Page 60 of Auctioned Surrender

The force of my strength brings his head down into the bony part of my knee, breaking his nose with a clean snap to the bone. He yells out in pain but leaves out the colorful names. “Wrong answer, puta. Tell me what I want to know, or we have a night of fun together. We’ll make it a threesome. Me, you, and my shiny steel blade.” I run the edge of it along his jugular and then trail it slowly down his completely nude and exposed member.

Larry’s trembling, and he should be. The man is between a rock and a hard place with no easy way out, and that’s where I’m going to keep him until he tells me exactly what I need to know. “I won’t ask you again,” I say.

“New Orleans. They’re getting ready to take her.” He chokes out an address with a stream of blood, and Dereck texts it into his cell.

“Who’s behind the local trafficking? Who does R.J. take his orders from?”

“He’ll kill us both if I tell you, and you know it!”

“Name!” I press the blade against his skin, barely drawing a drop of blood, but it’s enough to get him talking. He may act like a tough man with the ladies, but he’s anything but sitting here with no clothes on and a shriveled dick between his legs. Once Larry starts talking, he doesn’t filter a goddamn word. “Bernatelli, he calls the shots. His right-hand man sets the deals up and manages everything, but Bernatelli runs everything behind the scenes. He has connections worldwide, and you just ensured yourself a spot on his target list. You know what happens then?” Larry’s grinning now because he thinks he can intimidate me, and scaring the ladies gives him a thrill.

“Tell me, big man? What do you think Bernatelli and his stool pigeons will decide to do to me? Will I like it?” I ask, running my blade against the side of his throat to reiterate who’s really in charge.

“R.J.’s going to make you pay, nice and slow. He’s going to use you until his temper dies down, and then he’s going to pass you around to the boys who’ve been sniffing around that pussy he’s been protecting. The boss ain’t gonna shelter you no more, and when everyone’s done with you? That’s where the fun starts. You’re going to get a first-class ticket on a boat, shoved into a box where no one will find you until you’re overseas. Then it’s going to start all over again, and again, and again, you bitch!”

I don’t even have a chance to react before Dereck grabs him by the neck and lays him out cold with a solid punch to his face before tossing him on the bed. I take a deep breath in, absorbing it all, steadying myself because what Larry says is anaccurate portrayal of what happens to hundreds of women who run through this club, and that’s what I need to remember every single time I get even a little bit soft. Larry moves, and I reach into my pocket, pull out a drug-soaked handkerchief and stuff it over his nose, keeping him still with the end of my knife pressed to his throat while it does its work. “Sleep well, puta,” I say as he drifts to sleep.

“We don’t have long before the parking lot fills up with the guys who’ve bought time with the others in the trailer.” I pull a tie out of the pocket of my robe, wrapping it tightly around Larry’s mouth and the back of his head to keep the material firmly in place and his mouth quiet in case he comes around sooner than expected. I make quick work of his hands and feet, tying them to the shoddy rails of the overused trailer bed with the rope I’ve brought. He may be able to bust through them fairly quickly, but it will slow him down enough for my purposes.

I look up, and Dereck observes the area outside through a crack in the door. He turns to me, relinquishing whatever he’s watching for a moment. He looks at me with those deep, questioning eyes, the ones that appear to see right through me, waiting for an explanation, one he’s probably entitled to after a night like tonight, but one I can’t give him. I won’t.

I shake my head. There’s no possible way he would understand. “Don’t ask, but I wasn’t pimping myself. I just needed an excuse to be outside in case someone missed me. We need to go now. You and your friends have the information you need to help Bryanna. I have no doubt you’ll take care of her and Kallie, papi.” I walk toward him because he’s still standing by the door, keeping me from Bernatelli, and that will never do.

Dereck’s cell beeps. He looks down at it and then back up to me. “There’s a group of men from the club on their way over to the trailer. We’ll talk later, but for now, stay in the trailer and out of sight.”

I start to say something, but there’s no time. It’s not like it will matter shortly anyway because in less than half an hour, I’ll be long gone and nothing more than a fleeting memory.

Dereck steps out of the trailer, holding the door open. He stands on the top step with only seconds to spare, efficiently eliminating the men’s ability to close us into the small space and overpower us as a result. “What seems to be the problem, boys? I paid for a little fun tonight, and you’re disrupting the party,” Dereck says to the heavy-handed bouncers of the club and R.J.’s right-hand men.

The tall, skinny man with a scraggly beard points his finger in my direction. “Boss has been looking all over the place for your ass. What the hell are you doing out here?”

Dereck doesn’t take his eyes off our assailants. “Do as I asked, Layla.”

It’s that deep, commanding voice, the one that sends pulses of delight down my spine and straight to my center. I shouldn’t like it, especially at a time like this, but there’s no denying the magnetic attraction to his quiet dominance or the desire and need that pulses through me. I have little or no time to think about it further because although I can take care of myself and those men too, Dereck pulls the door closed, leaving me inside of the trailer.

I should be out there helping him, kicking ass and taking names, but it’s a little too late for that. I’ll stay out of sight unless he needs help. I slide up to the RV's front seat so that I can look out the window. Dereck’s team wouldn’t just send him a text and leave him to fend for himself with a group as large as that. They must be waiting close by, and that gives me some sense of reassurance.

I turn in the captain's chair, feeling around for the window crank, and roll down the window on the old unit just a crack, careful not to draw attention to it or myself. The tall skinny one,called Pete, puts his foot on the first step. “I’d stay right where you are, or better yet, turn around, head back into the bar, and pretend you didn’t see us out here. This is a private affair, and you’re not invited to the party,” Dereck says.

“Yeah, but the whore you’re fooling around with is private property. She belongs to the boss, and my boys are gonna show you exactly what happens when you mess around with what doesn’t belong to you.”

My jaw clenches with aggravation. It’s the same gnawing anxiety that bubbles up every single time R.J. refers to me as his whore, or his slut, or whatever name he wants to call me at the time, every single day for the last three weeks since he decided to make me his woman.

“As I said, we’re not looking for an audience,” Dereck says.

Pete keeps his eyes on Dereck, but he doesn’t look worried. He must feel pretty confident with his odds, backed up by all the goons he has standing behind him, because he starts climbing the stairs.

“I won’t ask you again. Take your boys and go back to the bar,” Dereck demands.

The skinny guy laughs, a harsh, forced, and unnatural laugh, but his eyes aren’t laughing. Pete’s quick; I’ll give him that. He’s had his hands down by his side, and even watching him, waiting for what he may do, he managed to maneuver his gun out pretty fast, at least from my sideways view of the show.

I ready my piece to take the sons of bitches out if Dereck and his team need help, but that’s not how this show is playing out.

Dereck kicks the gun out of the skinny guy's hand, and it goes flying into the air, landing with a thud in the mud-caked dirt. Pete barrels forward, up the stairs, but Dereck sends his assailant over the rail with a powerful kick to the stomach. “Don’t just stand there—get him!” the man yells from the ground.

The five remaining men start forward, but Dereck grasps the railing, raises his body and sends both of his feet into the chest of the next man up the stairs. It sends him reeling backward, and Dereck repeats the motion sending the powerful thrusts of his feet into the face of the next man trying to get up the stairs. The others jump out of the way, let the falling men clear the stairs, and then race up the first two steps. That’s as far as they get because Dereck takes the next one out with another powerful kick to the chest, punch to the face, and a chop to the neck that leaves him fallen to the ground and groaning in pain, and then he takes the last one down.

The other men aren’t getting up. They’re just watching, not one of them moving a muscle, all just waiting for it to end. Two men stand watching the show, waiting to see if they need to step in and help their partner.

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