Adam let out a long, unsatisfied sigh and extended his hand to the Russian. “You’ve got my card. I look forward to hearing from you soon. I think you and I could make a very lucrative partnership.”
“Not yet,” Chaplinsky said slowly.
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t think you should leave just yet. The party is not over.” Chaplinsky downed his scotch and stood, straightening the lapels on his jacket. “I’m not through with this discussion, and I have a feeling you will be very interested in the rest of tonight’s proceedings.”
Adam stood, eyeballing Chaplinsky with a questioning look. “But Stephan just announced the auction was over. That was the only reason I attended tonight.”
“It is over for most. Follow me.”
Adam flipped his head to the side, indicating that Cole should follow. His insides were racing with adrenaline, but he fought to keep his expression bored. This is what they’d been praying for. The rest of Fury Security had set up in a funneled perimeter, two spotters on the inner perimeter and the rest out wider, ready to pick up the girls as they left the auction.
If Adam got lucky and spotted Tara, he’d purchase her, guaranteeing her safety. Once they left the property, they’d signal to the team to scavenge for the rest. That way they could safely rescue all of the girls and keep their identities hidden from El Oscuro.
Chaplinsky wound his way through the throng of tables, out of the door through which they’d entered, and down to a single locked door on the right, where a guard had been posted. Without saying a word, Chaplinsky extracted the black envelope from inside his jacket pocket and handed it over. The guard stepped back and opened the door, allowing the Russian to pass through. Adam made to follow, but an arm shot out to bar his way. “Invitation only.”
“They are with me.” The Russian’s voice took on a new level of authority. Cole half expected the guard to protest, but the man dropped his arm and melted back, allowing Cole and Adam to enter. Chaplinsky clapped Adam on the back and maneuvered him through a small, well-lit foyer, this one absent any Arabian dressings. Their footsteps echoed on the concrete floors and chipped black walls of the hall. The doorway at the end of the hall opened from the inside, another guard bowing as they entered. And then a huge muscular man in a nondescript black suit appeared before them, dipping his head in greeting. “If you will follow me, Sir, I have your table ready.”
They followed the man into a darkened, stadium-style room. There were about twenty tables in all, separated by thick velvet curtains capable of partitioning each off into its own private quarters. A broad set of steps led the way up each side of the room. The guard directed them up the far staircase to the top row and then guided them to the first partitioned area. There were no low-lying cushions or uncomfortable floor seats. Heavy and elegant leather chairs surrounded a smaller table.
The guard held the curtain back, allowing them entrance. “Your menu for tonight’s selection is on the table. We hope that we have something that can satisfy your appetite. I’ll be your personal attendee. If there is anything you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
With that, the guard let the curtain fall and Chaplinsky gestured for them all to take a seat.
“What is this, Chaplinsky?” Adam asked, feigning uncertainty.
The Russian’s fat lips stretched into a full lascivious grin. “The real auction.” Chaplinsky picked up the menu and scanned it briefly before handing it over to Adam. Cole glanced at it over his shoulder. There was a short list—each line started with the name of a flower and ended with the description of a woman.
“Lily,” Adam read out loud, “five foot six, 120 pounds, health grade A, a score of three?”
“Yes, he likes to start with the bargains first. Each slave has been rated on a score of one to ten, one being those that will require the most training, and ten,” Chaplinsky rubbed his hands together, “ten is near perfection.”
“So, what’s the difference between these slaves and the ones that were just offered up?”
“Let’s just say these slaves will truly belong to you. Their bodies shall be yours; you shall have the right to do with them whatever you please, including killing them if it becomes necessary, without fear of reprisal.”
Cole gave no sign of the excitement or the fury winding through his veins. What Chaplinsky had basically said in his own artful way was that these women had no choice but to be slaves, and if Adam wanted to slit his slave’s throat or abuse her body, she would have no choice but to submit. These women hadn’t volunteered for anything.
“Chaplinsky, I think I was meant to meet you tonight.” Adam grinned broadly.
