Page 19

W hen I wake, I find myself alone in bed. Something I should be used to, but after a few nights with Casper, I’m usually the one who gets up before he does.

I push up onto my stomach and look around. The shades are drawn but bits of light are creeping in. The clock on the nightstand shows it’s before noon. Not bad, considering everything that went on.

Turning to face the room, I see Casper sitting in the chair in the corner. Taking a deep breath, I sit back against the pillow and headboard as we just stare at each other. I remember what happened. Every part, every word, till I fell asleep. Don’t know if it’s a curse or not, but I can never forget, not really. Not when I want to.

Standing, he picks up something from the coffee table. The way the room is furnished, it’s more spacious than some basic studio apartments in New York. It’s slightly more than double the one we had at the clubhouse, but the furnishings make it seem expansive. Cabinets line one wall, with a reasonable-size TV above the fireplace on the wall in front of a small oval coffee table that matches the two-person couch. There’s enough room between the bed and couch to walk and not feel cramped. There’s also a small kitchenette by the bathroom for the simple things every Dom would need to care for their sub: a small fridge, an ice maker, and a microwave.

Grabbing a tray off the kitchen counter, he brings it to the bed and sets it close to me. A dome sits on top of a plate before he lifts it to show eggs, bacon, and toast.

“Might not be as warm as you want, but I can reheat it if needed,” he offers.

I shake my head as I clear my throat. Never had breakfast in bed before. I’m not the crying type, but after last night, I’m still feeling pretty raw. I might just burst into tears if he keeps being nice like this.

Grabbing the tray, I slide it over my legs as I eat. It’s lukewarm at best but better than I expected. He sets a bottle of orange juice down, and I look up to see him holding a cup of coffee as well. No clue where those were, but if it’s for me, I’m going to start bawling.

“Figured you should eat first and get some protein before we start on the caffeine.”

I nod as I look down, letting a few tears hit my lap before I shovel more food into my mouth. Now isn’t the time to talk. I need to get something in my stomach to settle my emotions. I’ve always been like this, needing food to control my mood. Angry? Feed me. Crying? Feed me. Quiet? Probably need food ASAP to keep from getting angry or crying.

Once I finish, Casper removes the tray and graciously gives me a cup of coffee before resting against the top of the couch.

“How did it go last night?” I ask softly.

He shrugs. “Nothing you missed. Some of the ones who are clearly up for auction in a volunteer capacity mingled with the crowd to entice some bids. A few left to go to the second floor to play, but Bane said it was a quiet night, all things considered.”

I swallow the hot liquid and place the cup between my now-crossed legs under the bedsheet. “And Candy?”

“She and the others who looked more out of it than not went offstage through the side door and never came back out.”

“Anyone else other than you notice that they seemed off?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t think so. They might have questioned it but were soon looking at the others.”

Humming, I agree with what he’s saying. “Distraction at its finest. Even in a sex club, it still has people looking.”

“Probably more so since most come to watch. Outside these walls, most turn away—society’s norms putting shame on them for looking. We probably should look more into BDSM auctions than some others. While those will be clear to see, as they’re cloaked in shadow and draw the eye because of it, BDSM ones are out in the daylight. No one bats an eye. More than half of these people are probably alibis and accomplices without even knowing. It’s almost the perfect way to get witnesses to vouch for you while selling a person against their will.”

“I was sixteen when I got pregnant.” My change of topic doesn’t cause him whiplash, but I do get an eyebrow raise. “Seventeen when I had him.”

“Blue.” He doesn’t ask, but I still nod.

“I never picked out a name. Always said it would come to me when I met him. And then I did, and all I saw was blue. He had his dad’s amazing eye color, and I couldn’t think of a better name.” I take another sip of my drink, ignoring the shake in my hands.

I don’t know why I’m talking about this. It’s not that I refuse to say anything about it, or even hide from it. But talking never seems to make it better. It never changes what happened. It doesn’t ease the guilt or sorrow.

