Chapter 21
LAING
The Lotus Market - Chinatown, New York City
“This bloody thing’s about to start,” Mac’s voice crackles through the comms, thick with impatience. He and Khoza are both posted up at the bar inside already scoping the crowd.
“Get your arses in here.”
I adjust my earpiece.
“I don’t like this,” Nate says as Kenji and I roll up beside him. “We should wait until tomorrow.”
“Not a fucking chance,” I retort, sliding my pistol into its holster. “We wait until tomorrow and she could be long gone.”
“We don’t even know if she’s in there,” Nate adds.
“I’m not taking that risk,” I say, buttoning my suit jacket. “Kenji and I are going in. Now.”
The Lotus Market doesn’t look like one of the normal trafficking shit-holes we usually bust. No more busted up warehouses that’ll for sure give you tetanus if you accidentally lean against a wall. Or docks that smell like a fisherman’s armpit.
This place looks more like a goddamn temple of opulence.
Red silk drapes the ceiling in waves. Golden lanterns float like promises no one intends to keep. White Lotus flowers line the small stage up front. And each table is elegantly draped in red and gold linens, shining just as bright as the monsters covered in diamonds seated at them.
I nod toward the entrance where a line snakes through a pair of men standing next to metal detectors. We walk up, cocky smirks locked and loaded. Well, mine is anyway. Kenji’s got his usual no-bullshit look about him. The guy seriously needs to get laid.
“Better pray this shit works, Laing,” Nate’s voice clicks in my ears.
The guard eyes me up and down. “Code?”
I tilt my phone to him, revealing the barcode I hacked from a known trafficker’s server last night. He’s going to be royally pissed when he gets here and his code’s already been scanned.
Oh well. That’s a him problem, not a me problem.
“He’s with me,” I add, nodding to Kenji.
Beep. Beep.
“All good,” he says to the giant behind him.
We stride through the scanner, it flashes green. No beeps. No warnings. The guard on the other side hands Kenji and I each a golden paddle with a red number glowing in the center of a white lotus flower.
“Welcome to The Lotus Market, gentlemen,” he says with a smile.
We take our paddles and keep walking.
“Damn, I’m good,” I laugh into the comms.
“We’re good,” Nate corrects. “You forget I had to send the signal from out here, asshole.”
“A signal that I coded. But yeah, gold stars for you,” I mock. “Way to press that button, man. I really don’t know how you handled that.”
I can practically hear the eye rolls through the comms.
“Just keep moving,” he orders.
The Lotus bar is bathed in a deep, sleek and seductive red. A true devil in designer skin if you ask me.
“Why does this place remind me of The Pit?” Kenji mutters as we drift toward the bar. “Only with a sick little twist of home,” he adds, eyes scanning the room.
“It’s that glowing Barinov red,” I smirk. “Apparently Lex and Satan have the same interior decorator.”
There’s a quick, low chuckle in my ear.
“What are you boys having?” a sultry British accent rings out from across the bar.
I turn around and fuck me. An auburn haired bombshell leans over the bar, staring at me with eyes so blue they make Ellie’s look dull as shit. My eyes roam over her. Hard not to when her tits are nearly spilling out of her skin-tight black dress.
“Eyes up here, baby,” she coos.
Busted.
“I’ll have whatever you’re mixing,” I say, peering back down at her name tag. “Callie.”
She rolls her eyes, already reaching for the shaker. “Careful what you ask for, handsome.”
As she mixes our drinks, I feel a subtle tug at my jacket.
Khoza and Mac walk by, their ghost-like touch and timing is surgical as ever. By the time my drink hits the bar, I’m one gun lighter. Kenji is too. Transferred clean from our backs to theirs without a single person in the room the wiser.
“Khoza. O’Malley,” Nate says. “Nicely done.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Khoza’s deep voice vibrates in my ear.
The lights drop. Golden beams slice through the red haze, landing in a single, brutal spotlight on the stage.
A low and polished voice booms over the sound system. “First up, Lot 17. A blonde beauty with deep blue eyes. Five-nine in heels. Lotus stamp of purity.”
A girl steps into the light, late teens, possibly early twenties if she’s lucky. The poor thing is way too skinny and pale. Fuckers are probably only giving them salads and water back there. She’s wrapped in a glittering blue cocktail dress with a lotus flower inked on her left shoulder blade.
“Branded like bloody cattle,” Mac whispers.
“These fuckers are going to die tonight,” I mutter into my drink.
“Nobody move,” Nate adds.
“I count at least eleven guards,” Khoza says, his dark-brown eyes roaming over the crowd. “I’m telling you, we’re outgunned here.”
“Make that twelve,” Mac corrects, nodding to another by the bathroom.
“Stick to the plan,” Nate orders. “We need eyes on Meilin.”
The bidding opens. Golden paddles start flying up and down. The girl in blue sells for nearly fifty-five grand.
“Lot 18,” the announcer continues as another girl follows.
