by Naomi West
Saxton locked up his bike and headed for the door of the large warehouse. This Christmas party had better be good. Plenty of food and booze, plenty of women. The last thing he wanted to do was celebrate. After losing his second in command to cold-blooded murder, revenge was the only thing on his mind these days. It was consuming him.
Partly, he was so obsessed because he felt like he should have found out who was responsible by now. It had been six months since Liam was found dead. And not just found dead, but found shot in the back of the head, his body left in a heap of blood and brains in a dark alley. The club patch had been torn from his jacket and shredded.
Saxton’s MC, the Jagged Souls, might have more than a few enemies. But no one would ever do such a despicable thing. There might be fighting and sometimes someone was hurt or killed, but you didn’t just flat out murder someone and not even have the decency to look them in the eyes when you killed them. And then to further disrespect them by tearing a club patch? You might as well have issued a command for all out war. And no respectful MC would do that. No one wanted war.
Whoever had done it needed to know that you didn’t mess with the Jagged Souls like that and that you most definitely did not murder the second in command. The guy who’d done it was either incredibly stupid or had huge balls. Either way, he was a dead man walking.
But Saxton’s leads had grown cold and he felt no closer to avenging Liam’s death than he had the day he got the news. He was getting anxious over it and his anger grew by the hour. Probably why his guys had nearly kicked him out the door. He needed to take a break, they said. He needed to loosen up. Maybe having a night to relax would help clear his mind and help him think. And the party was in the part of the city where the murder had taken place. Maybe someone there knew something.
The door of the warehouse closed behind him and Saxton paused to take in his surroundings. Huge, open space. Metal walls. Stage at one end, bar at the other. A few small tables set up in between. It didn’t seem well designed for mingling. The stage was well lit, but the rest of the place wasn’t. Would there be some sort of entertainment, then? Maybe it was a stripper party. That’d be okay.
It was pretty well packed and, to his dismay, he saw mostly men. Well, so much for picking up a lady and getting laid tonight. He’d have to settle for getting drunk instead. He started to walk to the bar, when someone tapped on a microphone. Saxton turned his attention to the stage, where a man stood in front of the mic.
“We’re about to begin. Gentlemen—or not so gentle men—get your cash ready for these hot ladies!”
Hmm. So this was an auction? Not much of a party, but Saxton had plenty of cash on him. He always carried tons of cash. A few grand should be enough to win the bid for a hot little piece. Maybe he wouldn’t end up alone tonight after all.
His guys must’ve known what this was when they sent him here. He wondered if they would be meeting up with him after all, or if he was on his own. So, they thought he needed to get laid. Needed to really loosen up and forget himself for a night. Then that’s what he would do, and he’d do it well.
He continued to the bar and ordered a drink, then found a seat at an empty table in the back. What was he in the mood for tonight? Brunette? Blonde? The rare red head? Didn’t matter much, really. So long as she gave good head and let him do her from behind.
He downed a large gulp of his drink and took stock of the other waiting and horny men. Several back patches featuring MCs in the area. He knew all the MCs in Chicago and its surrounding areas. Was part of his job as the Jagged Souls leader to know the other MCs and their leaders. To make friends where it benefited them and to know who wasn’t friendly at all. He had talked to every one of them who wasn’t a straight-out enemy in the first week after Liam’s death. No one knew anything. Then he’d gone to the leaders of the MCs who were considered enemies, and still, nothing.
The patch shredding made him believe the murderer was a biker. If it had been a random shooting, something not related to their lifestyle, why would anyone bother to go that far? How would they even understand how significant a back patch was and what it meant to deface one? A non-biker probably would think it was just decoration on the back of a leather jacket, not a sign of status and loyalty. Wouldn’t know what it took to earn that patch or how much it meant to the wearer. Had Liam had enemies no one knew about? Something in his personal life maybe? Maybe he’d nailed the wrong woman or screwed someone over on a business deal.
If Liam had had any hint that someone was after him, though, he would have come to him. He wouldn’t have walked around waiting to be killed. He’d have backup with him, and more likely, he’d go after whoever was after him and get to him first. Liam had been the second in command for a reason. He didn’t play games and he didn’t mess around and he didn’t get himself shot in the back of the head.
Too many unanswered questions, and it was turning his stomach, like it always did, to think too hard on it. Saxton slammed his empty glass on the table. A waitress who’d been near leaned over him.
“Need another?” she asked.
Saxton nodded once and she took the glass. When she returned, he handed her a ten—enough for a tip—and wasted no time finishing this drink off, too. His mind started to go fuzzy at the ends and it was enough to let him focus on himself and his throbbing dick. It’d been far too long since he’d been laid.
