by Ruby Vincent
I sat in silence during the drive to North Quay. Ghostly hands beat and tore at me the whole way.
“YOU THINK THIS SCARES me? Huh? Your toys don’t impress me.”
Corbin had been yelling and carrying on even before the gag came out. Cash and Brutal hauled him kicking and flailing into the basement. The choice crap he spat as he was suspended off the ceiling was particularly creative.
“I’m not telling you shit!”
Brutal opened a trunk tucked away in a corner and emerged with a sheet of plastic. He laid it out under Corbin’s feet.
“You’re dead,” he said. “Every last Merchant in this city will be hunted down. We’ll beat you unrecognizable, you won’t need the masks. And as for Queen Cunt over there, I’ll sell her pussy to a different bastard every night.”
“How quickly you dropped the gentlemen act,” I muttered.
“All right, Bunny.” Sinjin bowed low, sweeping up his hand. “He’s all yours.”
“Mine?”
The guys were fanning out. Sinjin hopped on the rack while Cash leaned alongside. Mercer propped against the cage, and Brutal got out another piece of plastic, put it on the trunk, and took a seat.
“You started this,” Sinjin said. “You have to be the one to finish it. Not just for you.”
A vision of a frightened Kaylee peeking out from a bathroom stall flashed through my mind.
“You’re right.”
Lifting my chin, I converged on the swinging gangster. “I know you keep payment records and background information on your bidders. You’d be an idiot not to. Tell us where—”
Corbin spat in my face. “Fuck you.”
I reeled, revulsion churning my stomach as the gob ran down my cheek. A blur shot past me.
Brutal smashed his jaw. He swung on the hook, head lolling and dazed.
“Let’s try this again.” Sinjin wiped my cheek.
Keeping hold of my chin, he raised me to meet him. “There’s no one right way to this. Everyone has their own style, Bunny.”
“Their style?”
“Take Brutal.” Sinjin pressed my back to him, resting his chin on my shoulder. “No tools. No weapons. He extracts pain with his bare—gloved—hands. He feels the breaking of bones beneath his knuckles. Listens to a sweet symphony of screams, grunts, and whimpers.”
His words washed over me soft, light, and mesmerizing. Sinjin spoke with a reverence that stilled me.
“In a silent world, Brutal controls the sounds. He elicits your begging and your cries, and he decides when they stop.”
We shifted to Cash. “Cash is about guns. Bombs. Firepower and precision. Getting the job done quickly, efficiently, and on his timetable. Mercer—”
“You can bore her with the details about me later,” he broke in, grin wide and gorgeous.
Sinjin hummed agreement. “Then there’s me.”
Again, I moved with him. The marionette on the end of his strings.
“Knives.”
The wall of blades glinted in the light.
“Blades are thin. Deceptively delicate. They slide through the skin like it was where they were meant to be. A sheath of blood and muscles, and on the end of the hilt, you can feel it. The connection. Their pain is your own. Their blood obeys your command.”
Sinjin whispered his love letter to the blades. A private conversation and I the intruder spellbound in his hold.
He selected one off the wall—the knife he put inside me—and closed my hand over the hilt.
“Corbin will tell you anything you want to know with this in your hand.”
Corbin laughed at our approach. It made his split lip bleed more, and that didn’t stop him. “What do you think you’re going to do with that?” he cried. “Look at you. You can’t stop shaking.”
I was shaking. The knife bobbed harder the closer we got to him.
Sinjin tore his shirt open, ratcheting his howl up louder.
“Oooh. Very scary,” he mocked. “A trembling little slut who hid when shit got bloody and scurried in after you handled the situation for her. You think this girl with her nonsense about dishwashers is going to make me talk?” He laughed again. “Come on, guys. Colleague to colleague. Do me the courtesy of questioning me yourself. At least the male model over there throws a good punch.”
“Do it.” Sinjin guided my hand to his chest, pressing the tip over his heart. “Make him tell you where the girls are,” he whispered.
The devil on my shoulder.
