Jovana laughs. “Pee in your pants.”
But the car voice says, “Mia Morrow verified.” The dash displays a map and points out the nearest rest stops. Since it’s registered my status, it knows to listen to me.
“You have to go, love?” Mark asks.
“Cut her out of the command line,” Jovana snaps. “Now.”
But she’s too late. Before Mark can even touch the dash, I’ve already told the car, “Remove all cloaking levels.”
They can rot in hell.
7: Jax
We’re only an hour outside D.C. when Sam gets a buzz on the Blackphone.
“Who the hell is that?” I ask. “Who even knows you have that thing?”
Sam ignores me and answers the call. “Have you found her?”
Her who?
“Is it Mia?” I ask.
Sam shakes his head, straining to listen.
Must be they’ve tracked Jovana. Good. I’ll wring her scrawny neck myself. Then I realize what I’m thinking. I already strangled someone to death because of her.
I can still see the man’s face, turning red, then ashen gray. Killed him with my bare hands. No clean, easy Vigilante dart. The messiest, most up-close way to dispatch someone.
I’ve thought through that fateful night a million times. Jovana’s tears and rage, pointing out the man who abducted her and sold her into the sex slave operation. My blind rage and my hands on his neck, squeezing the life out of him.
Only now that I can put together Sutherland’s grand scheme does it all start to fit. Jovana was a plant from the beginning. I saw it at the time, that she was different from the other girls in the slave trader’s den. I just thought it meant she was plucky, a survivor.
Now I know I was intended to meet her. She was part of a plan.
I first saw Jovana six months before her betrayal. She seemed so young, so naive. She had nothing to do with the network. She was a civilian, at least that’s what our records said, reported as abducted from her college campus.
I was orchestrating a low-level sting on a sex club in my jurisdiction. Two new Phase Threes had uncovered a more elaborate business behind it. Girls were trained to be sold as extremely high-end slaves to wealthy men.
I had to keep the Phase Threes on the job, since they were my in to this secret bonus service. But the underground bunker where the trade was housed was uncharted by the Vigilantes, and we had no idea what they were getting into. I decided to handle this takedown myself to make sure it went like clockwork.
A dozen girls, from late teens through early twenties, wandered the front room of the sex club, accessible to anyone who knew of the place. They were dressed in outfits that varied from schoolgirl uniforms to leather harnesses that hid nothing.
They circled us, smiling, winking, kissing each other, vying for our attention.
We had to go in as customers, and we had to look the part. Wealthy, able to afford anything they had to offer.
I had no intention of busting the sex club for prostitution. This was not illegal to Vigilantes as long as the girls weren’t coerced. Now that we had seen how easy the top business was to infiltrate, the regular law enforcement could sort that out.
I wanted access to the girls sold as slaves in the bunkers below. They, we knew, were taken from their homes, often in other countries, and trained as slaves. Most were chemically restrained with heavy narcotics that got them addicted until the training took over.
They became entirely different people. Scarred. Remote. Unable or unwilling to think for themselves anymore. It was a grim business, and we were going to end it.
The two Phase Threes who had been using the club acted the part, looking over the girls, touching them, spanking them. As planned, I stayed aloof, holding back.
A slick, smiling bald-headed man in a gray suit approached them and they pointed to me as if they had no interest in what I wanted.
He came over and extended a hand. “Mr. Phillips,” he said, “I’m Fredrick. I received your preferences and account information. All is in order.”
However, he wasn’t quite ready to trust me, and the two Phase Threes, his regular customers, were extracted from the girls on their laps. We were all led to an elevator.
My senses were on keen alert. The background and profile that had been sent to the man were flawless. I was a wealthy businessman who owned a private island. A slightly dark past was added to the file, complaints of cruelty by a few women who were discredited. This all led me to appear to be the perfect customer, both able to afford their services and with the means to keep my life private by whatever means necessary.
Our goal was to find the head man, negotiate a price for his most prized woman, taking our time to learn the layout and extent of his scheme.
And then kill him and any of his guards and henchmen on the spot. An explosives team would then come in and blow the whole operation sky high. We already had the fake permits for a demolition and plans for a new construction, so it would seem perfectly legitimate to civilian government.
Neat, tidy, complete.
Our hardest challenge was to get the girls out alive. Regardless, the business practice would end. None of the financial trails we followed led us to believe this business was any bigger than what we saw here.
Not then, anyway.
When the elevator opened, we were led to a wide sitting room. Fredrick sat us down and offered us drinks.
While he moved behind a bar, another man joined us and introduced himself as Amin, the head trainer. I could tell by his dress and demeanor that neither he nor our bald escort was the one we sought.
“Would you like to meet a few of the women?” Amin asked. “Your opinion of them will help us narrow your choices.”
“Of course,” I said. “Will there be a proper setting?” I knew the bunker must be a labyrinth of rooms, as there was only one door out of this sitting area. We had not been examined for weapons yet, so clearly we had another check to go through before we were even close to the women or their owner.
