Page 16 of Auctioned Surrender

I look down at her. “Hannah said we could have an hour, more if I wanted.”

She spins, eying my phone as I slip it into my pocket. “Would you like a drink, or are you one of those men who just like to get right to it?” she asks, heading to a small bar in the corner and pouring herself a generous glass of vodka with a little red soda of some sort.

I’m watching her, but haven’t answered, and she spins abruptly, taking me in with those violet eyes. “Hannah says you asked for me specifically,” she says, flouncing her long blonde hair from one side to the other.

She has that move down pat. It’s the same one she does on the dance floor, but something tells me there is so much more to this young lady than wanting a quick hour’s worth of money.

“Finish your drink,” I say, panning my cell around so the app can get a lock on any cameras that may be in the room, while pretending to photograph the beautiful young lady.

Mikah’s eyes go wide as she follows my phone, but I drag a quick finger across my lips. It hasn’t picked up any audible surveillance, but it picks up the digital signal over the bed just as I spot the camera disguised as a tiny little dot in the corner of the ceiling. I have no doubt the film of whatever happens in this room is captured and sold, but this simple little info gathering session just got much more complex.

I stalk toward her, taking the glass from her hand and tilting it to her mouth. “Drink, I like my woman relaxed and ready,” I say, although that’s far from the case. What I really like is my women shivering with anticipation of the unknown and unleashed desire.

Mikah steps backward, and her entire body goes absolutely rigid. I’ve scared her, with absolutely no intent to do so, but I need this to look real in order to find out how to infiltrate this operation and get Bryanna, and perhaps this blonde, out.

I pull her close, and the fear I sense is palpable. “You’re not in danger, Mikah. I’ll get you out of whatever trouble it is that you’re in, but I need you to stay on this side of the room for a little bit and tell me what you know about Lacey. They have cameras over the bed, and I’m sure that video will go back to whoever you’re working for, so tell me what I want to know, whisper it in my ear, help me figure out how to help you and Lacey. If you tell me what I want, I’ll personally make sure that you never have to worry about money again.”

Mikah’s scared, shaking against me, and I feel horrible, but I need that goddamn information, and she’s going to tell me what I want to know. “I’m not going to hurt you, but Lacey doesn’t have much time if I’m going to help her. Trust me, please.”

Her body softens against me, but just slightly. “I don’t know all the details, but I heard the bosses talking about Lacey being auctioned off as a virgin at the masquerade ball in New Orleans tomorrow night. The boss was in an ugly mood about something she did. He was on the phone telling someone to pick Lacey up after the next dance tonight and told whoever it was to drive her south and keep their hands off the merchandise. Said that if she isn’t delivered as a virgin, he’s going to take it out of their ass. That was before I left. She might already be gone,” Mikah says softly, her violet eyes wide with emotion.

“Good girl. Now, they’re expecting me to take you to bed, and the cameras are on. Do what I say and put on a good show. There’s a ton of money and an entirely new world waiting for you,” I say, texting to Scottie for backup, before gently pushing her toward the bed.

Chapter 12

Bryanna

I end my dance with the splits and look up, right where Damian was sitting, right where he was watching me with those intent smoldering eyes that held me captive and wouldn’t let me go. The disappointing fact that he’s left, even after the intense connection I thought we had, and I try to focus on the thundering applause instead. I bow to the crowd, giving them a long glance at my backside, before prancing off the stage and toward the dressing room to quickly change for the next show.

Damian left, and I can’t blame him. He did everything that he could to help me, even took me somewhere to keep me safe, and how do I repay him? I steal his things and leave without a thank you or a note of any kind. I’ve probably pushed away the very last chance I have of being saved, but I have no other options. I have to protect my family, regardless of what he thinks.

He couldn’t even be bothered to stick around, try to talk to me, let alone rescue me again. He’s probably going to report back to my aunt that he found me, and I stole his money and went back to stripping. By the time Brian sends more of his security team in, I’ll be long gone. I’m on the short list. Tomorrow night is coming fast, and I know that if I don’t gothrough with this, my family will be the ones to pay the price; something Damian would never understand.

I’ve almost reached the dressing room when the small hairs on the back of my neck raise, and a shiver runs down my spine as a strong hand grabs my shoulder. “I think you’ve had enough fun for the night. Where did you stash the money you made this week? We haven’t seen a dime of that yet.”

“It’s in my purse, in my locker. I promise, I was going to give it to Layla to give to the boss.”

“Get it!” he says to one of the goons. “Time to get you somewhere safe for the buyers,” the gruff man says to me, half dragging me past the dressing room and toward the exit sign at the end of the hall.

I take in a deep breath, trying to calm the fear settling into every nerve ending in my body. It was always going to happen, but perhaps in a small corner of my mind I was hoping that Damian would be able to help, but even that little glimmer of hope is now gone too.

My captor slides his card over the lock, and as soon as he does, we’re in the open air, and they’re hauling me toward a bright red Caddy that’s waiting right outside of the bar. The burly guy pushes me into the back seat and slides in beside me. His partner joins us in a few minutes, opens the opposite door, jumps in next to me, and tells the driver to go.

I watch as the car makes its way out of the bar parking lot, turns onto the straightaway, and then steadily accelerates for a few miles, until the driver takes a sharp turn and merges onto the highway. “Thought we had company for a minute, but doesn’t look like it now,” the driver says, accelerating to get in line with the eighty-mile-an-hour traffic.

“Looky, looky,” the man next to me says to the driver. “She’s got a little firepower back here, and more than five hundred dollars tucked away to boot,” he says after rummaging aroundin my purse and tucking Damian’s gun into his suit pocket. He throws my strappy purse at me, minus the money and the gun. “Make sure we’re not being followed! She’ll bring in more than most if we can get her there by tomorrow and on time.”

“I’ve got this,” he says as he puts his foot to the floor, and we barrel down the highway until he can’t go any faster in the middle lane, swerves into the fast lane, and then guns it, shooting us past all the slower-moving traffic, and then just as quickly dodges back into the middle lane, over to the slow lane, and then off the highway ramp and into a business district.

“If they were still following us, they aren’t now,” the driver says.

“Excellent. Keep your foot on the floor. We need her in New Orleans fast.”

“Whoa, no one said I was picking up an overnight job,” the driver says.

The man next to me tenses and then pulls out his pistol and levels it at the driver’s head. “Drive. I’ll tell you when your job is done. Got it?”

“Take it easy, man. Just tell me which way you want to go, and I’ll get you there,” the driver replies, watching the three of us in the mirror.

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