“It’s a wonder we didn’t stamp out the lot of you in a week,” Corbin said. “Cockroaches. That’s what the Merchants are. You hide in masks and scuttle around in the dark, terrified to take the Kings head-on.”
“Do it.”
Pinpricks of sweat dotted my face and heaving chest. As cold as the basement was, I burned.
Sinjin’s steadying hand didn’t push or force. He wanted me to do this myself.
“You’ll never find those girls.” Red tinged Corbin’s grin maniacal. “You killed a fraction of the men who work for me and stole even less of our money. The business will keep running uninterrupted until I get out of here—and I will get out of here.”
“This should help,” Sinjin said.
Releasing my hand, he dipped inside my jeans. Shock made my gasp louder as he flicked my clit.
“Pain is a gift, Bunny,” he said, licking the shell of my ear. “Just as pleasure is. You’re freeing our friend from himself.”
“Sai— Ah!”
He plunged two fingers inside me and scissored them—rubbing that bundle of nerves as he picked up the pace. Waves of heat radiated up my core, threatening to fog my mind.
Corbin’s tirade had come to a blessed end, but Cash, Mercer, and Brutal, they moved in closer. Surrounding me.
“Corbin stole those girls,” Sinjin murmured. “He ripped them from their lives, fed them to beasts and killed the people they were. Tonight, he can make it right. He can save them, but only if you help him, Adeline.”
Sinjin freed my breasts, exposing their rock-hard secret to watching eyes. He tweaked them mercilessly, tugging hoarse cries from me. I stumbled, knees weak, and my hand slipped. A thin, barely there cut appeared on Corbin’s torso.
“Yes,” Sinjin said. “Give him this gift. Make him right his wrongs. Confess his sins. Once he does, he’ll thank you.” Sinjin returned my hand where it was. “Do it, Adeline. It will feel this good.”
“N-no,” I rasped.
The knife clattered to the floor.
“I can’t—”
“You can!”
“—with a knife!” I cried.
I untangled from him, swaying on my feet from the almost orgasm. “I can’t do it with a knife,” I said. “I create with knives. I make beautiful, delicious food that makes people smile even on their worst day. That’s how I do good, Saint. I won’t use the same tool on a worthless piece of trash like him.”
The walls of weapons gave me more choice than a grocery store. I spotted a club nestled among the antiques. The long handle was smooth and curved, ending in a round head.
“But I can use that.”
I claimed my prize, and turned on Corbin. I closed the distance. Hands steady. Eyes clear. Skin cool.
“Tell me where to find the girls.”
The wild grin was gone. Replaced by a snarl twitching contempt. “You shouldn’t have spent your college money on those fake tits. Maybe then you’d fucking comprehend that I won’t tell you a damn—”
I swung, smashing the club between his legs.
“Argh!” Eyes bulging, Corbin’s face flushed red to purple.
“Someone who hates children as much as you do has no business having them,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, beating you until your testicles literally burst will ensure another great wrong isn’t committed, on top of the pain you’ve caused.”
I hit him again. Corbin’s scream rang through the fire station.
“Where are they?!”
“I’ll
fucking kill you, bitch!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “You’re dead!”
I swung the club. Corbin flung his body to the side. He jerked and twisted on the rattling chain, screaming his threats.
“Take him down,” I ordered. “Put him on the rack.”
“As you command, Bunny.”
I didn’t need to ask if Sinjin was enjoying this. His erection strained against his zipper. A closer look revealed Brutal and Mercer in the same state. Cash’s long coat concealed what may or may not be there.
He and Sinjin moved a thrashing Corbin to the rack and strapped him in.
“We don’t even use this,” Cash said, voice dry. “You chose your bride well.”
“Yes, I did.”
I pushed both of them out of my head. All that mattered was finding those girls—Shelby, Elle, and Adriana. A week in hell was a week too long.
“Answer me, Corbin. Who bought the girls? Where do I find them?”