I read somewhere that people handle grief differently, especially the loss of a child. Maybe it should be easier since I only knew him for a short while. But it’s not. I loved him from the moment I knew he existed. Maybe it was because I’d never loved anything so much. That’s why it’s harder for me to let go.

I’m better than I was. It’s not a crippling pain. Both Jack and the Crazy Eights helped with that—maybe a little too much, considering what happened yesterday. I’ve relied on them so much that I didn’t create a bigger wall to hold me up when I took a blow like that.

“It’s been a long time since I reacted that way. I carry the ache with me daily, but yesterday, that was different.”

“Why?”

“Because I forgot it was his birthday.” I let the tears slide down my cheek unembarrassed. He deserves them. Blue deserves whatever pain I go through. “It was the first time I missed it. I usually take the day off, sometimes a few weeks, just to regroup or celebrate him. But somehow, with everything going on…. Between Candy and—” I look at him and see an emotion I can’t name cross his face. “—the deal with the Hounds, I got too focused to even know what the day was.”

“And when someone said it last night, you reacted badly to it.”

I snort at his word choice. Talk about an understatement. “Yeah.” I play with the rim of my mug as I look at the coffee grounds that seem to have made it into the pot and now sit at the bottom of my cup. “That coupled with it being his tenth birthday and aligning with their same anniversary time frame just sort of hit different.”

“What happened to his dad? You mentioned he was in heaven.”

I might not have forgotten what I said and did, but I didn’t know he was there for all of it. Once I see Blue and get like this, I get lost in my head and see only him. I ignore everything around me. Should have known he was close enough to hear everything.

“Yeah. He died in Iraq a few months after we met. It was a whirlwind romance. We didn’t mean for it to happen; we just connected, you know? Knew the age thing was a problem, him nineteen and me just about to be seventeen, but we didn’t care. We fit.”

“I get it.”

“You do?” That seems the part that people get caught up on. Not me getting pregnant, losing my kid, but that the dad was older than me. Many people assume he forced me, but we just had a connection that couldn’t be explained. If I was eighteen and him twenty-one, not a single person would have batted an eye.

“My younger brother—my actual brother—claimed he fell in love with someone younger. Same situation as you.”

“Was she pregnant? They still together?”

“No, and no. Guy was just all goo-goo eyes for her as soon as he met her after tech school. Claimed he was going to put a ring on it after his first duty overseas. But he never made it home.”

“Oh, Casper, I’m sorry.” And I mean it. Unlike so many who say it, I know what it’s like to not only lose a family member but someone to war.

“Thank you.” I’m glad he accepts my words and doesn’t give me that crap of “Why apologize? You didn’t know them.” I’m ashamed to admit that I used to say it. It took a while till I understood that it’s that person’s way of offering help, even if it’s in the form of accepting their sorrow on your behalf.

“All right, that’s enough of that.” I set the empty mug on the nightstand and push the covers off before I stand. Stretching my arms up, I enjoy the creaks of my bones till I feel an extra breeze between my legs. Looking down, all I see is my vagina, live and in color. I glance over and see Casper isn’t hiding his view from me, even as I lower my arms and cover myself.

He blinks, and his eyes catch me like a deer in the headlights. “My shirt still looks good on you. Going to need it back, though.”

“When?” I ask, almost breathless.

He looks me over once more, quite deliberately. “Soon. Keep it for now. I’m going to check in with Bane, and then we can make a plan for what activities we need to be seen at to gain some intel on who the buyers are. Don’t know about you, but finding Candy is just the start. The Hounds won’t be letting those involved walk away from this.”

I nod in agreement as I head to the shower.

“And Billy?”

I poke my head out just as I was about to shut the door.

“Keep the shower to ten minutes. If you take longer, I’m coming in there. You’ve already tormented your skin enough. There are other ways to clear your head or to space out for a bit. Ways I’m willing to do for you while keeping you safe and unharmed in the long run.”

I don’t nod or say anything, just shut the door and let what he said sink in. His words could mean so much, but it was his look. The one that sets parts of me on fire. Even after the night I just went through, that the loss of my child is closer to the surface than I usually deal with. Despite that, he sets me ablaze in lust with that one look. As well as the promise—no, it was a threat—that he’ll come in if I take too long.

