4
Broadway
“Y ou look like shit,” Carter denotes when I enter his office at the back of Scarlett . Koby and Ryder are with him, both in tuxes, looking sharper and more uncomfortable than ever. “What’s going on?”
I shrug, adjusting my bowtie. “Didn’t sleep.” I load the words with a hint of arrogance, implying I was otherwise engaged or else they’ll ask questions I’m not comfortable answering.
The way Violet makes me feel was irritating at first. Now it’s fucking unbearable because it makes me weak. It chases my sleep away and robs me of rational thinking.
“You’re not coming with us?” I motion to his signature look—white shirt, black waistcoat and black pants.
“You’re only scouting, Broadway. When it’s time to retrieve Violet, I’ll be there, but that’s not happening tonight.”
I nod, grinding my teeth. We’ve not seen her once in a whole week of trailing Cassio. My heart skipped a beat whenever the gate to his mansion opened and he stepped out, then calmed right down once he exited solo. I don’t know what I’ll do when I see Violet face to face. There’s no predicting the outcome.
My fingers itch for a gun whenever I picture her in Scarlett , on a leash, bruised and sad. Sending me to rescue her might be a bad move. Especially considering I’m exhausted and my judgment’s getting cloudier the longer sleep eludes me.
But Carter doesn’t know that.
We’ve been working together for years. He’s well aware he can trust me. I’ve always been a hothead, but a reasonable and reliable one. I’ve never failed him and I’m not about to start now, so I need to get my shit together fast.
“Keep me posted,” Carter tells Ryder, since he’s usually our comms guy.
Ryder drops an earpiece on the desk and hands out two more to me and Koby. “Just in case.”
I nod, shoving the tiny tech deep in my ear. “Come on, the limo’s waiting outside.”
Without a word, but with a grin that speaks volumes, Koby shoulders past, a spring in his step.
“Broadway,” Carter denotes, a clear instruction to stay behind once Ryder’s caught up to Koby.
Carter’s back hits his leather chair, calculating eyes boring into mine until the door closes and we’re alone. “What’s going on? You’re... tense.”
I rake my hand through my hair, simultaneously cracking my neck. There’s no lying to Carter. We’re too close for bullshit. He sees right through me as clearly as I see through him.
He might be my boss for all intents and purposes, but I treat him like a brother, and I know he thinks of me, Koby, and Ryder the same way. We’re friends as much as colleagues, even inside the mob hierarchy.
“I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to,” I reply truthfully. “I’ve been racking my brain for a week, but I don’t have a rational explanation. Don’t even have an irrational one.”
He cocks an eyebrow, prompting me to keep talking.
“It’s that girl... something’s not right. I can’t explain it but... there’s something very fucking wrong with her.”
“You mean Violet?”
I nod, staring into the distance and gathering my thoughts. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but the moment I saw her a knife opened in my pocket. I could barely stop from grabbing my gun. I’ve never felt this... violent before.”
He shifts in his seat, clearly invested in my words, if uncomfortable with them. “Violent toward her?”
“I threw a glass at the TV when I watched the security footage at home. She makes my skin break out in hives...” I trail off, running a heavy hand down my face. “I know how this sounds. I asked Ryder to find out if maybe we had a history I can’t remember, something that’d explain why she makes me feel like I’m dancing on the edge of the knife, but there’s nothing. We hadn’t been within a thousand miles of each other until six months ago.”
“Maybe she reminds you of someone?”
I scoff, shaking my head. “She’s quite unique, don’t you think? I’d remember if I ever met another girl like her.”
Carter takes a moment to mull my words over before his eyes lock onto mine again. “Can you handle this or do you want me there?”
The respect I have for him doubles on the spot. There’s not an ounce of superiority in his voice.
He’s not asking if I need a babysitter. He’s not asking if he can trust me. He’s asking if I need a friend. There’s no doubt in his tone, no ridicule. He’s simply letting me know he has my back if I need it.
“I can handle it.”
He bobs his head slowly. “Alright. I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thanks, Boss.”
The corner of his mouth tilts a fraction of an inch. “Get to work. Hailey’s anxiety over Violet is growing exponentially every day. I’d like to get her secured sooner rather than later.”
Of course.
If he had to walk on water to keep his girl at ease he’d find a way. There’s been something utterly disturbing about Carter since he found her.
I always considered him a ruthless machine, but ever since Hailey, there’s a new side to him and... it’s fucking terrifying.
