Seal'd Auction: A Bad Boy Military Standalone Romance

by Charlotte Byrd

  “What did you see?” he asked as soon as he had closed the door. His voice was tight and his face unreadable.

  I was taken aback. He roughs up a guy who was stalking outside the crappy motel room he took me after buying me at auction with what was undoubtedly stolen money, and he had the temerity to question me?

  “Wait just a minute. Who was that guy? And what are you doing with a bag full of money? What is going on?” I spilled my questions out in a flood.

  Jason put his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet. I sat down on the bed, ready to receive detailed answers to my questions.

  “We need to go. Come on, I have some spare clothes in the car.”

  He reached down and re-zipped the duffel bag. He looked over at me with a combination of reproach and anxiety. Standing back up with the bag in hand, he walked to the door and disappeared into the bright rectangle of morning sunlight.

  Chapter 11 - Claire

  After a minute, when he realized I had not left the room, Jason came back inside, closing the door forcefully behind him.

  “We don’t have any time to sit around. Come on.” He tossed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt onto the bed.

  I took the jeans and slipped them on. They were way too big for me, but it felt good to be putting on clothes, regardless of their size. As I slipped the t-shirt over my head, I inhaled his smell. A clean, masculine odor. It almost made me forget that I was confused and angry. Almost.

  “I am not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on.” I planted my newly covered backside on the bed and crossed my legs.

  “I will tell you in the car. Let’s go.”

  “No way. I am not moving an inch.”

  He stood there for a few seconds, head down, hands on his hips. And then he took two quick steps toward me and lifted me off the bed. I was so shocked that, at first, I didn’t even struggle. We were outside, the morning sunlight paining my eyes, before I could react. I started kicking and thrashing, beating on Jason’s back with my fists, but to no effect. His grip on me was like a vise. He dumped me in the backseat and leapt into the driver’s seat. The car was already running, so he threw it into reverse and pulled back, spinning the front of the car around to face the exit. My body was pinned against the backseat as he slammed on the accelerator and peeled out of the parking lot.

  I straightened myself up to a sitting position, bracing with my feet to avoid sliding around as Jason took corners at high speed.

  “Jason,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Stop the car.”

  No response from the front.

  “Jason. You need to stop and explain what is going on. Right now.” I made my voice as stern as possible, but it had no effect.

  He continued driving us south along Rainbow Boulevard. By the time we passed Flamingo, I had had enough.

  “Jason, pull over now or I am getting out myself.”

  I looked at him through the rearview mirror. I could see he was watching me. He clearly didn’t think I was serious. But I wasn’t going to allow myself to be kidnapped. At least with Kovalev, I had gone into it of my own free will.

  I reached for the door handle and scooted over toward the passenger side. The door was locked. I flipped the lock and tried again. The door opened. The resistance from the wind made it heavy as hell. I glanced back at the rearview mirror and saw Jason’s face contort into a look of shock and terror. He slammed on the brakes and I flew forward against the front passenger seat. My shoulder exploded in pain. I heard car horns all around us as well as tires squealing.

  We had come to a stop against the curb. The door was still partway open. I was crumpled in the footwell and struggling to get upright when Jason hopped into the backseat with me.

  “Are you insane? What the hell were you thinking? Do you know what happens when you jump out of a moving car?”

  “You weren’t answering my questions,” I said in as nonchalant a manner as I could manage given the fact that I was still pulling my self onto the seat. “I am not going one more foot in this car until you tell me what is going on.”

  Jason let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

  “Ok. Ok. I wanted to get a little further out of town before we stopped, but if you are going to be jumping out of the car, I guess it can’t wait.” He paused for a moment. My heart was racing. I couldn’t come up with a scenario that made any sense, I just knew it was probably bad. Still, I wanted to know.

  “I am taking you away from Kovalev. For good. You won’t ever have to see him again.” Jason’s face was a mix of worry and self-satisfaction. It quickly changed to surprise and confusion as he looked at me.

  “Are you fucking mad? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? My…I…you idiot!” My voice rebounded off the windows and leather upholstery. Jason looked like he had been slapped in the face.

  “I don’t understand. You were like a prisoner there. I thought you would be happy to be out.”

  “No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand anything! Oh my god. He’s going to kill him.”

  “Kill who? What are you talking about?” Jason’s words trailed off as his eyes whipped toward the rear window. I followed his gaze. There was a dark colored sedan that had pulled up behind us. I saw a couple of wide bodied men sitting in it. “Oh, shit.”

  He dove forward, into the front seat, and restarted the car.

  “Put your seat belt on!” he yelled as he put the car into gear.

  I had just enough time to click the buckle before I was sinking into the seat back again as Jason accelerated onto the street. I glanced behind us to see the sedan leaving an acrid cloud of white smoke as it peeled out to follow us. The city outside was a blur, buildings and cars melding together from the speed.

  A light popping sound behind us was immediately followed by the ping of a bullet hitting metal. I undid my seat belt and dove into the footwell. Another bullet shattered the rear window, showering me with little fragments of glass.

