The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(66)

I put my hands in the air. "Hey, I'm not judging."

"Sounds like you are," she says.

I soften my voice. "I'm not, pet."

Silence ensues. I curse myself. I promised her she'd be farther along in her career after a year with me. It's time to make good on that.

My phone vibrates. I glance at the screen.

Chainsaw: Ready for you.





Excitement fills me. I've been waiting for this longer than I ever expected.

Me: Be there in an hour and a half.





I ask, "What do you need to write?"

She scoffs. "A new brain."

My lips twitch.

"This isn't funny," she claims.

I rise, bend down, kiss the top of her head, and declare, "Your brain is fine. In fact, it's impeccable. Stop worrying, and it'll come to you. I have to get to work." I go into the bedroom, change, and leave.

I fight traffic, finally get in front of the warehouse, and hit the remote. The garage door opens. I reverse the Porsche in, then close the door. I take an envelope out of the glove compartment and exit my vehicle. I step inside the large, almost empty space.

Chainsaw sits on the desk, his arms crossed. The man, who I assume is Snake, is tied to a chair, his wrists bound behind his back and ankles strapped to the metal legs. He's huge, not unlike anything I'd imagine for a bouncer at a high-end strip club in L.A. A white cloth fills his mouth. Several layers of duct tape circle around his head, securing the gag.

My phone buzzes. I read the text.

Jones: Have an update, but I'm leaving in the next two hours.





I glance at my watch, determining what traffic will be like. I could wait, but I told Jones not to text me until progress was made. My patience has worn thin, so I'll have to cut my little session with Chainsaw early.

Me: I'll be there before you need to leave.





I refocus on the current situation and toss the envelope on the desk. I glance at Snake's black eye and say to Chainsaw, "Looks like you started the fun without me."

"Nah. He's a pussy," Chainsaw says, as if bored.

Knowing I'm pressed for time, I go over to Snake, slowly rip the duct tape off him to intensify the pain, and toss the skin-and-hair-covered adhesive onto his lap.

His muffled cries echo in the room.

I tug the cloth out of his mouth.

"I didn't do nothing," he claims.

I yank his head back so fast he screams. I lean over him, keeping my voice calm, and ask, "How much did you get for tricking Blakely?"

He blurts out, "That skank is why I'm here?"

I snap and punch him so hard he falls to the ground. The metal chair bangs on the concrete floor. Blood spews out of his nose, and he yelps.

I grab him by the hair, yanking him back into a sitting position, and he shouts, "Stop it!"

"See, nothing but a pussy," Chainsaw interjects.

"How much?" I repeat, my spit hitting his face.

"Two fifty!" he cries out.

His answer makes me angrier. I tug his head farther and fight to reclaim control of my emotions. I seethe, "That's the price of your life, then."

His eyes widen. He tries to get out of my grasp, but he's not going anywhere.

I release him, turn to Chainsaw, and order, "Finish the job."

Chainsaw cracks his knuckles. "Gladly. No one's gonna be missing this piece of shit."

I point to the envelope. Cash and pictures of Roy and George are in it, along with their home addresses and family situations. The last thing I need is women or children getting hurt. Surprises aren't good for Chainsaw's line of work. I assert, "When you're done, I've got two more pieces of shit for you. Destroy it once you're clear on the targets."

"Got it," he replies.

I leave, cranking the music in the car. Hugh's going to have a fit when Roy and George go missing. Jones has something for me now, and it has to be good news. I get to Compton and reverse into his garage.

He doesn't shut the door, comes over to my window, and announces, "I cracked it. I just siphoned the first million from one of his offshore accounts. I'm taking smaller amounts from the legal ones he has here."

A rush of adrenaline almost makes me dizzy. I'm finally making progress to take Hugh down beyond pissing him off with footage of my pet. I ask, "It's untraceable?"

Jones furrows his brows as if insulted. "Of course it is. My system is bulletproof. However, I'll continue upgrading it, as things always move fast in the cyber world."

I fist-bump him, feeling giddy. "Good man. Keep me posted."

I pull out, turn my music up again, and fight more traffic, not even bothered by it. I finally veer off the exit, and a car pulls out of the space directly in front of Naked Pipe Entertainment, one of L.A.'s hottest recording studios.

"My lucky day," I mutter, sliding into the spot. I get out and stroll through the front door.

A woman with bright-green hair, obnoxiously chewing her gum, removes her earphones, and asks, "Can I help you?"

I demand, "Riggs Madden. Here to see Ears."

She glances at her screen and offers a fake smile. "Sorry. He's in a meeting. Can I give him a message?"