“Yes,” he said. “Would you like to take a drink with them or see them set up in a play dungeon?”
One of my Phase Threes shifted uncomfortably. I was right to have chosen to go on this mission. They weren’t ready.
“My tastes are very exacting,” I said.
“I have three girls who fit the profile you sent us,” Amin said.
“Let me see them all and select one for the dungeon,” I said. This way I could get the layout of the bunker.
“Very well,” he said. “And what of your companions?”
“They are my bodyguards and scouts,” I said. “They don’t need to come with me.”
“Excellent. You may leave any weapons here with them.” He nodded at Fredrick.
This was what I expected. I pulled a standard Glock from my inside coat pocket and laid it on the table in front of the Phase Threes. Everything so far was according to plan.
Fredrick approached the only door and pressed his palm to a lock. The Phase Threes would anticipate this and take necessary measures to ensure that I could make a hasty exit when it was time. None of the men we were meeting were going to survive this day. No one in this sort of business should.
Amin stayed behind, and Fredrick led the way.
The next room was similar in decor and style to the previous. Two sofas, a bar, and this time two additional doors. A beefy man in a black suit stood in one corner. When we entered, he approached and used a wand to check for any weapons.
“So sorry for the inconvenience,” Fredrick said. “We must keep our girls safe.”
“Understood,” I said. None of the dart guns on my body would be found by a metal detector or a pat down. All were encased in very ordinary items. A wallet, a cell phone, a money clip, and a plastic case of tobacco.
I doubted I would need to use them. Everyone here was armed, and I could use their own weapons on them.
“You may meet the girls with no obligation whatsoever,” Fredr
ick said. “If you would like to try one, a deposit will ensure her safety and our continued willingness to do business.”
“Transfer what you require from the account,” I said.
“Excellent,” he said. “That is being handled now.” He paused for a second, listening to the earpiece. Obviously the room was monitored.
“Everything is in order,” he said. “Let me bring in the girls. You can take one or choose them all for the playroom.”
A door to the left slid open and three women demurely walked in. Their appearance and behavior could not have been any more different from the girls in the front room upstairs. They sat with elegance and poise on the sofa. All wore soft white dresses and ballerina flats.
“This is Elise, Ana, and Shantelle,” Fredrick said.
“May I talk to them a moment?” I asked.
“Of course.” Fredrick gestured to a chair. “Take all the time you need.”
I glanced at the bar. “Maybe the ladies would like a little champagne. Would you?” I asked them as I sat down.
They all nodded, gentle smiles that were neither too fake nor too genuine. All had varying degrees of blond to light brown hair. All were slender and medium height. If they could provide three to match this description so exactly, how many women were back there?
“Do you have others?” I asked Fredrick as he moved behind the bar.
“Are these not to your liking?” He paused, his hand on a bottle.
“Yes, but I think maybe I would like one with more color, darker hair.”
“Should I send these away?”
I looked over the women. They did not change in expression whatsoever. I hoped the network could find their homes. I hoped they were not so damaged already that even doing that would not help them.
“The one on the end. She is lovely but reminds me of my sister.”
Fredrick spoke quietly, and the door slid open again. A new woman walked in, sultry, dark haired, foreign.
“This is Jovana,” Fredrick said. “Is she what you were looking for?”
Jovana was unique from the moment she entered the room. Not as well behaved, I could see. Saucy. Sultry. Dangerous.
She headed to the sofa like a tigress. Her white skirt swished around her knees. Shantelle dutifully stood up and headed out the same door. It led to a hall, narrow and white, with additional doors. Perhaps their quarters. I tapped my watch, a code that would provide a rough layout to the Phase Threes plus the explosives team that was at the ready. That sector needed to be checked before the blow.
Jovana sat down, holding my gaze. I felt locked in, like I couldn’t look away. Why was she so different from the others?
Behind me, I could hear Fredrick popping a cork. I leaned forward. “I hope you trust me,” I said quietly.
The first two girls nodded faintly. Jovana, however, quirked her eyebrow as if in surprise.
Fredrick returned with a tray.
Each girl lifted a glass and took a sip, including Jovana. With Fredrick close and watching, she behaved in the same precise manner as the others.
But she wasn’t broken.
“Never mind this,” I said. “I’d like to take Jovana to the dungeon.” This girl I could reason with, get her out of the way when everything went down. Somehow the life hadn’t been trained out of her.
Her eyebrow went up again, but she said nothing.
“Very well,” Fredrick said. “Follow me.”
We headed out the second door, opposite the one where the girls came from. Fredrick unlocked the palm security and stood aside to let me through.
I paused in front of the panel. “Now this is fancy,” I said, and pressed my own hand to it. The panel flashed red, and I jerked away. “Sorry,” I said as the door slammed shut.
“It’s fine,” Fredrick said, and pressed his hand to it again. The door slid open again.
This time I walked through. He hadn’t noticed the small device now attached to it, reading the codes and preparing for when I blew all the security. Vigilantes didn’t fight fair. Almost all security technology used by civilians was originally created by manufacturers we controlled, to be easily circumvented when needed.
