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“And you expect me to believe your bullshit story.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“I know it seems off that there’s three people from the same family here, but I can assure you, both Sam and Shawn had no idea I even knew about this place, let alone the fact that I’d be turning up here tonight.”
Oh, how I wish I’d stayed home with Toby instead.
Joseph backhands me once more and the room spins.
“Stop fucking doing that!” Samantha yells. “She’s telling the truth. You ask for the truth and she’s been giving it to you this whole time.”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up!” he bellows in her face.
The two men step forward, offering their services.
“Stay here while I find out what the fuck is going on,” he orders them. “And if any of these cunts step out of line, I give you permission to fucking hurt them. Just don’t spill too much blood. I fucking hate blood,” he seethes before exiting the room.
Joseph leaves us with the two men guarding the door. Unlike their boss, they’re indifferent to what’s going on, but they both pack some solid muscle I don’t wish to be on the receiving end of.
“Blythe,” Samantha hisses. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me. You’re not in the position to—”
“What the fuck are you talking about? We’re both in the same damn position.”
“I’m not talking about being tied to a chair. But while we’re at it, I’m tied to this goddamn chair because of you.”
“Me?” she demands, eyes wide.
I scoff, incredulous at her audacity. “Where do I start? I could be home with Toby, but no, I’m out sleuthing after you because your whole life has been a fucking lie, like this…” I awkwardly kick Shawn in the shin and he murmurs to life, “piece of shit. You two seem more than happy sneaking behind my back having your affair and sinking yourselves into this perverted cult. What the hell happened to both of you to make you think ‘oh, this is a fucking great idea?’ And thanks for your fucking comradery, sister. The last person I ever expected to stab me in the back was you. But it feels real fucking good, not that I’ll ever get the chance to repay the favor, because I’ll most likely die in Satan’s den and then Toby won’t be able to fend for himself because no one will ever guess that Blythe Cooper… Blakely… whoever the fuck I am, died in a fucking human trafficking ring!”
“Wh… Who’s Toby?” Shawn stammers, eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Shut up,” I snap. “And wait your damn turn.”
“First of all…” Samantha starts. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I never lied to you, I just never revealed where I worked.”
“Well, I’m not surprised. It’s not somewhere you’d want to add to your fucking resume now, is it?”
“This place saved my life, and to be honest, I don’t know why you keep referencing to it as something so terrible. And human trafficking, I don’t get it.”
“Are you purposefully playing dumb? Is it not bad enough that dickhead Joseph thinks it runs in the family? Look where we are, Sam… it’s the end of the road. The least you can do is be honest, since we might not survive the hour.”
“She doesn’t know,” Shawn adds, helpfully.
“Know what?” we say in unison.
“She doesn’t know about the auctions.”
“How could she not? I had fuckwit pervert with the bad breath sink himself in it when he told me all about the auctions. Are you telling me I found out in one night what Sam has been so blissfully unaware of for months?”
“Yes,” he nods, blood trickling down his temple. “It was never her place to know. She had her role, I had mine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, you should.”
“Well, I don’t. Because you’ve been lying to me for a year now about… Every. Damn. Thing.”
“Can you two save your marriage issues for later and tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I simply introduce clients from Othello’s to here. And Shawn takes care of the legalities.”
I laugh and everyone in the room stares wide-eyed.
Granted, I do look manic.
“Shawn doesn’t take care of the legals. He’s doing the complete opposite to that and committing crimes by grooming women to be sold at auction.”
My sister looks between us, waiting for someone to say it’s a joke. When we don’t, her response isn’t what I expect. “Fuck off,” she replies slowly, debating if I’m speaking the truth.
“I’m not lying, Sam. You’ve been recruiting the men, while my husband has been recruiting young women. Your men have been buying said women.”
“No, that’s not right,” she says but I can see the wheels turning. “I was simply taking men from one club to another—”
“And why is that, Sam? Have you ever wondered why you’re taking them between clubs owned by the same person?”
