Chapter 37
Dixie
Damien entered the prisoner corridor, almost invisible in his mask, black skeleton crew t-shirt, and biker jeans until he snapped on a light. It flickered then held.
He gestured with a flourish. “Pick a door, any door. Whichever ye want first.”
None of them.
I squeezed Mila’s hand and opened my mouth.
A pained shout came from behind a thick door. “Help me! I can hear you out there. Please.”
I snapped my mouth closed. “The one shouting the loudest feels like a good bet.”
I had no real order in which to do this. I wasn’t even sure how many people they had down here, beyond Tyler’s list, only that I hadn’t wanted to face this for so many reasons.
It took me a second to recognise the stumbling, bloodied man Damien released from the cell, his eyes covered with a torn bandanna and his hands and legs chained. It had been long years.
“Rhys Jacobs, your time to shine.” Damien hauled him by his chain to a room further down.
We followed, and Jacobs was forced to a seat.
“Mask off?” Damien checked, then whisked it away at my nod.
Jacobs peered up at each of us. I wondered how intimidating a wall of skeleton crew black masks were to someone who’d been imprisoned. Judging on how he shrank into himself, a lot.
Cassie stepped forward. “Listen up, dickless. You’re here because you’re a piece of shit who hurt others.
If you’re honest and confess easily, we might be lenient.
” She twisted back and gave Mila and me an elaborate wink.
“If you’re not, I’ll make ye regret that decision. Now, start with who ye are.”
“My name is Rhys Anton Jacobs,” he spluttered.
“And why are ye here?”
“I… I don’t…”
Cassie slid a blade from her boot. A pretty jewel in the hilt flashed in the low light.
Jacobs recoiled. “I sold women for sex.”
Cassie raised an eyebrow. “And…”
“Au-auctioned them. I auctioned women. But they were all voluntary. Every woman chose to be there and got paid for it. I did nothing wrong.”
Cassie held her gaze on him, her knife casually resting in her hand. Then she leaned in and took a handful of his shirt and slashed. The material parted to reveal a thin frame with patchy brown chest hair. With care, Cassie drew the blade down his pec to form the letter T.
Jacobs bucked uselessly, sobbed, and strained his face from the beading blood.
Cassie pulled back and tapped her foot. “Try again.”
“It’s true. I started those auctions in school. I’m known for it.”
“But that isn’t all you do, is it?”
At his lack of words, she leaned in and wrote another letter. This time, an R.
Jacobs shook, his gaze dropping to the lines of blood that pooled in the creases of his belly. “Wh-what are you doing? I swear to God, I don’t seek them out. They come to me and make good money for it. Everyone’s happy.”
Cassie came back to us. “Is trafficker spelled with two Fs?”
Shock crossed Jacobs’ expression, and his already pale face drained of colour. “I never trafficked anyone.”
I held up a hand, pausing my friend, and stepped forward. This wasn’t what we’d agreed as our game plan. She was supposed to do the talking. But anger rose in me, hot and swift.
I tugged down my mask, ignoring a growl from Tyler. “Look at me.”
Jacobs raised his miserable head.
“You sold women who didn’t ask for it. Stop pretending.”
His gaze roamed my features. If he recognised me, it didn’t show.
“If you found yourself sold, that wasn’t my doing,” he started.
“You walked into Austin Marchant’s office thirteen years ago and walked out with a plan to sell the women he delivered to you.
” The memory was so real, I pictured it vividly.
I was certain that was the starting point.
It all made sense. Austin and Primrose’s business booming, their taking in me, the relatives coming calling and his money needs going up to beyond his means.
Plus, why would they meet a second time?
No, I was right. “Did he contact you or was it the other way around?”
“I… I don’t.” He stopped and gulped. “A third party suggested it. How do you know about that meeting? That’s impossible.”
“Who was the third party?” I hadn’t seen anyone else.
Mila gasped quietly behind me. I turned. “I think I know,” she whispered. Then she mouthed a name. Salter.
Convict pushed off the wall where he’d been watching. “That fucker. Should we fetch him? I’d like to have a word.”
Tyler lifted his chin then gazed at me as if asking permission to act. I didn’t know how I’d taken over the show but nodded. Tyler murmured to Damien, and the guard left the room.
I came back to Jacobs. The auctioneer with half a word scrawled on him in red.
His gaze darted between us, settling on me. “Who are you bringing in?”
“Is the name ‘Salter’ familiar?”
Jacobs’ mouth opened, his jaw wobbling. “Jan Salter? You don’t want to mess with him. He’s evil.”
