Page 18 of Auctioned Surrender

Damian

I know the camera’s on, so I try to make it look good, but all the hell I can think about is Bryanna, wide-eyed and scared, at the mercy of whatever it is she’s been roped into doing for these bastards. She’s at least ten minutes away by the time I get in and out of here, and back to the bar, and they could snatch her at any time. I step back and snap a couple pictures of the blonde just for show, pretending to send it to someone and instead messaging Scottie.

Need help! They’re auctioning Bryanna in Orleans tomorrow night. They’re going to grab her soon. Can you take over here so I can slip out and get back to the club?

On my way, Lad. I’ll act jealous, you don’t give a shit as long as I pay you. Matt and team have things covered. She’s fine, Dame.

Roger that. I offered Mikah a new life in exchange for the info. You need to get her out of here.

Consider it done, lad.

Mikah’s sitting up on the bed, watching me with big wide eyes, and her lip begins to tremble. She knows that what she’s just confided in me could cost her life and that of anyone close to her. What she doesn’t know is that we’ll make damn sure that she and anyone she cares about is given a new identity and will have enough money to last them a lifetime.

I lay her down on the bed, slowly for the camera, but I’m also mindful that this needs to look real. I slide my hands up her legs, over her hips and waist, and bend in like I’m about to kiss her, just biding my time until the door bursts open and we both reel in surprise, mine feigned, but hers completely genuine.

“Get your fucking hands off the lass,” Scottie growls as he bursts in on que.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I paid fair and square,” I come back.

“Go get your money back; she’s not for sale. I saw her dancing earlier at the bar, and she’s going to be mine. And for the record, lad, I always get what I want!”

“Crazy son of a bitch! You want her that bad, keep her. More where that came from,” I yell, slamming the door as I walk out, double-timing it back to my car. If they’ve been watching the cameras, then they expect me to come storming back to the bar, perhaps to demand my money back, maybe to get a new girl. I race to the Honda, and Garrett is waiting for me.

“Buckle up,” he says, easing out of the parking lot and then flooring the car as he hits the main drag and heads back to thebar. It’s less than ten minutes away, but every minute causes my nerves to tighten in fear.

If they plan to auction her off tomorrow night all the way down in New Orleans, then time is short. I read a message, letting me know Matt’s been filled in and that he has intel working on every single private plane out of this city, and absolutely nothing’s coming up on the radar.

I reply to his text that they’re not flying but will be driving all the way. They have at least thirteen hours in front of them, which at least gives me a chance to get shit in place before this auction goes down.

It’s not like him not to respond and we’re going to need help and connections quickly to pull this off.

I hit Matt’s number, knowing he has a straight line to Brian Carrington.

“Matt here.”

“You still have eyes on Bryanna?”

“Roger that. She’s still dancing, but Layla slipped out the back door and we were a little distracted. Dereck went after her,” Matt says, and while the thought of her baring herself to him or anyone else in that fucking lounge infuriates the hell out of me, if Bryanna’s still dancing, she is still within reach, and that’s what I hold on to as we make our way to the bar.

“Make sure Brian is up to speed with what’s going down. I’ll send a play-by-play by text that you can forward to him. If they try to get her out of the country after the auction, we may need some powerful connections.”

“Brian’s willing to do anything and everything possible. He’s been texting me constantly since you found her. He can be a real pain in the ass when he’s stressed, but he has a heart of gold. I’ll give him an update, just keep in touch and let me know what you need.”

“Roger that.”

Garrett parks a discreet distance from the lounge, and I jump out of the back seat of the car and head toward the bar. I’ve almost made it to the front door when my phone rings with a call from Matt. “Yeah.”

“Dereck just texted. Layla found out they’re going to take Bryanna out the back door of the bar, but then took off. Dereck will stay with Layla. Nick and Cole are on surveillance in the back and have their eyes wide open.”

“Make complete confirmation! I want to see the film; otherwise, I’m going in. It could be someone else in disguise if they’re onto us,” I say, knowing how these fucking shadow games work and that we can’t be too careful. If they’re going to move Bryanna and we don’t stay on their tail, they’ll disappear right under our fucking noses, and we’ll never be able to find her again.

“We’re fairly certain they’re going to move her by car all the way to New Orleans. Get on the horn and set up at least another four crews,” I instruct.

“Roger that; we’re all over it, Dame. They just brought Bryanna out the back door. Intel has facial recognition. It’s positive; it’s a go! Double-time it back to the main car. We’ve got enough gear loaded in there to make the trip, move, move, move!” Matt yells into my headset.

My heart is racing a thousand beats per minute as I run back to the black limo and slide into the back, seat and Evers hits the gas. “Tell me you’ve got her in your sights,” I say.

“We’ve got ’em alright. A guy’s walking her straight to a car. The team’s all over it,” Matt says.

---