The Auction Block

by Courtney Lynn Rose

  The Auction Block

  Agents of Interpol Book 1

  Courtney Lynn Rose

  Contents

  1. ~Lily~

  2. ~Lily~

  3. ~Lily~

  4. ~Lily~

  5. ~Lily~

  6. ~Lily~

  7. ~Lily~

  8. ~Lily~

  9. ~Lily~

  10. ~Lily~

  11. ~Lily~

  12. ~Lily~

  13. ~Lily~

  14. ~Lily~

  15. ~Lily~

  16. ~Lily~

  17. ~Lily~

  18. ~Lily~

  19. ~Lily~

  20. ~Lily~

  21. ~Lily~

  22. ~Lily~

  23. ~Lily~

  24. ~Lily~

  25. ~Lily~

  26. ~Lily~

  27. ~Lily~

  28. ~Lily~

  29. ~Blake~

  30. ~Lily~

  31. ~Lily~

  32. ~Lily~

  33. ~Lily~

  34. ~Lily~

  35. ~Lily~

  36. ~Lily~

  37. ~Lily~

  38. ~Lily~

  39. ~Lily~

  40. ~Lily~

  41. ~Lily~

  42. ~Lily~

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  The Auction Block; Book 1, Agents of INTERPOL series

  Written by: Courtney Lynn Rose

  Copyright 2019 ©Courtney Lynn Rose

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, names, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any likeness to any events, locations, or persons, alive or otherwise, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  This ebook and the print copy are licensed for your personal enjoyment only and remains the copyrighted property of the author. Please do not redistribute this book for either commercial or noncommercial use. Thank you for respecting the hardwork of this author.

  Publisher: Knox Publishing, LLC

  Publisher Link: www.knoxpub.com

  Editor: Valerie Rush

  Formatter: E.C. Land, Knox Publishing

  Proofreader: Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing

  Photographer: Reggie Deanching, R+Mphoto

  Cover Model: Holly Wysong

  Cover Design: Laura Medeiros

  Trigger Warning: This book contains adult themes and situations that are intended for readers 18 and older. These themes and situations include, but are not limited to, extreme violence, sexual abuse/assault, vulgar language, and explicit sexual encounters.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to my children; Genesis, Phoenix, and JJ.

  Without you, I’d have no reason to chase my dreams.

  And I pray that you always chase your own.

  To all the victims of human trafficking, those lost, rescued, and those still out there— you’re not forgotten.

  1

  ~Lily~

  Mid-May, 2013— Gansu, China

  Blood drips from the hunting knife in my right hand. I check the pulse of the man lying motionless on the floor— dead. Sick bastard deserved it.

  A young girl’s body lays equally motionless on a mattress in the corner. With a trembling hand, I gently check for a pulse, though I already know there isn’t one. She can’t be more than twelve, maybe thirteen. It’s as though someone clamps my lungs in a vice grip as memories flood my mind.

  Standing in a luxury hotel room, blood dripping off a knife, my hands and face splattered in red . . . and Jax.

  “Viper. Viper, come on! Stay with me, girl. We aren’t finished yet.”

  “I’m here. This girl is gone though.”

  I push to my feet and wipe the sweat from my forehead. Rescuing sex slaves for the last ten years and it still tires me out on certain days. This is one of those days. Chinese auctions are brutal.

  “You’ve got two guards in the next room, one buyer, and three slaves. Python is waiting outside the door.”

  “Roger that.”

  My bare, blood-covered feet tap loudly along the concrete floor, the slickness making it difficult to move quickly. Not far down the hall, a mammoth of a man with biceps as big as my head whose cut like a Greek god holds an AK47 with a grin on his face.

  “Hey, cupcake. Took you long enough.”

  “Girl in the last room died.”

  “Oh.” His smile fades. “You can’t save ‘em all.” He tries for nonchalance, but can’t mask the pain in his voice.

  “I can try.”

  He turns and plants his boot into the door, directly next to the handle. I rush in and sink my knife into the neck of the closest guard. Blood flows into his throat and mouth, choking him. Screams from the girls in the back of the room erupt, bouncing off the walls.

  Python fills the other guard’s body with bullets, and my vision blurs red, as I stalk toward the bed in the back. A lanky, greasy, piece of shit climbs off a girl and turns, his hands in the air.

  We don’t take prisoners.

  I move forward as he pleads for his life, but the words make my face hot with anger. He doesn’t care about the life of the girl he was raping. Closing the gap between us, I slam my knife into the hollow at the base of his throat. He gurgles and drops to his knees. As I pull the blade out, he slumps to the side, his head thudding against the concrete.

  Without looking at the girls, I say, “There’s help waiting outside. Go.”

  Two of them file out immediately. The third stands, shaking, and walks to my side.

  “Thank you,” she says reaching out to touch my arm.

  My body tenses as I step out of her reach. “You’re welcome. Get out of here, go get help.”

  She nods, hanging her head a little and leaves the chamber.

  I heave a sigh of relief. “How many total, Boa?”

