Page 16 of Royally Lucky

Now that she wasn’t freaking the fuck out, she could feel slight vibrations on the other side of the door. Maybe she wasn’t in a basement?

Excitement filled her. He’d obviously put her in a hidden room of some sort. Of course, with the foghorn so close, she could be on some boat, shipped off to some third-world country. Her excitement turned to dread. If they got her out of America, hidden in whatever type of space they’d put her in, nobody would find her, ever.

KENDRICK SWORE HE’Dneed new molars by the time they pulled up to the next location. His damn jaw ached from clenching so hard. He couldn’t imagine the horrors Sutton was enduring. Animals, like the men he dealt with didn’t care if they had hours or days. They took what they wanted when they wanted, especially when it came to the sex trade.

“King and his MC have rescued many individuals in similar situations.” Andre’s words broke through his mental tirade.

He nodded as they drove toward the Santa Barbara pier. The hour-and-a-half drive felt more like an eternity. Why this woman had his stomach in knots, he didn’t know.

They parked along the row of other vehicles lining the busy area, opting to walk to the address on foot. No one looked at them as they walked through the crowd and toward the warehouses. He and Andre didn’t speak as he went over different scenarios in his head. It didn’t matter what went down. His bodyguard and friend always had his back.

Once they located their next destination, they split up. He didn’t go in with guns blazing, hard and fast, with a show of power. No, that was the quickest way to end up dead. They strolled the parameter, taking precious time to see what they could use that might be beneficial in extricating Sutton and themselves if the need arose. He sent up a prayer they’d find her alive and unharmed.

He met up with Andre near the back of the warehouse. The other man gave a slight nod and lifted two fingers.

“Do you have a light?” Kendrick pulled a cigar out of the inner pocket of his suit.

“Of course. I never leave home without one.” Andre handed him the Zippo he carried.

“Grazie. I’m trying to quit, but it’s not so easy.” Kendrick didn’t bother to light his cigar as they moved back around the warehouse together. Andre took the lighter back, flicking it open and shut once to let him know he’d seen one man inside. Kendrick let out a pent-up breath. Knowing there was at least one inside meant the warehouse might not be a bust.

“I’ll take the front. You head to the back in case whoever is inside tries to escape that way. I didn’t see any other way out, butwe can’t be too sure.” Kendrick and Andre halted on the side of the building before separating.

He shot a text to Keys and King, letting them know which location they were at. They’d all agreed they wouldn’t waste time searching if the addresses were empty.

Those who sold into sex trafficking rings didn’t last long, and if they did, most wished for death. Images of Sutton getting passed around by hundreds of sick fucks, willing to pay to do kinky shit they can’t do with their wives or in their everyday lives, flashed through his mind. Many buyers paid extra for an American woman. It would be a massive bonus for the seller to have one as gorgeous as Sutton. Hell, he’d get more than a pretty penny for her.

His fists clenched, and his throat burned with rage. When he reached the front door, it took all his control to keep from ripping the damn thing from its hinges. The handle turned with ease, giving him access without hindrance. Too fucking easy. Or maybe they didn’t think anyone could track their location. Either way, he’d proceed with caution.

Usually, he’d go in low with his gun out. But he’d never been in a situation where he was searching for someone who meant—he’d never been in a situation like this one. Sutton James came into his life less than twelve hours ago. Yet the connection between them seemed more substantial than all the other women he’d dated or fucked put together. The how or why didn’t matter.

He thought of his brother’s bachelor party last weekend. Jeter and the rest of the MC had taken him on a modified bar crawl. They’d ridden their bikes from one bar to the next, collecting a different card and having a drink or shot before ending the night at a final pub, which happened to be an Irish place. Jeter joked about the Irish not being as good as Sicilian men since their ancestors were from Sicily, and they loved theirroots above all else. At the table next to them, a big fucker with red hair stood up and told them they’d be lucky to find the luck of the Irish. Looking at the calendar on the wall in the office's open space, he noticed a huge shamrock with the word lucky written in bold letters in the center of the green sticker, making his gut clench. For some reason, Kendrick felt a strange sensation wash over him. Tomorrow was Saturday and happened to be St. Patrick’s Day as well. Would he be lucky enough to find Sutton? If one of the others did, would they find her before the fuckers harmed her?

The air in the office became stifling. He forced himself to move toward one of the doors, giving a little twist to see if they kept the interior doors locked. Kendrick’s eyes narrowed. No way in hell would he leave his properties open, especially if there were illegal shit happening. His fists clenched, but then he pushed the door open. Before stepping through, he stopped and paused. The large door acted as a shield between him and the large warehouse.

Chapter Eight

Afew things became apparent as Kendrick entered the space. First, he wasn’t in an empty building like they’d suspected. There was row upon rows of crates filling the entire area with who knew what. He eyed a cellophane-wrapped stack.

“What the fuck are you shipping to China that smells like shit?” he whispered, taking a deep breath, then shook his head and stepped away. He noticed each pallet wrapped similarly with a sticker and barcode. Some went all the way to the ceiling. Several had different codes, but most had the same Chinese symbols. No pictures were visible, giving him no indication of what was inside.

The aisles were large enough to get a forklift between, but nothing bigger. Whatever sort of operation they had was obviously some sort of fulfillment. The second thing he noticed was the stench of gunpowder and cigars. If they were his friends, he’d school them on how to tell the difference between shit cigars and the good kind. The fact he scented a harsh, almost musty smell told him these men were not true connoisseurs. And the last, but certainly not the least, thing that rattled him slightly was the three men crowded around a desk several rows from the doorway. Luckily for him, no one noticed his entrance.

Kendrick eased to the side, making his way down the row while keeping his eyes and ears open. The men’s voices raised as if they were arguing. Using their distraction to his advantage, he moved swiftly through the rows, staying alert.

By the time he was in the far corner, his nerves were stretched thin. The voices were louder—a deep grunt followedby fists hitting skin and some curses. Kendrick forced himself to stay calm and keep moving. Andre’s large form appeared up ahead with a grim look.

“There’s a door with a lock on the other side. I didn’t want to break it until we neutralized the targets,” he said. His voice was low.

“Show me.”

They moved as one, walking on silent feet with Andre leading the way.

“You go tell him we have a new commodity. She’ll fetch a good price after we get done.”

“What about the debt? Doesn’t he want us to take care of the asshole?” The voice sounded strained.

“Our intel was incorrect. The bitch said we were wrong to have taken her. She said Calderone wouldn’t pay for her return because they didn’t know one another before meeting at the reception. Your guy fucked up. Now, we’ll have a little fun. You know—test the merch before shipping her off as planned? As an American, she’ll go for a lot of money. The Boss has plans for the Calderones who are above our pay grade.”

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