Chapter 8 Mila Something was wrong. First, the delay. I was supposed to have been picked up last night, yet they'd made me wait, and I was still here in the holding house but now with three other women. Esther was a last-minute add-in, she'd told me. Gloated, if I thought about it. I'd been shocked to see her. Then again, she was the reason I'd found this place. I'd known her since school, and it was her I'd gone to for access. When she was sixteen, she'd bragged about how she'd been approached by Rhys Jacobs. He was a few years older and rumoured to run a sex auction where businessmen bought schoolgirls. A startling claim few of us believed. Esther did. She had preened and boasted how she was obviously the prettiest girl in school because she'd been singled out, and how she'd make a bundle selling her body. I'd been fourteen and horrified. Even worse was when she came back to class after the weekend with a new phone, jewellery, and bruises that she'd covered with makeup. That confidence? It had been replaced with a brash edge she still wore today. I'd changed schools not long after, but her abuse had never left my mind. She'd acted like she was the winner, but someone had used her, and Rhys Jacobs had taken a cut of her pain. A decade on, and it was him in my headlights. I needed to see him for reasons of my own, and he'd vanished from all but a few key places which assured me he was still around, just in hiding. Esther was my last chance of a way in. She'd provided me with the details then obviously decided to enter the event once again herself-this auction being an anything-goes sale, rather than schoolgirls. A sense of worry dogged me that my question had led her back into this, but though her being here bothered me, it was nothing to my fear for Annabelle who'd arrived moments before her. She was a kid. Though she wouldn't admit it, she couldn't be more than sixteen. Twice, she'd mentioned a boyfriend then clammed up. She was doing this for the money, but also because he was making her. I was almost certain. She had no idea what she was getting into. I couldn't stand by and watch her go through with this. I might never have had a sister, but I'd stand in front of a vulnerable girl any day of the week. All of which meant I now had two goals-to locate Rhys Jacobs and to get Annabelle out of here. They were completely at odds with each other. While the women talked, and Annabelle played with a bracelet of plastic hearts, my mind raced over the problem. If she went out the window, like Convict had come in, she might be able to climb down. But then she faced the problem of walking the alley alone. If she was seen, she'd be, what, brought back up? Worse? That was if I could even persuade her. I needed to at least try. "Hey, that's pretty. Did your boyfriend give it to you?" I tapped her knee and gestured to the jewellery. Annabelle lifted her shy gaze to mine. "Oh, I love it. Let me see." Esther reached across and snatched Annabelle's bracelet, sliding it onto her wrist and holding it out for admiration. The door to the room flung open, and our guard appeared. He pointed in my direction. "Follow me." I stood on shaky legs. "Just me?" At his gruff nod, I trotted after him. I had no choice. At last, it was happening. I'd wanted this, but it meant my time to act on Annabelle was up. Outside in the hall, the guard trudged the bare floorboards to another door. He pushed it open and gestured for me to go inside. At a table, an older man waited, some kind of medical kit laid out in front of him. I stalled. "Who are you?" The guard shoved me inside, and the medic inclined his head at the chair I'd grasped the back of. "Sit. This won't take long." I didn't move. There were needles. Tubes. Scissors. "To do what?" "A simple blood test. If you don't do it, you'll have to leave." He picked up a strap and gave me an impatient glance. Esther hadn't warned of this, but a fast check of his supplies reassured me a tiny amount. All the kit was packaged and appeared professional, the medical bag clean and new. I'd given blood once in the past, and being shown the door was out of the question. Still, I thought of Annabelle. "What if I want to leave?" He smiled, revealing stained teeth. "Too late for that. Are you going to do this voluntarily or do you need to be held down?" Shaking, I sat and extended my arm. The doctor took a vial of blood then withdrew his needle, giving me a piece of cotton wool to press to the tiny wound. Without another word to me, he called for the guard. "Next. Have them form a queue. I have better places to be." The guard shoved me back into the bedroom and called the others out. It