Page 20 of Cherry Auction

“What if it’s just her dad? Did you consider that? Maybe he brought her here.”

“He’s dead,” I spit. “The devil took him back to hell two years ago. I stood on his grave and took a good piss.”

I never stopped looking for them. Two years ago I thought I’d finally found them when he popped on one of my personally designed internet-crawl systems. I knew his dark web signatures intimately—it was one of the reasons my anti-spyware software became so successful so quickly. I hadintimate, cutting-edge knowledge of exactly how criminals exploited loopholes in systems.

Hunting him was one of the reasons I began building it in the first place. But I’d find him only for them to have recently skipped town. It was how I found his other victims. Always victims in his wake, usually with my M.O.

He finally changed things up and went off the map, until two years ago when he popped up again.

I thought I finally had him.

Turned out I only had his headless corpse. It washed up on a Bulgarian bank of the Danube. I felt some satisfaction imagining that all his evil shite finally caught up with him in the end and someone took an ax to the evil bastard. He was a John Doe, but I knew it was him by the tattoo of the angel Gabriel on his chest. I’d never mistake that fucking tattoo.

He was buried in a pauper’s grave outside of Budapest. Too nice an end for such a vicious motherfucker, but still, one chapter closed.

The other stayed elusively open until she strutted onto that stage tonight.

“She’s playing games again. I’m just better equipped this time. And I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

I’ve been leaning against the wall, but I push my shoulders back and stand up tall, deciding on a plan to buy me some time.

Quinn’s an unusual mind and one of my best project leads. I’d hate to lose her. Time to pretend to be affable-guy.

“How about this? One week from now, I’ll present Brooke at the club. Then you can see her again, all nice and whole. But till then, she’smine.”

Satisfaction growls like a yawning monster inside me. That’ll give me seven days. Seven whole days to bend Mads to my will, get my answers…

Seven days to break her.

The monster grins, sharpening its teeth with a file. It’s what I’ve always wanted. To break her the way they broke me. I didn’t get my justice with her father, but I can take it out all I want on her.

“Shit.” Quinn shakes her head, then stands up from the chair she sank into halfway through my tale. “This is fucked up, Domhn.”

“Yeah? So what’s new?”

She’s quiet a long moment, staring hard at the floor like she’s trying to make her mind up about something.

“At least I get you better now,” she finally says, looking back up at me. “Everybody knows why I am the way I am, but you were always a mystery. Some vague story about a murky past back in the home country.”

My jaw hardens. “I told you this in confidence. It better not become the latest gossip around the club.”

“Your secrets are safe with me, boss. See you at work on Monday.”

She walks towards the door before pausing to look back at me. “But I’m holding you to your promise. One week. Brookebetter look healthy, well-fed, and happy at the end of those seven days, or I’ll punish you. I have a dungeon, too. I can make you hurt, pretty Domhn.”

I don’t doubt she could. I’ve seen the ways she makes men three times her size weep like babies.

“She’ll be fine.”

Quinn just narrows her eyes at me before sweeping out of the room.

Seven days to break my little pet so that when I present her at the club in public, she’ll bow at my feet, beg me to let her obey, and follow me back home again like a faithful little dog.

Because I’m never letting Madison go.

NINE

BROOKE

---