Bought (Assassin's Revenge Book 2)

by Crescent, Tara

  Aroused had been a very, very good state.

  I could have taken her to an expensive restaurant. Bangkok had plenty of them. But that would have been what she would have been prepared for. I didn’t want that. She wore her cover story over her like it was a security blanket. At this moment, I didn’t care what her agenda really was. I just wanted her to soften a little, so I could get another glimpse of the woman underneath.

  Because two years after that one night, that woman was still on my mind. And I knew just the place to take her.

  ***

  Ellie / Jenny:

  He had said it wouldn’t be fancy. But he was also incredibly wealthy and had paid a million dollars to possess me for three months. I accepted therefore that his definition of ‘fancy’ was a little different from mine.

  But he’d brought me someplace entirely unexpected. A bustling night market, crowded with shoppers and street vendors. I gazed at him in surprise and he smiled. “If it’s your first time in Bangkok,” he said, “it seems right that you get to experience this,” he gestured. “Street food is one of life’s best things. Coming?”

  I grinned back at him. I adored Thai street food. Alexander Hamilton was full of surprises. “Let’s do this,” I said happily.

  We weaved between the crowds, stopping at any stall that appealed to us and sharing our food. We ate satay, noodles, fish cakes and pad Thai. Alexander spoke fluent Thai, a fact I noticed and remarked on. He nodded. “I’m here a lot on work,” he said briefly. That sent a pulse of disquiet through me. Of course he was. Bangkok was the epicentre of the world’s sex trafficking trade.

  I pushed aside that thought and stayed in the moment. Jenny wouldn’t know anything about Alexander’s work. “What do you do?” I asked him and he shrugged. “I’m a financier,” he said vaguely. “What do you do back in Cleveland that enables you to take three months off work?”

  “I used to work in retail,” I said, as vague as he had been. “But I got laid off and Alicia got ill and my priority became taking care of her.”

  His hand linked in mine. “That’s very generous of you,” he remarked. “And this is. Putting yourself on the auction block for your sister.”

  I shrugged. “It’s family, you know?” I didn’t know. My mother was dead. Lisa and Amber had been like family, yet in my quest for revenge, I’d stayed and trained with Lucien rather than returning to Cleveland to reassure them that I was alive.

  He had a strange look in his eyes at that. “Ah, yes, family.”

  We wandered into a cheap tourist bar and ordered pints of beer to quench our thirst. We talked about innocuous things – we shared opinions on the best thing we’d eaten at the market, and we both shuddered in horror at the idea of eating the fried insects that were available in some food stalls. When we were done drinking our ice-cold Singha and I couldn’t eat any more, we walked back to the car again.

  “That was really fun,” I told him as he held the door open for me. “Thank you for showing me Bangkok.”

  He smiled. “There’s a lot of the world to see, Jenny. Your passport’s going to pick up quite the array of stamps over the next few months.” He shut the door and came around the other side. “Now, to the hotel?”

  To the hotel, where he would want to have sex with me. My nerves flared again and so did my lust. But before I could respond, his phone rang.

  He reached into his pants pocket and glanced at the screen, before looking at me. “Excuse me,” he said. “I do have to get this.” He made a wry face. “Business.”

  “Oui?” he spoke into the phone.

  Jenny Fullerton didn’t speak French. But Ellie did. I was pretty damn fluent and I was prepared to eavesdrop shamelessly. Any information I gathered on Alexander could only help me.

  “Maintenant?” he asked after listening for a few moments. “D’accord. Je vais venir.”

  I will come, he’d just said. Where?

  He hung up and looked at me with a trace of apology in his expression. “I hope you aren’t tired,” he said. “I have to make a stop first.”

  He tapped at the divider separating the driver from the back seat and the driver lowered the glass. “Sir?”

  Alexander said something in rapid Thai. I cursed my lack of familiarity with the language. I wanted to know what was going on. Why our plans had suddenly changed.

  Chapter 11

  Ellie / Jenny:

  I didn’t have long to wait to find out what was next. About twenty minutes later, the car pulled into a narrow alley in front of a faded door, covered with graffiti.

