Page 4 of Auctioned Surrender

Keith and I could use some backup at noon tomorrow.

I’m there. Whatever you need.

I text him with the park address and a list of things I’ll need, open up the backpack and pull out a sheet of plastic, and lay it on the ground, along with a thin, rolled up sleeping blanket. Then I prepare to make myself as comfortable as possible and prepare for a long night, because I’m not taking my eyes or ears off Bryanna. The way she looked at me with those wide-set deep green eyes, lying right to my face while she was choking back her tears. This young lady is in some serious shit, and I intend to find out exactly what it is very soon.

The light in the bathroom goes out, and then I see a shadow of Bryanna in the living room, tossing a long blanket on what can only be the couch, and shortly after that, the entire apartment is cloaked in darkness. I put my headphones on and engage the microchip app on my phone. I’ve just gotten settled in when her soft crying begins, and it goes on for over an hour. Even after it stops, I can’t shut the sound of it out of my mind. My jaw is clenched tight with the need to make whoever has hurt this lady pay dearly for that deed, and it takes almost two full hours of listening to her breathe before I know she’s finally fallen asleep.

I imagine those wide, round deep green eyes looking at me as I listen to her, and my cock grows long and hard. Fuck, fantasizing about someone I’m protecting is something I don’t do, shouldn’t be doing, especially since she’s Jenny’s niece. Bryanna’s young, six years my junior, perhaps not so bad in today’s world, I guess, but still young. I try to shake the vision ofher breasts bobbing amid the tub full of bubbles. Fuck, that was hot, and I’ll probably never get that vision out of my head, and I hope to god I never do.

It hasn’t even been four hours and the sun is barely up, just 7 a.m. by my watch. I observe Layla coming out of the apartment and heading down to the sporty little 1980s Camaro she drove home last night. It may be vintage, but that dark blue-and-white-striped little baby’s got power, and Layla knows just how to handle it. She gives it a little gas, and it purrs as she peels out of the parking lot, and I send a message to Keith, who’s a couple streets away, to get on her tail and stay there.

Roger that.

I smile. Keith was a great addition to the team. He doesn’t like to leave Chicago now that he has a wife and an infant and another baby on the way, but there’s more than enough work in the city, and he’s proven himself highly valuable, time and time again. Jay and Matt have both found partners too. Brian Carrington and Chase Prestian, two of the wealthiest men in the world and biggest players around the globe, have each found someone special and settled down. I used to envision that for myself, but as my dad used to say, you have to live with the hand you’re dealt, and long-term romances just aren’t in my cards. It’s a good reminder to make a trip to the club, blow off a little steam, and get my mind off this hot little green-eyed assignment.

It’s another twenty minutes before Keith texts me with the address he’s followed Layla to. I send it to intel to get an official confirmation of the occupant, but I already know exactly who it’sgoing to be. The same sleazeball who owns that seedy little club, the one who had his hands all over Layla, and who more than likely has something to do with Bryanna’s current situation.

I hear crackling in the brush and roll onto my stomach, my Glock at the ready. I recognize the shoes immediately and relax, smirking up at the man staring down at me. “Little touchy there, Dame? Thought you could use a break. How’s Bryanna?” Matt asks.

“She’s alive, but not so good emotionally. She’s using a different name and denied that she was the person we’re looking for. Looked right in my eye and lied and then cried herself to sleep. I haven’t seen anything to confirm she’s being held against her will, but you and I both know how these places work. Her friend Layla seems to be the best way to find out. She’s the one I gave the cash to, the one I need to meet with, and the reason I asked you to bring more money,” I say.

“Yep, I figured you’d want this before the meetup,” Matt says, handing me a roll of bills.

I glance at them and then back up to him. “This is a lot more than I asked for, or even than protocol allows for petty cash.”

“Brian wants Jenny’s niece back, and he’s willing to pay whatever it takes to get the job done.” He crouches next to me. “I talked to Dereck, and he said if we want to hang out and make sure we have eyes on Bryanna, he will meet with Layla. Keith said he planned on rounding up a couple of the guys to run backup. It’s up to you, but you look like shit. You’ve been killing yourself for weeks looking for this lady. I can’t imagine you want to let her out of your sight now.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Would you mind messaging Dereck and letting him know that sounds good to me. At first I thought Layla was going to turn Bryanna over to me for a few hundred bucks, but she was protecting her. She knew exactly where those cameras were placed in the room. Layla’s sleepingwith the boss, so she may be privy to information that will help us figure out how this operation works. She didn’t agree to meet me, but I think she’ll come if it means helping Bryanna.”