  I hung on as Jason swung the car from lane to lane, driving around the other vehicles, trying to get separation from the one following us. We took a hard left, tossing me backward and landing me painfully in the other footwell, and headed east, toward the Strip and the freeway. The sedan was getting closer. It pulled up on our side, about a quarter of the way behind us.

  “Shit, he’s trying to pit us,” Jason said, seemingly to himself. “Hold on,” he said to me.

  Before I could react, he had slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward against the front passenger seat. The next moment, I was tossed back again as he stepped back on the gas. I heard the crunch of metal and looked up to see the sedan now in front of us. Jason had driven the front of our car against the back quarter of theirs. He jerked the steering wheel to the left and I watched as the sedan spun away and into the line of parked cars on the side of the street. We roared on down the street and then took a couple of turns, just to make sure we weren’t still being followed, I guess.

  In a couple of minutes, we pulled onto the freeway onramp. I-15 South.

  When I had finally caught my breath and my heart stopped pounding, I slipped forward and got into the front passenger seat. Jason looked sideways at me, but didn’t say anything.

  “Take the exit for Silverado Ranch.”

  “What? No. We need to keep going.”

  “You need to take that exit and go a few blocks past South Point,” I said in a voice that I hoped was both calm and firm. “You created a big fucking problem, Jason. You have to help me fix it.”

  He looked at me quizzically, but didn’t ask any further questions. Instead, he put on the turn signal and moved over into the right lane.

  The guys in the sedan had shaken me, but also left me with a sense of resolve. Maybe it was the adrenaline and the excitement of escaping. Maybe it was the feeling of being out of that apartment with the road in front of me. When I was stuck in that apartment, I felt so lethargic. My will had atrophied from lack of use. The danger, the narrow
escape, this whole situation had shaken something loose. I felt strength returning. I was transformed. When I was in that apartment, I felt as if I was already dead.

  I didn’t want to go back to Kovalev. Even if Jason had dragged me into the car, I didn’t get the sense that he was trying to hold me the way that Kovalev was. Yea, he needed to explain himself better, to be sure. And I certainly didn’t trust him entirely. But I had the feeling that, once we were out of danger, that I could leave if I wanted. Those goons in the sedan demonstrated that Kovalev was never going to let me go. I wanted free of him, but I couldn’t jeopardize my father’s life in exchange. I needed to warn him.

  Once my father was safely on his way out of town, I would deal with Jason. He had put me and my father at risk of death without thinking it through, without even knowing what he was getting into. He had shown up on a white horse with his helmet on backward.

  Chapter 12 - Jason

  I let Claire guide me along the wide, suburban streets. She wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but I thought I owed her some leeway after this morning. I was shocked at how she was reacting to everything. She should have been freaking out. I mean, a car chase, getting shot at, it was enough to put anyone into a frantic state. But she seemed to get calmer as the situation became more stressful. I didn’t have a good explanation for it, but I was glad she wasn’t trying to jump out of the car anymore.

  Glancing over at her, in my t-shirt and jeans, I couldn’t believe how good she looked. Even with her hair undone, pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her last night’s makeup still on, she was beautiful. The only sounds were the rumble of the engine, the thrum of the tires against the pavement, and the whooshing of air through the open back window.

  I was going to have to get that fixed, and quick. The bullet holes and the broken window would attract some unwanted attention from the police. We needed to get out of town, preferably into some unpopulated desert area. But until we did, we needed to keep a low profile.

  “Pull up over here.” Claire’s voice broke through the noise of travel. I nodded to her and eased the car up to the curb. “A little further.” Apparently, I hadn’t pulled up at the right house. Hardly my fault, as all of the houses in that neighborhood looked exactly the same.

  The engine stopped, and we sat here in silence for a few moments. I waited for her to explain where we were. The wait was not long.

  “Ok, Jason, look. I know you probably think you were doing something nice, or whatever, but you had no idea what you were doing. Now, I saw how much money you had in that duffel bag, and I am pretty certain that you didn’t come by it honestly. So, it shouldn’t be too much of a burden to let some of it go.”

  “What? No way,” I broke in. I was incensed. True, I had stolen the money, but what did that matter? I had stolen it; I had taken the risk. Yea, it would be a burden to let any of it go.

  “Listen, and I will explain it to you.”

  I sat here as she went through her whole history with Kovalev. Her father, the debts, everything. I listened in stunned silence. I couldn’t believe her courage and selflessness. That she would put herself into such peril, even if she didn’t fully understand the scope of it, for someone else was incredible. It was far more than I would have done. After hearing her story, I wasn’t sure her father deserved such a sacrifice.

  However, I kept my mouth shut and let her finish. She was getting pretty worked up, angry even, and I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation. And the truth was, I had acted without knowing the full ramifications. It was an impulsive act and maybe motivated by my own desire to get out of the life I had found myself in. Maybe I would find a little danger while I was at it. But I had just assumed that she wanted out as much as I did. I didn’t consider that she might have a complex set of motivations, a conflicting mix of priorities and obligations.