“Half... a million,” he forced out, “and your lives. That’s what I’ll give you. Let me out of here right now and the Kings won’t seek retribution.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” Mercer said. “I doubt Angelo knows what your part of the business is getting up to. He won’t seek revenge, but you certainly will.”
“No.” He tossed his head between bound arms. “This can end here if you—”
“If you tell me what I need to know,” I finished.
I lined the club over his penis. “Last chance.”
“Call her off,” he shouted. “Take the money!”
I brought the weapon down.
His cry savaged his throat. Corbin’s eyes rolled in his head, and he went limp.
“Dammit.” I tossed the club next to him. “He passed out.”
“Unsurprising,” Cash remarked. “Your method is effective, but will result in frequent fainting and vomiting.”
“Keyword there is effective. For all we know, they held another auction last night. He has to tell us what he knows now.” I marched toward the stairs. “I’m getting water to throw in his face. Or maybe smelling salts for the fainting princess.”
Sinjin’s voice followed me up. “I fucking swear I’m going to marry that woman.”
CASH PROVED TO BE CORRECT about many things. There was a lot of fainting and vomiting involved.
And the method was effective.
“C-Castian Hotel!” Rivers of tears and mucus dripped down Corbin’s face. “Stop, please.”
“That’s where they are?” I asked, raising the hand holding the club to wipe my brow.
I shed my jacket long ago, standing over him in my tight one-piece tee and black skinny jeans. Sinjin said I looked like a warrior priestess preparing a ritual sacrifice for slaughter, and he was going to fuck me so hard I’d transcend realms and meet the goddess herself.
He’d been highly distracting throughout the entire process. Twice he jacked off while urging me to show no mercy. A terrible influence indeed.
“Yes,” Corbin rasped. “The children aren’t bought... they’re rented. Why sell them when we can keep the money going for months, even years? We pimp them out like any other whore. The bidders pay for one night. The rest of the time—”
“They’re kept at the Castian Hotel,” I finished. “How many children are you keeping there?”
“It’s not just children. Some are older. Runaways. Hookers. They’d rather live in a five-star hotel, working a few nights a week than the alternative.”
“How many?” I repeated.
“Eighteen girls. Thirteen boys. Fifteen of the rest.”
Thirty-one children. My stomach heaved. “Tell us about the hotel.”
“I own it.” The truth came out slow, but it came. “Everyone from the receptionist to the janitor works for me. To an outsider, it’s a regular, high-class hotel. But once you’re in, you don’t leave. The windows are tinted and can’t be opened. The doors lock from the outside. Bathrooms in the rooms. They can even watch television. It’s a nice setup.
“You should see what some of those other fucks do,” he cried. “Pump them full of so many drugs, they don’t know when someone is climbing on top of them. They sleep in crack houses and shit in buckets. I didn’t kidnap them! They were sold to me. Some by their own parents. If it wasn’t me, they just would’ve gone to someone else, and their lives would be much worse.”
Acid burned in my mouth. “That’s your defense? You’re the lesser evil?” My grip tightened on the club. “I heard that once. That if my mom wasn’t taking me to him, she’d just hand me to someone else, and they wouldn’t love me.” I stuck it in his face, crossing his eyes. “If you try to justify what you’ve done again, I’ll keep hitting till it comes off.”
“Alright! Fuck! The bidder list is a notebook hidden in my desk’s false bottom. Most bid through the auction, and then drive from the club to the hotel to meet their... item. For the special guests or those willing to pay extra for privacy, they buy a night or more through the website. It appears as a regular site, but will tell anyone who doesn’t book with a special coupon code, that we’re fully booked. I’m telling you because you’ll find out anyway,” he spat. “Half a dozen bidders in the book will be marked ‘website.’”
“What won’t we find out on our own?” Mercer asked. “Security? Guards? Guns? How do we get in and out undetected?”
“You don’t. I’ve got the best security system money can buy. There are cameras on my cameras. The receptionist has photos and fingerprints of the bidders, so no one can walk in pretending to be someone else. Also, everyone is fucking armed, and they won’t go down easy. If we’re busted, it’s a life sentence from the state, and a death sentence from Angelo.”