◆◆◆
The limo halts outside a city-center art gallery. A red carpet leads inside, fenced-off from the spectators by retractable tape. Some people hold big banners with I LOVE YOU JOHNNY scribbled across, others with different well-known names. Most of the onlookers have their phones out, recording the celebrities navigating the short carpet toward the main entrance.
“There are a few big names on the list for tonight,” Ryder explains. “Some rock star’s coming. Never heard of him, but he’s apparently pretty big: Johnny B.”
“He’s good,” Koby agrees. “A bit heavy on the guitar, but good.”
The driver opens the back door, letting us out of the limo, and I feel the scrutiny of the crowd as soon as I step out of the air-conditioned interior. The temperature in Ohio hit an all-time high last week and hasn’t dropped since. Even at eight in the evening the air’s stuffy, my balls sweating under the black tux.
At least the sun’s heading toward the horizon instead of scorching us from above.
Scanning the crowd I stop at a group of pretty girls whispering between themselves, eyes on me, two wrinkles denting their foreheads. Unable to pinpoint my surname, they move to ogle Ryder and Koby, probably wondering who the fuck we are.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the security guard at the door greets while a young guy beside him glances between the clipboard in his hand and Ryder who stands at the front. “Your last names?”
“Berry, Hudson, and Evans,” Ryder recites the fake names he signed us into this event with.
It’s not easy getting a ticket to an auction where a single piece of art can fetch multi-million dollars. They don’t let the average Joe attend. You need to prove you have enough cash to make a purchase before they extend an invitation.
It’s a good thing there isn’t a security system in the world that can stand up to Ryder’s skills. It took him little over an hour to create our fake IDs and forge bank account statements that proved we were beyond richy-rich.
“Welcome to the Auction,” the man denotes, motioning at his minion to retract the tape and let us pass.
I swallow the snicker. It’s both clever and limitlessly boring to name an auction The Auction . I guess it was supposed to sound like a high-end event, which it is, but it’s weak at best.
The door opens and cool air fans my face as we step over the threshold. Music fills the air, classic jazz, the volume enough to offer a shred of privacy to conversations happening around but not so loud as to encourage raised voices.
The elegant crowd mingles into cliques as we walk further inside and step off the red carpet in the middle to take a seat at a small table on the right. It offers a good vantage point of the whole room, and as soon as I sit, my eyes trace a slow path, analyzing every female face I can find.
“Gentlemen?” A waitress approaches, holding out a tray with champagne.
Koby immediately grabs three flutes, clearly unhappy with their size. He empties his in two gulps and he’s grabbing the waitress again as soon as she’s within earshot.
“I could offer you something stronger if you wish,” she says, her voice artificially sweet, eyelashes fluttering. “You look like a whiskey kind of man.”
“Make it double.”
“Same for me,” Ryder adds. “And make sure it’s Bourbon for this guy. He won’t touch anything else.” His big hand lands on my shoulder, fingers gouging into my flesh to summon my attention.
A nod is all the waitress gets from me before she scurries away, hips swaying in a seductive way designed to keep the sleazy, rich fuckers in the room focused on her.
I bet she’s counting on good tips, and if the pretty smiles she’s been aiming at Koby are any indication, she wouldn’t mind saddling someone well-off.
“Anything?” Carter’s voice booms in my earpiece, making me flinch. I fucking forgot he’s on the line with us he’s been so quiet. Or maybe he just turned the comms on.
“Not yet. No sign of Violet, or Cassio for that matter.”
“A few familiar faces, though,” Ryder adds, eyes on the Florida boss sitting on the other side of the room, a paddle in hand, ready to bid even though the auctioneer isn’t here yet. “It’s a good thing you’re not here, Boss, or we’d be making a scene.”
“Blaze?” Carter asks, with a hint of tension in his tone.
He’s been plotting the fucker’s demise ever since we moved to Ohio, but taking down Noretto isn’t as easy as it would seem. Thanks to his human trafficking business, he’s grown to superstar status in our world. He’s also tripled his fortune, raising a few eyebrows. There are a lot of men whose businesses rely on Blaze’s auctions, and they’re willing to go to extreme lengths to protect him. Starting a war with Noretto will bring us a heap of heat, so it must be planned well.
And with unimpeachable justification.
“No. Octavius Grey,” Koby corrects, eyeing the man partially responsible for the mess Hailey found herself in last year.