  A smooth female voice resounds through my ear piece. “Today, we rescued 30 girls and 13 boys, who are currently on their way to area hospitals. A job well done!”

  The rest of our team hoots and hollers in appreciation of our success. Together, my teammate and I walk through the sinister hall, ignoring the bloodstains, and emerge into the coming night. The air is crisp and cold causing goosebumps to rise over my arms and legs, and all I can think about is the one girl I couldn’t save.

  “Lily,” a deep voice calls.

  Jax hurries over and wraps a blanket around my shoulders. I hand him my knife and draw the cloth in close, giving myself a mental shake. A mischievous grin pulls at my lips. “So, what’s my count?”

  He chuckles. “Thirteen kills today. You’ve done me proud.”

  The roar of a helicopter engine calls to us. We jog over and climb in. I take one last glance at the police and Interpol agents handling the remainder of the auction below. I sigh as the rectangular brick building gets smaller as the helicopter rises. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Unable to stop the images from inside the auction from playing through my mind— mold and water marks running down the walls, old brown blood stains mixing with bright red fresh ones.

  Damn I can’t wait to get home.

  †††

  72 Hours Later— Washington, DC

  I step out of Dr. Kinderson’s office with my psychiatric evaluation results in hand. Jax stands as I enter the waiting room, gaze glued to my face. I grin, waving the folder like a prize.

  "You pass?" Jax raises one of his eyebrows.

  "Of course. That bitch is annoying."

  "She’s a good doctor." He leads me down the closest hallway.

  "She pisses me off."

  "Lily, everyone pisses you off." Jax stops in front of
the elevator, pressing the up arrow as I fall in beside him. "She ask you about dating again?"

  "Who gives a shit if I don't date?"

  "Normal girls your age date. You know the information she’s going off of."

  "I know . . . still fucking detestable, as far as questions and subjects go." I crack my neck and roll my eyes as the metal door in front of me opens.

  Stepping into the elevator, my body tenses. My teeth grind together with the jarring movement of the metal box. After years of captivity, there’s nothing worse for me than being confined in small spaces with no way for a quick escape. The elevator dings, displaying the number six. The doors open, and I practically jump out.

  I follow Jax to the last office on the left. Our team is spread throughout the room. He moves to speak with Hayato, our Communications Specialist, and I move to the glass wall encompassing the opposite side of the room. The clouds on the horizon drift fluidly over the blue sky— it’s breathtaking.

  "How'd your session go with the shrink?" Dresden leans against the glass wall to my left.

  "Same shit, different day."

  He stands close to me, but is careful not to actually touch me— he knows better, they all do. His lips quirk up in a 'cat-who-got-the-canary' smile. He's so cocky it should be illegal. His wavy brown hair sits in disarray, laugh lines disrupting his five o'clock shadow, and green eyes shining with arrogance. The muscles in his shoulders strain his sleeveless shirt.

  Why doesn't he own a normal shirt for Christ's sake?

  "Good morning, Agents," a low voice says, his words filled with a British accent.

  Dresden and I turn at the same time, the entire team mimicking our movements. We're a well-oiled machine after ten years together.

  "Please be seated."

  I take the seat closest to me as Dresden sits to my right. Another one of my teammates, Rhett, sits down on my other side. His hair is cut short on the sides but just long enough on the top that it has a little curl to it. If it wasn’t for the dark, close-shaved beard and tattoos I know are hiding under his long sleeved shirt; I’d say he could be part of a boy band. A small diamond stud glitters from his left ear matching the megawatt smile he gives me. I return it, chuckling to myself.

  Turning my attention to the front of the room, my chair jolts forward, pushing my stomach into the edge of the table. I growl, shoving against the polished wood. Dresden covers his mouth, chuckling, as Rhett shakes his head, his shoulders quaking with silent laughter. I lift my hands as if to stretch and slap both of them, hard, in the backs of the heads.

  "Ouch! Dammit, woman!" Dresden chuckles.

  I snicker as he and Rhett both rub their heads.

  "Enough!" Jax's voice is a deep grumble, effectively wiping the smirks off all our faces. He points toward the top end of the table and we all look in that direction, scolded once again.

  "I've met most of you during your time with Interpol, but for those of you that don't know me, I'm Hyde Monroe— Head of International Affairs and Covert Operations." He sits stiffly in the head chair.

  Affairs and Covert Operations . . . yeah right. Elitist douche.

  I've met Monroe a few times over the years, but this is the first time he’s called the whole team in. We don't see eye-to-eye.

  "Agent Unnami, I know your team usually operates in undercover missions, but there's an assignment Interpol believes this team is uniquely suited for."

  "What do the powers that be want this time?" Dresden rolls his eyes.

  Sarcastic ass.

  "Lose the attitude, Agent Scholl," Hyde says.

  Jax gives Dresden the death glare. I chuckle, catching Dres' eye. He smiles wickedly and winks. Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to Hyde.

  "Two days ago, a Baltimore businessman received several threats from different trafficking cartels."

