Page 50 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)

FORTY-FOUR

TRINITY

"You get your hands off me, you big ape! I said leave me alone!"

I kicked the asshole trying to take my clothes off in the balls for what had to be the third time tonight, and with a curse, he threw the stupid lingerie set at me and stormed off, holding his dick like it might fall off.

I hoped it would. I hoped I kicked it hard enough to make it swell to three times its normal size and turn purple, so no woman would ever fuck him again, and he'd never fuck another woman, either.

Men like him didn't deserve to breathe air. They deserved a long walk off a short pier, into shark-infested waters. Or crocodile-infested ones. Like the Dread River.

"Listen here, you ignorant bitch," the second guy spat, moving from the girl he was currently intimidating into putting on the skimpy shit he had in his hands, "you either put on the clothes, or we shoot you and take your skin for the leather trade.

" His gun flashed at his hip as he moved his coat out of the way in warning. "I'm pretty good with this thing."

Unfortunately, my hands were bound, and I was currently chained to three other girls, so I couldn't exactly run, or slip his gun out of his possession.

Moving me meant moving them, and half of them were drugged, dosed, or dying inside.

A lot of these girls—because that was all they were, when it boiled down to it, was girls—were already broken.

They obeyed without argument, without protest, without resistance, knowing what awaited them at the other end of this fiasco.

Death, slavery, sexual abuse, or torture.

There was no escape once the chains went on, as my chain gang neighbor had warned me when they put me in line. It was smarter to not fight so you could live longer. If you wanted to, that was.

I wanted to live. The boys would come for me, I was sure. And if they didn't, then I'd just have to make sure I made my own opportunity for escape.

I wouldn't be someone's pet for the rest of my life. I wouldn't be sold at auction for some old man to fuck and whore out to his friends for political favors. I wouldn't be someone's slave. Someone's captive.

I was Trinity fucking McCoy. My brother taught me better than to roll over and give up.

But boy, when that gun barrel pressed against my temple, it was tempting to do just that.

"I said put the damn clothes on, you fucking whore," the asshole said, the click of the barrel cocking echoing in the silence of the room. "Now pick them up, and get moving, dammit."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and put on my best impression of an heiress, because that was what I was. "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't put that gun against my head and threaten me."

"Oh, is that so?" He pulled the gun away an inch, cocking his head as he leaned over and regarded me like I was stupid. "And just who do we have here? The Princess of Wales?"

"You ever hear of McCoy Oil Industries?" I tossed my damp hair back from my face as well as I could manage without my full range of motion, and grinned proudly. "I'm the sole heiress of the company."

"Oh, look, you guys, an oil mogul's daughter.

" He laughed, which prompted his buddies to laugh, too, before he hit me on the back of the head hard enough to force compliance, but not hard enough to knock me out.

"Guess what, princess? We don't care who the fuck you are, okay?

So why don't you just get your ass in gear and get those clothes on, before I let one of the others dress you like the little bimbo you are. "

I didn't want any of their hands on me, so I did as I was told this time, my hands shaking a little as I did up the laces on the sides of the cheap bikinis they passed off as underwear.

I waited until they all left the room before I sank to the floor and sobbed, finally realizing I was powerless to prevent any of this from happening.

There would be no escape. I was out of my element. My name meant nothing to them. And without the guys, I was fucked.

And I wasn't even sure if Liam even heard my voicemails.

Fuck my life.

We were kept at this location so long that I began to think we'd never leave, but in just a few short hours, we were piled into the back of a van and carted off to a place by the water.

I could tell by the pungent odor of fresh fish and the sound of the gulls on the pier rails, protesting their human interruption at work.

And suddenly, my blood ran cold.

We were shoved into a shipping container, which turned out to be a staircase under the section of the wharf that held whatever this was. Stair after stair, we carefully hiked down, down, until the steps opened up into a large room with a stage in the center.

On that stage was a woman. Or a girl. She was so made up, I couldn't tell how old she might be.

And she was being auctioned off.

I knew without a doubt that this was to be my fate, too. The realization brought with it a sense of panic that had my heart racing, my breath turning into panting gasps, and my mind racing.

I was a wreck, and no amount of anxiety medication could have taken the edge off whatever this was.

Panic attack, a small part of my brain warned me, but though I had plenty of coping mechanisms, I couldn't bring one to the front of my mind and help myself. I was stuck, trapped in the spiral, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

"Don't lose it now," the girl behind me warned, her voice low. "If you freak out, they'll shoot you. They don't want the panic infecting the others. Making them look bad."

"How do you know that?" I asked quietly, my voice shaking as I turned around and shot her a look of worry.