Unlike the stark white hall the girls came from, this one was covered in burgundy satin and trimmed with gold. On the right side were two doors. On the left, just one. The hall ended about fifty feet down. This was obviously a wing meant for visitors. Cameras recorded our movements.
There were no guards here, which made it a good place to start the action, if needed. I tapped out the information on my watch.
Fredrick palm-pressed the security on this door. It opened to reveal an expansive room filled with all manner of dungeon play. The decor was deep blue, with padded benches, a leather sofa, and a tall four-poster bed. Along the wall were racks of implements, floggers, whips, handcuffs, and blindfolds.
Jovana was apparently trained to behave in a very specific way, as she immediately walked over to an upholstered platform and kneeled, head down, her hands clasped behind her back.
There were no other exits to this room, so it was useless to me. But I had to seem to be interested in this girl to access the offices. Presumably I would meet the man behind the operation, at least briefly, since we were performing such a costly transaction. I would demand it.
“Will you be remaining to supervise our interaction?” I asked Fredrick.
“I will leave you to your privacy,” he said.
“And how are the videos disposed of?” I waved a hand at the supposedly hidden cameras embedded in the elaborate pressed-tin ceiling.
“Destroyed once the deals are finalized,” he said crisply.
I nodded. “All right.”
“Just let us know when you are ready for us, Mr. Phillips.” And with a shallow bow, he left the room.
Jovana had not moved from her position.
“You can stand up,” I said.
She did as I asked, eyes on me as she waited for my next command.
We were being watched, so I had to act the part. I walked over to the wall and let my fingers trail across the floggers.
“Do you have a favorite implement?” I asked her.
“Whatever Master deems most pleasurable,” she said. Her voice was flat, but her eyes danced.
I pulled a black leather paddle from a hook and slapped it on my palm. It felt good and solid. Her eyes followed me as I approached her with it.
“I would love a demonstration of your domination,” Jovana said and stepped off the padded platform. She strode purposefully over to a high bench and bent over it.
I hesitated. I would have expected her to wait on my command.
“How long have you been in training?” I asked her.
She continued to face away as she said, “As long as I can remember.”
Not a real answer. I came up behind her. I couldn’t warn her in any way what was to come, when I started to take down the men running this trade. I could only hope to keep her out of harm’s way.
As I approached, she reached behind and lifted the back of the white dress, revealing a long expanse of smooth unbroken skin. They took care of their slaves during training, as her thighs and backside showed no sign of scarring.
“Shall I take the dress off?” she asked.
I looked away. “No.”
“Please spank me, Master,” she said, but her request didn’t quite match her tone of voice, which bore a hint of amusement.
I hesitated. I did not want to lay a hand on these damaged girls, although I was quite sure we were being monitored for any behavior out of the norm. I was supposed to be in the market for a slave.
I slid the paddle along her skin, smacking her lightly.
“Harder, please,” she said.
I almost did it, as now her voice did sound convincingly like she wanted it, and I could see a glistening of her arousal. Unnerved by this, by how deep the training could go, I spanked her with one solid strike that made her body shift against the bench.
She sucked in a breath.
I stepped back. “Cover yourself,” I said. “Go kneel on your platform.”
I had witnessed a lot of things in my Vigilante years, prostitutes, drug dealers, mutilated skin, unmentionable horrors. But seeing this girl, enjoying something not for herself, but because she had been trained to, struck a chord in me.
I wanted her to understand that she had been manipulated. I needed her to want her freedom.
But she had been turned on by this.
Maybe it was her true nature.
Jovana moved across the room and knelt on the platform as I asked. I set the paddle on the bench.
“I’ve seen enough,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Jovana asked. She touched her hands to her shoulders, unfastening some clasp, and the dress puddled around her knees. She was completely naked beneath it.
She didn’t want me to discard her. This made sense. The girls were probably expected to make the sale. Perhaps they were punished if they weren’t accepted.
My eyes skimmed her. She seemed healthy and unmarked. Even though it was inadvisable, I walked over to her and knelt next to her. “I’m getting you out of here,” I said. “You won’t belong to anyone.”
She took my hand and slid it between her legs to show how slick and wet she was. “I want to belong to you.”
I stood up, my anger with the people who had put her in this position reaching a fever pitch. I was ready to find out who was in charge of her. Who had done this to her.
And take him out.
“I want this one,” I said to the ceiling. “I’m ready.”
Jovana didn’t move, surrounded by the cascades of her discarded dress, as Fredrick returned from the door.
“Jovana will give you many years of pleasure,” he said. “Shall we meet in our business offices?”
I did not glance back at the girl. There was no way to ensure that she would live if the men here got wild with firepower. But I would do my damnedest.
8: Mia
The dash voice affirms my request to shut off the cloaking level to Mark’s Vigilante car. “Cloaking levels removed.”
The Vigilante's Lover #4 (Volume 4) Page 4
