Bocca: A Steel Paragons MC Novel

by Eve R. Hart

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bocca

  After picking up the right pair of shoes, ones that were way too fancy even for the old me, I drove to the hotel. I was going to go in the back entrance, the one not many people thought about. I didn’t want valet, not with the plan that I had. I parked in the employee section, the vehicle blending in with the ones that surrounded it. The spaces weren’t assigned, so I knew it would be fine for the night. After I checked my surroundings, I tucked the key away into the magnetic box and hid it above the left rear tire. If the car got jacked, it wouldn’t be a big deal. The car was clean and wouldn’t lead to me or the club.

  Then, I made my way into the hotel, slipping past an employee exiting out the back with no trouble. I was sure that people used the back entrance often. Men meeting their mistresses on their lunch break. Or a prostitute. Hey, I wasn’t one to judge. Women meeting the PI they hired and didn’t want to have that conversation out in the open. You know, shit like that. The employee didn’t even blink as he held the door open for me.

  I wove my way through the back halls until I got to the lobby. It was one of those five-star hotels, chandelier hanging in the middle of the expansive lobby and all that jazz. This was all part of the plan. I had to take as many precautions as possible so that I didn’t track back to the club.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Tinman?” the woman that was checking me in asked.

  I had to hide my chuckle. And no, Tinman was not my real name. What? Did you think this was my first rodeo? I had fake IDs and credit cards with that name, and that was just the simple stuff. Bank accounts and even a whole fake background that would eventually lead nowhere near the real me. I doubted it would even go that far. These people had already vetted their so-called clients and since I was able to add myself to the list, they wouldn’t be checking unless I raised suspicion.

  “Yes, please,” I paused and looked down at her name tag which happened to be right above her perky tits. And no I hadn’t missed how she undid an extra button at the top when I had looked down and searched through my wallet to pull out my ID. I even noticed the hint of navy blue lace from her bra that was peeking out. If only I had the time… “Miss Leighton. Would you call for a car, please?”

  “Most certainly, Mr. Tinman,” she replied as she reached for the receiver.

  Her eyes never left mine as she spoke on the phone. Her cheeks heated and I couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk and a wink. That had her pulling her plump, pink bottom lip into her mouth as she attempted to focus on the person on the other end of the call.

  Sometimes it was just too easy. I hoped I’d never lose my charm. There were times that I wondered about if I ever would, being that I didn’t really have to do much back at the club. I wanted pussy, I got pussy. I didn’t even have to try. Didn’t have to put in any effort. That was maybe the beauty of the clubwhores, but there were times that the convenience and accessibility got a little old.

  She hung up the phone and smiled sweetly.

  “It will be about ten minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you like me to give you a call when it arrives?” she asked as I started to step back.

  “That’s not necessary. I’ll be back down in time.” I gave her my most charming smile then made my way to the elevators.

  I wasn’t going to even step foot in the room long enough to check out the view.

  Actually, I didn’t even step all the way in. Since I didn’t need to check myself out, there was no need to even go in. I popped the door open, spotted the desk right away, and with a quick flick of my wrist, tossed the key-card onto the desk. Then I headed back for the elevator, taking notice of all the cameras along the way. I’d have to go back and fuck with the footage just to cover my tracks. I knew I’d have time because it would take a lot for anyone to track me back here. And I wasn’t worried about fingerprints. That shit wouldn’t lead anywhere that was for sure. And I had no doubt that whatever was left on the door handle would be smudged and covered up by the cleaning crew tomorrow. And the key-card would be cleared and lost in the shuffle of the pile of blank ones ready to be used again.

  I made my way back down to the lobby and out the front just as a black town car pulled up. This was me, it would be charged to the card I’d left to pay for the room. Simple as that. The only problem was, having this guy know where he was dropping me off at. That was a loose end that I hadn’t quite figured out by now. Most of these guys knew to keep their eyes averted and mouths closed, but they were human, and you couldn’t always predict what they would do.

  I gave him the address and instructed him to park a block away. I wanted to watch for a bit before I decided what I was going to do.

  Without a word, he drove through the city, doing as I requested once we neared the building.

  No surprise that it was a lone warehouse sitting in the middle of a bunch of vacant buildings. The warehouse looked pretty standard from the outside, banged up and brutalized by both time and weather. Meant to go unseen. The door was flat black and there was some sort of sign painted onto it in what I would have called light beige. I was too far away to make out what it was. If only I could, then I might have had some sort of clue as to who was running this thing.

  My fingers tapped against my knee. I hated sitting there. I moved my gaze over to the front seat. The driver looked nothing more than a kid, probably fresh out of school. I hated that he was here because of me. But then again, maybe he had already seen this sort of thing. I had no idea what kind of clientele he drove around. Must be strange, being so close to something so dark and possibly not even knowing. I started to wonder if he even had an idea of what was going on inside that warehouse. If he was smart, he would drive away after I got out and never think about it again.

  I cut my eyes back over to the building and averted my thoughts from the driver and where his life might take him after this.