left me alone which offered a chance. Diving for the bed, I found the phone Convict had left me and dialled a number. Not his, but one I'd memorised not all that long ago. My brother, there to play backup plan for if this all went wrong. An answerphone played. I swore and switched to a message. Mila: It's me. There's a girl here who shouldn't be. She's just a kid. Can you come and take her? I can maybe send her out the window if you can pick her up outside? I was foolish to ask for this. Annabelle wasn't my problem, except I couldn't ignore her presence. She had no one to protect her, and the auction would break her in two. I stuffed the phone back into its hiding place then crossed to the window to stare out at the dusk. The lack of light made it harder to see, but the club sign blinked to life, slicing purple through the glass, right as a figure landed on the air-conditioning unit. I squeaked in shock. It was my lost boy. Without thinking, I leapt to unfasten the window, and he dropped into the room, tall, dark, and just as handsome as I'd remembered. Backing up, I stared wide-eyed at him. "You can't be here." Convict prowled towards me. "Then why let me in?" "At least hide." Ignoring my gesture for him to duck into the corner where he'd be out of sight behind the dresser if the guard returned, the big man moved in on me and backed me to the wall. My pulse sped, and I flattened myself to the cool plaster, momentarily lost on a surge of lust and something dangerously like happiness at seeing him again. Him being here flipped the balance in far too many ways. Just like our phone call had. He dropped his lips to my ear. "I want you to tell me what's happening tonight. Why are the other women here? What are you going to do?" How did he know about them? He hadn't been outside the window when they were in the room. I shook my head. "You shouldn't have come back." "Your lips are saying the words, but every other part of you is screaming for me to stay." My breathing came harder. His, too. The world closed in around us. He was a magnet, and I registered the pull, the strongest urge to cling to him and claim his hot mouth in the middle of this terrible place. Why was it that this complete stranger had such an effect on me, as apparently I did to him? I couldn't get the image of his body out of my head. Another fact was just as clear, cooling my unwanted passion. The guard carried a weapon. I'd seen a holster on his belt. If he returned now, he'd kill Convict. Yet I didn't push him away. Instead, I got hooked on the strangest detail. He had on a grey shirt, open at the collar, and with sleeves rolled up to display the white bandage still wrapped around his left arm. Tattoos decorated the other. God, that was attractive. Lust might have taken over my senses, but that didn't stop my brain from filling in the picture. Slowly, I touched his collar, puzzle pieces fitting together. "You know about the others. You've been watching. Are there cameras on us?" He didn't deny it. I took a short breath. "You're monitoring the people who run this place. Why? No, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know what interest your gang has in theirs. But if you act this evening, you'll mess up everything I'm trying to achieve." His gaze skimmed my cheek and held on my mouth. "Which is what, exactly?" "Why do you need to know? You're a stranger." Convict caught my hand and flattened my palm to his chest. His heart thumped under my touch, the heat of him bleeding through. "Because that fast beat says otherwise. Why does my heart know you, Mila? Why can't I stop thinking about you? You say stranger, but I know you." "No, you don't." I pushed past him to gain space. My panic returned like an old friend, but I wasn't scared of this man, only of the way he turned my head. Convict tracked me. "Tell me why I shouldn't throw you over my shoulder and take you out of here." For a terrible half-second, I almost agreed. Then I shrank back from the notion. This evening, I'd be leaving anyway, heading to the next destination where I'd find Jacobs, then I'd get out. Yet even though that plan had been well thought through, I hadn't counted on feeling sorry for a misguided girl. The solution was right here in front of me, and my backup plan had yet to reply. I beseeched Convict with my eyes. "I can't go, not yet, but there's someone else who can. If you've been watching, you'll have seen Annabelle. She's just a child. She has no business being in a place like this. She's in real danger, and if you want to rescue someone, let it be her." His dark eyebrows dove together, the movement tugging the scar that led back