“You’re right. It’s good I’m not there.”
That it is. Carter may be methodical and smart, but confronted with the man who put his girl in Blaze Noretto’s grubby hands, he’d most likely lose that iron grasp on his control very quickly.
I doubt I’d have time to realize who made him snap before his gun started making holes in foreheads. We’d have a bloodbath on our hands and a lot of dead celebrities. Not the best way to handle this.
The waitress saunters back, three drinks on her tray, one finger twirling her chestnut hair, a pink blush tainting her cheeks as she zeroes in on Koby.
Looks like someone’s catching feelings.
“There you go,” she chirps, purposely brushing her fingers over his as she takes his empty flute. “Give me a holler if you need anything else.”
“Anything?” he echoes playfully. “Careful what you offer, sweetheart.”
“Anything,” she emphasizes with a flirtatious smirk.
Koby adjusts himself in his seat, then his dick in his pants, and I know that if tonight goes according to plan, he’ll have her under him before dawn.
He’s a good guy. Loyal to a fault. Clever.
Also, our resident whore.
Another ten minutes pass before the crowd settle into their seats and the auctioneer steps onto his podium, pounding the gavel three times for silence.
And still no sign of Violet.
I’ve scrutinized every table ten times over, but I can’t see her. I also can’t spot Cassio, which tells me that maybe they’re running late. Or he has her hidden somewhere at the back.
Surely, the host will make an appearance soon enough, given two bulky men hijack the stage, already settling a heavy-looking sculpture in the middle.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer starts. “My name is Mathias, and I’ll be your host tonight. Please give a warm welcome to the man without whom this auction wouldn’t be possible. Cassio Barbieri!”
The man finally appears from behind red, velvet curtains. The salt and pepper of his hair glimmers in the lights, and the music drops down a notch while applause overtakes the room.
I flex my fingers and crack my knuckles, watching him approach the stand. Every step he takes sparks a flashback, and I see him in the black suit he had on in Scarlett last week instead of the white tux he’s wearing now.
I recall the silver chain in his hand as he led Violet across the dance floor toward the bar.
I remember the collar around her neck, and the same cement-like unease hits me square in the jaw. The same quivering violence sends my mind into overdrive.
Cassio stops, raking his gaze around the room before commencing his welcome speech. My knee bounces under the table faster with every passing second.
Violet’s nowhere to be seen but that unease burns me from the inside out regardless. Just thinking about her sharpens my instincts and kicks me into this weird balance between anxiety and violence.
I fucking hate this feeling.
I hate her for inducing it. I also hate Cassio for coming to Scarlett and starting this wild goose chase. But above all, I hate that he’s here but she’s not. I want to see her, make sure she’s walking, talking... breathing .
The auction begins and paddles start shooting up. I bid too, so as not to stand out. The competitive urge kicks in and within moments I bid myself into a comfortable three hundred thousand before checking what I’m close to buying: a sculpture of... fuck knows what.
A horse, maybe. If the artist was drunk.
I back off, letting the war resolve between two other men.
A painting is next, some meadow with cows in that fetches near seven figures. Koby bids the cows up to half a million dollars, then applauds the woman who wins.
It goes on for an hour, during which the waitress has stopped by our table twice. Once with a round of fresh drinks, and once with a pitcher of ice water no one asked for.
We’re halfway through the auction and there’s still no sign of Violet. I have half a mind to jump into the back of the limo and raid Cassio’s place, because as I watch him sitting at the front, I wonder if she’s even still alive.
He brought her to Scarlett so why not here?
Even if he had no idea who owns the club, he chose to parade the girl like a trophy. Why hide her now?
Another painting goes up for sale and this time I’m genuinely interested. I looked through the catalog and this piece snagged my attention. It’s one of the few Dalis out in the wild. While I’m not a connoisseur, I find his twisted outlook on reality somewhat relatable.
Knowing damn well this will fetch close to fifteen million, I bid until ten and let the cow-meadow woman and some huge fucker battle it out.
“Twenty,” someone denotes from the back.
I guess I underestimated it.
“This is a waste of time,” Ryder mutters. “She’s obviously not here.”
“We’re not here to grab Violet,” I pipe in, even though I one hundred percent agree that we’re wasting time. “Focus on Cassio. Pay attention to who hangs about longer than required after the event and anyone who approaches him.”
