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And that’s precisely where we’re going to send the Alpha.
After the initial purchase of the first woman, the auction moves along quickly, and at the very least, no other woman has to suffer the Trifecta demonstration she endured.
“Larkin’s giving Carson the go-ahead to place a bid on the fourth girl,” Sadie says, pressing her finger to her earpiece.
Larkin’s voice comes in over the feed. “Bid now,” he tells Carson. On the monitor, through Alexis’s camera, we watch Carson push a button on the table before him.
Carson just needs to purchase one girl for us to be in. And he needs to do it without raising any alarms. The Alpha used Lark and Gannet’s resources to vet the buyers, and we built an identity for Carson based on facts—but we indulged upon those facts. Carson being the department leak actually did work in our favor.
Now, all he has to do is keep his cool and place the winning bid, and the Alpha will be within our reach.
“The man to his left—” Sadie checks her tablet with the list of buyers already identified “—Judge Ramos is putting up a fight for this girl.” She glances at me. “Is it believable that Carson can actually afford a hundred grand?”
That’s what the bid is about to reach. “Yeah, it is,” I say. “Larkin transferred just over that into his account today. Made it look like a series of deposits over the past year.” I shake my head. “Looks like being a weasily leak pays off.”
Sadie releases a clipped breath. “You’re never going to let him live this down, are you?”
“What do you think?”
Her strained smile is a beacon amid the tension. And for just a moment, it feels like I have the old Sadie back—the profiler who grated on my nerves, but who I could always count on. Maybe that never changed. But when you uncover someone’s darkest secrets, you just can’t go back to the way things were.
“The judge is out,” Sadie says as she focuses on the auction. “Carson’s in at just over a hundred thousand. Holy shit.”
Holy shit is right. Carson doesn’t get to actually keep any of the money, and the actual transaction will never take place—but I’m sure he’s feeling the pressure at having just bid away a small fortune.
“He stayed cool,” Colton says. “Gotta be a difficult thing to pull off for a gambling addict.” His gaze flicks to me, and yes—I get it. Everyone is being tested tonight.
Not just me.
“It appears they’re moving into the finale,” Larkin says into the feed. Three women are brought before the camera, the bags over their heads yanked away. We haven’t been able to identify any of the women, but if we pull this off, not a single one of them will be sold.
After a short rundown on each of the girls’ stats—virgin, pure, blond, brunette—the masked man places his hand over the first girl’s head, and the bids light up.
“Why are they suddenly rushing?” Sadie asks, looking at the monitor with the hopping transmitted signal.
“Someone else is tracing the signal,” Jefferson says. “And whoever it is, isn’t as stealthy as us. They must know.”
Damn. But there’s no time to route the attack. By the time the last girl is sold, the screen inside The Firm goes dark.
My back locks taut as we await the Alpha’s next move. Come on. Come on.
Larkin moves onto the platform, and my jaw sets, every muscle corded tight. “Gentlemen, that concludes the auction.” Five men wearing black ski masks appear from the other side of the penthouse and stand at the platform.
My lungs refuse to take a breath.
“Please remain seated as our friends here distribute your buyer cards with generated purchases,” Larkin says.
“Trackers going out,” Sadie confirms, checking the signal.
Each card has a transmitter chip that we’ll use to track. It was a stipulation of the Alpha, which Larkin and I decided to exploit. Using his own system against him.
“Once you have your card, please head toward the elevator,” Larkin instructs. “You’ll now be paired in groups, and each group will have one of these fine gentlemen escort you to the pick-up location for your purchase.”
That’s our cue. We’re up and collecting our gear as Larkin disappears behind the screen.
“I’ve done my part,” Larkin whispers to us. “Good luck.”
His connection is terminated.
