Chapter 14 Lucien
Lucien
We stare at each other for a full five seconds, my foot poised above the first step to get to her, before she blinks and loses the horrified, scared look she was wearing. She puts her mask back up to her face, straightens her shoulders, and shakes her head at me.
It takes me several more seconds to understand what the fuck she’s doing.
Then she turns from me and walks toward some guy holding drinks, acting like she didn’t just have her arm around a trafficking victim who was then taken back to the man keeping her.
I watch her leave, letting my gaze move down her body and back up in appreciation.
She’s wearing deep green silk, in a design that walks a very fine line between elegant and showing too much skin.
The dress clings to her in all the right places, accentuating her long legs and narrow hips.
The sharp tuck of her waist. The bulge of her chest. The dress has no back, though, and I let my eyes slide up her bare skin, from the crack of her ass to the spot in the middle of her spine where a tattoo starts.
It snakes its way up her back to twine around the base of her skull, and my fingers twitch with the need to trace it.
That’s new, or at least didn’t exist the last time I had my hands on her.
I want to lay her face-down on a bed and study it with my fingertips, and then my tongue. I want to know what it is and what it means and when she had it done. And then I want to spread her legs and take her while I stare at that fucking tattoo.
I snap my eyes back to her head, chastising myself for that thought, and continue my catalogue of her appearance. Her hair is up, but tendrils have fallen to curl along her neck and shoulders, and I saw enough of her face to know she did a smoky eye and bright red lipstick.
She’s beautiful without a stitch of clothing on, and adding a fancy dress and well-done makeup makes her nearly irresistible. Which makes me incredibly uncomfortable in a room that almost definitely holds men who trade in girls that look just like Brooks.
I snatch a whiskey off a passing tray and bring it to my lips, finally taking the first step and starting to follow her.
I don’t know what she’s playing at or why she motioned not to get near her, but I don’t trust her.
When I arrived, she had an arm around a girl and was talking to a man twice her size, and he was looking her up and down like she was nothing more than a chess piece he was considering buying.
And she was standing there letting him do it.
When he took the girl away from her, she didn’t argue–or stab him, which was what I would have done. Instead, she watched them leave with a thoughtful expression. Like she was trying to figure out how to use the man and what he’d just done.
I growl to myself. She told me she was coming in here to get inside her father’s organization, and then left without telling me what she meant by that, and now I’m going through the whole conversation again, looking for a clue.
I’m worried she’s come here to do something stupid without telling me, and before I have a plan or the men to execute it.
I don’t have to ask to know she’s being reckless, just like she always is, and believing she can do more than she actually can.
I quicken my steps when she turns a corner and stride after her, unwilling to let her out of my sight for more than a few seconds for fear that when I get to where she should be, she’ll be gone.
I do not look at my reasons for this, aside from the simple truth that she’s playing with fire and is going to get burned, which will no doubt cost me time and money. Because I’ll have to find her and save her instead of doing the research I want to be doing.
When I get to the corner, I find her just on the other side of it, leaning against a wall and gazing up at some man I’ve never seen before.
She’s looking up at him through her lashes and flirting like her life depends on it, and I very nearly pull my knife to murder the man before her eyes flash to mine and widen in warning.
Right.
No murdering.
Though I take in his face and memorize it for later, so I can find him when we’re not in such a public place.
Brooks, meanwhile, is giggling–giggling!–like he’s just said the funniest thing in the world, and I revise my plan. I’m not just going to murder him. I’m going to cut off his dick and shove it in his mouth, then skin him alive for daring to even look at her.
Not that I care who she talks to.
No, the problem is bigger than that. She’s a beautiful girl at a party full of men who steal beautiful girls, and walking around like she owns the joint.
This might be her father’s mansion but she knows he’s in on the smuggling ring, so that makes this place dangerous.
And yet she’s acting like nothing is going to touch her.
I don’t know what sort of life she’s used to up in New York, but down here there is no protection from the men we’re chasing.
People will shoot to kill. They won’t care who she’s related to or who’s protecting her.
Hell, her father may have ordered her death if he think she’s down here to make trouble for him.
