Page 50 of Auctioned Surrender

“Thank you,” I call back, heading across the sparkling white tiled floor. The door buzzes just as I reach it and slip through. A guard stands on the other side, just like usual. I nod, and he reciprocates but doesn’t say a word. He only extends a brief acknowledgment before leading me to another door. The burly man takes out his ring of keys, unlocks the door, and gives me access to the area beyond.

“I’ll only be a minute.” The door closes behind me, leaving me alone in the secured and confidential area. I walk quickly to my box, this time gathering some of the contents while leaving others in their place.

The late lunch traffic starts to ease when I head back to the highway, but it still takes an entire half an hour of the open road without seeing a silver sports car before I begin to calm down. It takes me another ten minutes to get to a Park and Ride. R.J. has cronies all over the city and the surrounding area. Even on this side of town, someone may spot this car. It’s not something people see often or forget once they have, and the last thing I need is for someone to recognize it and let R.J. know where I am right now.

I take a ticket, park my car, and then grab my purse and the spare bag from the trunk before joining the group of passengers loading onto a small bus headed for the airport.

I slide into an empty aisle seat and pull out my phone to check the surrounding accommodations. The airport has an upscale hotel on the property, and it’s as good a place as any to lay low for the rest of the day and night. A filling meal, shower, and a soft bed don’t sound like a bad way to spend the evening. The airport isn’t far away, but these park and ride businesses are popular because no one wants to pay airport fees to park, and as a result, the traffic is backed up for miles.

When we pull up to the airport, I give the older driver a twenty, and his eyes light up in appreciation for the dollar a minute tip. “Thank you,” he says.

I give him a bright smile and head down the stairs and onto the sidewalk in front of the airport entrance. A cab is parkedon the corner, waiting for a fare, and I jump into the back seat.

“I’m just going to the hotel entrance on the other side of the complex but too lazy to walk around today,” I say, earning me a nod from the driver.

“Si we’ll get there in record time, Mami,” the cabby says, but the airport traffic makes the drive as long as the bus ride, even though it’s just around the block. I dig around in my bag and pull out the card I save for emergencies. I swipe it through the creditmachine on the back of the passenger seat and punch in a nice tip when we arrive.

The young receptionist is friendly, fills me in on the area hotspots, and the easiest way to get to my room. I make my way to the bank of elevators not far away and then to my room, putting to memory its location and that of the exit stairways. I unlock the door and glance around the room slowly, getting acclimated, still a little on edge from the events of the afternoon. The upgrade to the more superior room was a good splurge. The place is furnished with a desk, mini kitchen, sprawling sofa with a coffee table next to a window, and a nice view of the city.

I should let Bryanna know that I won’t be home tonight and give her a heads-up on what I can. One of the few luxuries of being the boss's girl is that I don’t have to rely on a flip phone like they give all the other girls. I can carry my own, but after today’s little escapade, that may have all changed. I don’t dare say too much if they’re watching her phone, and I have complete faith that Damian and Dereck are working to keep her safe.

I weigh the risk of sending her a message, and maybe she will be okay regardless of what they find on her phone. Bryanna may have pissed R.J.’s goons off, but no one is going to touch one hair on her lovely head because she’s protected. She’s a V card baby and promised to the high roller who will pay the most. No one, not even the boss's right-hand men, can touch merchandise like that in any way, especially when delivery has already been scheduled. That much I know, but I can’t risk getting her involved in my crap. All of this degrading shit will stop one day because all of these fuckers will get caught and pay for what they’ve done to so many women all over the world.

There’s nothing to do but lay low now, give R.J. some time to cool off and see what happens. I flip through the premier channels on the flat screen and decide to unwind with a comedy. I’ve just curled up and gotten comfy on the couch when my cellphone beeps with a new alert. I glance down and read the text from R.J. without actually opening the message, hoping he won’t know if I’ve read it or not.

Message: Where are you, my little slut?