"I've been here before. This isn't my first sale. And it likely won't be my last. These men buy, sell, and trade us like we're used cars."

That was a sobering thought. "That's disgusting."

Her frail shoulders lifted, then fell, the weight of the world resting atop them. "Yeah, but what can we do?"

"Fight back? Run?" Anything but let ourselves be led to the slaughter like stupid sheep. "Something."

"There's nothing to do. You come here, you get sold off, you hope the man that buys you isn't as shitty as the last one, and you wait for the cycle to repeat until you're too old to be sold anymore."

"What do they do to you then?" I had a feeling I didn't really want to know.

She dragged her finger across her throat and then motioned to a woman in the corner of the room, her gold outfit standing out among the inconspicuous black suits and jumpers the men wore. "You either die, or you become her."

I knew that woman. I trusted her, once upon a time. Standing there in a very expensive, flashy evening gown of gold satin, was Minnie, my boss, my confidante, and protector. And now, apparently, my handler and auctioneer.

I gritted my teeth and grunted in aggravation. "What is she?"

"The handler. She makes sure we go to the buyers and sells us to the crowd. She also procures girls occasionally, though I don't know how or where."

I knew where. She used her club to drag in girls who needed help, and then turned some of them into slaves at auction, apparently.

Now that I thought back to the girls who came and went in the span of a few weeks, I wondered how many of them ended up in a place like this.

How many of them never saw the light of day again.

We stood there in the dim lighting and inched toward the stage, one by one, removed from the chain line to be sold off to the highest bidder.

I hoped someone really shitty bought me at this point, so that I could kick him in the dick so hard he'd never use it again.

So that he'd never hurt another girl again.

Hell, I was determined just to start kicking all the dicks my feet could reach on my way out when suddenly, there was a commotion from the direction where we came in.

Several security guards ran toward the entrance, and Minnie stepped forward and reached out a hand with a key to unlock the next girl. She faltered when she realized that girl was me.

Her eyes registered shock, probably because she never thought I'd be in danger with the guys. Wow, what a shock. Trinity should have listened.

I'd never admit it, though.

"Tee? What are you doing here?!?" Her voice was panicked, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe she felt bad that I was here. That she never wanted me here. That she regretted some of her choices.

But I knew better.

"I'm here because I went back to work tonight and got caught up in something when I tried to get into my apartment.

" I waited for her to act surprised, but she didn't, and that confirmed what I already knew.

That she was more than just a pawn here.

She was a player in this 3D game of chess.

"They chased me and ran me down and brought me here. "

"Tee, I—you were never supposed to end up here." There was something in her eyes that told me she was being honest, but it didn't change anything. "I never meant for you to find out. Or get hurt."

When she reached out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, I flinched away with a snort of disgust. "No, not me, huh?

I'm special. But what about all these other girls in here?

What about all the girls from the club that went missing and never came back?

What about what's going on in your club right now?

" Because it was clear now that the whole reason things were so hard for me at that club tonight was because it was being operated differently, probably with some very illegal things going on in the back hall of private performance rooms.

I didn't like what was going on here. Someone had to stop this from going any further?—

"Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that our auction tonight will end early. Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the emergency exits, and your purchases will be processed and your products shipped to you within twenty-four hours. We appreciate your patronage?—"

The announcer was cut off, and someone wrestled the mic from wherever it had fallen to make an announcement of their own.

"Dear fuckwads with too much money and too little sense, we're here to break up your little party. You might as well stay where you are, because not a single one of you honestly deserves to be breathing anymore."

Hawke.

What? How?

Gunshots rang out in the direction security headed just minutes ago. I realized belatedly that Minnie had undone my shackles, and I was essentially standing here with my freedom in hand. All I had to do was seize it and run.

I wasn't fast enough.

The second my feet started to move in the direction of a door, Minnie's calloused hands snapped out and gripped my bicep, yanking me against her body. I tripped on the heels they'd put me in and struggled to right myself, but that was when I spotted what Minnie had in her hands.

It was a pistol. And I'd bet anything it was loaded.

Shit.

"Listen, girl, it's nothing personal, okay?

I made a mistake when I was younger, and I never thought I'd ever run into you in real life.

When I did, I figured I could do one nice thing for the guy my boyfriend hurt, make sure I'd never see you in here with these shackles on.

" She was rambling now as the gun inched toward my temple, and I wasn't confident enough to try and wrestle it from her.

"But you just had to go and walk away from safety, huh?

It's out of my hands now. They know who you are.

I can't get you out of here anymore." She leaned over my shoulder, her eyes wild, and I knew then that whatever had happened while I was gone had changed her.

"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry about all this. "

"Put the gun down, Minnie, and nobody has to get hurt."