Only Theirs (Anchor Bay #3)

Prologue

UNKNOWN

Asharp hiss whistled through my clenched teeth as I prodded the swollen area around the open wound. The slight pressure made the surrounding muscle twitch, sending a bolt of fiery pain shooting from the vicious bite mark.

“That damn mutt,” I grumbled under my breath as I plunged the unused needle into my hip.

As I pressed on the plunger, injecting the much-needed antibiotic, I hoped it worked the same on humans as it did the animals and I wouldn’t die suddenly from some strange reaction.

Antibiotics were antibiotics, and I wasn’t in the position to not take the risk, considering it was the only medicine I could get my hands on without drawing questions about the massive dog bite.

Paper rustled as I lifted the unopened gauze package to my mouth and used my teeth to rip it open. Careful not to touch everything I’d just cleaned, I placed the gauze over the missing chunk of flesh and muscle, gently wrapping it to keep bacteria from contaminating the wound.

Jaw tight, I ground my teeth, remembering that night and how my perfect plan went to hell in a split second.

Heat flooded my veins as my anger rose, mixed with the consistent burning throb radiating from the damn bite, causing sweat to slick the back of my neck and drip down my bare chest. Now I not only had the fucking headache of making sure I didn’t get gangrene or rabies or some shit but was also one product short to deliver to the buyers.

How was I supposed to know that woman had brought her demon dog to hike the trail alongside her?

A frustrated huff escaped as I thought about all the extra work that oversight would cause me.

Now, there’d have to be a last-minute trip to Anchorage to find a replacement.

I rolled my eyes, knowing it was less work taking those women off the streets, but they also weren’t worth as much to my buyers as the healthy ones I procured on the Soul Trail.

But at this point, meeting my promised quota mattered most.

The heavily armed Russian assholes who bought stock from me didn’t give a fuck about excuses, only results—in this case, young, pretty women.

Plus, even if they didn’t shoot me after finding out I was short, how would I explain what actually happened?

It sounded made-up even to me, and I was there that night.

Everything had gone to plan, exactly how I’d done it dozens of times before, until that damn wolf dog lunged out of her tent when I unzipped the door.

To keep from getting my jugular ripped open, I wasted a round on the mutt.

Between the commotion of me fighting with the animal and the gunshot, the woman had woken up and bolted into the woods, making me chase after her.

Which put me in an even worse mood since I fucking hated running.

It didn’t take long for me to catch up with her enough to get a shot in.

Of course my aim was perfect. Sure, the night-vision goggles helped, but it was still fucking difficult to hit someone right between their shoulder blades while running through the trees.

Disoriented, it was easy to drug her and then haul her slight frame to the mine, which was when I thought the plan was back on track.

Not by a long shot.

Setback number two happened while I was hauling her back to the mine where I was holding the others.

Out of nowhere, completely taking me off guard because I’d gotten far enough away, came her damn dog.

With her over my shoulder, I couldn’t react fast enough before his sharp-ass teeth sank into me and tore out a chunk.

The shock and pain made me drop her, and on such a steep slope, she just kept on rolling.

And rolling.

And rolling.

The good part was that the dog followed her down, which meant the demon wasn’t attempting to eat more of me; the bad, he stood over her like some damn bodyguard.

Without real bullets in my gun and not wanting to get close enough to use my knife, there was no way for me to know if she was still unconscious or dead.

Guess I would never know if she was dead from the fall or died later from her injuries.

Hell, she could’ve even drowned from the amount of rain that came in the days following the shit show.

I wanted to return to kick her body into the ravine after the rain stopped, knowing it would take her far away from anywhere close to the mine, but it was too late.

The fucking righteous cavalry had swarmed and recovered her body, and bonus, Anchor Bay’s favorite vet had made best friends with the hellhound. I wasn’t too worried, as the rain would’ve washed away any evidence that could point to me, but there was still the unknown threat to my operation.

What did they find?

How much did they know?

Was I now a suspect?

Ignoring the swirling questions, I snatched the fresh change of clothes off the floor, knowing I needed to hurry.

Tugging on the rough cotton, my wince reflected back at me in the smudged, cracked mirror over the sink as I dragged up the pair of black pants and matching long-sleeve T-shirt.

The clothing was overkill considering the warmer late-summer temperature, but I couldn’t risk drawing attention to the obvious injury when I went to work later.

Jerky movement in the mirror brought my gaze to the reflection of a woman attempting to escape.

Watching her futile efforts had the corners of my lips curving upward.

The drugs in her system, which I had an ample supply of courtesy of my buyers, kept her like the others, barely lucid and too weak to escape their cells or even yell out for help.

The heavy sedation was key to keeping them from hurting themselves, but not so out of it that they couldn’t move, which could lead to bedsores and faster muscle deterioration.

Those helpful insights were all detailed in Dad’s journals.

They were the perfect step-by-step guide for almost all circumstances revolving around the procuring and selling of women.

It was important to keep the stock waiting to be sold as healthy as possible in an old, drafty mine to maximize profits.

It was almost an art form, balancing the perfect type and amount of drugs, food, hydration, and of course timing.

The living product needed to be moved often, not only to make room for more, but the longer you held on to a product, the higher the potential of them getting sick, hurt, or worse, dying.

That always sucked. Not only was the money you would’ve made lost, but you also wasted valuable resources keeping them, as well as the effort to procure them in the first place.

A soft moan had me focusing back on the woman rolling along the worn mattress.

“Thanks for the quick fuck,” I said to her reflection. “Not that you had a choice. I have to go out, so be a good pet and get your rest while I’m gone. I’ll be back for more of you tonight.”

Her pitiful whimper echoed off the walls of the small cell.