Chaplinsky completely missed the dim glow of disgust in his eyes. “I feel the same way, my friend. Perhaps we’ll both find a new toy to take home tonight.”
Cole looked away, scanning the rest of the room. The curtains concealed the men to their left or right, but they could see the tables below them. Off to the side was another large dais, this one featuring a black, hand-carved throne upon which a dark-haired man sat. A single slave knelt at his feet this time, her back to the rest of the crowd, her long blonde hair cascading down around her face, hiding her features.
A narrow waist, skin gleaming even from a distance, flared into perfectly rounded hips that had his fingers curling into his palms with the urge to touch them. Hot blood rushed to his cock and his veins bulged with sexual awareness. Something he hadn’t felt to this degree for a long, long time.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn’t into slaves—especially when he suspected they weren’t here of their own free will. Still, Cole couldn’t drag his gaze off her perfect little body. He needed to see her face, needed to feed the hunger inside him.
The girl didn’t move. She stayed in a perfect kneeling position, her petite feet tucked underneath her rounded bottom, her bowed head facing the stranger. She was the picture of perfect submission, and damn his sick mind, Cole couldn’t help but picture her kneeling in front of him the same way. He scrubbed a calloused hand over his eyes and down his face, attempting to rub some of the thoughts out of his mind. There was no way this girl was here willingly.
Which meant that any fantasy he had about her was sick. Sadistic.
Still, a tiny part of him couldn’t help but hold on to the rush of desire and want just a little bit more.
Cole leaned forward, thankful he’d positioned himself behind Chaplinsky and Adam, so they couldn’t see the desire on his face. If she would just move a little bit, maybe tuck her hair behind her ear.
But the girl didn’t move—he could barely tell her ribs were moving from breathing—and a sinking sensation inside told him she wouldn’t.
Her owner shifted forward in his throne, looking for all the world like Satan himself in his dark suit and equally dark seat. The torches along the walls cast harsh shadows across his narrow face. One tanned hand reached out for the girl, tipping her face up gently. Cole froze, his breath locked in his lungs with anticipation. Her luminescent blonde hair fell back, revealing her delicate features in a slow cascade.
His finger crooked under her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. And then he turned her head to the left and Cole stopped breathing altogether.
“Tomi.” His heart stopped. His vision tunneled like he was in one of those end of the world movies when you know your life is about to change forever.
Adam cast him a quizzical glance over his shoulder, but Cole couldn’t tear his gaze away from the kneeling girl.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around the scenario. Never in a thousand years he would’ve expected to see her here. He hadn’t expected to ever see her again, period.
He was halfway off the chair when Chaplinsky’s voice broke into the fog of surprise and shock. “Looks like your man has found the slave he wants. Wonder if Luis will be willing to part with such a beauty?”
Like a load of C-4 had exploded across his chest, Cole fell back into the chair, using every
ounce of willpower he had to school his features into a look of disinterest and boredom. A look that would’ve worked so much better if he’d possessed the strength to stop staring at Tomi.
What the hell was she doing at that monster’s feet?
Adam tried to help play it off, chuckling and nudging Cole a little too hard with his elbow. Silently telling him to get his shit together. “Told you he likes blondes.”
He liked blondes all right—petite, curvy blondes with perfect upturned noses and pouty lips.
His insides were such a jumble of emotion he didn’t know what to do. Rage at the thought she was here willingly, subjugating herself to such a monster. Anger at the idea she was here against her will, that the monster had forced her. And rage at himself for caring one way or another.
Adam said, “Who’s Luis?”
“Another host for El Oscuro. He doesn’t make many personal appearances either, but tonight is special,” Chaplinsky said.
My God. If he’d had any hopes that she’d changed with age, put on weight, or lost her luster, one glimpse in the auditorium had been enough to demolish them.
Luis’s lips moved and Cole knew he was talking to her. What he wouldn’t give to hear the man’s words. She didn’t move; she didn’t even flinch. She sat there, pliant and silent, as if she were enjoying his attention.
