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Jonas grabs his bag and gets out first, murmuring, “Be safe, and don’t get caught, assholes.”
Ash snorts, because as sweet as Jonas is, his need to beat the shit out of someone is riding him hard. The three of us all have our own form of darkness.
Stepping out of the car with Ash, we walk up to the entrance together. We give the bruiser at the door the passcode, muttering, “A dove has lost its wings,” under our breaths.
He barely bats an eye as he nods, letting us past. The passcode sickens me now that I know this place is used to make deals in the skin trade. Those poor men and women that these people prey on. It makes me even more determined to find the information we need, if it means helping to shut this bullshit down.
Following the long tunnel inside, I take a deep breath as it leads underground. Thank goodness I’ve never been claustrophobic, because the idea of so much soil above us would trigger anyone else.
The sound of roars and screams make my heart begin to pound with excitement. I love these fights, beating the shit out of another man for my pound of flesh, and so I’m slightly jealous of Jonas.
Eyes scanning the huge space, I grab Ash’s arm when I happen to see Isabella. She apparently enjoys sitting on the right lower quadrant of the stands, so she can move about freely. We move toward her area, being sure to keep our distance.
We only need to be able to see when she makes her move for her meeting. A large man comes to sit with her a half hour later, and it takes me a moment to recognize Maxen Andrews.
“Shit,” I groan, causing Ash’s eyes to move over to them. He’s been scanning the room for any other danger, while I’ve been monitoring Isabella.
“It looks like they were right,” Ash grunts, not bothering to say who. I already know he means Levi and the Eagle. “So much for him being a man of faith.”
“Now, we wait,” I tell him.
We sit through three fights before Isabella checks her watch and stands. Maxen follows, ever the doting husband, offering his arm. She giggles as if she were younger than she is, taking it. Honestly, they’ve been pawing at each other the entire time, pretending no one notices. It’s like watching a bitch in heat, that’s how much Isabella has been rubbing up on her husband.
Glad to be able to move, we walk slowly as we follow, and Ash yells obscenities at whoever is fighting when they go down.
“Fuck,” he roars. “I had money on this fight. Get up!”
Ash doesn’t, but I smirk at his performance. Isabella and Maxen are so tuned out to the noise, they don’t notice him. Soon they turn into a side tunnel, and we watch as they continue down into the shadows. Following, we keep our footsteps silent as we leave behind the cacophony of the fights.
As Isabella reaches a door, I grab Ash, quietly opening a sliding panel that’ll allow us to get into the walls of the room so no one will know where we are.
We are undetected as I close the panel behind us. Moving quickly, I walk until I hear Isabella’s fake, cultured voice on the other side of the wall. There’s a small gap where I can watch what’s happening.
“Gentleman, always a pleasure. I appreciate you all coming, despite the cloak and dagger routine. We can’t ever be too careful,” she croons.
Ash pretends to puke, and I smirk. This woman is a real piece of work, and I can’t wait to nail her for her crimes.
ASH
If I were a betting man, I would put money on Maxen being involved in his wife’s business. They’re very close, from what I saw in the stands. I’m pretty sure Isabella jerked her husband off and gave zero shits about it. Gross.
Maxen now stands quietly next to his wife, as Isabella preens in front of obviously dangerous men.
“We are making good progress on providing inventory for the auctions, but I would like to increase our supply by twenty percent, if possible,” she says.
Realizing she’s talking about people, I raise my hand to my mouth.
“There are a lot of runaways on the streets. How can we capitalize on this, so that we can bring in more men and women?” one of the men offers.
Bast swallows hard as he listens and looks slightly green. It makes me want to kill everyone in that room for the disgusting things we’re hearing.
“What about finding a girl who can befriend them?” Maxen asks with a smirk. “She’ll work for us, and either be compensated for it, or owe us for the pleasure of saving her life.”
My eyes widen and I have to bite my tongue from raging. It’s one thing to condone what his wife is doing—we could push it off as him being pussy-whipped—this is something else. Now I know the cold, hard truth. This man is no preacher; he is pure evil.
A large man sits forward in his chair, with dark curls and cold green eyes. “I have a few girls that I’ve broken in my dungeon. I was going to kill them, but maybe we can use them?”
Another man shakes his head. “No, if they’re too broken, they won’t be able to interact with these runaways. People who live on the streets are already skittish. It’s why it is sometimes harder to pick them up. The second they feel something is off, they’re gone,” he grumbles.