Now I have to decide whether I’m willing to risk going over time or not.

My decision’s made for me when Casper lets me know we’re close to missing the parade for the auction. It was a last-minute addition to the schedule, and we would have missed it since we skipped half the morning’s activities, but thankfully Bane’s still around. Apparently, he never went home last night. From the way Casper talks about it, it’s an often-enough thing that not a single person thought twice about it. Perks of the job, it would seem, as I take it he wasn’t alone during that time.

Thankfully, my outfit choice today was the easiest part. The parade of those willing—or marching of those unwilling—to be sold will be outside. Despite the sun being out, we’re still in Michigan in the fall, so it’s cold as balls out. Well, at least for a girl like me who’s spent the past decade in the South and believes anything below seventy degrees a crime. A shorter-than-school-length pleated maroon skirt, paired with knee-length suede gray boots and a cropped off-the-shoulder light gray sweater with no bra, is just the right level of tease for a day like this, even if it’s early afternoon.

Casper is quick to claim a chair on one side of the red carpet they laid out and pulls me down to sit on his lap. He curls one arm around me while gesturing to the passing waiter with the other to bring him a beer. He seems relaxed and at ease. I play my part, too, but I’m a bundle of nerves.

We talked briefly about last night as I was changing. He says I didn’t screw anything up and insists no one noticed I was gone. The distraction they put on to hide those drugged into the auction also benefited us, it seems.

“Now, pet.” At the press of his fingers on my chin, I turn to look at him. “If you see any you like, let me know. And remember, if you aren’t good, I might just put you up for auction or bid on something new. I already warned you once.”

I look down and whisper a “Yes, Sir.” We practiced this. Well, sort of. He told me he was going to say something to get others talking around us. We both agreed that we needed to play this open and not box us into only one option. Either getting into the auction myself or bidding on Candy or someone else—whatever’s needed to get us closer to the end.

Casper’s dealt with this before, he says. Not at this caliber, but he’s fucked up a sale before. You don’t go in before the buy; security is usually the highest then. The biggest weak point seems to be right after the money is exchanged but before the product is in hand. The seller is done with protecting it, as they got paid, and the buyer is still too high from buying something—or in this case, someone—to take half a second to think beyond just getting their hands on it. If we can get Candy before the buyer takes her away, we have a better shot at doing this quietly. If it gets loud? Well, I’ve recognized a few politicians here, and the camera we had on Casper for the first part of the night captured the faces of others in a position that can make this getting loud very ugly for everyone. C8 has a goal of getting Candy out. The Hounds want to shut it down completely. We can both get what we want—we just have to do it the right way.

“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead, and I relax more into him. I wish it was only for show, but it’s not. I’m here, out of my head. But wisps of yesterday’s events are bubbling just under the surface. Having his strength helps more than I thought. I’ve always carried this burden alone. Jack’s there, but I know she also feels responsible in some way. It’s different having Casper at my back this time.

“Now watch.”

It’s the permission he gives that lets me watch those around me, noting more than a few who were listening to our conversation that we didn’t hide in the slightest.

Most of those waiting for the parade to start already have someone with them, but a few are solo and standing by themselves. A group of men across the way pulls my attention more than anything. They stand out. Not in attire, as it matches the suits the other men are wearing, but the wide eyes that are looking at everything with either clear disgust or intrigue. They aren’t in the lifestyle and are here for only one thing—or maybe several things if the price is reasonable for them.

Just as the announcer welcomes everyone to the preview of what’s being sold tomorrow, Casper gets his beer. He brings it to my lips, and I take a sip before he drinks from it. I settle back into him as I rest my head on his shoulder and watch the victims emerge. I keep still and look on as if watching a movie I’ve seen before.

In reality, I want to shoot everyone with the gun in my boot. The only thing keeping me from doing so is the slight movement of Casper’s thumb stroking the strip of skin that the crop top doesn’t cover. It’s a steady rhythm that reminds me I’m not alone—and that when we start killing, we’ll do it together.