  Alexander had been tense during the drive. Whatever the person on the phone had said to him had caused the laughing, relaxed man that had walked with me through the night market to disappear. The man that was left had a hard expression in his eyes and radiated a sense of ruthlessness that caused me to shiver in genuine fear.

  Before we got out, Alexander turned to me with a warning. “Inside,” he said, “don’t wander off. Stay within my line of sight.”

  I nodded. Without a weapon on my person, I knew better than to disappear into the back-alleys of Bangkok.

  ***

  It was a club. A band was playing in the corner. African music, loud and boisterous. A teeming multi-ethnic crowd on the floor was dancing without a care in the world. Africans, Europeans and Thai – everyone swayed to the music and bounced to the sound of the drums. I heard snatches of shouted conversation in many languages.

  “You like to dance?” Alexander asked me.

  “I don’t know how,” I responded. He opened his mouth to say something, when two men appeared in front of him. Both were large. Both looked dangerous. But though their eyes betrayed tension, their lips parted in a cordial smile.

  “Alexander, tu es ici,” one of the men said. “Ça va?” His French was tinted with the Arabic lilt of the Maghreb. He was Moroccan then. Or Tunisian. I couldn’t tell which.

  “Ça va, Salim,” Alexander replied. He turned to me and performed introductions, which surprised me all over again. Dylan wouldn’t have ever introduced his slave to his associates. I was property.

  “Jenny, this is Salim,” he switched to English, “and Rachid.” Both men nodded politely. “Rachid, can you show Jenny around while I chat with Salim?”

  Rachid grinned, his teeth flashing. “Of course,” he said. “Jenny, do you dance?”

  Alexander and Salim withdrew to a corner. My eyes followed and Rachid took my curiosity for concern about being left alone. “Do not be worried, Jenny. He’ll be right back and I don’t bite.”

  I surveyed Rachid. Two hundred pounds of solid bulging muscle. Just under six feet tall. But I could probably take him in a fight. “I’m not,” I replied. I smiled a slightly nervous smile, staying in character as the American girl who had never left home, but who found herself in a seedy part of Bangkok in a crowded club. Whose new master had just deposited her in the arms of another man. “I don’t dance.”

  Rachid’s eyes twinkled. “No, no, Jenny, this will not do,” he exclaimed in mock-horror, drawing me into the crowd. “Come. Let the music flow through you.”

  He placed his hands on my hips and helped me sway to the music. I frowned in concentration and followed along, trying not to step on his toes. He clucked in disapproval. “You think too much, Jenny,” he rebuked, pulling me close to him so he could be heard above the loud sound of the band. “Relax. Feel.”

  I could feel Alexander’s gaze on me, intent and piercing, from across the room. A sharp shard of terror stabbed through me. Would he punish me because Rachid’s hands were on my hips? The touch wasn’t sexual. I got no sense that Rachid had any intention other than just seeing that I enjoyed myself while his friend talked to Alexander. But fear of punishment was etched deep into me. Too many times, I’d been harshly disciplined by Dylan for things that were entirely out of my control.

  “Ah, there it is.” Rachid’s voice boomed with satisfaction. “When the mind stops working, the body takes over.”


  My lips twitched. The same thing could be said of so many things. Over and over, I’d trained with Lucien so that the ability to fight back would come by instinct. That night in Paris, two years ago, I’d let my body respond to Alexander without a care in the world, another instinctive reaction that brought so much pleasure.

  My eyes searched for him, as they had many times over the course of the evening. I couldn’t look away.

  He was standing in a little alcove with Salim, both of them in intent conversation. Salim was gesticulating wildly and Alexander was listening. Finally he said something with a grim smile to Salim, who nodded and clapped him on the shoulders. An agreement had evidently been reached.

  As if he could feel my gaze on him, he lifted his head up and looked directly at me. His lips quirked as he saw me dance. He made his way towards me, threading through the crowd with ease.

  Rachid grinned. “Your man comes to claim you.”

  “Indeed,” Alexander said easily, coming up to us. “Thanks for taking care of her, Rachid, but I’ll take over now.”