I take a deep breath. R.J.’s still clearly worked up. I’ll give him my cover story for meeting with Dereck later; for now, better just to let him thoroughly cool off, enjoy my movie, grab a shower, maybe get a bite to eat and then read a book and relax until showtime at the club tomorrow.

The movie ends, and I head to the shower to wash away the day and rejuvenate a little. The tantalizing smell of the eucalyptus and mint body wash from the hotel envelopes me with its scent. It’s refreshing and relaxing, a luxury I haven’t had in a very long time. I let it soak into my senses as the water rains over me. The mist is warm and sensuous, and my mind drifts to the tall, dark security guard from the park. I say his name, Dereck, enjoying the way it rolls off my tongue.

It’s been so long since anyone has flipped my girlie switch. When you’re surrounded by men who hit on you repeatedly, telling you what to do sexually, day in and day out, you eventually become immune. But there’s no way any red-blooded woman could ignore the sexual prowess emanating from Dereck. Damn, that man was fine! He may have been fully dressed, but there isn’t a piece of clothing on the market that could disguise the lean strength of those corded muscles when he moved, and at over six feet, that’s a hell of a lot of ripped.

The thought of him standing over me, talking to me like he did, causes all of my senses to come alive. The soft pelts of water stimulate my heating skin, and even hours later, his deep voicekeeps playing over and over in my mind, sending a pulsing need straight to my center.“I’d have you wiggle out of those tight skinned jeans, slip off your panties, and lay across my knee to teach you some respect.”

The image of Dereck rubbing my bare ass before he brings the strength of his flat hand down over my exposed cheeks sends my girlie switch into overdrive. My fingers slide down my taut belly, through the suds, and toward my center. I’d lay myself over those fine thighs of his any time Dereck wanted to discipline me. It’s been so long since I indulged, and my finger finds its way, gliding over my swollen clit in response to my increasing need. One small stroke, then a circle, and then another, but then the blare of my cell phone ringing intrudes on one of the most sensual moments I’ve had in the last two years.

Jesus! Bryanna has the worst timing. I scramble out of the shower knowing this may be the only chance she gets to call, so I grab a towel and answer the phone.

“Bryanna?”

“No, it’s Dereck. I’m at your door. Let me in.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and glance down at the number. It’s not Bryanna. It’s unlisted, but it can’t be Dereck. Not here. What the hell?

“It’s lonely out here, Princess. Let me in.”

Chapter 3

Dereck

I push the door to Layla’s rundown apartment open wider and take in the damage. The living room is sparse and an absolute disaster. It's furnished with a couple of barstools, an old-style box television, and a faded plaid couch. The items have all been destroyed and lay in various states of disarray all over the room. The cushions now lay in shambles with multiple slits in the upholstery that a heavy hand on a sharp as fuck knife has created.

An array of women's clothing has been torn from hangers, ripped to shreds, and lay strewn from one end of the room to the other. The clothes cover the floor, left wherever they landed, along with a scattering of pink, red, and silver high heels. I look past the living area and through the bathroom door gap. I can’t see much, so I make my way closer, easing the door open further, slowly and cautiously. My jaw tightens at the thought of the raving madman who did this in an all-consuming rage, destroying Layla and Bryanna’s property. My bets on the boss, but it’s also possible he had company, and they still may be around.

My jaw locks tight when I see the word SLUT painted on the mirror with the lipstick now laying in the sink beneath it. Theson of a bitch is jealous. He must not have put together that I was looking for information about the girls he’s running through his club. Her boss thinks she’s stepping out on him, which is good for our case, but seeing firsthand just what a maniacal son of a bitch he can be, not good for Layla.

The floor is covered with ladies' makeup tubes and cases of every kind imaginable. I make my way to the other side of the small apartment, open the closed door, and inhale deeply. No room in this tiny apartment has been left untouched. The bedding is in tattered shambles on the floor, and the word PUTA has been carved into the mattress. My heart hammers like a freight train because I don’t know where Layla is.

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