“An hour?”
I kept the doors open with one arm, then turned around to face her. I stared at the fear in her eyes, the way her arms tightened over her chest like pieces of armor. “An hour.”
“You better keep your word, Conway.”
“I always do.”
The Underground was packed with men that night, a bunch of assholes looking for a new victim to rape and torture. It was getting harder for me to walk into this place now because I kept picturing what would have happened to Muse if I hadn’t been there that night.
If I hadn’t saved her.
I could barely swallow because my throat turned so dry.
Bones wasn’t there.
That made this easier.
Before Cynthia made it to the table, I walked up to the bar. Men were gathered at the tables, smoking their cigars and drinking brandy. Iron was talking to them, laughing uproariously when one of the psychopaths said something funny.
“You look tired.” Cynthia stopped in front of me at the counter, her tits out like usual. She only wore a thong when she worked the tables, and she walked out of there every night with more tips than any waitress could ever dream of.
“Because I am.” I should be on a plane right now. I should be with the woman who was waiting for me. But I was there, standing in the shadows where I didn’t belong. “Scotch on the rocks.”
She started to make the drink. “You know, I always come to your table.”
“I guess I’m in a hurry tonight.”
She pulled out two cigars and set them on the counter.
I held up my hand. “I don’t smoke anymore.”
She smiled. “Sounds like you have a woman in your life, then.”
I didn’t smile or give any indication that she was right. “I need you to do something for me.”
She finished the drink and slid it toward me. “I’m not for sale. I just make the drinks.”
“Not what I’m interested in.” There was only one pussy I wanted to fuck these days.
“I’m listening…”
“I’ve got ten thousand euros for you…if you get some info for me.”
She glanced at the men, who were busy talking amongst themselves. Iron wasn’t paying attention. Her gaze shifted back to me. “What kinda of info?”
“There’s a man that comes in here sometimes…his name is Bones. You know him?”
She grabbed the rag and pretended to wipe down the counter, making herself look busy. “Yeah, I know him.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s not a guy I cross. It’s gonna cost more than ten to get me to talk.”
“Fifteen?” I countered.
“Twenty.”
That was still change to me, so I just accepted it. “Fine.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Is he descended from Bones? The arms dealer in Rome from about thirty years ago.”
Her eyes narrowed as she absorbed the information. “Strange question.”
“Just want to know where he comes from. Why is his name Bones?”
“I always thought it was because he likes to break the bones of his victims before he kills them.”
“Well, I need a more concrete answer than that. Can you get that for me?”
She eyed the men as she considered it. “I’ll have to ask him next time he’s in here.”
“I know.”
“And this is riskier. It’s gonna take forty now.”
Man, this woman could negotiate. “Done.” I grabbed the napkin and scribbled my number down. “Call me when you have the answer.”
She grabbed it and tucked it underneath the counter. “You got it.”
I left the cash on the table and made my way to a seat.
A few minutes later, the auction started. There were five women on the stage that night, and one woman caught my attention.
Because she wasn’t a woman.
She was just a girl.
Young, like Yasmine. She was way too young and innocent to be here. Tears streamed down her face, and her naked body showed the signs of early adulthood. She’d probably had her first period just a few years ago.
I bid on the other women but made sure I didn’t win. I was just there to blend in and then disappear. Muse was waiting for me, and I didn’t want to make her wait longer than I had to.
But then the young girl was auctioned off.
And the monsters descended.
“Ten million,” Iron said at the podium. “Do I have twelve?”
A man in a suit raised his paddle.
“Twenty,” a man from the corner said.
“I’ve got twenty,” Iron said. “Any—”
“Twenty-five,” another man said.
Shit. Every man in that room wanted to fuck this girl, to break her until her spirit was long gone. They wanted to ruin her innocence, to destroy her completely.
It was disgusting.
“Twenty-five million,” Iron said. “Going once… Going twice…”
Dammit. I raised my paddle. “Thirty.”
“Thirty million,” Iron said.
No one else raised their paddles.
“Sold to Mr. Barsetti.” Iron smacked his mallet against the podium. “Congratulations.”
I got the girl into the car, all of our luggage sitting in the backseat. I had to give her some of Muse’s clothes because she had nothing to wear. I drove out of Milan and headed to Carter’s because I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t keep her, obviously. “What’s your name?”