  I sat back for a long while and watched the men at the door. My hands twitched and I wanted to pull my hair out of its tie and then put it up again. It served no other purpose than to give me something to do with my hands. My hair was fine, still perfectly in place thanks to all the product I’d used.

  Checking my watch, I decided that it was time. I’d seen enough people enter that I wouldn’t walk in looking like someone that was a bit too eager. And I wasn’t late enough to disrupt anything. It was the perfect time to slip in virtually unnoticed and blend in.

  “Thanks,” I said to the driver as I held out a couple of hundred dollar bills between my pointer and middle finger.

  He took it without hesitation and nodded, not even giving me a glance in the rearview mirror. Smart kid.

  I pushed open the door and headed to the front of the warehouse. I wasn’t the only one that had walked up, so I knew it wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary. I didn’t want to get closer, I didn’t want the kid to have a chance to be seen. And if we drove up to the front, he’d feel compelled to get out and open the door for me, and I definitely didn’t want that. I heard the car do a quick, but unnoticeable turn behind me and drive off, away from the danger.

  I gave my fake name at the door, the one that I had put on the list. Then I spoke the five words, in the right order, that he was waiting for. With a once over, he opened the door and allowed me to pass.

  I took brisk steps down the long hall. The carpet was oddly plush under my feet, and red, like they were rolling out the celebrity welcome mat. My stomach churned and I took in a deep breath. The walls were painted a soft gold, almost champagne color and were lit by dim sconces about four feet apart. The whole thing was appalling. Set up like some VIP club. At the end of the hall, I came to another door. I could admit that my hands were sweaty as I started to push it open, the black painted steel was almost too glossy and sticky.

  Was I ready for this? I mean, no. How the fuck could I be? I’d never been to one of these things personally, especially not posing as a client. I’d heard stories
though, seen pictures, and even been around for the aftermath of a takedown. That should have been enough to prepare me for what I was about to walk into. But somehow, I didn’t think it really would.

  On the other side of the door was an open space that very much looked like a warehouse. There was no carpet here. I felt like the front was just for show. The uneven concrete below my shoes was smooth though, making it feel like my new soles wanted to glide across it. There were groups of couches placed randomly around the room. Perfectly placed lamps that emitted a low sporadic glow of light all over. There were tables for standing at only. A bar sat to the left with two bartenders running the show in crisp, white button-up shirts and black slacks. As I looked closer, I could see they were mixing and serving up drinks with blank expressions. Almost like they were already dead. Robots. And I wondered if they were captives themselves already broken from being in for so long.

  It took me forever to drag my eyes to the far side of the room. I knew what was there, but I wasn’t mentally ready to actually view it. I didn’t think I would ever fucking be.

  There, set up on a raised stage and lit up with bright lights like a show, were neatly arranged cages. I did my best to show no reaction as I took it all it, my eyes bouncing quickly from cage to cage.

  Girls, so many girls, chained and locked up. All of them in different states. Some had that vacant stare like they’d been held captive long enough to know that there wasn’t a way out. They’d lost hope. A few I suspected were on some sort of drug, a sedative, maybe. Two of them, looking younger than the rest, were curled up in the corner of their cages trying to make themselves seem as small as possible.

  I couldn’t take it, and as much as I wanted to jerk my eyes away from the horrifying and disgusting sight, I knew that if someone saw me it would be a dead giveaway. So I kept my face neutral as my eyes moved from cage to cage.

  The actual auction wouldn’t start for another hour. I glanced around trying to map out the exit doors. There were two doors other than the one I’d entered from. By the look of the building, I deduced which one was the exit and which one led to somewhere else. Or rather, something else. Rooms. I knew it without even having to make my way back there to figure it out. There was a small push button with a tiny red light on top of it right next to the door. My guess would have been push for service kind of thing. Then someone would come and escort you to a room and give you a personal taste of whatever girl you were looking to…bid on. They’d keep tabs though, making sure that their so-called product wasn’t fucked up or the client wasn’t getting too much of a taste. They’d also monitor how many each person inquired about. I knew this because I knew how these things went.

  My eyes went back to the stage, noticing a few men stepping up to look at the girls like some sort of piece of art at a museum. I knew I’d have to do the same at some point because that was what I was supposedly here to do and all. Couldn’t bid on something if I didn’t know what I was getting, right? The thought sickened me and I hated this. Really fucking hated this.

  Hey, I loved to take down the bad guys. But I wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Not such a good time to figure that out, though. I had high respect for people that did this as a job. The weight of all these girls’ lives was resting solely on my shoulders and if I fucked up, then I wouldn’t be able to help them. I was better behind the scenes, away from all the action. At least in this case I was. The planning and finding. That was me.

  Now, I wasn’t saying that I couldn’t handle this. It just hit me harder than I really expected, I guessed.

  For now, I decided to focus on listening in on conversations. I needed to make a mental list of people I was going to take down and ruin later. I chose my seat wisely, making sure not to put my back to the stage. I was playing a part and I was going to play it well.

  “Is this your first one?”

