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“Now drink down my cum like a good girl, and we can overlook your lack of knowledge in my class,” he growls, and I pretend to gag like he shoved his cock too deep before bobbing up and down. “Can’t risk knocking up a dirty slut like you. What would my father say?” He chuckles and then groans, pretending to come for our audience. “Oh yeah, that’s it, drink it all down. Such a good little dirty whore.”
Finally, he releases my hair and sneers down at me. “Get up and get out, and next time you’re in my class, make sure you’re paying attention if you want to pass my class.” The venom in his voice has me flinching back, and I stumble to my feet, tugging my shirt down quickly so the camera doesn’t see that I’m still wearing my bra. He bends down and picks up my panties, tossing them at me before turning his back on me and picking up what he was reading when I walked in.
Okay, I’ve been dismissed. I grab my backpack and hurry out of the office as quickly as I can, not having to pretend that I’m shaken by the whole experience. What the actual fuck? Why didn’t anyone let me know he was on the team? He seemed to know who I was. And does that mean Ryland is the other member, or is it just a coincidence and it’s someone else altogether?
I hurry along the hallway, not wanting anyone to find me with my panties in my hand. I slip into a bathroom and wince when I see myself in the mirror. My makeup is smeared slightly, and my hair looks like it’s had someone’s hands running through it. My breath heaves out of my chest like I really did have sex with him. I’m so discombobulated right now. Before, when I only had myself to worry about, I only had to worry about what angle the bad guys were playing, but now I have a whole team that seems to be working different angles. I don’t really have a choice now. I need to talk to Team Bastards. We need to collaborate, or we’re going to end up stepping on each other’s toes.
Tonight I’m going to have to sneak out and take Miller with me, and demand a meeting with the whole team. We all need to be on the same page if we’re going to get to the bottom of this trafficking ring, and there are obviously things I need to know—things they know and haven’t shared with Dad, because my file contained nothing that said one of their team members was working this angle. It’s smart, very smart actually, especially with the Turners’ previous connection with the town, but we all need to be on the same page. I can’t be blindsided again.
With that decision made, I clean up my face as best as I can, wiping away the smudge marks from around my eyes, and step back into my panties. I need to check out the town. I want to visit the tattoo parlor, the cafe, whose name I can’t remember at the moment, and the club that the foster kids told me has some kind of secret club below it. Hopefully one of them is hiring so I can at least have a cover for the Standishes, an excuse not to be at the halfway house.
Stepping back out into the hallway, which I assume also has cameras in it, I hold my head high and put my shoulders back. Anyone watching will see a resilient foster kid who can roll with the punches and isn’t afraid of doing what she has to so she can get ahead. Hopefully I will be targeted by the ring soon. Working with Team Bastards is messing with my mind and my abilities, so the sooner we can wrap this up, the better.
Chapter 16
The school isn’t very far from the town center. After a short fifteen-minute walk, I’m on a quaint bustling main street. There are tall magnolias throwing shade all over beautiful rest areas with seating. Groups of people are enjoying the afternoon sunshine, but they all look at me and frown before turning their backs and ignoring me. Hmm, I guess the bruises make people a little wary, or they are all judgy as fuck. It doesn’t matter to me, I’m not here to make friends. I keep walking a little farther toward what seems to be the retail hub of this small town.
There is a mall off to one side, which seems to have some interesting boutiques and shop fronts, but I bypass it completely. It looks high end, and my cover as a foster child makes shopping there an impossibility. Down the street is a café called Mug Shot Diner, and I can see a whole heap of kids inside. I stop pretending to look at the phone in my hand while I suss out who is in there. I can see a group of boys in their letterman jackets, so it must be the football team. They are surrounded by a group of girls wearing cheerleading uniforms, but not one of them is Sophie and her friends.
I keep surreptitiously scanning the crowd until I get to who I’m looking for. I find Ryland, Miller, Lathan, and Bishop in a booth in the back surrounded by the girls. I don’t know what they are playing at, but Jessica is on Miller’s lap, Ryland has Sophie, and Michelle is with Bishop. The last couple are making out hard core, but Ryland and Miller look like they are trying to fight their lap sitters off. I’d giggle if I didn’t think it would draw attention. Lathan is the only one without a girl on his lap, but I can see Lucy pouting next to him. He has a laptop in front of him and seems to be fully involved in what he’s doing. Well, I guess I can ask them about what their game plan is later, but I feel a wave of irrational jealousy as Jessica leans in and presses a kiss against Miller’s pouting lips. I’m not sure what that’s about, and I plan on ignoring it completely.
Turning my back to them, I hurry down the street, trying to get the layout of the rest of the main shopping precinct. There are few more cute cafes, a bookstore, and a hardware store, and across the road is the town library, the town hall, and the police precinct. On the next corner over is the fire station and the coast guard headquarters. At lunch, Cassie said that the wharf is a dock for one of the many ships that patrol the waters off the coast.