The guy returned to the microphone and blabbed on and on about how amazing these women were and that they deserved top dollar. Right. Because anyone okay with joining in an auction to sell themselves off for the night was clearly a high-class woman. He harrumphed to himself and let his finger trail around the edge of his empty glass.
Not that he minded. In fact, he didn’t prefer high-class ladies at all. Too much hassle. He needed someone he could throw on the back of a bike and go, not someone who worried so much about her hair that she complained over wearing a helmet or letting the wind have its way. And these women tonight were surely the biker-loving type or they wouldn’t be here.
Saxton sat back and watched as the first woman came out on stage. A black-haired, full bodied woman with huge knockers. Wasn’t really his style, though. He preferred a nice ass. She was apparently lots of guys’ style, though. She danced a little and made sexy faces at the men and went for just over 4k.
The next woman was a blonde, but didn’t do much for him. She was hot enough, but she had this attitude like men better bid on her or else. Sometimes that cockiness was nice, but he wasn’t in the mood tonight. He wanted someone who wouldn’t give him any hassle. Easy, simple.
Most of the girls went for between four and six thousand. He didn’t mind that price since most of it was going right to the girl. The worst was when you knew what you paid went right to the pimp and the poor girl doing all the work got little. But in this case, the women seemed happy to be participating and they were getting most of the reward. They wore hot lingerie that showed off the goods and appeared comfortable on the stage, offering themselves up. Either they were professionals or really needed the money and were okay doing whatever they had to to get it.
By the seventh woman, though, he was getting annoyed. Plenty of them were hot. He wouldn’t mind screwing most of them. But none of them were hot enough that he wanted to pay up a few grand for a few hours. She would have to be really exceptional for him to make that commitment. Especially when he could walk a block or two and get a screw for a hundred bucks.
Just as Saxton was thinking about leaving, the last woman was sent out on the stage. He had stood to leave, but when she walked out, he stopped. What in the world? This woman was wearing a dress—a full dress. The other girls had barely been wearing bras and panties, but this one was all covered up in a deep red that clung her skin.
She also look terrified. She was blonde, and it looked good on her. Nice and light golden hair framing her pink face. Her makeup was heavy, and he guessed she didn’t wear it like that often. The makeup helped the fact that she’d gone pa
le with fright, but it didn’t hide it entirely.
What in the world was she doing here? Did she not know what this auction was all about? If she was so afraid, why was she doing this at all? Did she need the money that badly?
He watched her, captivated. Where the other women had stood up there, shaking their booties and giving sexy little dances, this woman just stood there, her fingers rubbing the bottom hem of her dress.
Something inside him stirred. His dick was hard, yes, but it was more than that. He had a sudden urge to protect her. Maybe because she looked so fragile and these guys seemed too harsh. Any one of them might break her. But he would take her home and give her a nice fuck. Not violent, but just rough enough to make her scream in pleasure. She looked like she hadn’t had a good lay in a long time.
The man behind the mic said, “Meet Cinnamon. She’s just as sweet as can be. Take her home and lick her all over.”
The woman’s face went pink when he said this. She must have been embarrassed and he wondered who had talked her into this. Or why she needed money so badly that she’d do this? She didn’t look like an addict, so drug money was out. Maybe she had a sick parent or something. Yeah, Cinnamon seemed just sweet enough to sacrifice herself for someone she loved.
He stood toward the back, his eyes trained on her, watching her every reaction.
“Who will start the bidding for this piece of sweetness?”
A man at the front shot his hand into the air. “A thousand bucks!”
Cinnamon’s eyes widened, then when she looked at the man who had bid, she gulped.
Another man spoke up. “A thousand five!”
She seemed a little less dubious of this one. But Saxton knew him, and he was not a nice guy. In fact, most of these guys weren’t nice when it came to girls. The more Saxton stared at her, the more he knew she didn’t deserve one of these creeps. She deserved better than him, too, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He could step in and save her, though.
Saxton raised his hand and said, “Two thousand.”
Several people turned to look at him. But he was watching Cinnamon. When their eyes met, her face relaxed. Good. He knew he was pretty good looking. It’d never been hard for him to get a girl. But right now, she was the only one he wanted. And she seemed to be okay with him bidding, more so than the others.
The guy up front who’d made the first bid narrowed his eyes slightly at him and raised his hand again. “Two thousand five!”
Several men jumped in quickly after that and sent the bid up to five thousand. They must be hot for the quiet, delicate type. Or were they imagining all the ways they’d try to break her? Maybe they thought they’d get her to do anything because she wouldn’t speak up. She’d be nervous and compliant. And she’d be taken advantage of.
“Six thousand!” Saxton said, his hand in the air again.
Cinnamon gave him a hopeful look. Seemed like she wanted him as bad as he wanted her. He raised an eyebrow at the guy up front, challenging him to outbid him. The man’s hand twitched like he was going to raise it, then he folded his arms over his chest and grunted at him.
