Chapter Four
Liam
Ravi has left home.
Jesus fucking Christ. “Goddamn kid never learns.”
“What was that, boss?”
I’m cleaning up the kitchen. Putting away the food I bought for an ungrateful little shit who wouldn’t even eat it.
I reach over and mute the speakerphone, letting out a string of expletives. I swear to God this kid tries my patience at every turn.
With a deep breath, I unmute the call. “Sorry about that, Sal. Ravi’s been getting into some scrapes lately.” To put it mildly. “I have a feeling he’s about to get into another one.”
“Something you need help with?”
“Not at all.” No, because if Ravi gets himself into the kind of shit that requires my entire team, I’ll murder him myself.
He’s lucky. I didn’t know about him tagging along to Brennan Doyle’s little “Set Fire to the Competition” warehouse party until it was too late. I was on my way back from a job in Europe at the time. If I’d been here, I would have stopped him.
Part of this is on me. I should have paid better attention. We’d been clashing for the last year and a half or so, and I’d thought it better to give him his space. I gave him too much.
When he first came to live with me, I hated how Ravi constantly followed me. The responsibility weighed heavier than a chock-full tactical pack. Now, I’d take back those days in a heartbeat.
The days before Ravi climbed into bed with me and made it clear he didn’t see me as anything resembling a parent. Because after? Well, I keep pushing away the questions that night created.
Sal continues. “Uh, okay, so I wanted to make sure you were up to speed on the three of us heading out tonight to Mexico, and then Bev’s got some sort of…”
While my employee gives me a rundown on everything I missed while I was out of the office today, I climb the stairs to Ravi’s bedroom.
There’s more swearing on my part while I hunt down the spare key to his lock and bust in to find what I already know. The room is empty; Ravi’s gone. The window, which leads onto the roof of the covered back porch, is cracked open.
The part I didn’t expect? His phone is on the bed.
Did he leave it accidentally, or does he think that’s how I keep tabs on him? It would be a reasonable assumption.
“Boss?”
Fuck.
“Didn’t catch that, Salvatore. Say it again.”
“Since some of us are going to be out of office for the rest of the week, are there any priority items that need to be addressed before wheels-up?”
As I scan the room, looking past anime posters and one for a band called Young the Giant, in the hopes of finding some clue as to where my missing ward might have gone. While I’m flipping through some spicy looking romance novels on the bedside table, his phone starts pinging like a cash register.
Brennan: Got the date nailed down. Two weeks from tomorrow.
Brennan: Hope you’re ready. Gonna be a big night.
Brennan: Any questions or concerns you talk to me immediately, okay?
Brennan: We’re laying out a lot of money for this, so I don’t want any cold feet. Play your cards right, and you could walk away a millionaire.
A million dollars. What the actual fuck for? I’m already spinning up ideas, and each one makes my gut tighten.
Brennan’s texts are vague enough that it could be anything, but anything Brennan Doyle’s asking Ravi to do for that kind of money… I don’t even want to think about it.
“Boss?”
“One second, Sal.”
Taking a chance, I pick up Ravi’s phone and unlock it with my face. I set myself up as an alternate facial ID ages ago. I’m glad I did.
Then I reply to the message, in the hopes of drawing out more information.
Ravi: I can’t remember if you already told me where.
It’s a risky question. It could be the thing that tips Brennan off to me not being Ravi if Ravi already knows the answer. But the kid’s got ADHD, and his brain seems to prioritize random facts about penguins and peanut butter sandwiches over things like appointments or when he last ate.
Brennan: Still TBD, but I’m working on Shadow for the venue.
My stomach turns at the thought. Shadow. A very private, very exclusive kink club. For damn sure it’s not a place where a kid like Ravi should go. Ever. He’s too innocent for whatever Brennan Doyle’s trying to mix him up in.
I’ve killed men for less.
Jaw clenched, I throw out one more lure to see what it gets me.
Ravi: Do you really think this will work?
Brennan: You think I’d be putting in this kind of time if I didn’t?