I contemplate turning back, but as I scan the rest of the street, I see a small sign with an arrow pointing into an alley. The sign says, “The Inkubus,” and has a stylized tattoo gun next to the fancy words. I wonder if that’s the tattoo parlor one of the guys is working at. There’s no time like the present to check it out. I head in that direction, keeping my eye out for anything that may be suspicious, but let’s face it, a sex trafficking ring is not going to be operating on the main street of a small town. It will be hidden in the shadows and camouflaged by the glossy, superficial goodness the South is so famous for.
The alley is clean and neat, and it must be swept on a daily basis because there is no litter or weird, funky smells that you often find in alleyways. That shows the owner is smart. Nobody wants to visit a shady tattoo parlor unless they are desperate and cheap. The shop is about thirty feet in off the street, and there is a glass shop front that is covered in vinyl tattoo designs with the words “The Inkubus” with a sexy as fuck male demon blowing kisses next to the letters. It’s fucking cute and not what I expected. Cassie said this place was owned by Kevin Turner. He is Governor Turner’s brother, and I guess Mr. Turner and Ryland’s uncle, and the supposed black sheep of the family and the president of the Raging Scorpion MC. It’s such a complete contrast to Governor Turner, but apparently they are close.
The store is lit up inside, with white lighting illuminating a number of tattoo stations. I can see a woman getting a tattoo. A man with dark hair leans over her back, holding the tattoo gun in his hand as he applies whatever design she decided to put permanently on her body. I shudder at the thought. Putting something permanently on my body like that would be the end of my career, especially if it was in a spot everyone could see. No, if I got a tattoo, it would have to be cleverly hidden from public view, but I need a reason to go into the parlor. I can’t very well admit I’m snooping. Another sign catches my eye in the window—piercings. Well, I always wanted to have something pierced, and I guess now is as good a time as any.
I push the door open, and a small bell chimes above my head. “I’ll be right with you,” a voice calls, and my eyes widen when I recognize it—Dayton Wexley, Asian Hottie, and team lead of Team Bastards, and I guess undercover tattoo artist. I never would have guessed. I was sure I was going to find Anders here. I had pegged Dayton as too uptight to be creative, but I guess I was wrong. I should know better than to judge a book by its cover.
I take a seat on the plush sofa in one corner and pull over the portfolio albums to browse through. The room smells like antiseptic and something else, something I think is possibly the smell of blood and ink combined, but since I’ve never had a tattoo, I can’t know for sure. There are four different stations, even though Dayton is the only artist I can see at the moment. I start with his portfolio, and my eyes widen at what I see. I expected it to be practically empty, but Dayton has obviously been tattooing for years. The book is stuffed full of photos. When did he find the time to do all of these? Or is tattoo artist his usual cover wherever he goes? It’s a good one if it is. No one questions tattoo artists looking for a job.
A noise has me looking up, and a blonde man enters the shop from a side door. He’s older, probably around my parents’ age, and his shoulder-length hair is neat and clean. He’s wearing an Inkubus Tattoos T-shirt and jeans, and he has three takeaway coffee cups in his hands. I recognize the older version of Kevin Turner. He’s aged well and is a hot older man.
“Here you go. Black for you, D, and a chai latte for you.” He places one cup on the counter next to the tattoo bed before holding the other one out to the girl. The sound of the gun turns off, and I watch as Dayton wipes the girl’s back with a paper towel.
“Okay, Charity, you can have a break,” he tells her, and she sits up, gripping her top to her chest before reaching out for the coffee.
“Thanks, D, and thank you, baby.”
Kevin leans in and gives the girl a kiss before winking and turning his attention to me.
“Hi, how can I help you this afternoon?” He smiles politely, but I see his eyes widen when he notices the state of my face. “Oh my god, are you okay? Do you need help?” He hurries over to me and squats down at my level, grabbing hold of my hands. His eyes are filled with concern as he scans the rest of my body. Without my fishnets on, you can see the mottled bruising on my legs, and my arms still have a few too. “Who did this to you? Tell me, and I will deal with it.” His concern turns to fury, and I know that if he could get his hands on who caused the bruises, then they would be dead. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work for the case, because I’d like to see this guy go up against my team, so I shrug and pull my hands out of his, hunching in on myself.
“It was a foster father, but he’s been taken care of,” I mutter, and he looks carefully into my eyes for signs of lies. I guess he’s satisfied with what he sees, because his whole body relaxes before he gets up from his position.
“As long as you’re sure.” He doesn’t seem to want to let it go.
“I swear, I’ve been placed at a halfway house here in Summerville. You might know the people who run it, the Standishes.”
He frowns and nods. “Yes, I know them. I’m not sure they are any better.” He mutters that last bit to himself, but I still hear it. “So what are you here for today? I’m afraid we can’t tattoo any of the bruised skin until it heals,” he tells me apologetically.
I turn my head, and I see the other two watching on with quiet fascination. Both are drinking their coffee and listening intently. Dayton doesn’t even flinch when my eyes meet his. The girl, or woman, I guess, now that I can see her face, is probably somewhere between my and Kevin’s age, so maybe late thirties, and she smiles sympathetically at me.
“That’s okay, I was actually hoping to get a piercing,” I tell him, and he beams at me.
“We can do that. Charity is our piercer, so you caught her at just the right time.” He points to the girl who jumps down off the bed, her shirt still clasped against her naked top.