  I startled at the soft voice that floated into my ears. My eyes cut up and followed the lines of her slender female frame that was shoved into a beautiful green cocktail dress. She slowly took a seat, crossing her legs in my direction, causing the slit that nearly ran to her hip to fall open.

  I chose to stay silent and redirect my attention as if bored by her.

  “I get it, I’m a little too…old for you. Too free, perhaps? I can guarantee I’m not trying to hit on you.”

  “I don’t usually do auctions,” I said in a bland tone. “I’d much rather get my merchandise a little more fresh. I prefer to not have the competition and to get them before they are all…broken.” I waved my hand in the direction of the stage.

  “Ah, I see. My boss is the same. That’s why I’m here, for him.”

  She was feeding me more information than she should have, I just couldn’t figure out why. Or maybe it was because she was trapped, only she had more privileges than the girls that were here tonight did. Or ever would, I imagined. But then again, I had no fucking clue.

  “I like to break them in properly,” I replied not taking the bait and asking her more about her boss. “It’s much more work trying to force life back into them just to bend their will to how I want it.”

  If I acted disinterested then she would either keep going and tell me what I needed to know or she would get up and walk away. Either way, if I didn’t push I wouldn’t look like I was fishing.

  “This is the fourth one I’ve been to. The second that Vac has held. He sure does like to put on a show, doesn’t he?”

  Vac. My mind worked, trying to come up with a name. It was either short for something or a nickname, but I couldn’t see where Vac would be a good nickname. No, it had to be a shortened part of his real name.

  My eyes lazily scanned the area. I hadn’t given green dress so much as a glance after she sat down.

  I needed to get up and away from this conversation before she realized that she’d let too much slip. I was starting to suspect that this wasn’t really a nice chit-chat. Either she was dumb as dirt or she was sent in as a test.

  “I do think it is time to get a closer inspection,” I stood, dismissing her as if nothing had happened. “I need to make sure the ones I want aren’t too damaged.”

  Then I strolled off, only stopping once I reached the edge of the stage.

  Girl one was cowering in the corner. Her skin clung to her bones and her hair was matted and dirty as it hung in her face. Even from a few feet away I could hear her heavy, terrified breaths escaping her in short bursts. Her whole body trembled as she pulled her knees closer into her body.

  What I wouldn’t give to tell her that it would be alright, that I’d find some way to save her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even let some sort of ray of hope shine from my eyes as she peeked out between the stringy strands of her hair at me.

  “Mr. Tinman,” a voice said beside me as I stepped over to examine the next cage. I cut my eyes to the side and raised a brow at the man. “I see this is your first time here. My boss wanted me to come over and let you know that we are here if you should need anything. And, our examination rooms are through that door should you need to make use of them. It is always a good thing to make sure you know what you are buying. We wouldn’t want you to walk away unsatisfied, now would we?”

  There was something in his tone that I couldn’t grasp through his thick accent. An accent that I couldn’t place, though I felt like I should have been able to. This place was messing with my head.

  I thought that I’d made myself invisible, unnoticeable on a list of men that were basically all the same. My name and my background should have passed by like every other one. But something about this interaction made me suspect that these people were far smarter than I’d given them credit for.

  That wasn’t a problem. I just had to play this a little harder, whether it killed me on the inside or not. Because if I was convincing enough, then I’d walk out of here with my actual life still intact.

  “We think that number fifteen would appeal to you.” With his hand he gestured to the opposite side of the s
tage, to a cage that I hadn’t realized was vacant. Just then, movement caught my attention behind a curtain. Two big men, with ugly, stern faces walked out carrying what could only be described as a wild-eyed, feral, older girl. I’d have put her at almost legal, which was years older than most of the girls around her. She snarled and kicked as the two men dragged her to the empty cage, and for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. It was clear by her skinny, naked body, that she’d been captive far longer than the rest of the girls that surrounded her.

  The man to my left put his hand on my shoulder and I held back a flinch, then we were drifting closer to the other end of the stage, closer to the girl.

  The closer I drew, the more the scars that covered her body became visible. Her head thrashed, her hair whipping around in greasy, stringy clumps. She didn’t stop, didn’t lose any of her fight, even as they opened the door and tossed her in, her body hitting the floor and colliding with the bars in a way that looked extremely painful. It had me balling up my fist in my pocket and doing everything I could to contain my rage.

  “There is still some time before things get started. We could give her a few moments to calm down and then get her out for you. Yes?”

  Her chin snapped up, her vivid blue eyes looked into mine, but only for a brief second. That was all I needed to see everything, though. Her spirit had been broken in a way that told me it couldn’t be repaired. Maybe she truly was feral. She wasn’t fighting to get away. No, she was fighting because she didn’t know any better. Her soul gone, her anger somehow the only thing she knew how to express.

  She was what some might call a lost cause. And while I tended to agree, it still broke my fucking heart to witness such a loss of life.

  My father’s words and voice rang out in the back of my head.

  Is she truly human anymore? Does she even need to live if she cannot even have the basic functions of understanding the world around her? Is it more cruel to let her go on this way or to try and rewire something that is no longer there?