Page 109 of Hunted By Valentine

Two-Bit is smart enough to know when he’s fucked. He sinks back into his stool, defeated. “What do you need?”

“Scrappers and Steel Crew. Who’s running things these days?”

He hesitates, and I see the wheels turning in his head. Calculating the risk of telling me versus the risk of holding out. “Scrappers are still Joey B’s crew. Steel Crew just got taken over by some new guy.”

“Which of them is moving girls?”

Two-Bit shrugs, but it’s an exaggerated, nervous gesture. “Could be either. Could be neither. That shit’s hot these days. No one wants the heat.”

I’m out of patience. I grab him by the collar, pull him close enough that he can smell the blood on me. “Who?”

Fear flashes in his eyes. “Man… I’ve only heard rumors. Something about a flesh auction happening at midnight, but that’s all I know. You’re barking up the wrong tree if you want straight facts.”

I let him go, and he slumps forward, adjusting his collar with trembling hands. An auction. It makes a sick kind of sense.

The Hatts shut theirs down years ago; well, all except one. It sounds like the black market is still thriving. Buying and selling people like cattle. It’s quicker than I thought, but not hopeless. If she’s on the block, I still have a chance to get her back.

“Where?” I ask, though I already know the answer. There’s only one place in the city bold enough to host something like this.

He rubs his neck, avoiding my gaze. “Come on, you know I can’t—”

“Two-Bit,” I growl menacingly.

He sighs, defeated. “Look,ifit is happening…ifit is more than rumors, it’ll be at the ol’ meatpacking district.”

Nodding, I say, “Any of them giving you any trouble?”

“You mean…?”

“I do. Give me two names and addresses. Consider it my way of thanking you for the info.”

After he gives me what I need, though not without letting me know he isn’t too happy about it, I stand, and he flinches again, expecting a parting blow.

“Thanks, Tony. Enjoy your drink.” I leave right away, not giving him time to respond.

An auction. It’s almost a relief to have something concrete, a goal I can work toward. But first, I need to be sure. I need to hear it from someone with more skin in the game. And now, I know exactly where to find what I need.

The leather seats of my car are sticky with blood as I slide back in, turning the key. The engine roars to life, and I peel back onto the street, tires screaming against the asphalt.

As the city blurs by me, I contemplate calling Nicklas to let him know what I’ve found. He’ll want to know, and the Knights have the resources to make this quick and clean. But I hesitate. This is personal. This is me and Ruby.

I abandon the thought as I kill the engine, parking a block away from my next target. It’s a rundown tenement, one of those places where dreams come to die, or they would if anyone ever dared to have one.

Popping the trunk, I take a quick inventory. Ropes, a selection of blades and other weapons, and, of course; my bow and arrows. I grab a blackjack baton, weighing the leather-wrapped weapon in my hand before heading into the building.

The lobby is deserted, a broken shell of once-grand architecture. Peeling wallpaper and cracked marble floors give it the air of a derelict mansion. I take the stairs two at a time, heart pounding with anticipation.

Room 3B. I knock, then step to the side. A peephole darkens, and I hear a chain rattle. The door cracks open, and a face pokes out. I’ve never seen him before, but apparently this guy is a thorn in Tony’s side.

“You,” he says, eyes widening with recognition and fear.

“Me.” I swing the blackjack, and it connects with his temple in a dull thud. He crumples wordlessly, and I slip inside.

The apartment is a squalid mess. Dirty clothes and takeout containers form a landscape of filth. I drag the unconscious thug to the center of the room, then check the kitchen. A second man sits at the table, snorting a line of something off a mirror. He looks up, confused, just in time to catch the blackjack with his forehead. He goes down in a heap, the mirror shattering and sending a glittering spray of powder across the linoleum.

I return to the first thug, and while I fish a syringe from my pocket, I locate his gang ink before emptying it into his neck. He’ll be out for a while. The second man gets the same treatment. Who knew people from different gangs party together? I sure as fuck didn’t, and it makes me wonder who else is working together behind the scenes.

Rushing back to my car, I open the trunk and retrieve two sets of chains. Then I return to the apartment, where I strip both men naked and bind their wrists and ankles. The chains clink with a satisfying weight as I padlock them in place. I make sure they’re secure, then haul each body to the door, one at a time.

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