  “No worries, man,” Rachid laughed. “Jenny, remember, don’t think too much.”

  I smiled at Rachid. “Thanks,” I yelled over the music and watched as he disappeared, before reluctantly turning to look at Alexander. Was this where I was rebuked for dancing with another man?

  “You look worried, cherie.” Alexander pulled me close and whispered in my ear. “Is there a reason why?”

  Because I’m waiting for you to make a scene about Rachid, I thought, but I didn’t say it out aloud. “Dance with me,” I said instead.

  “Do you like to dance, Jenny?” His breath tickled at me and his hand tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. Again, pinpricks of desire spread all over my body as his lips kissed my neck, my jaw and my lips. I moaned and kissed him back, oblivious to the bodies all around us. I didn’t bother to hide the longing I felt when he touched me. This is what he had paid for, hadn’t he? Lust was expected of me and I was happy to comply.

  “I just learned,” I responded to his question when I could form words again. He chuckled. He pulled me into his body and we swayed to the music. He didn’t mention Salim or Rachid, and I didn’t ask him if his business had gone well. I tried not to think about Sylvia’s impending visit to Paris, where she would play with me.

  We stayed in the moment, choosing to remain in our warm cocoon of desire. We swayed to the music for a couple of hours until my eyes started to close and I couldn’t stifle my yawns anymore. “Bed, cherie,” he said indulgently, taking me by the hand and leading me to the car. I snuggled against him, perfectly content. For the moment, who he was didn’t matter and who I was didn’t either.

  ***

  Alexander:

  My eyes had stayed on her in the club. I wasn’t the jealous sort, and I could hardly be outraged that she was dancing with Rachid when I’d been the one who had deposited her in his arms.

  No – I watched her, wondering if I’d see the same look of fear in her eyes. But I hadn’t. For a split-second, her gaze had been coolly assessing, almost as if she’d been wondering if she could hold her own against Rachid. Then, her body had relaxed imperceptibly and she’d laughed at something he’d said. No fear.

  Damn it. I needed her to look at me with the same absence of fear. There were so many pleasurable things we could do to each other, but nothing would happen unless she was willing. I would never force myself on a woman. For so many reasons, it was the most reprehensible thing I could do.

  As we’d wound our way through the night market, she’d relaxed against me. She’d been curious about the assortment of food on display and she’d been eager to explore. All I could think was that I wanted her in my playroom with exactly the same attitude. Curious, eager, unafraid.

  Then I’d concluded my business with Salim, repeatedly insisting to him that no, Sylvia Anliker would not be allowed to kidnap a hundred children from Tunisia. Yes, I would ensure that the shipment, as Sylvia had callously called it, would be intercepted before the children reached the brothels that was their destination. Yes, Sylvia was going to pay for all this, and no, Salim didn’t need to intercede. There would be a lot less bloodshed for the innocent if my plan was allowed to proceed.

  After many assurances, Salim had finally nodded and curtly agreed to sit tight for a few more weeks. “Stick around,” he’d said, with a smile on his face. “The band’s pretty good.”

  The band was excellent. But when I made my way towards Jenny, fear flashed in her eyes again, and my heart clenched. Don’t be afraid of me, bright star, I wanted to murmur into her hair. I won’t hurt you.

  Instead, we stayed and danced until she relaxed once more against me. I pushed the desire I felt to the background. We would sleep together when she was unafraid, or not at all. I’d never yet taken someone to my bed who didn’t want to be there. I wasn’t about to start now.

  ***

  Ellie / Jenny:

  I hadn’t intended to, but I fell asleep in the car. I woke up only when the motion of the vehicle ceased.

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly to Alexander, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I was somewhat shocked that I had dozed off. I would have sworn that I was too on edge around him for rest. Evidently, my body disagreed with that assessment.

  We had pulled up in front of the Siam, one of Bangkok’s most luxurious hotels. I whistled internally, though I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Alexander had bid a million dollars for me. A hotel where the cheapest room cost over five hundred dollars a night seemed entirely in keeping with that. But he had also walked through a night market, perfectly at ease among the crowds. We’d eaten street food that cost only a few baht. The club where he’d met Salim and Rachid could best be described as sketchy. Alexander Hamilton was an intriguing contradiction and I didn’t understand him at all.