Cole shoved to his feet, forcing his fingers to stay straight when he longed to clench them into fists and smash the table in front of him to bits. “Need to take a piss.” He turned and stalked away from their curtained quarters before Adam could say anything. No doubt his buddy thought he’d turned into a madman.
Cole turned right, walking down the plush carpeted aisle behind their row of booths, headed in the direction of Tomi. He needed to get closer, needed to see her. His mind could just be playing some sadistic, fucked-up trick.
A massive guard, dwarfing Cole by a good six inches, stepped into his path. His features were twisted up into the look of a clenched fist. “May I help you?”
Cole had to fight not to growl at him like a chained-up yard dog. “Looking for the restroom.”
The guard’s squinty eyes scanned him from head to toe. Cole didn’t need to ask to guess what the man was thinking. He wasn’t rich enough to be in this room.
Fuck, if he didn’t get his act together, he’d get kicked out of this place before the damn auction even started. “I’m with Chaplinsky. Personal bodyguard. Run the name, but hurry the fuck up before I piss my pants.”
The guard immediately lifted a wrist to his mouth and spoke into a hidden microphone there, conveying Chaplinsky’s name over the system. It wasn’t a second later that the guard nodded, having apparently received confirmation through his earpiece. “Restrooms up the stairs on the right.”
Cole nodded to the man in acknowledgment and stepped past him, keeping his face angled straight ahead but twisting his eyes to get a better look at Tomi. Luis had let go of her chin and her hair had once again cascaded over her features. Cole couldn’t see any better from here than he had from across the room. Cursing, he stomped up the stairs, keeping up the pretense of needing to use the restroom. Once inside, he grabbed the sink and stared at himself in the mirror, fighting to get the stark look of shock off his face. If Tomi was here willingly and she saw him, their entire mission would be blown. Hell, their cover might be blown anyway, because seeing Tomi had been murder on his poker face.
Shit. Cole shoved a hand over his head, scraping across his short black hair. His eyes glinted back at him in the reflection of the mirror. Tomi had destroyed him, but he’d never been able to get her out of his dreams. His reckless and rebellious mind still flitted back to her when he was asleep. The way she used to smile up at him like he was her hero. The way she would grab his hand and scoot closer to him in the truck. The passion on her face when she clutched his ass while they were making love.
For shit’s sake, he was hard right now thinking about it. His treacherous body had reacted to the sight of her like he’d taken a shotgun shell of aphrodisiac straight to the groin.
Cole twisted the faucet and a blast of icy cold water flooded the sink, which he desperately cupped in his hands. He splashed his face, trying to shock some sense back into his rattled brain. After a few seconds, he gave up that useless endeavor and instead focused on the facts—logic was his only hope for getting his rattled nerves under control.
Tomi Tomlin wasn’t supposed to be here. No matter how much he hated her, his instincts told him she was an innocent. Maybe she’d been kidnapped from one of the clubs. With her innocent blue eyes and flawless looks, she’d be the perfect bait for any pervert looking to get off. He had to get closer; there was no way around it. He needed to know for sure, and that meant studying her expressions. There was no missing when a woman had been beaten or terrorized.
Cole snatched a towel out of the artfully crafted container on the counter, quickly dried his face and hands, and tossed it into the linen basket. Then, with a mastery only a former Navy SEAL could accomplish, he erased any emotion from his features. His life wasn’t the only one hanging in the balance tonight. There was no option for failure.
With a casual stride, Cole exited the bathroom, not having to fake a natural air of dominance as he descended the stairs. Tomi was right where he’d left her, only she was no longer facing Luis. He had his hand on the back of her trembling head, petting her like he would a dog. Her wide blue eyes were locked on the floor of the stage, her thick lips parted and slack, terror lining every part of her body.