“Don’t teach a dick how to fuck, Broadway.” Ryder smirks, his paddle moving up and down mechanically.
Three more sculptures and seven paintings are sold before the auctioneer’s voice booms, “That’s all for tonight!” over the sound system.
He recites instructions for successful buyers in a tired monotone, then bows his head low and scurries away with a clipboard under his arm.
People start clearing the room in waves. They finish their drinks and leave, posing for pictures outside.
The main door stays open—a silent invitation for everyone to get the fuck out—but, luckily for our trio, the waitress isn’t yet done with Koby.
She sets down another round of drinks as soon as my empty glass hits the table.
“On the house,” she whispers, cheeks red as she eyes Koby.
He grips her wrist, pulling her closer so he can whisper in her ear and those red cheeks almost catch fire. Her eyes hood over, arousal taking center stage.
“Deal?” Koby asks, letting her straighten up.
Visibly struggling for words, she nods, her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips. “Deal.”
“Good girl.”
She almost squeals and quickly disappears with an excited bounce to her step.
Koby opens his mouth, probably to give us an insight into his filthy plans for the evening but Cassio stops a table away from us, beside a familiar-looking guy.
“Grey’s right-hand man,” Ryder mutters, raising his drink to his lips.
“Malik.” Cassio extends his hand to the guy. “Surprised to see you here tonight.”
The man smirks, nodding along. “The boss wanted to swing by before heading to the other auction.”
My brows furrow. What other—?
Fuck.
Noretto. It’s the last Saturday of the month. His auction night.
“Is he bidding?” Curiosity bleeds through his tone.
“You know better than most that he doesn’t have to bid. If he wants one, he gets one.”
Cassio shifts his weight from one foot to the other, balling his fists before adjusting his jacket. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“Any particular one?”
Malik throws his arm over the back of an empty chair beside him. “Octavius has an offer for you.”
“Does he now?”
“You must’ve spent north of a million on that chick already, correct?”
“Try two.”
“Another two, in cash before the auction starts, and she’s yours to keep. No competition.”
Cassio stiffens, his eyes growing wide, brain cells working so loud I can hear them from here. “To keep?”
Koby’s eyebrows draw together, the confusion shining in his eyes matching my own. Ryder’s more focused than confused, his analytical brain searching for keywords in the conversation the same way his fingers search for holes in security system firewalls.
Malik bobs his head once, holding Cassio’s gaze. “No more renting. It’s too much work. Either buy her outright or we’ll auction her to the highest bidder, permanently.”
“Too much work?” Cassio scoffs. “There’s been little interest lately—”
“True, but don’t underestimate the big players. At least three other men will bid when we say it’s for keeps.” He raises his hand, checking the time on his wristwatch. “If I were you, I’d start moving the money. Two million. If it clears the account before eleven, she’s yours. Otherwise, prepare for a bidding war.”
The air thickens between them, and Cassio’s hands start visibly trembling. He holds the man’s gaze then looks to the back of the room, where Octavius sits.
“Grey’s raising his glass to him,” Koby whispers, as if sensing I’m about to swing my head that way and check what’s happening.
“Very well.” Cassio straightens his spine, marshaling the tremor in his hands as he glances at our table.
Briefly meeting my gaze, he swallows hard, paling a little before his eyes snap away.
Now that’s interesting...
“Will you excuse me?” he gabbles in Malik’s general direction, but doesn’t wait for permission or acknowledgment, marching toward the back of the room.
Malik downs the rest of his drink, robotically rising to his feet. He fastens his suit jacket while following Cassio’s footsteps. He’s in no hurry.
“Anyone else notice Cassio stiffen when he saw us?” Koby asks, the moment Malik’s out of earshot. “You think he knows we’re onto him?”
“Looks like it. And given how fast he made himself scarce, I bet he knows what we’re after.”
“Might be why he didn’t bring her along,” I add.
“Or it might violate the terms of whatever lease she’s on,” Carter denotes in our ears.
“I thought once they’re sold, they’re sold,” Ryder shoots back. “Now it sounds like they’re rented out.”
“I’ve seen enough,” I say, pulling my earpiece out. “He’s not dealing with anyone we know.”
Koby cocks an eyebrow. “Unless you count Noretto and Grey. He’s obviously paying them to keep Violet.”
“And he’s obviously very keen to purchase her outright,” I say. “We’ll take the girl off his hands whether he likes it or not. Might as well save the guy two million dollars.”