You said you wanted to make big money fast. This is the way to do it.
Just putting out teasers for the auction, we’ve already got enough interested parties to fill a concert hall.
Nothing brings the perverts out of the woodwork like wafting a virgin who’s kink curious right under their noses.
It’s better than waving a red flag at a bull.
My fist tightens so hard my short nails dig into my skin. A virgin. Interested parties. A million dollars. This has got to be a sick joke.
Rereading the text, my brain snags on the word “auction.” Is this kid really stupid enough to try to sell his virginity to the highest bidder? Is that what the hell this is about?
If it were anybody else, I’d dismiss it as ridiculous. But it’s Ravi, and he’s got his father’s charming but terrifying combination of fantasy thinking and impulsivity. This is the exact sort of mess he’d wander into simply because he spotted something shiny.
One of these days his wandering will get him killed. It already almost has.
Nothing much scares me anymore. I’ve seen and done too much twisted shit. I’m not afraid of the monsters because I am the monster. The thought of Ravi doing something this dangerous fills me with icy terror.
Bringing myself under control, I send the one response that I know for sure Ravi would have to Brennan’s last message.
Ravi: Bullfighting is animal abuse
Brennan: Ha. Fucking bleeding heart. You’re a goddamn unicorn, you know that? Let’s meet up tomorrow so we can hammer out details.
I send a thumbs-up before exiting out of the message thread and then deleting it entirely. Ravi won’t be meeting with Brennan, but I will. This lowlife’s got his hooks too far into my ward. It’s my job to get them out.
A subtle throat clear from my phone’s speaker reminds me my employee is still on the other end.
“Sal.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“You hear any chatter about an upcoming auction at Shadow? Something about someone auctioning off their virginity?”
The thought of a bunch of slavering old men with older money waving their fists full of cash, all for the opportunity to be the person to destroy a nineteen-year-old twink? While he’s being paraded around like livestock? No fucking way. Makes me sick.
“Uh, sure, boss. You’ve always got us keeping feelers out for possible trafficking shit, so that was an immediate red flag. Only this time it didn’t sound like the product was unwilling.”
“He’s not a product. He’s a fucking human being.”
Sal’s quiet for a second. “We know, boss. You know how it can be in this business. Apologies.”
Right. Detachment. Dehumanizing. Gallows humor. It’s all common in our line of work when you see the things we’ve seen.
“Understood, Sal. Just trying to keep some perspective.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need anything further you guys can dig up on that auction. Anything.”
“Absolutely. I’ll pass it off to Bev. No doubt there’s something online somewhere. If there is, she’ll find it, sir.”
“Much appreciated, Sal.”
“No problem, boss. Anything else?”
While he talks, I do a quick pass, carefully but thoroughly tossing Ravi’s room. He’s mostly been staying in the dorms since the school year started, but he’s left a lot here. And I brought more of his belongings here a couple of weeks ago after his impulsivity landed him in the hospital.
As I rifle through drawers and flip through notebooks and sketchbooks for any other sign of what else he might be up to, I get a notification that Ravi has arrived at a destination in the East End.
I know the place. Some shitty apartment complex where the landlord is known to take payment in cash, among other things.
It’s the sort of place people live when they don’t want anyone to ask too many questions.
Dammit, Ravi.
Sliding my hands under his mattress turns up nothing, but my hands hit something hard under his pillow. Lube. And a fairly large dildo. Christ.
Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself running my shaking fingers along the silicone, tracing over the veins and down to the base. Which has a suction cup.
Fuck me.
Clearing my throat, I fight to wipe away the instant mental image of him using these things. I drop the pillow like it’s a live grenade, hastily scooting the stuffed bear Ravi’s mother gave him back into its place on top.
“One more thing,” I say at last, deciding to let Sal off the hook. “Get me Brennan Doyle’s current location. Immediately.”
“Understood. You want me to send backup, sir?”
Fuck, no. The last thing I need is my entire team finding out that the kid whose welfare I’m fucking responsible for is the one out there selling off first dibs at his ass.
“Not this time.”