Shit. Cole’s gaze drifted down to her wrists, where a pair of large chains shackled her delicate arms. A thin silver chain connected them to the matching collar around her delicate throat. The sadistic bastard had dressed her completely in white, like a virgin sacrifice. And Cole wasn’t the only man noticing. From this angle, he could see more than one pair of eyes trained on her.
This completely screwed their plan to gather intel and possibly purchase Tara if she was put up for auction.
He needed to talk to Adam now.
As Cole made his way back to his table, a suited man stepped up to the microphone. This one looked like he belonged in a bank. “Gentlemen, we shall begin with the first delicacy on the menu tonight. I would like to present to you Orchid. She was hand-plucked—” The host smiled, waggling his brows at his own jest before continuing. “—with the man in mind whose tastes run to the bold.”
Cole darted down the walkway behind their partition, slid between the crack in their curtain and eased into his seat. Both Chaplinsky and Adam were focused on the stage. A very young female with alabaster white skin and a full mane of midnight hair stumbled into the spotlight. Unlike Tomi, she was completely naked, her full ripe breasts jutting out dark, rosy nipples. She had thick curvy hips and legs. There was no questioning her beauty—or the fact she’d been drugged. She wobbled and the host latched on to her arm, his grip firm. “As you can see, she’s been made very docile for tonight’s auction. However, you should know, she’s been rated an eight on the stubborn scale. This one will be perfect for gentlemen looking for an adventure. We will start the bidding at $300,000.”
Chaplinsky rubbed his fat, stubby hands together, watching the proceedings with glee. Adam leaned back in his seat, appearing completely disinterested.
Cole had to fight to keep his eyes off Tomi. He needed to talk to Adam…which meant he needed to get Chaplinsky away for a couple of minutes.
“Very nice, although I prefer not to have to do so much work, eh, Devine?” Chaplinsky elbowed Adam, grinning like they shared an inside joke.
“Exactly. I typically burn through those too quickly—unfortunately their smaller frames just can’t handle the amount of punishment it takes to mold them into what I’m looking for,” Adam said smoothly. Despite his perfect delivery, Cole could feel the disgust rolling inside him.
“Just wait, they’ll move through the first set quickly. Then we’ll get to the finer selections, better suited for men of our
tastes.” Chaplinsky chuckled.
Cole swallowed the bile and threaded his fingers together, daring to steal another glance at Tomi. She had the same terrified expression on her face. Cole’s jaw clenched in response. He couldn’t stomach seeing her like this.
“Do you think Luis would be willing to part with her?” Cole inclined his head toward Tomi.
Chaplinsky tore his gaze from the naked girl on the stage. “Ah, he will save her for the end. He likes to taunt his buyers with the gem of the show, build the anticipation. I don’t think your boss would be willing to expend the amount of cash required to purchase such a fine slave.”
Fuck.
Adam stroked his chin, studying Cole quietly. “What kind of bidding price are you talking about, Chaplinsky? I do intend to reward my man tonight.”
“He never starts the bidding at under a million for the last one. And from what I hear, they’re always worth the price.”
Adam leaned forward as if mildly interested and Cole had to resist the urge to kick his friend under the table.
“How worth it?”
Chaplinsky’s thick grin grew. “Very worth it.”
The bidding for the black-haired girl finished up at $400 grand. Two large guards stepped up onto the stage and all but carried her into the back.
Another girl promptly filled her spot, this one just as naked, but with an entirely different body type. Whereas the black-haired girl was generously rounded, this brunette was lean, her breasts small but firm, her features more delicate all the way around. Again, the host had to hold her up by the arm. “This is Rose, gentlemen, an eager little flower ready for what pleasure you can give her. With an aggressive rating of only three, she is being presented for those of you who would like a more domicile companion. She is eagerly compliant and ready to meet your every need. She has a master’s degree in English literature, speaks French fluently, and has an immaculate medical history. We start the bidding at $350,000.”
Chaplinsky surprised them both by sticking his pudgy hand into the air. The host acknowledged his bid.
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