“You know, all this could be over if you told me where you hid your journal.” A deep chuckle vibrated in my chest. “Well, not over—you’re way too much fun for that—but I might be inclined to be more gentle.”

I waited, hoping that this time she would finally tell me.

At her slight headshake and mumbled words, I whirled around to face her, fingers curled into tight fists at my sides.

Fiery anger flooded my veins. My feet slammed onto the worn dirt floor as I stormed to the edge of the tattered mattress.

My knees popped when I squatted low to grip her dirt-streaked face in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at me.

“Where the fuck is that journal, Caroline?”

Her cracked lips pressed into a tight line.

With a frustrated curse, I shoved her back, her head clipping a portion of the uneven wall from the force.

Not only did I need that journal to keep my operation safe, but I was curious about the contents too.

Had she really put two and two together somehow, confirming her suspicions about her mom not running off but being one of Dad’s early success stories?

And if she had tied her mom’s disappearance all those years ago to my operation, how the hell did she put it all together when no one else had?

If she didn’t tell me where it was, I would never know, and that annoyed the shit out of me. I had thought that fucker Jasper might have a clue where she hid the journal, but he was a bigger idiot than I realized. Either way, if he knew anything, it all died with him.

Standing over her frail frame, I scanned the scrapes and bruises marking her pale skin, the layers of dirt and blood from her tumble all those weeks ago. I should’ve bathed her at some point, but it wasn’t like I needed her face or body to be clean to use her the way I liked.

“Did you know your so-called friends are still looking for you?” Her lashes fluttered as she attempted to open her lids, a barely there moan escaping her parted, dry lips.

“And unfortunately, after finding that bitch’s body in the woods before I could get rid of it, they’re getting too close.

” Reaching out, I ran my fingers through her ratty hair, tugging carelessly at the tangles and clumps of mud.

“Which means it might be time for me to use you as a distraction.”

Caroline’s lips moved, but only ragged breaths escaped.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll make good use of what little time we have left together.”

I smacked my palms against the sides of my thighs to rid them of the dust and grime.

Snatching the glowing lantern off the floor, I exited the makeshift cell, closing the ill-fitted door behind me.

Dirt clouded the air and bits of rock rained down from the carved-out doorframe as I secured the latch as best I could.

The stench of mold, body odor, and piss flooded my nose, tainting the inside of my lungs as I shuffled along the worn path made by miners years prior.

Pausing outside a deep divot along the rocky wall that I’d turned into the first holding pen, I peered through the rusted metal bars to check on the first of the current batch.

Holding the lantern up high, it took a moment with the low light to catch the slight rise and fall of her chest. She’d been held the longest, and it showed.

If I didn’t get this batch sold soon, she might be a waste, putting me down two instead of just the one.

A soft chime echoed through the narrow tunnel, alerting me to an incoming call on my satellite phone.

Knowing the signal sucked inside, I continued toward the mine entrance, not bothering to look in on the others in their cells as I passed.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I stepped out into the fresh air.

Blinding sunlight cut into my eyes, making me squeeze them shut, leaving me to blindly secure the door behind me.

Dad had mentioned this place in his journals, more than once appreciating the happy accident of stumbling on the long-forgotten, abandoned mine as a child roaming the wilds of Alaska alone.

It was the perfect place to keep both his stock and now my own hidden until the exchange with the buyers.

While I mostly followed Dad’s road map and tips, I’d made a few adjustments, maximizing today’s available technology to make it easier on myself.

Tugging the satellite phone free from the side pocket of my cargo pants, I took a second to inhale a deep breath, allowing the crisp mountain air to cleanse the cave stench from my lungs.

Tapping the button to accept the incoming call, I held the ancient device that the Russians insisted I use to my ear as I scanned the dense trees surrounding me.

“I’m here,” I stated. The fuckers who bought from me didn’t believe in pleasantries.

“Is the exchange still a go?” The deep rumble of his voice and thick accent made it difficult to understand him, but thankfully this conversation was basically a repeat of the ones before.

“Yes—same place, same time.”

“And the special one? You get her for the boss?”

The phone slid in my sweaty palm as I tightened my grip around the device. “I told you,” I gritted out, “it’s too risky to take her. What about the money and drugs? Like always?”

His raspy, condescending chuckle added to my growing agitation. “Da. You bring girls; we bring money and drugs.”

The following stretch of silence signaled he had hung up.

“Fucking typical,” I grumbled as I pocketed the phone.

Scrubbing a calloused palm over my face, I sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let that “special one” shit drop until they had her.

Which complicated things, since she was basically untouchable.

Ever since their boss saw her picture on the updated Uplift Adventure and Rescue website, there hadn’t been a single call where they didn’t ask about her.

He wanted her badly for his personal collection and was intent on getting her.

Good fucking luck with that was what I wanted to tell him but mouthing off to a Russian mobster was a quick way to die a slow, painful death. It was too great of a risk to even consider it, though. There was no way in hell I could sneak into their compound and take her without anyone noticing.

The insistent burning throb pulsing from the damn dog bite had me spinning on my heels toward the mine.

I needed to feed and water the stock before heading to Anchor Bay.

Everyone was a suspect, their actions and whereabouts monitored now that the asshole detective Brandon brought from LA was sniffing around.

Everything was easy to cover and hide until he showed up and started asking too many damn questions, being a little too observant and rallying that whole fucked-up community together to stop my lucrative business.

Maybe he needed to be taught a lesson. Needed someone he loved, like his wife or kid, to be threatened because he was here. That would send him running back to California, and he would leave me the fuck alone.

Yes, that was a great idea.

Now to figure out what, how, and when. Which would be easy. It took me all of a few hours to come up with Jasper’s “suicide” and execute the perfect plan, after all.

That detective would regret the day he moved to Anchor Bay.