Chapter 17
I’m rushed off the stage before I have any time to process what the hell is going on.
Two goons have me by the arms, forcefully escorting me through the town.
I don’t recognize them but, then again, most of these prison brutes look the same to me: big and tattooed, super muscular, and in desperate need of a trip to the barber.
The one on the right smells of body odor, the one on my left reeks of alcohol, and I can’t help but feel incredibly exposed, sandwiched between them while in a bikini.
At least neither one of them is Coney.
Darryl headed right for Chase. Maverick…
he could’ve disappeared into the crowd for all I know.
It’s my turn to be carried off, and I’m not surprised when they march me to Darryl’s house.
I’m hustled inside where three of Darryl’s six wives are together in the front room.
Bernadette, Kendra, and the young pregnant girl with the wavy black hair.
The last thing I see before the two dickheads push me down the hallway is the pregnant girl getting up and waddling into the kitchen as quickly as her legs can carry her.
Down the hall, up the stairs—one flight, then another—until I’m standing in front of a closed door at the end of another hall. One of the guys shoves it in. The other pushes me after it.
“Wait here,” B.O. says gruffly. Booze gives me a mock salute, then closes the door. I can hear their footsteps as they depart, leaving me alone.
Once they have, I race toward the window. Sure, I’m on the second floor, but I’m not above leaping out of it. To avoid Chase… to avoid Darryl… to run after Maverick and kick his cop ass… I know that I’m willing to do anything to get out of this room.
I’m pretty sure the door is locked. A couple of rough tugs on the window and, yup, so is that.
Fuuuuuuck.
Okay. Okay. Let’s just check the door—
Nope.
Also locked.
I go to the closet. At the very least, there’s got to be something in there that I can put on.
I’ll even wear one of those dresses like Darryl’s wives if I have to, but after I throw the door open, I curse.
It’s empty. All that’s in this room is a bed with a single sheet on it, plus a wooden chair propped in the corner.
I’m wondering if it’s worth ripping the sheet off the bed and fashioning some kind of toga out of it when the doorknob turns.
I suck in a breath, hiding my hands behind my back so that whoever walks into the room doesn’t see them shaking.
It’s Chase.
Chase Knight walks into the room.
He has Rory’s jacket in his hands. Since I’d left it with Maverick this morning at Chloe’s suggestion, I have no idea how he’s gotten it, but I’m glad to see it. It’s the one thing in this fucked-up world that helps me make any sense of it.
He looks different than when I left him in the Grave.
He’s given up on styling his hair at all, letting the sandy strands stick up in every direction.
Chase’s eyes are no longer rimmed with red, but the dark circles underneath make him appear paler than he is.
There’s a long scratch from the height of his cheek down to his chin; clotted with blood and puffy around the edges, it looks fresh.
So does the bruise on the side of his jaw.
“Holden,” he begins, back to calling me by my last name, and that’s all he gets out before the door swings open again.
I expect it to be Darryl or one of his boys. Nope. To my surprise, it’s Maverick.
He eases the door shut behind him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Chase is standing between us, solid as a statue and as quiet, I might’ve launched myself at him, throwing as many punches as I could.
He’s oblivious to how pissed I am at him. He glances at the back of Chase’s head, then moves his attention to me. The cop opens his mouth, but as his gaze roves over me, he pauses.
For a split second, I think he’s checking me out. Seriously? I know I’m in a skimpy bikini, but this is the worst possible moment for him to… oh. Oh. He’s not looking at my boobs or my figure.
He’s staring at the burn that covers my entire upper left arm.
It hits me. Not counting when I was on the stage, this is the first time Maverick has seen me without my jacket on; the rope he gifted me was stowed in my pack and never mentioned again.
But that was when he was far enough away that Chloe’s handiwork kept my burn concealed. This close, he can’t miss it.
I move my hand so that it’s covering my arm.
Maverick gives his head a shake, like he’s trying to erase the image of my burn. “Okay, okay… I’ve got to make this quick. Darryl’ll be here any minute, and I won’t be able to stall him anymore than I already have.”
I don’t know what that means. Before I can ask, Maverick has stormed around Chase, his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t get to win you, but this is okay. Right? I remember this guy from your settlement. You know him.”
Considering Maverick’s possessive grab on my shoulders seems to have broken the spell on Chase, making my twin’s fiancé growl under his breath as he surges forward as though he’s about to rip Mav’s hands off of me…. yeah. We know each other.
