Page 36 of Arrogant Bastard

Moses jumps up, hooks his fingers into the collars of two young men who were about to service him, and drags them after him. One of them stumbles, and my breath snags on a spike of anger.

“Easy, baby,” Killian warns in my ear.

I’m shaking by the time we walk through the steel door at the back end of the underground room. This room is even more special. Red silk shibari ropes specially sourced from Asia hang from the ceiling. Gem-encrusted sex toys are laid out on black velvet cloth, and others hang on the walls.

“Fuck, yeah,” Paul growls, eyes glinting with degenerate sexual heat.

“One week. Easy,” Raj insists.

Moses instructs his boys to grab a bottle of Cristal each. “Come with me. I’ll teach you a neat trick I learned in Tunisia last year.” He barks out in laughter and heads for a double lounger.

Every bone in my body wants to crush these men into a messy, useless pulp. The latest intel that came through before the party started was that they met with suspected black market brokers to arrange another shipment of innocent children today. But despite the white-hot rage filling my veins, I have to remain calm.

Twenty girls per month ranging in age from fourteen to seventeen. Never older. Because apparently, sleazy old men can’t get it up for legal girls. They’re the reason I aced the three test-run assignments needed to prove myself, and two I undertook as a fully trained operative. I did everything in my power to be considered for this mission. And no matter how I feel, I can’t blow it.

My baby sister wasn’t bought or sold, but she was still targeted by a man she trusted. A man who was more than three times her age and who should have protected her but instead molested her for four long, silent years. I watched her turn from a bubbly twelve-year-old into a pale, secretive, haunted shadow of herself. I watched my parents turn to the very man responsible for Julia’s deterioration for help. And all through his systematic abuse of my sister, Father Michaels of the Holy Catholic Church of Northern Arkansas continued to preach goodness and mercy and forgiveness.

He stood over her coffin, prayed for her soul, and mourned the life she’d ended by her own hand as being over way too soon. And even after we found Julia’s suicide note naming him as her abuser and he was caught with another child, he strenuously denied any wrongdoing. I spent the months during his trial for molesting a dozen other children filled with uncontrollable rage. And heaven help me, I even considered cold-blooded murder for the first time in my life.

My fight to ensure he stayed in jail for the rest of his natural life was what led me to Matthew Knight, an ambitious assistant district attorney looking to make a name for himself.

I mentally flinch away from thoughts of Matt and return to my unwanted reality. I hear a rip of clothing from Raj’s lounger and a gagging noise from Moses’s, and my fingers tighten within Killian’s hand.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Killian says. With a kiss on my temple, he steers me toward the door. We don’t need to stay because the room is bugged. Each bottle of alcohol has been doctored with a modified strain of sodium pentothal, designed to relax their guard. We’re still playing the long game but it doesn’t hurt to lay a few more traps.

“Aren’t you going to join in?” Paul asks, his eyes narrowing on Killian and then on me.

Killian’s smile is pure arrogance bred from the fact that, in financial stakes alone, he’s several classes above these men and doesn’t mind showing it. “We just met today. Like a fine red wine, we prefer our associations to…breathe for a while, attain the right bouquet. Should we find that our tastes match, then we can take this to the next level. But don’t let me stop you from enjoying yourselves.”

Although Paul smiles at Killian, something moves behind his eyes that dances icy fingers down my spine. But Raj doesn’t need a second prompt. He reaches for the blond girl in pigtails and dressed like an English schoolgirl, right down to the snow-white tights. I turn away in disgust, and thankfully Killian is there, a solid wall buffering me from the men responsible for my roiling emotions. He must sense Paul’s suspicion because he changes his mind at the last moment and doesn’t take me out of the room.

Instead he leads me to the farthest lounger and pushes me onto it. But then he positions himself so his body blocks the men from my view. His eyes convey nothing but sex and desire as he lowers his head and kisses me.

I know he’s kissing me to take my mind, and eyes, off what’s happening on the other side of the room. Even now, he’s protecting me, while dealing with his own jealousy by staking his claim on me.

I don’t mind. Kissing him takes away the nausea that hasn’t abated since we walked down the stairs into this sleazy pit of immorality.

We wait until they’re fully immersed in their orgy of booze and sex before we leave. We enter the main room and mingle for another two hours. And then, as per the invitation, Killian, in effortless arrogant-billionaire mode, ends the party and throws everyone out.

No one dares to grumble. Raj looks a touch disappointed, but he attempts to shrug on his clothes as he weaves his way drunkenly toward us. “We want to reciprocate your hospitality. Next week. We’ll send a driver for you.”

Killian looks over at me with an ambivalent look on his face. “Our schedule is pretty full…”

“Trust me, you’ll like the kind of party we throw too. Maybe even more.”

Killian smiles. “Oh yeah?”

Paul smirks and waves his hand around the room. “I like this, but I guarantee we can top a few things.”

“It’s not a competition,” I say with a very bright, very false smile.

His eyes slide to mine. “Everything is a competition, sweet thing.”

Killian’s hand tightens warningly on my hip. “Now that is a throwdown I simply cannot refuse.”

Paul laughs and slaps him on the back. “Good, good. So you’ll come?”

Killian looks down at me. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

---