  "You'd like us to track the cartels?” Jax sits forward.

  "No, Agent. We need your team to act as his personal security."

  "Excuse me?" I sit up straighter. "Do we look like security to you?"

  "You look like eight Interpol employees to me, Agent Williams."

  "You have specialized units for things like this. Use them."

  "Save that attitude for someone else. This team has enough intelligence on human traffickers to keep this man alive. Blake Mason works very closely with Interpol's rescue units, and my boss believes his safety is of utmost importance."

  "Tell your boss to fuck-off," Dresden snarls. "We don't babysit rich boys."

  I gesture toward Dres in silent agreement.

  "Dresden, Lily— enough." Jax's voice is low and full of authority.

  I stare down at my hands.

  Dresden forcefully taps his fingers on the tabletop.

  "What are the details of the assignment, Monroe?" Jax leans back in his chair.

  "You'll still be outside protocol. Mr. Mason is less than accepting of this idea, but his friends here at Interpol talked him into it."

  "So he'll probably be a complete asshole on top of everything else?" Dresden glares at Hyde.

  "Let me explain something to you, Agent Scholl. Blake Mason is one of the most successful entrepreneurs in the United States. I don't give a damn how he treats you. Do your damn job." Hyde stands and walks around the table, handing a manila folder to Jax. "Here's the information you need. Mason will be meeting with you, Williams, Scholl, and myself in an hour. He’s rented a local park for today back in Baltimore for a family affair, so we'll head there afterwards."

  "Wonderful," I mutter.

  Jax gives me an agitated stare, and I avert my eyes.

  "I'm not sure if this set up is a good idea," Jax says, scanning a paper in the manila folder.

  "Too bad. We're trying to make Mason more accepting. You have free reign in almost everything else, but the setup can't be altered." Hyde’s tone leaves no room for argument.

  "What's the setup?" Vlad, another one of my teammates, says.

  Vlad looks more like a hitman than an Interpol agent. He has a shaved head with little to no facial hair, usually, and he wears a thick, gold chain around his neck. A shark tooth earring hangs from his right ear, and on his right wrist, he wears this god-awful bracelet. It's a black leather cuff with dangling bits of bone and metal. Some crackpot, witch doctor gave it to him while we were working in Zimbabwe. It rattles as he taps his thumb on the table.

  "Lily will act as point for his personal security team with you and Dresden as co-guards. Everyone else is undercover security."

  "What does that entail exactly?" I sit up straighter as my stomach tightens. Just the look on Jax’s face tells me I’m not going to enjoy this shit.

  "You’ll be with Mr. Mason at all times. In overly public places, the others will go with you. For large events, such as some of the charity functions he attends, you all go," Hyde says, turning toward the door.

  I stare, wide-eyed and open mouthed as the door closes behind him, shaking my head trying to process what he just said.

  "Lily," Jax says gently.

  My jaw clenches, forcing the muscles in my neck to flex. "Why the fuck do I have to be head of security?"

  "The dick-face probably doesn't have an issue with women, so he won’t give you as hard of a time. He’ll think you’re a pushover," Dresden says, shaking his head.

  "Interpol obviously doesn't know shit about our Lily." Vlad laughs.

  The right side of my mouth quirks up, and I chuckle to myself. There’s a strange satisfaction that comes with proving you’re stronger and smarter than a man, at least, there is in my line of work.

  Well . . . this could be fun.

  "You going to be okay with this?" Jax stands, throwing the folder onto the table.

  I chuckle. "Yeah. I love putting bitches in their place."

  2

  ~Lily~

  Dresden and I change into more professional clothing while we wait for Blake Mason to arrive at Interpol. It’s kind of fun to watch him squirm wearing a long sleeve button d
own shirt, tie, and dress slacks. He looks so out of place, continually pulling on the collar of the shirt trying to loosen it. If he flexes, that thing is going to rip. With his beard and stern face, he belongs in anything but dress clothes. I remain in black cargo pants, combat boots, black long sleeve shirt with a high neckline. Same thing I usually wear. Jax, on the other hand, changed into a full gray suit. It’s the only time he actually looks like our Unit Chief as opposed to the Nigerian Rebel fighter he used to be.

  I'm not even sure why this guy needs protection. According to the profile, Mason’s six-foot-four, well-built, a black belt in karate, and competes in kickboxing tournaments every year. Our Technology Specialist also emailed an article from when he won a mixed martial arts competition in Fredericksburg.

  Can't wait to see what he thinks of me being his main source of protection.

  This is bound to be another instance of male stupidity.

  "Try and behave yourselves today." Jax gives Dresden and I pointed glares.

  We try to put on confused faces, but fail miserably. Dresden chuckles and runs his fingers through his short brown hair. He's about as likely to get along with Mason as a tiger and its prey are to share a bed.

  "We will, Jax. Relax. This isn't our first rodeo." I sit forward in my chair to pull my hair over my shoulder. After retrieving a hair tie from my pocket, I quickly braid my overly long tresses. Even styled this way it hangs past my waist.