” He turns to the bouncer waiting to shove me up the ladder. “Hurry the fuck up. I want to go home. I need a drink.”

“You’ll never be the kind of man Zane is,” I say, tempting Fate, wanting to get in the last word. “He’s compassionate andcares about people. Your father tried to be like Kagan, but he couldn’t. It’s why he killed Kagan and Lark. Out of jealousy. The Blacks will never live up to the reputation of the Maddox family.”

Ash’s lips quirk. “Then luckily for me, I don’t want to.” He juts his chin at the goon standing behind me, and the bouncer pushes my back. It’s my turn.

Craning my neck, I search for Quinn and Spike, but I don’t see them.

The ladder attached to the container is sturdy under my feet. When I reach the end and climb on top, the bouncer heaves himself next to me.

Quinn’s gone, but Spike’s waiting. It’s then I notice the open hatch. The asshole doesn’t give me a chance to prepare for the drop, and he pushes me through the container’s access.

The fall feels like it lasts forever and a split second at the same time. I slam to the bottom of the container, and a snap echoes through my brain as pain shoots up my arm so sharply I can’t help but cry.

Quinn gathers me in her arms and rocks back and forth. “Shh,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to the top of my head and trying to comfort me. The pain is too much, the situation too much. Her reassurances don’t do any good, and I sob into her shoulder. I’m so tired of hurting, so tired of fighting in a war I can’t win.

We’re trapped in a storage container on a ship that will carry us to wherever Ash can sell us. It could be months before the ship ports. We could die of sickness, of dehydration or starvation, before we reach our destination. If we’re lucky.

“Stella,” Quinn says, her voice urgent.

I lift my head. A light shines in the corner, and at least fifty pairs of eyes stare mournfully through the weak light. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur.

This is how Ash turns over his girls.

He sells them.

CHAPTER TEN

Zane

Isay goodbye to Stella, but I don’t go back to the penthouse like I said I would. I want to watch the feed from Nathalie’s and Stella’s cameras, but the video doesn’t show me anything I haven’t seen before and the music’s bass drowns out a lot of what they’re saying. A dancer relays her story to Stella about her intelligence, or lack thereof, and I sigh. Mel pats my arm. “You can’t save everyone,” she says. “You’ll go crazy trying.”

Nathalie sounds like she’s attending a high school reunion—the men and women working at the club never leave her alone. I don’t know why I thought I was doing her a favor. She’s in her element.

A woman wearing a waitress’s uniform—slinky black dress and a Ladies and Gentleman nametag—approaches Nat, and Nat asks, “Is it set up?”

The waitress replies, “Yeah, just like you asked, and there’s a party later if you can lose your ball and chain.”

I don’t know if she’s referring to Stella and Quinn or to me.

Nathalie laughs and says, “Thanks.”

Mel and I trade a look.

I watch Quinn and Stella join her at the table after exploring, and my heart resumes a more natural rhythm. I didn’t like Stella going off on her own, and when Stella met Quinn downstairs, I felt as relieved as Quinn looked. I’ve only been to the club a couple of times, once to support Ash at his ribbon-cutting ceremony, another on his thirtieth birthday, and seeing the upstairs through Stella’s “eyes” was new to me. I prefer my relationships to have more substance. I suppose if anyone looked at my relationship with Nathalie they could argue I don’t need that much more, but I prefer stilted conversation and manufactured intimacy over shoving hundred dollar bills into a woman’s ass crack and vying for her attention against a million other drooling pricks.

Nat says she found someone for them to talk to, and Mel and I lean forward.

We’re finally getting somewhere.

The women’s heels echo as they click against the tile of a back hallway. Stella’s walking behind Nathalie, Nat’s hair swaying over her bare back. That’s another part of the club I haven’t seen. Ash never bothered to show me his office. Maybe he’s always been hiding what he doesn’t want me to see.

Nathalie knocks on a door, and it swings open revealing a dark room. She steps aside.

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