“You’re being a bit judgy.” Mitzy gives Knox a look. “He said he was scared they would kill her if he involved anyone else.”
“All I’m saying is something doesn’t add up.” Knox is not giving this up.
“I’ll do a deeper dive, but nothing’s popped on him yet.” Mitzy gives a tug of her psychedelic hair. “I’ll also work on the pictures. We should be able to extract a location soon enough, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t moved her around.” Mitzy’s fingers fly across her screen as she delegates tasks to her team.
“True.” I hadn’t thought of that. “Not to rush you, but I have a feeling our job is going to get complicated real soon.” My mind is still at work, looking at all the angles.
“How’s that?”
“Now that they have what they wanted out of our client, the next thing will be to put her up for auction. I need to be at that auction.” And my team needs to be ready to make an extraction.
“Will do.” Mitzy looks between Knox and me. “Anything else?”
“Knox and I will have a face-to-face with her father. I need my team.” This isn’t a two-man operation. “And, Mitzy?”
“Yes?”
“Build out that alias.”
“On it already. We’re going to make you one righteous bastard.”
“Make it two.” Knox leans forward and props his elbows on the table.
“Two?”
“Yeah, a shithead like that needs a bodyguard.” He gives me a wink. “Not sending you in alone.”
“Good thought.” I turn my attention to Mitzy. “We good here?”
“I’m on it.” Mitzy gives her version of an affirmative.
I hope Griff and the rest of the team are getting Julian Townsend to spill his secrets. We’re going to need that intel to make this work.
With that, Knox and I hop on the company jet and head to our next destination.
The last time we were in New Orleans, we pulled Moira Stone off the deck of a cargo container ship. I’m beginning to think New Orleans is a bigger player in the slave trade than we ever imagined.
Seven
Eve
2 Weeks Ago
Not a real throne, per se, Benefield reclines on a chair carved out of a single piece of wood. Intricate designs of naked women getting fucked by men twine up the legs. Erotic acts of every sort are carved into the wood and would be admirable if not for the subject matter.
He taps his leg, patting his lap, and spreads his arms wide. Benefield’s touched me more in the past day than in all the weeks before, and that bothers me.
My smile stays in place as I arrange myself in his lap. He hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me tight against his chest.
“What do you think?” He gestures vaguely towards the fighters.
I take a moment, he’ll allow me that much, and gather my thoughts. I could ask him to elaborate, but this is one of Benefield’s tests.
“What does the victor get?”
“Why, the prize of course.” He gestures to the girl tied to the pole. “She’s a virgin. They’re fighting for the right to break her in.”
“What happens to the loser?” As the words fall out of my mouth, I know it’s a mistake to ask. There’s nothing to do about it now. I give him the opening he baited me to take.
“Why, my dearest Evelyn, it’s a fight to the death.”
For the right to deflower a defenseless virgin? Nothing about this place makes sense. I’ve been kidnapped and placed in the middle of a horror show. Only, there’s no way out of this hell.
“Oh.” I glance toward the girl as my heart breaks for what she’s about to endure.
Tears streak her cheeks. Her eyes are puffy, round, and wide with the terror flowing through her body. Her tiny feet teeter at the base of the pole, and I realize the horror forced upon her.
Benefield tied her so that only the tips of her toes touch the ground. She must balance on tiptoe or hang by her arms. Benefield’s cruelty knows no bounds. I can only imagine the strain on her calves, her shoulders, her entire body. And when they do cut her down, her torment will only intensify.
Hot pricks of misery heat my eyes, but I can’t let Benefield see me cry. In that, I can thank my father for teaching me how to bury my emotions. Who knew such a thing would ever come in handy?
“Engage!” Benefield claps his hands and the fighters launch at each other with snarls and murderous expressions filling their faces.
Since I’m trapped between his arm and chest, I get jostled in the mix and shoved hard up against him. I don’t think it’s a mistake. He’s testing me.
I brace myself, placing my palm over the hard muscles of his chest while suppressing my revulsion and sudden need to throw up my lunch. When he places his hand over mine, I take a risk and give him a cautious smile.
“What do you think of my fighters?” He pulls my hand away from his chest, turns it to expose my inner wrist, which he then brings to his lips to place a kiss.
His cold, calculating eyes take me in: assessing, measuring, judging. The heat of his breath whispers over my skin: warm, foul, and disgusting.
So disgusting.
A shiver works its way down my spine, and I suppress it by locking my jaw. He gives a chuckle like he’s won some great bet. I don’t think he realizes that’s a shiver of disgust rather than desire.
But twisted men have twisted minds. He sees what he wants to see and I do my best to deliver.
“I don’t understand why they would bother. It’s not like bedding a virgin is some great prize. That’s not worth risking their lives over.”
“And yet they are…” He glances at me, menace, and all things dark, swirling in his eyes. “Do you know why?”
“No.”
“It’s because this is a gift bestowed upon them by me. It’s a great honor.”
“To deflower a virgin?”
“To deflower a virgin in front of all the men. That gives a man great power.”
“If you say so.”
“I do, my dearest. I do at that.”
“I’ve never understood violence for entertainment.”
“I doubt you would. You’re a delicate flower who has been kept hidden from the real world. There is so much you’ve yet to see—to experience.”
I won’t see any of it locked in this hellhole.
Revulsion rips through me, but I swallow it all down, burying it deep within me. This is the game Benefield wishes to play. My fear is his drug. The more I feed it, the worse things will get.
He kisses the inside of my wrist again and places my hand back on his chest, patting it firmly. That’s my cue not to move.
“Does violence disturb you?” He coos to me.
Those four words crystallize my future. I see it with perfect clarity, and I suddenly know how I’m going to survive this nightmare.
“You know it does.” I turn my cheek when one of the men slices the other’s chest. More blood pours over his skin.
Impossible to know who’s winning, they circle each other like drunkards from the loss of blood. The slick floor makes their feet slip when they lunge, forcing them to grapple instead of slice and dice.