“Going once,” the guy with the mic said.
Saxton looked over the crowd to see if anyone would dare bid against him.
“Seven,” came a hard voice from across the room.
Cinnamon looked over and her face drained even further of color. And rightly so. Darien, the leader of a rival MC, was a nasty man. Tonight he looked as greasy as ever with his shiny black hair hanging in stringy pieces around his face. He wore his leather jacket, but also leather pants. His jacket had spikes along the shoulder. Unnecessary.
Saxton hated guys like that, who thought they had to show off their toughness with metal and weapons. And the guy really was a pussy. One of the Jagged Souls had thrown fists with him a while back. But he’d also been accused of rape on a few occasions. Who knew if it was true? Wasn’t really his business what Darien did in the bedroom. Until now. Because Cinnamon was his, and he wasn’t about to let Darien have her.
“Eight,” he said firmly, turning to pin a glare on Darien.
Darien looked over and smirked. “Nine.”
“Ten.” No way was he letting this go now. Everyone was watching. He wouldn’t be made to look like the weak one. He wouldn’t lose this.
Darien looked back at Cinnamon, letting his eyes trace around the outside of her body. Imagining who knew what with her. He crossed his arms and turned his face to disgust, as if he’d suddenly decided that she wasn’t good enough for him. He kept his eyes facing front.
“Going once,” the guy on stage said. “Going twice.”
He left a long pause, and looked at Darien to see if he was going to change his mind.
“Sold for ten thousand to the man in the back!”
Cinnamon sagged with relief on the stage. Her eyes seemed to be thanking him. He hoped she’d still be thanking him later when they were in bed together.
Saxton walked over to the guy taking the money and gave him the required 20% cut. Good thing Darien had backed down. Saxton didn’t have much more than two grand on him. He’d have to pull a few thousand out of his stashes at home to give the remaining eight thousand to Cinnamon directly.
She walked over to the table to meet him, keeping her eyes down as she moved through the crowd. When she reached him, she met his gaze for a moment, then looked at the man counting money.
“All set,” the man said to Saxton. “Congrats.”
Cinnamon looked at Saxton again and took in a deep breath. She looked less terrified than she had on stage, but still scared of what would happen next. He reached out his hand and she took it. Then he led her back to his table.
Chapter Three
When Sara entered the warehouse, she looked around nervously, feeling like she had a flashing beacon over her head stating she did not belong. Everywhere she looked, there were men in leather, covered in tattoos. What was this place, and what had she gotten herself into?
A waitress must’ve seen her, because she came over and said quietly, “Are you here to be auctioned?”
For a second, Sara considered saying no and just having a drink instead. But she nodded.
The waitress pointed to a metal door. “In there.”
Sara went to the door and pushed it open. A dim, narrow hall stretched down the length of the warehouse. A pool of light poured out of an open doorway and she heard a clatter of female voices coming from inside. She walked to the door and peaked in.
The women were in the process of getting dressed, walking around in their underwear, doing touch ups on their hair and makeup, and chatting. The room was thick with cigarette smoke and they were all drinking, it looked like. One of the woman glanced toward the door and saw her.
“You here for the auction, too?” she asked.
The woman wore only a bra and panties, both lacy and bright red. Her hair was piled on top of her head in curls and one of her eyes had a long, thick lash. The other lash was stuck to her finger, ready to be glued in place.
Sara nodded.
“You better get in here and get ready, then.” The woman turned back to a dusty mirror and attached her eyelash.
Sara scooted around the corner to enter the room. She found a chair off to the side that was empty, and she put her purse down, then took off her coat. Why were none of them dressed yet? She’d wanted to get an idea of what everyone was wearing. Hopefully, she’d chosen an appropriate dress for the occasion.
She watched the woman who had spoken to her finish applying eye makeup and asked quietly, “What are you wearing? I wasn’t sure how to dress for this.”
The woman gestured to her body. “This is it.”
Sara swallowed hard and glanced around again. All the other women wore some form of lingerie. A teddy, several bra and panty sets, one with garters and thigh highs.
“You’re going out there in your underwear?”
“Gotta show them what they’re getting.” The woman t
ook a long swig of an amber colored liquid and returned to her eyeshadow.
Sara sat down and stared blankly across the room. The underwear she had on was her nicest pair. She figured that was important since this guy would be paying to see it and to see her take it off. But it wasn’t as fancy as most of what these women wore. It was a smooth satin bra and matching panties.
For a moment, she considered taking off her dress and going out there like that. But there was no way she could do that. This whole thing had been a terrible mistake. She stood to leave and reached for her purse. On her keys was a photo keychain of Ian. It was his school photo from this year. He looked so happy in the photo. She looked into his little face and relented again.