from his temple. "How can she be in danger if you're not?" "Because I'm not what you think I am, and I have resources she doesn't. Please, will you do it? She'll be back at any moment." "I came here for you." "I don't need a hero. Annabelle does." Convict searched my gaze, his jaw tight. I had him. He wanted to do good, and I'd offered him the chance on a platter. The door flew open, and Annabelle stumbled in, alone. She clutched a piece of cotton wool against her tawny brown skin, tears lining her eyes. I went to her. Her gaze locked on me then behind me to the shadowed corner where Convict remained. Annabelle took an intake of breath, her eyes rounding. I held my hands out. "Stay quiet and listen. I know you're scared, and you should be, just not of us." She shook her head, her focus never leaving the threat in the room, the unknown male. I continued. "I don't know what you've been told, but this auction is no fairy tale where some gallant billionaire is going to pluck you from poverty and treat you well. That's a fantasy. The reality is you'll be sold to some old, gross, and maybe even violent man. A predator who won't see you as a person, only a purchase because that's exactly what he did. Bought you for no-holds-barred sex. There will be nothing to stop him once you're in his clutches. He'll fuck you as often as he likes with whatever he likes. If you refuse, it'll turn into rape. There are no rules. No one protecting you. The girls who go through this come out changed for the worse. Do you understand?" As I spoke, Annabelle's focus came to me. Another tear leaked down her cheek. "I asked the guard if I could leave. I said I'd changed my mind. He told me tough luck and laughed." The bastard. I gritted my teeth. "My friend can get you out." She swallowed. "I... I want to. I'm scared. But if I go home empty-handed..." Fucking hell. I was right. She'd been put up to this. "You need money?" Footsteps at my back told me Convict approached. Stopping directly behind me, he held something out to Annabelle. It was a wallet. "What's this?" She took it, turning it over to reveal a logo of a skull with a bandanna over its lower face. Convict's gang emblem, had to be. He'd worn it on a bandanna around his throat on his first visit. His voice stayed low. "The cash inside is yours. The mark on it is for the skeleton crew, the people who'll vouch for me. Leave now, and I'll drive you wherever you want to go." A moment of thick tension played out. The girl kept the wallet, peeking at Convict with a shift from fear to perhaps trust in her eyes. The gang name meant something to her. At her tiny nod, I breathed a sigh of relief. With gruff approval, Convict guided her to the window, talking her through how to get down. Annabelle slipped off her heels and perched on the sill. Left alone in the centre of the room, I held my ground, battling a sense of being abandoned. This was what I'd arranged. I didn't want to go with them. Convict came to me. "I'm taking you both." "No. I can't go." Frustration played out in his features. "You can. You want that fate you spelled out?" "It won't happen to me. Believe me." "I won't leave without you." Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ ƒind ηøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You don't have a choice." Without a word, he palmed my jaw and gazed into my eyes. Then he pressed his lips to mine in a shocking, electrifying kiss. It was over before it began, and I swayed after him as if I wanted more. "My heartbeat, my blood pressure, my dick. This is what you do to me. Tell me again how we're strangers." His lips curled at the edges. At my back, the door opened, and I whipped around to see Esther. She froze, staring at us then at a disappearing Annabelle. "What the hell are you doing?" Esther spat. I made a gesture for her to stay silent, but she turned and fled into the hall. I spun back to Convict. "Go! If she tells someone, they'll catch you outside." Then a lie fell from my lips. "Nothing will happen until midnight anyway. After that, I'll have what I want and can leave. Alone, stranger. I don't want or need your help." There was calculation in his eyes. He was deciding he could do both, free Annabelle then return for me. It was clear in his pursed lips then eventual nod. He went. It was all I could do to stare after him with my fingertips pressed to my mouth. Convict disappeared from sight, and I darted to the window. Down the alley, I caught a glimpse of the two figures, escaping to a car. Taillights flashed, moved out, then they were gone. I'd done it. Annabelle wouldn't get hurt. I only had to ensure the same proved true for me.