Unshackle (Deliver 7)

Motherfucker. Luke maintained a neutral expression even as his blood boiled to dangerous levels. What were their plans for her? Would they kill her? Rape her? Make her fight another night?

He swiped a hand down his face. She wasn’t his mission.

As Omar dragged her off the lawn and out of view, Luke kept his feet planted and cleared her from his mind.

“Gentlemen.” Vera stood on the far side of the veranda, clinking a knife against a glass. “We’ve arrived at the part of the evening where you can bid on who you want to spend the next twenty-four hours with. As you can see, we have an irresistible selection tonight. Nothing but the best for our guests.”

Her sugary sweet voice grated on his nerves as a line of half-dressed girls paraded through the dining area. Some he recognized from his walk-through earlier, all of them young and beautiful. Beauty-queen faces. Flawless bodies. As if they’d been grown in a lab and plucked at perfect ripeness.

The ones who smiled made the attempt look wooden. Others didn’t bother, their downward gazes failing to look shy. Timidness came from self-preservation and worry. These girls were long past that. The mind could only withstand so much suffering before it shut down.

The bartering began, and one by one, Vera auctioned off humans like property. He didn’t move to join in, knowing his reluctance only delayed the inevitable.

Tomas watched him from across the veranda, his eyes hard with wordless commands. Annoyed, Luke gave him his back and studied the remaining girls.

It didn’t matter who he selected. They were all submissive, emotionless, broken in… Broken in general. The redhead or the Latina or the black-skinned beauty over there… He could take any one of them to his room, and she wouldn’t put up a fight.

That only made the task harder to stomach.

He didn’t fuck gently. Didn’t know how to be intimate without fire and passion. When he entered a woman, he did it with his entire body, every sinew, organ, and nerve ending engaged.

Sure, he could go through the motions. But could he make it look believable? Could he maintain an erection with someone who just lay there, eyes glazed over and mind shattered? Could he bring a damaged girl back from the dead?

He was good, but maybe not that good.

Where were the lively ones? The girls who would claw, bite, and scream with murderous passion? If he was going to do this, he needed someone who would hit him, try to reject him, and remind him that he was here for a job, not for his own depraved pleasure.

“Vera.” He caught her gaze and crooked a finger.

She pulled herself into a taller stance, her nostrils flaring on a deep inhalation. Then she crossed the room, approaching him.

“Do you see something you like, handsome?” Her smile didn’t reach her dark, narrowed eyes.

“Where are you hiding the quality selection? The freshly picked gems?”

“We like to give the guests some time to—”

“Be watched by your cameras? To make sure I’m not a narc? Don’t waste my time, Vera. I came here to make a purchase. Show me what I’m buying.”

She flinched. Cleared her throat. Looked around the room. As her gaze passed over a camera in the ceiling, she gave it an extra blink before skipping away.

“Fine.” Straightening, she turned toward the exit. “Follow me.”CHAPTER 6As Luke followed Vera’s swishing backside through the compound, he wracked his brain for a way to tie her up and sneak her out without getting shot. But every furtive glance she gave the passing cameras was a reminder he would never get her alone.

She tried in vain to maintain several paces ahead of his long-legged gait. He allowed it a few times, because hey, he was a guy, and the view of her ass didn’t suck. But each time she lengthened her strides, deliberately shoving distance between them, he didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased.

He affected her. Why? Was it fear? Unwanted attraction? Or something else?

“I make you nervous.” He strolled along, hands folded at his back, listening to Tomas’ footsteps behind him.

“I don’t know why you would think that. Turn here.”

He stepped into another breezeway. “Your body language writhes with discomfort.”

“I do not writhe.”

“Pity.” He trailed her into a connecting building, separate from the main compound.

“Do you analyze everyone you meet?”

“Yes.”

She paused in a large foyer with shiny tiles and no furniture. No windows. Just a bay of double metal doors and a key reader.

With a swipe of her card, the elevator opened. They took it down one floor—the only option—and stepped into a dimly lit underground corridor. It led back toward the estate, ending somewhere beneath the guest quarters.

He was instantly aware of how different the ambiance felt down here. The floors, walls, ceiling—everything was drab concrete. No paint. No decor or embellishments. It reeked of gloom and cold imprisonment.