  I didn’t apologize, though. I let her speak her piece, I acknowledged it, but no more. I had to retain the upper hand in the relationship. I couldn’t admit that I had made a dumb decision. We were both in it now. If we were going to get out of this mess alive, I needed her to trust me, to follow my direction without hesitation.

  “Alright, then. Let’s go see your father,” I said, moving the conversation away from my direct culpability and toward a positive act. She didn’t look satisfied, but seemed to see that she wasn’t going to get anything more at the moment. She gave a little shake of her head and opened the car door, stepping out into the glaring mid-morning sunlight.

  I hopped out after her, holding the duffel bag tight in my hand. I hoped I wasn’t just throwing money away. Her father was a gambler, and not a responsible one. What were the chances that he took the smart path and used the money to disappear? I read once that gambling addicts are not addicted to winning. That happens too seldom to be a real fix. No, they are addicted to the loss, to the pain. I didn’t understand it, but then there was a lot about what people did that I didn’t understand. No use worrying too much over it. I hefted the duffel bag, feeling its weight. I hoped that Claire wouldn’t make it much lighter in service of misguided filial piety.

  I followed her up the street toward her father’s house. There were no sidewalks in this neighborhood. I always found that disturbing. The presence of a sidewalk provides a fig leaf over the fact that the longest walk many people have is from their house to their garage. Here, there was no pretense. Nobody walked. Especially in the summer time, locals would shuffle from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned car to air-conditioned office, never having to breathe in the hot desert air. Tourists on the Strip or Fremont Street might brave the elements, but only with a giant alcoholic slushie dangling from a lanyard around their necks. I couldn’t decide which was worse.

  We walked up the driveway. There wasn’t a lawn, just an assortment of rocks and hardy desert plants. The expense of keeping a lawn in Las Vegas was rarely worth the dubious benefit. The driveway was empty. Car was probably in the garage. The whole neighborhood looked empty, no cars outside at all. It was eerie. Claire didn’t seem bothered. She strode right up to the front door and knocked hard.

  There was no response.

  She knocked again, and then rang the doorbell.

  “It’s nine-thirty, could he still be asleep?”

  “Dad is a light sleeper. Even if he was, he’d have heard the doorbell.” Her voice was tight. A bit of worry was starting to creep in.

  She rang the doorbell again. Again, no answer.

  I touched her shoulder lightly to get her to turn around. She jumped.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m a little twitchy.”

  “Let me try,” I said, stepping past her. I rapped heavily on the door, no answer. I tried the handle and it opened. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. Something wasn’t right.

  “Stay behind me,” I said over my shoulder, dropping the duffel bag so my hands were free. I felt my body adopt that relaxed springiness that it had developed over years of training. I was poised, ready to attack in any direction.

  And then the world went black.

  Chapter 13 - Claire

  They appeared out of nowhere. One moment, I was walking behind Jason in my father’s foyer, the next he was lying crumpled on the floor and I was hoisted into the air, my legs kicking futilely in empty space and my lungs crushed beneath two mammoth arms. I swung my head back, felt a sharp pain, and heard a satisfying crack and exclamation from the thug holding me. His arms released their vise grip and I fell to the tile floor. Thankfully, I had brought my feet below me and was able to cushion the fall. I rolled forward, away from my attacker, and scrambled toward the front door.

  The door was still open. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have Jason’s keys, I didn’t know what I was going to do once I was outside the house. I just knew I needed to be outside. I needed to get away. My right foot crossed the threshold and was about to plant on the concrete of the entryway when I felt my left leg freeze. A powerful hand had locked onto my ankle, stopp
ing my leg from coming forward. I fell, my momentum crashing down, and my right foot, which had expected to land much further forward, caught my weight awkwardly. The muscles in my groin and inner thighs protested the unexpected deep lunge.

  The hand still grasping my ankle gave a tug and I tumbled backward, back into my father’s house. The front door slammed shut. I scooted backward and put my back against one of the walls of the entryway. One of Kovalev’s goons, one I recognized but couldn’t put a name to, was standing over me. He seemed entirely unconcerned by the blood dripping from his nose, a nose that looked like it had been broken many times before.

  “You got guts. No brains, but guts. That’s something, I guess.” He cracked a hideous smile, the lower part of his face streaked with blood.

  I looked over at Jason. He was still in the same position on the floor.

  I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder as I was hoisted up onto my feet. My arm was twisted behind me and I was marched down the hallway and toward the master bedroom. I was expecting to see my father there, tied up and beaten, or worse. But he wasn’t there. I would have breathed a sigh of relief, except the person who was there, sitting casually on the bed, was Jax. Kovalev’s top enforcer. I had never met him personally, but I had watched as he dealt with the other goons who lived in the apartment complex. Even from the window, I could tell he was treated with a deference born of fear. I was sure I wouldn’t like what was about to happen.

  “Come have a seat, Claire,” Jax said in a neutral voice. He didn’t sound angry. That almost made it worse. He was calm, implacable. I didn’t have the chance to obey his direction as I was thrust painfully forward, spilling onto the bed next to him. He didn’t react, didn’t even turn to look at me. I twisted myself around and scooted forward to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Jax had his broad, powerful hands on his legs. His massive back was perfectly straight.