Cassie snorted. “So are ye, sunshine. Me, too, for that matter. We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”
A thud came from the hall, followed by swearing.
“A little help?” Damien grumbled.
Heretic left his post where he’d been lurking in the shadows, then the two returned, hauling in another prisoner, silver rings clustered on string around his neck, his fingers mangled and appearing broken.
Salter was wiry but apparently strong, as it took both men to force him down next to Jacobs then fasten his chain to another link embedded in the concrete floor.
Cassie snagged the cloth covering his eyes, and Salter lifted a face mottled with dark bruises. He scanned us then Jacobs, lingering on the letters cut into him.
Jacobs sucked in a breath. “This is where you were. How long have you been down here?”
Salter’s lip curled into a sneer. “Thought you dead. So, you did a runner. Fucking coward.”
Jacobs flinched. “I should never have come back.”
“Why the fuck did you? Never had any sense,” Salter mocked.
“It was my empire. I shouldn’t have to give it up,” Jacobs snapped.
Salter raised a blood-encrusted brow. “Your empire? Spare me the middle man with a God complex.” He hacked a cold laugh. “Don’t confuse how special you were.”
Jacobs went to speak again but quietened at Salter’s glare.
Tyler interrupted their love-in. “Jan Salter. You’ve repeatedly refused to talk.”
Salter came back to us, smiled, and spat at my feet. “So you brought in pussy to persuade me.”
I instinctively inched back, trying to recover the bravery that got me down the steps in the first place.
As of tomorrow, I was a dead woman. Or undead, if I brought Darcy back to life.
I needed answers. “Jacobs said a third party arranged a meeting with Austin Marchant that started this whole empire you’re fighting over.
” I tilted my head at Salter. “That was you.”
He smiled. Not pleasantly. “No idea what you’re talking about. If you’re here to persuade me to talk, I have suggestions. It’s been a long time with no cunt available.”
Boy, what? If he thought he could intimidate me that way, he was nutso. “You needed something, he had it. What was it?”
Salter said nothing.
Jacobs shifted beside him. “You’re wasting your time. He won’t give you anything real. He thinks he’s—”
“Mouth closed,” Salter said.
Jacobs shut up.
Cassie drew up beside me, her arms loosely folded and her eyes narrowed.
“Salter here held auctions of his own. He sold women Jacobs couldn’t, plus more.
None of it voluntary. Meaning he was a scumlord of the highest order.
From my understanding of it, Jacobs had the contacts from his small-scale business selling schoolgirls to rich men.
” She brandished her knife at Jacobs once more, this time, inscribing an A.
Her artist’s palette screamed, trying his best to sink into the chair and away from the blade. “You’re right. I knew the buyers. I worked out who to ask.”
She positioned the knife to start the next letter. “You chose Austin Marchant? What did ye need from him?”
Salter uttered a dangerous sound. “Answer that and you’re dead.”
Cassie waggled her head. “I mean, you’re almost certainly going to die, but Jacobs might be salvageable. If he talks.”
“It was the demand,” Jacobs immediately sputtered.
“I couldn’t keep up. I started with girls at school who wanted to sell their virginity, but there was never enough of them.
I needed more so turned to Salter. He had access to women, brought in from the continent.
He’d keep their passports so they had no choice but to obey us or he’d hand them over to the police. I started to sell them, too.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Salter snarled.
Cassie eyed Riordan. Her boyfriend stepped up to Salter and bound his mouth in a swift move, leaving the man only able to moan.
She smiled a quick thanks then focused once more on the chatty one. “So Salter had the girls you needed. Did it never bother ye that they were forced?”
Jacobs took on a brief stricken expression then hung his head. “No. Pussy is pussy, isn’t it? No harm done to be used by one or a hundred cocks. It’s just good business sense. Don’t know why more women don’t do it.”
At least he was honest.
I took up the questioning. “So what next? Why bring in a man who could expose you?”
We needed to know this. Though Mila had been mostly quiet since we’d been in here, I felt the urgency in her. The revelations about Austin had torn her apart.
Yet Jacobs thinned his lips. “I told you about my business. Anything else isn’t on me.”
Behind me, Heretic melted off the wall.
Without a word, he stepped in, took Jacobs’ hand, and bent his thumb back until it snapped.
Jacobs screamed.
Heretic didn’t stop. He reset his grip and pressed down on the broken joint.
Nausea rose inside me. I forced myself not to react.
On the floor next to him, Salter winced and moved away, the chain restricting him.
Heretic leaned in to Salter, voice low enough it barely carried. “Your friend here seems to feel the need to be quiet around you. Can’t have that.”