“Your name doesn’t appear to be on my list,” he says, eyes narrowing on us. His accent sounds local.
“Clean,” the man at the back says, closing the trunk.
“Then your list is wrong.” I turn to Dante. He’s waiting for my signal. I need to get inside. If I have to kill these fuckers to do it, I will but I don’t want to sound the alarm.
“I don’t think…” the man starts then stops. “Shit!”
I follow his gaze to where another vehicle drives erratically toward us from inside the gates. It’s a large SUV and I can only make out the shadows of the two in the front seat. The driver honks his horn angrily.
“Petrov,” the one with the clipboard says.
“Mother fucker,” the other one curses.
The driver lays on his horn opening his window and flipping us or the guards or the whole lot of us off as he barrels toward us and even over the music, I can hear him laughing.
“Fucking asshole,” clipboard guy says as he jumps backward.
I hit the gas and pull through the gates, only managing to miss the SUV by a hair. In the rearview mirror I see it swerve as if to run over the soldiers.
“Who the fuck is fucking Petrov?” Dante asks.
“He’s the asshole that got us in,” I say once we’re far enough away from the gates that I can’t see the soldiers stationed there anymore.
“Two guards at the front door,” Dante says.
I park the car where I have a clear exit, avoiding the collected SUVs and sedans with drivers sitting inside, smoking their cigarettes, smoke wafting out of the cracked open windows.
Lightning crashes over head as the lights blink once, twice. The soldiers at the door look at each other with uncertainty.
“Front door,” Dante says, opening his door.
“Let’s go get my wife.”
We climb out of the car, adjust our jackets and walk at a normal pace through the rain. One of the soldiers tosses the butt of his cigarette, gives us a nod as the other opens the heavy door.
I make a note of the soldiers stationed inside as we enter a hallway where a woman stands ready to take our coats. Except, we’re not wearing any. My brother gives her a nod and a wink. Women always liked Dante. He can be charming. When he wants.
I hear the sound of a harp. Pretty music. Soft music. Music that doesn’t belong here. It’s coming from beyond the heavy curtains separating the vestibule from the room beyond.
The gong strikes as two women pull the curtains aside.
Dante and I stand side-by-side taking it in, the opulence, the excess. The money. So much money you can almost smell it.
Candles are being lit around the room. Backup I guess, as thunder claps and the lights dim then return.
We step in and the curtains are dropped behind us.
Men in suits stand talking, smoking cigars, drinking what I’m sure is the finest whiskey. About fifteen of them. Half that number are weaving through with trays of drinks and food. Six soldiers stand along the perimeter of the room.
The lights go down. This isn’t because of the storm outside.
I notice the absence of women in here. Even the servers are men. When the gavel hits the podium, I shift my attention to the older man standing on the left of a small stage where the curtain is still down.
“Gentlemen,” the man begins elegantly.
I take the opportunity to look around, searching for Pérez or anyone else I might recognize. I don’t. But like Charlie said, these men are likely decoys sent in to make the purchase and keep the identity of the buyer secret.
“The final piece of tonight’s auction. This is a special offering from our friend, Mr. Felix Pérez with slightly different rules.”
Again, I look for him. For our friend. But he’s nowhere to be found.
“She’s a beauty, as you’ll soon see…” he begins as the curtains lift and I see my brother watching the stage in my periphery. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive. As my blood begins to pump red hot through my veins, the drumming against my ears muffles Dante’s muttered curse.
“She’s a gift for you. Each of you. Here for your pleasure to close a successful evening,” the man continues. The rising curtain reveals feet shackled together, the chain between them allowing only minimal movement, effectively hobbling her. Chain links climb along slender legs each binding a shackled wrist to those around her ankles.
“There’s only one rule: take your fill.”
There’s a woot from the men as more of the woman is exposed.
“Highest bidder will have first use of her, then the second highest and so forth and so on until you’ve all had a turn. We’ll begin the bidding in a moment once you’ve had a good look.”
Her sex comes into view, the slit visible to the pleasure of the gathered men. Her flat belly is next, then her breasts, small and taut. Her face held high, hair behind her shoulders, cheekbone bruised where Felix had slapped her. The bright light is blinding her, making it impossible for her to see them. This sea of men.