  He directed me to a suite that was over a thousand square feet of opulent lushness. Doors opened onto a private courtyard, where a waterfall tinkled melodiously. The scent of lotus and jasmine was in the air. The furniture was made of dark mahogany wood and the cushions were crisp white cotton, softer than silk. I gaped at the space in open awe.

  “I’ll give you a tour in the morning,” he promised me. “But for now, Jenny, get some sleep.”

  He’d promised to punish me earlier. I hesitantly reminded him of that and he smiled in response. “Anxious to get spanked?” he asked wryly. “Your punishment can wait until the morning.”

  “Where should I sleep, Alexander?” Again, my voice was tentative. With Dylan, for the first few months, I’d slept in a cage. I’d eventually graduated to a narrow, sparse cell. Alexander wasn’t Dylan, but I wasn’t going to make any assumptions.

  “There’s one king-size bed in this suite,” he pointed out. “Where were you expecting to sleep?” His eyes simultaneously heated and hardened as they rested on my body. “Everything begins tomorrow, Jenny.” His voice promised dark pleasures, and I shivered with both fear and arousal. “So get the rest you can tonight.”

  After that I wouldn’t have thought I’d be able to sleep at all. But the moment my head hit the pillow and Alexander pulled me into him, I snuggled into his body and fell fast asleep.

  Chapter 12

  Ellie / Jenny:

  I dreamed of Paris that night. Not of the time I slept with Alexander, but of the events preceding that meeting.

  I sit in a small café in the first arrondissement. Lucien sits next to me. He’s smoking one cigarette after the other. The collection of butts in the ashtray grows. Lucien chain-smokes when he’s nervous.

  On the other hand, I’m the picture of calm. My eyes are level behind the sunglasses I haven’t removed. My t-shirt is black, as are my leggings. I lean back in the booth, my legs stretched out. I sip at my small cup of espresso.

  “She’s late.” Lucien’s voice is tense as he states the obvious.

  Our target is Ivan Klimov. Ivan, who was one of the five men that repeatedly raped me for two years, has le
ft Dylan’s service in Nigeria. He’s now in Paris, part of the private army of one Stanislav Durov.

  Durov is a reprehensible human being and Lucien’s fingers clench into fists every time he hears the name. But Durov is beyond our ability to reach. We can both cause a lot of damage. But we are not gods and we cannot take on the twenty-five well-armed men that surround Durov and keep him safe.

  I don’t want Stanislav Durov. The world of human trafficking is ugly and sordid and there are more evil men and women than I have the capacity to tackle. My revenge is more personal. I want Ivan.

  Ivan likes his whores. He frequents hidden brothels in the grim immigrant suburbs where the French concepts of liberté, egalité and fraternité are conveniently ignored by the authorities and the poor huddle in teeming masses with no better way of life in sight. There, where the girls have insufficient paperwork and therefore no rights, Ivan buys his sex for the night.

  He rarely leaves his whores intact. Bruises, beatings, sometimes broken bones. If they cry, it’s all the better for Ivan. He gets off on the pain of the girls who struggle under him.

  We wait for our informant. She’s going to tell us which unfortunate brothel is Ivan’s destination for the evening.

  Couldn’t we just follow Ivan? Lucien and I have talked about it. Argued about it. But Durov is dangerous and we do not dare risk getting spotted. Pieter Hoffman’s death wasn’t that long ago. Soon enough, someone’s going to realize that the one thing these murders have in common is that all the men getting killed once worked for Dylan McAllister in Abeokuta. The only reason that connection hasn’t been made so far is that these men are scum, unloved when alive, un-mourned when dead.

  “She’s here.” My voice is low but sharp and Lucien stiffens before he straightens up in the booth. His earlier nervousness has vanished. Now the killer is unleashed.

  Not just Lucien. There are two killers in this café.

  The woman comes in. She’s radiating nervousness. She’ll never make an operative. One look at her and you can immediately tell something’s wrong.