Page 128 of Kneeling to Candy

It feels like a lifetime before the last woman is presented. But unlike the rest, this one comes from the elevator on the right.

Jolie Hernandez emerges from the elevator dressed in white lingerie, like her garments pay homage to her purity. Her shoulder-length bob of black curls vibrates as she shakes from her nerves.

“We have eyes on Hernandez,” Ziggy whispers into the comms. “Over.”

Duffy waves his arm in glandulous fashion toward Jolie. “Our last item for the night is a special treat amongst connoisseurs—a virgin. Bidding starts at one hundred thousand.”

The bidders turn feral, slamming on their buttons, bidding on top of one another. The bidding doesn’t stop until Jolie has been sold for a million dollars.

“A million dollars. Going once. Going twice.... Sold to bidder number six.”

We pull our weapons from our holsters, sensing the time to spring our trap has arrived. The clicks of magazines being checked is the only sound we make.

I move closer to Candy. Perhaps sensing my approach, she meets my gaze. There’s worry in her doe brown eyes, frown lines marring her pretty head.

I hate seeing her anxious. On paper, we should be able to take these guys down easily. With our training and years of experience, this is old hat.

However, there’s always a risk in this line of work, and it’s better to be prepared for all outcomes, including the worst-case scenarios.

At this time, I need to remind Candy what she needs to do.

“Not that you like to take orders,” I say with a light-heartedly smile before turning serious. “Do as I say when I say it. Things will be tense for a few hot minutes. Stay close to me. If something happens to me, you stick close to Tank or Ziggy. If something happens to them, you run. You run as fast as you can, and you don’t stop until you reach one of our crew members. If someone grabs you, you fight the way Triple trained you. And you keep fighting until help arrives. You feel me?”

Biting her bottom lip, she grips my wrist. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to you?”

Unable to make such a promise, I lean forward and press my lips to the crown of her head. Her breath shutters like she’s bracing herself for the battle we’re about to unleash.

“Everything will be okay,” I murmur against her pink hair before I harden myself, preparing for the fight.

As Jolie is escorted off the stage to the pen with all the other sold women, Duffy wraps up the event with a parting note.

“Thank you all for attending The Elite Auction. Winning bidders, please move to the main level to collect your goods as your number is called.”

“All twenty are accounted for in the holding area. Over,” Tank says into the comms.

Atlas’s order is firm. “Move in.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

BUTCH

Wasting no time, our crew advances forward. The low rustle of their feet moving is the only sound carrying through the comms. There’s a few tense minutes as our team in the suite listens.

Candy quivers like a leaf in a fall breeze beside me. It’s normal for anyone watching a war about to go down to be scared. I recall my early days as a SEAL. My palms would sweat profusely, gripping my gun like it was my only salvation. Years of experience have curbed me of those traits, or so I thought. With Candy in the crossfires, old nerves return. I grip my Glock in my hand, letting the weight of the cool metal ease my growing nerves.

The room grows still as the seconds tick by, time seeming to slow.

There’s a surprised gasp, followed by a bit of scuffle rolling over the comms, before an audible pop. Anyone who has fought in battle knows the telltale sign of a gun with a silencer.

A gurgle of someone clearly choking on their blood is heard before another soft pop. Several more pops follow in succession.

Eagle whispers down the line. “Targets down. Helipad cleared. Over.”

Candy releases a nervous whimper, her fist flying to cover her mouth. She bites down on the knuckle of one of her clenched fingers to silence any more from escaping. The rest of us remain still, our ears straining to hear more.

“Good,” Atlas says, sounding pleased. “Get to work dismantling the control center, Eagle.”

“On it, Prez. Over.”

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