I just need her to calm down for a moment.
Five minutes. An hour. My men are out in the city finding Dom Landry’s men and taking them into our dungeon for questioning.
If she’ll sit still for an hour, I’ll be able to add to our bank of knowledge, and we can move through the party with better direction.
She might have a plan–hell, she’s probably in the middle of it right now–but if it includes her going under cover with men who destroy girls for a living, I’m not going to allow it. Not until I have all the information and a way to get her back out again.
A voice in my head tells me firmly that it’s not my call, because she’s no longer my girl and hasn’t shown any willingness to accept me as a protector.
She’s also never taken well to being ordered around, so I can’t exactly pull her to the side and tell her to cool it until she gets my permission to carry on.
Though the thought of doing that brings a smile to my lips.
Brooks looks up, catches me smiling, and glares at me like she’s just caught me having inappropriate thoughts about her.
In all fairness, she’d be right. Because half of me knows I don’t have any right to her, but the other half is picturing grabbing her by the hair and dragging her away from that man. Finding a deserted closet and having my way with her.
I turn away from the scene, desperate to get my imagination under control, and catch sight of the man Brooks was talking to when I first arrived.
The one who took the girl away from her and returned her to the man dressed like he’s on his way to run a circus.
He’s staring at Brooks, his small, dark eyes intent and considering.
He tilts his head with interest, and then nods.
Seconds later he’s gone, leaving nothing but the stink of a trafficker in his wake.
I don’t like the way he was looking at Brooks.
I like even less that I suspect that to be part of the plan she hasn’t told me about.
***
I shadow Brooks for another half hour, watching her flirt and drink with my fists clenched and my mouth sealed shut.
I want to kill every fucking man in this room.
Torture the men who’ve spent the night staring at her.
I’m ready to outright slaughter the group that stands around Circus Man, watching her move around the room.
It’s clear that they’ve clocked her, and even more clear that they want her.
I want to tear their eyes from their heads and stomp them into oblivion. But I don’t have any of my men here and though I’m reckless, I’m smart enough to know I’m only one man against ten. In a house that belongs to one of my many enemies.
So I keep my hands to myself and settle for glaring at Brooks, who is just as responsible for the situation as Captain Circus.
Well. Maybe not just as responsible. The last time I checked, she wasn’t subjecting innocent girls to smuggling and sex rings.
But this is her game, now, and I’m not letting her get out of her share of the responsibility.
When she finally gets to the edge of the room, I take my chance and bulldoze through the crowd, grabbing her and pushing her out onto the patio.
“What are you doing?” she hisses, jerking her arm out of my grasp.
I don’t let her put me off, though. I use my body to push her all the way to the railing and then keep going until she’s bent backward over the stone balustrade.
“What are you complaining about? Given how you’ve been acting all night, I figure you must like men who treat you rough.”
The ice in her glare could freeze the blood in my veins, if I were fully human.
“I’m on a job and you know it. And you’re blowing my cover right now.”
I lean in and brush my lips over the column of her neck while my fingertips tickle along the top of her breasts.
Her skin is silky and smooth. Hot, like she’s got a furnace burning inside of her.
And just like that, I remember what it’s like to be inside her, her body squeezing me like she’s trying to keep me there forever.
She is hot. And tight, and wet. And the memory drives me nearly out of my mind. Especially when she’s putting herself in danger with men who will take advantage of that sort of thing.
“I suspect they just think I’m testing the merchandise,” I breathe, letting my lips dance over her skin. “They probably see a potential buyer.”
“I’m going to kill you,” she says bluntly.
She doesn’t reach for her knife, though, and that calls her bluff.
“Liar,” I whisper. I drag my hand up the outside of her hip, find where she’s stowed her knife, and chuckle. “Good girl.”
I don’t miss the gasp that bursts from her mouth at that, and I grin against her skin. So, Brooks has a good girl kink. I never would have guessed.
But it’s good to know.
“Are you finished?” she finally asks, her voice breathy and weak.
My voice is husky when I answer, and I revel in the feel of my balls, tight and ready in my pants.
My cock is hard as a rock, and I push it against her.
