Page 92 of Barinov

“I count at least eleven guards,” Khoza says, his dark-brown eyes roaming over the crowd. “I’m telling you, we’re outgunned here.”

“Make that twelve,” Mac corrects, nodding to another by the bathroom.

“Stick to the plan,” Nate orders. “We need eyes on Meilin.”

The bidding opens. Golden paddles start flying up and down. The girl in blue sells for nearly fifty-five grand.

“Lot 18,” the announcer continues as another girl follows.

It’s not Meilin. I tune him out the best I can, every nerve in my body tingling at the thought of my sister being back there somewhere. A few more girls file on and off the stage, all looking just as terrified. Just as sickly looking. All of them selling at ridiculously high prices to the smug men and women out here just waiting to be gutted.

“Lot 22. We’ve got a special Lotus stamped beauty all the way from London up next. A true prize for any man. Or lady. We don’t judge here at The Lotus Market.”

Laughter spills out throughout the room.

“We’ll start the bidding at forty-five thousand.”

“Fuck this,” I say, sipping the last of my drink. I turn around and slam it down on the bar. “I’m gonna go—”

The bartender’s eyes go wide as the girl is rushed out onstage. I clock her glance as she looks down the bar to two big ass dudes in black suits sitting at the end near Khoza and Mac. They nod at her, step up, and walk off.

I turn around to get a better view of the girl on stage. Late teens, hot-pink dress, pretty blue eyes, with auburn waves spilling over her shoulders.

“Guys,” I whisper into the comms. “Something’s up. I don’t think we’re the only team in town.”

“What do you mean?” Nate asks.

“I mean—”

There’s a slight pressure at my spine as her soft and smooth voice hits my ears. “Buy her.”

“What the hell?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Buy. Her.”

Click.

I raise my paddle.

“Talk to me, Laing. What is happening?” Nate’s usually calm voice, now hitching in my ear.

“Just making a purchase,” I respond.

“Forty-eight thousand,” the announcer booms.

“A purchase?”

“Don’t stop,” the bartender, Callie, whispers in my ear.

“Who are you?” I ask, raising my paddle.

My back straightens as she pushes her gun further into it. “None of your business, handsome. Just shut up and buy her.”

“Fifty-three thousand.”

I raise my paddle again.

Kenji side eyes me, his hand reaching for his weapon.