44. Butch
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
BUTCH
D uffy appears on stage at the microphone, pulling our attention back to the mission. An intercom in the room allows us to hear Duffy speak.
“Good evening, gents and ladies. Welcome to The Elite Auction, where you’ll find the finest flesh goods in the Western hemisphere. Tonight’s selection houses some of our premium finds to date. Hope you brought deep pockets—you’ll need them in order to win the rights to one of these beauties leaving with you today.”
“Disgusting,” Ziggy mutters beside us.
“Indeed,” Piero murmurs, his voice low and deadly.
The elevator door on the left opens, revealing a nearly naked woman dressed in purple lingerie.
“Our first auction item is this lovely redhead. And if you’re wondering, the answer is yes. The carpet matches the drapes.” The leprechaun-looking twat laughs at his own joke, snorting like a swine.
“I’m gonna gut that one,” Tank mutters, jutting his chin at Duffy on the stage. “Put him on a spit like the pig he is.”
“Only if you share with the rest of us. Over,” I hear Reaper rumble through the comms, always eager to torture those who have it coming .
The guys all snicker, but I’m too tense to find humor in the scenario, not when we’re facing one of our victims being paraded around like some drugged puppet. She’s not one of our Fort Collins missing women, but she’s somebody who needs our help.
Duffy sucks in a lungful of air as he opens the floor up for bids. “Do I have ten grand?”
The bids pour in as soon as the poor woman teeters around the stage, tears streaming down her pale face. She may be doped up, but she’s conscious enough to know whatever is happening isn’t good.
My woman is as stiff as a board, clutching my hand in a death grip. Fighting off a grimace, I carefully peel her hand from mine before shaking out my sore digits. Damn, my woman is strong. I need to keep my trigger finger happy if I intend to use it.
Candy looks slightly abashed seeing me hurt. Worry mars her pretty brow with wrinkles. “I’m sorry. I had no idea I was squeezing you too tight.”
“No need to apologize,” I reply quickly to calm her, showing her my hand. “See. I’m okay. I know you feel for the victim. The situation is awful for her, and you can empathize with what she’s going through. We’ll save her, Candy. We’ll save them all.”
The bidding continues as the redhead circles around the stage.
Twenty thousand. Twenty-five thousand. Thirty thousand. The number continues to rise…
Piero drums his fingers against the armrest of his seat, his other elbow resting on the opposite armrest, where he holds his head up on his extended fingers, looking like he’s bored out of his mind. “This is taking too long.”
He hits the button in front of him, talking into the speaker. “A hundred grand.”
Duffy touches his earpiece, his mouth falling open upon hearing Piero’s bid. “Ladies and gents, we have a new bid of one hundred grand. Do I have a counteroffer? No? One hundred grand going once. Going twice…. SOLD.”
Hitting the speaker button again, Piero snaps off an order. “ Cover what belongs to me. I don’t want anyone else putting eyes on her again.”
A person from the shadows runs up the steps to the stage, throwing a robe around the terrified woman. She’s escorted from the platform to the pen where all the women will await pick up from their new owners.
With a soft look of gratitude on her heavenly face, Candy turns to the don. “Thank you.”
Piero sips his drink, his face hard. “No one should be subjected to this atrocity.”
The auction continues. Two more women are escorted around the stage before one of our women is presented—the blond with pixie hair, minus the glasses that gave her the bookish vibe.
“It’s Stacy—that’s our girl,” Candy announces to our group, her voice hitched.
“Roger that. Stacy Gander accounted for. Over,” Gauge repeats back into the comms.
“Keep your eyes on her. Pay attention to what box seat buys her. Over,” Atlas orders through the comms.
“Copy that,” I say. “Over.”
The bidding for Stacy begins, the price to purchase her rising above the other bids thus far.
Stacy stumbles, clearly doped up. But unlike the women before, Stacy doesn’t cry. She squints, trying to see the faces staring back at her, however futile it may be.
“The girl is smart,” Piero muses aloud. “Looks like she’s trying to recall the faces of all she sees.”
“A fighter,” I add. Much like my goddess.
Stacy is bought by someone in box ten for an astronomical price before she’s forced off the stage, fighting back with weak limbs.
Several other women are auctioned before our next Fort Collins’s woman comes onto the floor.
“We have eyes on Bree Nowak. Over,” I whisper hoarsely into the comms.
Bree keeps her eyes downcast, her shoulders slumped forward, like she’s trying to hide herself. Unfortunately, it does nothing to deter the bidders. They see her slight frame and coy actions as being meek. Depraved men like to devour women like her.
The winning bid is nearly as high as Stacy’s. Bree is escorted off the stage, her shoulders shaking with her silent tears. The two friends reunite in the pen off to the side of the stage, embracing each other for what they assume is the last time.
It’s painful to witness their duress, especially when we’re here to bust them out.
It feels like a lifetime before the last woman is presented. But unlike the rest, this one comes from the elevator on the right.
Jolie Hernandez emerges from the elevator dressed in white lingerie, like her garments pay homage to her purity. Her shoulder-length bob of black curls vibrates as she shakes from her nerves.
“We have eyes on Hernandez,” Ziggy whispers into the comms. “Over.”
Duffy waves his arm in glandulous fashion toward Jolie. “Our last item for the night is a special treat amongst connoisseurs—a virgin. Bidding starts at one hundred thousand.”
The bidders turn feral, slamming on their buttons, bidding on top of one another. The bidding doesn’t stop until Jolie has been sold for a million dollars.
“A million dollars. Going once. Going twice.... Sold to bidder number six.”
We pull our weapons from our holsters, sensing the time to spring our trap has arrived. The clicks of magazines being checked is the only sound we make.
I move closer to Candy. Perhaps sensing my approach, she meets my gaze. There’s worry in her doe brown eyes, frown lines marring her pretty head.
I hate seeing her anxious. On paper, we should be able to take these guys down easily. With our training and years of experience, this is old hat .
However, there’s always a risk in this line of work, and it’s better to be prepared for all outcomes, including the worst-case scenarios.
At this time, I need to remind Candy what she needs to do.
“Not that you like to take orders,” I say with a light-heartedly smile before turning serious. “Do as I say when I say it. Things will be tense for a few hot minutes. Stay close to me. If something happens to me, you stick close to Tank or Ziggy. If something happens to them, you run. You run as fast as you can, and you don’t stop until you reach one of our crew members. If someone grabs you, you fight the way Triple trained you. And you keep fighting until help arrives. You feel me?”
Biting her bottom lip, she grips my wrist. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to you?”
Unable to make such a promise, I lean forward and press my lips to the crown of her head. Her breath shutters like she’s bracing herself for the battle we’re about to unleash.
“Everything will be okay,” I murmur against her pink hair before I harden myself, preparing for the fight.
As Jolie is escorted off the stage to the pen with all the other sold women, Duffy wraps up the event with a parting note.
“Thank you all for attending The Elite Auction. Winning bidders, please move to the main level to collect your goods as your number is called.”
“All twenty are accounted for in the holding area. Over,” Tank says into the comms.
Atlas’s order is firm. “Move in.”