Me? I kind of just stand there. To be honest? I’m still in shock over what happened, but even as stunned and freaked-out as I am, I know Chase offering up a priceless vial of antidote to “win” me is anything but okay.
“Listen to me. Just follow the rules, do what you have to to make it until I can get us out of here, and you’ll be fine.
Rules are everything here. Do you understand?
” When I don’t answer him, Maverick squeezes my bare shoulders enough for me to feel the pressure.
“Understand?” he repeats in a voice that telegraphs “cop”.
Bewildered, I nod.
“Good.” Letting go of me, he turns to Chase. “Look, you own her now—”
I find my voice for the first time since the auction. “Hey,” I protest, “no one owns me!”
Maverick looks back at me with pity in his eyes and an imploring frown.
“For as long as we’re in East Jersey, he does.
This isn’t like your Grave. There’s no democracy, no hands-up voting, and no shared goods.
This is a prison town, and Darryl runs it like a prison.
He’s the man in charge. You have to do what he says or he’ll kill you, kid, do you understand me?
He’ll toss you to the lurkers. And not a single person here will say one word about it. ”
I think of Darryl, of how grandfatherly and kind he appears until someone crosses him.
Like when he first found out I was a girl or when I objected to being put up on auction like a piece of cattle and forced to wear this revealing bikini.
He’s the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of ex-cons.
I have no trouble believing a word Maverick said.
And then there’s that man he purposely fed to the lurkers to prove a point…
Chase surges forward and wraps his arms around me. I’m so rattled, I don’t push him away. For the moment, at least, I’m grateful for his protection. “I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
“Remember that. You’re all that can save her now.”
He nods. The bobbing of his head makes my whole body tremble—or maybe that’s the reality slamming into me that this… the auction wasn’t the end.
Oh, no. It was only the beginning of the trouble I’m in.
“I will do anything—”
Maverick puts his finger to his lips, hushing Chase. A second later, I understand why. Footsteps are thundering down the hall, growing louder and louder as they approach.
Someone’s coming.
“Put that on,” Maverick hisses at me, pointing at Rory’s jacket hanging loosely from Chase’s grip.
Shit. I don’t know why I haven’t already.
Darryl bursts into the room as I pull my right arm through the sleeve, a satisfied grin splitting his face while Chloe yaps away at his heels.
“Yes, yes, yes, darlin’. You can have your turn with your husband tonight.
First, I have to… mmm… take care of a little business, then I’ll be searchin’ for you.
” A low chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine.
“When we’re done here, I promise ya, I’ll be needin’ your special wifely attention.
Wait for me.” He glances at me, at Chase.
“Look at ‘em. Already touching each other… oh, yeah. This part won’t be takin’ long, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about that.”
Chloe clearly knows a dismissal from Darryl when she hears one. Bobbing her head, bowing a little, she says, “Of course, Darryl.”
She hustles toward the door. However, before she leaves, she exchanges a glance with Maverick and, in a flash, I get it. She must’ve been the one stalling Darryl. The only question I have is why.
I don’t know, and in a second, she’s gone.
Darryl seems to notice Maverick at last. I guess he was too busy ogling my bikini-clad body beneath Rory’s jacket, but it finally dawns on him that Mav has found his way to this empty room.
“Brooks. Bad luck at the auction. But you know how it goes. Rules is rules, eh? I can’t let you have your girl back… not when this newcomer paid up with that antidote of his… but if you’d like to stick around and watch, I’m sure that can be arranged.”
My stomach tightens.
Watch? Watch what?
Maverick sends me another one of those apologetic grimaces before he turns to Darryl. “I think it would be best if I didn’t.”
“Yeah. I get that. Well, if ya decide to stick around, we’ve got another auction scheduled at the end of the month. Phil’s wife has a girl hitting her sixteenth birthday. Soon as she does, she’s going up on the block. She’s a pretty young thing. You might like her.”
She’s sixteen.
Oh, God. When I noticed that one or two of Darryl’s wives were young, I figured they were at least eighteen. Now… I’m not so sure.
Maverick’s expression darkens, though all he makes is a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. I’ve gotten to know him well enough to hazard a guess that the idea of “winning” a kid makes him angry—sick and angry—but he knows better than to voice that in a town where Darryl is in control.