“He wouldn’t like what you’re doing?” I asked.
Corbin laughed. “He wouldn’t give a fuck about what I’m doing. But he won’t be happy I kept it quiet, didn’t cut him in for eighty percent, and then got my ass caught. The Kings don’t get hauled out in cuffs on the six o’clock news. And they for fuck sure give Angelo his cut.”
“Thank you, Corbin,” Sinjin announced. “You’ve been very helpful. In the morning we’ll have another chat just to be sure you’ve told us everything you know.”
“I have! They’re at the hotel. All of them. I swear.”
“I’m sure they are. Tomorrow, I’ll be extra sure.”
“Tomorrow? Saint, we can’t wait,” I said. “We know where they are. We have to go.”
“We can’t,” Cash said. “Sinjin’s right. First, we have to get info on the hotel. If it’s as guarded as he says, we’re looking at a full-on assault. Getting in, taking out the players, and safely moving over thirty children out of there isn’t a five-person job.”
“We’ll get all the guys on this one. Tomorrow, we make a plan to strike,” Sinjin said. He lifted the rack and moved Corbin around.
“No, stop! What are you doing?”
“Facing you to the wall for the lady’s privacy,” he replied. “I’m going to do unspeakable things to her now and would rather you not watch.”
He was lifting me over his shoulder in the time it took that comment to register.
“Saint, do I need to remind you there is a perfectly good bed upstairs?”
“Do I need to remind you how long it’s been since I fucked you on the floor, on your knees?”
“Two days.”
“Exactly. Ages.”
The room spun. Next I knew, I was lying on the plastic blinking up at him. Over his head, Cash climbed the stairs out of the basement. Sinjin tugged my jeans off and flung them over his shoulder.
I flipped to crawl away. He snagged my ankle and dragged me right back. He hooked an arm around my thigh and explored my middle. The truth was known in an instant.
“Interesting,” he purred. “You’re drenched, Bunny. Looks like someone enjoyed their chat with the King more than they let on. Should I be jealous?”
“That was from your earlier fondling.”
I�
��d said it and I’d swear to it. Did I feel a sense of satisfaction deep down over exacting justice against a man who pimped children out to the highest bidder?
Yes.
Alone in my room with the door locked and a pillow over my mouth, I’d confess that I did. But to Sinjin—no. It was the effect he had on me that did it. Admitting this dark prince with his love song to blood and knives was pulling me deeper into his web was not something I could admit.
Not before he did.
Cupping his hand, I drove him deeper. “Finish what you started.”
“Gladly.”
He jumped on the distraction like I knew he would.
I heard a faint click. Sinjin cut my shirt in half.
“Saint, this was my favorite!”
“Don’t wear shit that gets between me and your pussy. You’re lucky I let you get away with pants.”
He punctuated his sentence with one hard thrust, cutting off my unfiltered opinion of what I thought of that.
Sinjin set a demonic pace. Pounded me so hard and fast, he lifted my knees off the plastic and left my toes scrabbling for purchase.
There was nothing like having sex with Sinjin Bellisario. The man lit a spark in your core that set off exploding waves of pleasure for days to come. Seriously, he could just brush past me in the kitchen and I’d be wet and willing for him. No one else could have the effect on me that he did.
At least I believed that until today.
My cheek slid up and down the plastic. He was the wrong way up, but clear as could be. Brutal hadn’t left with Cash. Neither did Mercer for that matter.
Mercer leaned on the rack, pants around his ankles and fist stroking his formidable cock.
Brutal, however, did not indulge what achingly demanded his attention. He fixed on me—expression hard to place as his friend and leader turned me inside out.
Peeling my shirt over my head, I tossed it in the direction of my pants.
“Saint,” I breathed. “Were you serious about spreading around my employee benefits?”
He chuckled. “I was. Why? What do you have in mind?”
Through my fog, I locked eyes with Brutal. I crooked my finger.
“Come on,” I said. “You put the plastic down for a mess. Let’s make one.”
