Page 127 of Kneeling to Candy

The guys all snicker, but I’m too tense to find humor in the scenario, not when we’re facing one of our victims being paraded around like some drugged puppet. She’s not one of our Fort Collins missing women, but she’s somebody who needs our help.

Duffy sucks in a lungful of air as he opens the floor up for bids. “Do I have ten grand?”

The bids pour in as soon as the poor woman teeters around the stage, tears streaming down her pale face. She may be doped up, but she’s conscious enough to know whatever is happening isn’t good.

My woman is as stiff as a board, clutching my hand in a death grip. Fighting off a grimace, I carefully peel her hand from mine before shaking out my sore digits. Damn, my woman is strong. I need to keep my trigger finger happy if I intend to use it.

Candy looks slightly abashed seeing me hurt. Worry mars her pretty brow with wrinkles. “I’m sorry. I had no idea I was squeezing you too tight.”

“No need to apologize,” I reply quickly to calm her, showing her my hand. “See. I’m okay. I know you feel for the victim. The situation is awful for her, and you can empathize with what she’s going through. We’ll save her, Candy. We’ll save them all.”

The bidding continues as the redhead circles around the stage.

Twenty thousand. Twenty-five thousand. Thirty thousand. The number continues to rise…

Piero drums his fingers against the armrest of his seat, his other elbow resting on the opposite armrest, where he holds his head up on his extended fingers, looking like he’s bored out of his mind. “This is taking too long.”

He hits the button in front of him, talking into the speaker. “A hundred grand.”

Duffy touches his earpiece, his mouth falling open upon hearing Piero’s bid. “Ladies and gents, we have a new bid of one hundred grand. Do I have a counteroffer? No? One hundred grand going once. Going twice…. SOLD.”

Hitting the speaker button again, Piero snaps off an order. “Cover what belongs to me. I don’t want anyone else putting eyes on her again.”

A person from the shadows runs up the steps to the stage, throwing a robe around the terrified woman. She’s escorted from the platform to the pen where all the women will await pick up from their new owners.

With a soft look of gratitude on her heavenly face, Candy turns to the don. “Thank you.”

Piero sips his drink, his face hard. “No one should be subjected to this atrocity.”

The auction continues. Two more women are escorted around the stage before one of our women is presented—the blond with pixie hair, minus the glasses that gave her the bookish vibe.

“It’s Stacy—that’s our girl,” Candy announces to our group, her voice hitched.

“Roger that. Stacy Gander accounted for. Over,” Gauge repeats back into the comms.

“Keep your eyes on her. Pay attention to what box seat buys her. Over,” Atlas orders through the comms.

“Copy that,” I say. “Over.”

The bidding for Stacy begins, the price to purchase her rising above the other bids thus far.

Stacy stumbles, clearly doped up. But unlike the women before, Stacy doesn’t cry. She squints, trying to see the faces staring back at her, however futile it may be.

“The girl is smart,” Piero muses aloud. “Looks like she’s trying to recall the faces of all she sees.”

“A fighter,” I add. Much like my goddess.

Stacy is bought by someone in box ten for an astronomical price before she’s forced off the stage, fighting back with weak limbs.

Several other women are auctioned before our next Fort Collins’s woman comes onto the floor.

“We have eyes on Bree Nowak. Over,” I whisper hoarsely into the comms.

Bree keeps her eyes downcast, her shoulders slumped forward, like she’s trying to hide herself. Unfortunately, it does nothing to deter the bidders. They see her slight frame and coy actions as being meek. Depraved men like to devour women like her.

The winning bid is nearly as high as Stacy’s. Bree is escorted off the stage, her shoulders shaking with her silent tears. The two friends reunite in the pen off to the side of the stage, embracing each other for what they assume is the last time.

It’s painful to witness their duress, especially when we’re here to bust them out.

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