It’s not Meilin. I tune him out the best I can, every nerve in my body tingling at the thought of my sister being back there somewhere.
A few more girls file on and off the stage, all looking just as terrified.
Just as sickly looking. All of them selling at ridiculously high prices to the smug men and women out here just waiting to be gutted.
“Lot 22. We’ve got a special Lotus stamped beauty all the way from London up next. A true prize for any man. Or lady. We don’t judge here at The Lotus Market.”
Laughter spills out throughout the room.
“We’ll start the bidding at forty-five thousand.”
“Fuck this,” I say, sipping the last of my drink. I turn around and slam it down on the bar. “I’m gonna go—”
The bartender’s eyes go wide as the girl is rushed out onstage. I clock her glance as she looks down the bar to two big ass dudes in black suits sitting at the end near Khoza and Mac. They nod at her, step up, and walk off.
I turn around to get a better view of the girl on stage. Late teens, hot-pink dress, pretty blue eyes, with auburn waves spilling over her shoulders.
“Guys,” I whisper into the comms. “Something’s up. I don’t think we’re the only team in town.”
“What do you mean?” Nate asks.
“I mean—”
There’s a slight pressure at my spine as her soft and smooth voice hits my ears. “Buy her.”
“What the hell?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Buy. Her.”
Click.
I raise my paddle.
“Talk to me, Laing. What is happening?” Nate’s usually calm voice, now hitching in my ear.
“Just making a purchase,” I respond.
“Forty-eight thousand,” the announcer booms.
“A purchase?”
“Don’t stop,” the bartender, Callie, whispers in my ear.
“Who are you?” I ask, raising my paddle.
My back straightens as she pushes her gun further into it. “None of your business, handsome. Just shut up and buy her.”
“Fifty-three thousand.”
I raise my paddle again.
Kenji side eyes me, his hand reaching for his weapon.
“Don’t even think about it,” she snaps. “I’ll kill him.”
“Sixty-one thousand.”
I shake my head and raise my paddle back up.
He releases his grip on his gun and turns his attention back to the stage.
“Good lads.”
“Who’s the girl?” Kenji asks, nodding to the girl in pink as the bidding increases.
She ignores him.
“Seventy-three thousand.”
“Talk to me, Wei,” Khoza barks through the comms. “Do we move?”
“Nah,” I reply, raising my paddle. “All good here, man.”
“Who are you talking to?” Callie asks. Her focus drifts away from me and toward the crowd.
“Eighty-four thousand.”
The moment she turns her head, I move. I flip around, disarm her, and have her own gun pointed back at her ribs before she can even blink.
“No!” she cries, her hands raised in a panic. “Please! I’m… I’m sorry. Please don’t shoot.”
“Put your hands down,” I say, ejecting the mag. “You look ridiculous.”
I shove the gun into my jacket. “Everyone stand down,” I snap through the comms.
“Ninety thousand,” the announcer calls out over the noise. “Going once.”
Callie’s tear-filled eyes find the stage. “No,” she gasps, the word trembling through her fingers.
“Hey,” I grab her by the wrist and yank her focus back to me. “Who the hell is she?”
“Going twice.”
“She’s our… she’s m-my,” she sobs, her arm shaking under my grip. “My little sister.”
“Damn it,” Nate mutters in my ear.
“Fuck,” I grit, whipping around toward the stage. “One hundred thousand dollars!” I yell over the crowd, my paddle raised high above my head.
“SOLD!” The announcer shouts, pointing a finger toward me.
The room erupts in cheers and the clinking of champagne flutes.
I turn back around to face her. “Start talking. Who are you?”
“I’m no one,” she says, swiping away her tears.
“How many of you are there?”
“What?” she breathes.
“Your team,” I growl. “Other than those tall guys that were over at the end of the bar, who else is with you?”
“J-just them. Just two,” she stammers. “They’re my brothers.” She gazes back to her sister. “We just wanted her back.”
Security begins escorting the girl off the stage. Callie flinches like she might try to make a run for her.
“Don’t even think about it,” I hiss. “Call your brothers off.”
“What?” Her blue eyes snap to mine. “I-I can’t.”
“Call them off,” I repeat. “I won’t fucking ask again, Callie.”
She sniffles as she pulls out her phone, hands shaking so hard it nearly topples onto the bar. She hits a contact and lifts it to her ear. “Hey, don’t move yet… No, we can’t.”
I snatch the phone from her hand. “Listen here, fucker.”
“Who the hell is this?”
“The man who now owns that sexy thing in pink up there.”
“You son of a—put Callie back on. Now!”
“Not happening,” I bite back.
“Laing,” Nate’s voice chirps through the comms. “What are you doing?”
I yank my earpiece out and shove it in Kenji’s hands.
“Whatever you have planned for extraction,” I continue. “Shut it down. Right now.”
Callie’s brother scoffs on the line. “You have no idea who the hell you’re messing with.”