This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. There are men in the room behind me that are on the verge of kidnapping her, and who are probably ready to kill me.
But I can’t stop myself.
“This quickly? Not even remotely.”
Her back arches, pushing her tits into my chest, and I nearly come undone right there. Every nerve in my body is screaming for her and I’m so hard I think I might die if I don’t spread her legs and take her.
Then again, we’re on full display on a balcony. In her father’s house. And I’m a gentleman–or at least I play one for the city.
Sometimes.
I take a step back and breathe out, getting control of myself once again. Brooks straightens up and smooths her dress, and by the time she looks at me, she’s got control of herself as well.
Pity. I’d like to turn her, bend her over the railing, and–
“I think my father and a partner are kidnapping girls and using them as escorts,” she says bluntly. “Hiring them out to anyone who’s willing to pay. Until the ship date.”
Ice water hits me and I forget about my cock.
“And how long do they keep them here?”
“A week, max.”
Shit.
“So that means...”
“We have three days to find Aislyn. And that’s if she was the first one kidnapped for this load.”
Three days. Worst case scenario. And that’s generous, because Aislyn might have already shipped out.
“We’ve identified the ship that’ll carry them out,” I say quickly. “At least we think we have.”
Her eyes flash. “Do you know who he’s partnering with?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you know for certain that the ship is the only way they’re transporting them?”
Gods, she’s too smart by half.
“No.”
She closes her eyes like this is the worst news she’s ever heard, and my heart sinks. I’m working overtime and pulling information out of thin air, but it’s still not enough. I don’t know the things I need to know, and I didn’t need her to tell me that.
But disappointing her feels like I’ve just failed at some very important part of life.
“Don’t do it,” I say quietly, knowing I sound more intense than I should.
When she opens her eyes, though, I see that she’s already made up her mind. “I have to. We need to know exactly what’s going on, and the only way we’re going to find that out is if I’m on the inside.”
I grasp her shoulders, trying and failing not to shake her. “No. We don’t have a plan for that. I won’t let you do it.”
She reaches up and brushes a finger down my nose, but her eyes are cold and hard, and I know she’s already made up her mind. She’s going to do what she thinks she has to, to save those girls.
And it doesn’t matter what I think of it.
“They’re going to try to take me,” she says quietly. “I made sure of it. They want fresh meat, and they think I’ll bring a good price.” She pauses, and for a moment her eyes grow gentle. “And you’re going to let them.”
I want to tell her I’ll never let that happen, and that I’ll kill any man who tries to lay hands on her. That I can’t stand by while anyone else touches her or puts her in danger. I want to take her and force her into my car. Drive her home and keep her safe.
And I know I can’t.
So instead, I think about the plan and what it’ll bring us. She’s right about getting on the inside. It’s the only way to truly find out what’s going on, and with luck, where it’s happening. And she’s the perfect target. Gorgeous. Young. Seemingly innocent.
Except she’s not innocent at all.
And that might be the best part of the whole plan.
“We don’t have a way to get you back out,” I warn.
She shrugs. “I trust you to find me.”
My heart expands so quickly I think I might have a heart attack. She trusts me.
She trusts me to find her.
I lean forward and wrap something around her wrist, then kiss her forehead. “They’ll take your knife and any other weapon you have on you. They’ll take your dress. But make sure you keep that.”
I turn and leave before I can say anything else–like how fucking stupid this is–and trust her to do as I say. The hair tie has a tracking device embedded in it, and if she can keep it on her, I’ll be able to see where she is at all times.
I’ll be able to find her.
As I move back into the house, two of the men who’ve been following her all night brush past me, heading for Brooks. I hear a scuffle and a gasp, and then nothing, and I know they’ve got her. Probably a cloth soaked in ketamine to put her to sleep. Maybe chloroform. It doesn’t matter, not really.
The only thing that matters is that they’ve got her, and I’ve got to let her go.
After all, this is the only way we’ll get the information we need.
But I know I won’t rest until I have her back in my arms.
I have three days.
I’ve been in worse situations, I remind myself. And this time, Brooks Landry is the prize for succeeding.