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“Get out of here,” Prez dismisses his son-in-law with a slight smirk on his face.
“Right, we’re all set.” Prez claps his hands together, and Jessie and Storm pile back into the cage. Nyx and Troj speed off, and Maddy gives me one final check-over.
“If they scan you for bugs, these won’t be detected. We will see what you see from the camera sewn into your top pocket, you will hear us through the device in your ear, and there is a speaker in the camera if you…” She pauses and suddenly looks awkward. “You know, in case you want to talk to us.” Her smile is a sad one, so I give her one of my harsh, doubtful looks, and it eases the tension a little, making her laugh.
“Good luck, Screw,” she tells me seriously before she joins the others, and I nod back before taking a seat in the Lambo. The interior smells brand new, and when I start the engine, the sound rips through me like a fucking orgasm. All I can think about as I adjust the mirrors and pull out onto the road, to head for an auction, is how fucked off Squeals gonna be when he finds out about this.
The location is at an old strip joint tucked out the way in the old part of Pueblo town. No lights are showcasing that the place is open, just two armed guards on the door that suddenly remind me that I’m going in with nothing. If shit here goes south, it’s gonna be brute force that gets me and the girl out. I park the car close to the entrance and walk with confidence up to the guards.
“Name and ID.” The bigger of the two blocks my path, and I hold up the fake driver's permit Maddy armed me with. He disappears inside with it while the other guy sizes me up. I’m at least a foot bigger than he is, but the big black weapon he’s holding in his hand gives him the confidence that if he needed to, he could stop me. That’s never worked for anyone before. I doubt there’s anything special about this guy.
“Welcome, Mr. Stewart.” The other guy returns and hands me back my ID while his buddy picks up his other metal contraption and scans me with it.
“Enjoy your night, sir.” He nods when he’s done and shifts over for me to pass.
Inside smells like expensive whiskey and cigars. I’m greeted by an attractive female in a short black skirt and a white blouse designed to show off the impressive cleavage she’s got. She ain’t my type, but her tits look like they cost her a hella lot more than some of the botched jobs the club whores have gotten.
“This way, sir, I’ll show you to your booth,” she says with a smile, and I follow her down the red velvet padded walls of the corridor until she stops at a door.
“Here, sir,” she opens it, and the tiny space in front of me is so dark and confined I doubt we’ll both fit inside. “I’m your hostess for the auction. Press the white button for my attention. I’ll bring you whatever you require. Can I get you something now, a single malt, perhaps?”
I shake my head at her, as good as a single malt would go down right now. I need my head to be in this. There’s a lot of pressure on me, and I didn't feel the full severity of it until a few seconds ago.
I look through the glass in front of me at the empty podium, and the tinted black glass booths like mine that horseshoe around it
“Call if you need anything, sir.” The hostess leaves, and I take a seat in the leather chair positioned in front of the glass. There's a booklet in front of me and just enough light coming in from the glass for me to be able to read it. It’s a program. There are no pictures, but details like eye color, height, waist and tit sizes. Whether the females are virgins or “broken,” and a personal note from their trainer.
It makes me fucking sick to think of what these girls must have been through, and suddenly I don't want to fucking be here anymore. I don’t want a part in this shit.
I quickly flick through the itinerary, looking for a girl of Riley's description: copper hair, blue eyes. There are three girls up for auction with blue eyes, none of them redheads. I hold up the booklet so the camera will pick it up.
“You doing okay, Screw?” I hear Jessie's voice in my ear and hold a thumb up in front of the booklet.
“Flick through the pages slowly. We are expecting her to be lot five.” Prez’s voice is the one I hear next.
“This is disgusting,” Maddy whispers in the background.
“Yeah, lot five sounds like her, pale skin, blue eyes. Short, slim build. They may have changed her hair color,” Storm says. “I’ll know her when I see her. We got a clear view of the podium from CCTV,” he assures me.
I wish I’d taken up that offer of a whiskey when the lights outside go dim and the first lot is brought to the podium. The blonde girl is pretty but looks a little undernourished. She’s dressed classy, wearing a long black dress, and her hair is styled to the side. According to her credits, she isn't a virgin but a very well-trained submissive. The light that’s pointed at her turns red, and with a blank expression, she starts to remove the dress, revealing matching black lace underwear.
There's radio silence in my ear, and I feel disgusted just being in this seat, watching her as she takes off her bra and slides her panties down her legs. They are only faint, but I can see lashes on her body. The light beside the bidding button comes on, and I assume the sale has started. I count in my head how long it takes for her to be sold. So I can gauge what I’m up against.
Seven minutes.
More women follow her, all of them with the same petrified looks on their faces. I try not to focus on them. I’m here for Riley, Storm's sister. Or lot five, as she’s listed here in the brochure. I hear the others talking in my ear among themselves, Prez, Maddy, Jessie, but no Storm. This is the closest he’s come to freeing her in three years. After all the searching, she’s finally within touching distance, and the only thing between reuniting them and failure, is me.
“This is it, the last girl. This should be her,” I hear Maddy's voice as the fourth girl is escorted away from the podium by a guard. I sit up a little straighter and adjust my tie. This suit’s fucking uncomfortable. I feel too restricted inside it. I always like to know I can throw a decent fist if I need to.
“Remember, we only have $400,000,” she reminds me, again, as I take a deep breath and wait for the girl to step up.
The silence that follows is so tense, I swear I hear everyone back in the cage breathing.
The door at the back of the room opens and a small figure crashes through it like she’s been pushed, landing in a heap on the ground. I hold my breath and wait. The girl’s hair is long, dark, and covers her face, making it impossible for any of us to get a positive ID on her. The guard behind her bends down and drags her back up onto her feet. This girl is different from the girls that came before her. The dress she’s wearing isn’t revealing or worn to impress. It’s almost childlike to symbolize her innocence. And I’m sure Storm will be relieved to have seen that she was listed as a virgin in the brochure I showed them through the camera.
She steps up onto the podium, and I notice how she trembles, her arms wrapping consciously around her body to protect herself. I’m close enough in this damn booth to even see the goose pimples on her skin. The guard steps back, and when the door slams shut after him, it makes her jump. She’s staring at the floor, her hair still covering her face, and I wait eagerly for someone to give me the confirmation that this is Riley.
It seems much more like minutes than seconds, but eventually, she slowly lifts her head and wearily scans the dark room she’s been thrown into. She’s pale, so pale that she almost looks translucent under the bright lights shining on her. Her eyes are so round and big in comparison to all her other petite features. I’m sure they are green, but the fear inside them is the only thing I seem able to concentrate on when they look directly at my booth. I know she can’t see through the glass because I can’t see any of the other buyers in their booths. But the way she looks through the glass that separates us makes me question it.