“Roger that. I’ll get the information over to the guys, and you get some sleep. I don’t mind taking point for a little while,” Matt says.

“I’ll take you up on that too,” I say, stretching out. As tired as I am, my mind is unable to shut down and keeps running over image after image of Bryanna until I finally drift to sleep, and the little seductress follows me into my dreams.

Chapter 4

Bryanna

The morning sun is shining in through the cheap bent blinds. I walk the few steps from the couch to the kitchen, throw a filter and grounds into the coffee maker, and sling myself onto the barstool to scroll through last week’s newspaper while I wait for my caffeine to brew.

The old flip phone which is never to leave my side vibrates on the counter. My captors only message me when they want me to do something, and then I do it without question. That’s how this operation works. I pour a cup of coffee before the pot is half-finished, take a sip, and read the message.

You’re off the clock today and tomorrow to get ready for the masquerade ball on Friday. Will send instructions later.

I read it again, and slowly digest the message and what it really means. I don’t respond, because they never anticipate receiving, nor do they want a response. They expect you will do exactly as you’ve been told if you want to see your loved ones again. The choices are clear: you have none, except to do precisely as they instruct. I didn’t really think at some point thisnightmare would just suddenly disappear, or that they would give me back my life, or that somehow I would be spared, but Friday is only two days away, and the reality of what that means, especially after Layla’s warning, is really starting to sink in.

Layla’s Camaro woke me up. She must be on her way to R.J.’s, which means her bed is now available. I have the day off, so my caffeine fix is quickly forgotten in exchange for a few more hours of sleep. Her bed is mussed, the covers and sheets in disarray, but it still looks more inviting than the couch. I stretch out, enjoying the luxury because once Friday arrives, I may never see the comforts of a bed, Layla, this apartment, or anyone who means anything to me again.

I pull Layla’s pillow to me, soaking in a little comfort, wishing it was all a bad dream, but it is a reality, my own personal nightmare, and no one can save me, not even the man who thinks he can. My mind drifts to the tall handsome stranger who found me last night, Damian. I know exactly who he works for, and as long as that man is anywhere near me, my life is going to be a hell of a lot harder. I’ve heard about Brian’s entire security team from my aunt and mother. They have a reputation for never giving up and always getting their man, but I don’t believe in fairytales, or that Prince Charming will just come waltzing in and save the day.

I wake a few hours later feeling more refreshed and get ready for the day, applying the makeup I’ve been required to wear since taken: foundation to create an alluring and perfect complexion, blush to highlight my cheekbones, eyebrow pencil to accentuate the dramatic brows they created the last time they waxed me, and a fine eyeliner that doesn’t smudge under the heaviest of lights for long hours of wear. I remember every single thing they’ve instructed me to do and finalize the look with a bright red lip liner, filling it in with the lipstick they’ve given me. I take a long look in the cheap glass mirror affixed tothe backside of the door, and the face staring back at me looks so much older than it should. Twenty-two-years-old, no sexual experience to speak of, yet I’m supposed to be turning on men more than twice my age in clubs and venues all over the city.

I clean up the apartment and am just getting ready to fix lunch when the flip phone buzzes with another message.

Bee’s Massage at 3 pm this aft. Driver will pick you up. Don’t be late.

I crinkle my nose, because it’s a humiliating experience to get your lady bits waxed, even if it does make you look perfect in the skimpiest of costumes. I pour another cup of coffee and put a bagel from the bakery down the street into the toaster. It may be days and days old, but with a little bit of heat and crisping, it will taste as good as new.

The clock strikes two-thirty in the afternoon, and the driver gives me a warning beep letting me know he’s right around the corner and not to make him wait. I race down the rickety stairs of our apartment complex and slide into the back seat of the sleek black Lincoln, the one they use to take me wherever they want me to go. These people may keep us living in dumps, with very little to eat, but as a sign of status, they make sure their ladies are seen riding in the fanciest of cars. It’s my third time going to the salon, and each of the times before were scarier. I didn’t know when or where they would come for me, but I know I’m safe today. I know that nothing is going to happen to me until Friday, thanks to the inside scoop from Layla.

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