Page 26 of Meaner Than Evil

The man is everything a man should be. His thighs are big against the expensive suit pants. His jacket is tailored to his body. Cut to enhance his trim waist, which amplifies his powerful ass and expansive, massive chest. The strength of his stride sends shivers through me, not just in fear but of desire.

Men like him, true alphas have women falling at their feet. Not because of who they are as people. That has nothing to do with it. But rather because of biology.

He takes the seat on the end and angles it to see the other men down the line of chairs, the door, and me. When he sits, he rests his arms on the chair’s arms. The angle he has chosen gives me a view from his lap down. The lights block only his shoulders and head. His fingers roll over the end, gripping it. He is wearing a large ring that has diamonds surrounding a blue stone. Not on his ring finger, but rather on his index finger. His hands are not soft, and they tell me he is not a man who wears suits every day. His legs are spread, and his boots are black cowboy boots with silver tips.

My God, the man even owns the chair.

I bite my lip, doubling down on my prayers that he will not be the one who wins the bid because he stirs that something inside me that only Jack has stirred before, and I fear for my freedom.

Fourteen

Hammer

I swear, if she breaks down and cries, I will kill every last one of them.

I tried to prepare myself for seeing her again, but I wasn't expecting her to be naked, chained to a bed with other men sitting next to me lusting after her.

I remember Dirk's conversation about Piper's dancing and adapt his and Aurelius’ philosophy to my situation. I can handle it as long as there is no touching, and she comes home with me.

I study the other men sitting here. Three of the five are of Arab descent. The fourth one is white. His facial features suggest he's Eastern European or Russian, and the last one is Chinese. The three Arabs appear to be in their forties, while the white man is probably in his sixties based on his gray hair. The Chinese man may be in his seventies. He is old as fuck.

Luis Morales steps between Logan and the rest of us and says, "Are we ready to begin?"

No one speaks, so he assumes we are. He snaps his fingers, and a woman enters from the adjacent room. She climbs onto the bed and puts a set of earphones on Logan and then a soft fabric hood, then returns to the next room to wait.

Luis doesn't want Logan to know what the bids are and who wins.

"The bidding will begin at 2 million and will increase by 100 thousand after that. If you wish to bid more than 100 thousand, indicate your bid by holding up your finger. For example, three fingers would be three hundred thousand. Any questions?"

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-six."

"Has she bore children?"

"No."

"Is she sterile?"

"We have no reason to believe that. Most American women are on birth control."

He waits, but no one asks anything else. "Good. Let's begin."

I lift my finger, and he acknowledges it.

Over the next few minutes, the numbers wrack up. Everyone bids, and I counter every third time by raising two fingers. The first one to stop is the white man. The bidding goes over four million, and he stands and excuses himself. The two Arabs get into a bidding war with each other, and they alone raise the bid past five million. The Chinese man stands and exits.

A helicopter flies in, presumably for the white man. I glance at my watch to calculate how much time has passed and where the team should be. It's been twenty-five minutes, and they should have made it to shore and be clearing the grounds.

Two minutes later, the first helicopter leaves, and the one to pick up the Chinese man flies in. The bid has reached six million when the second helicopter leaves. The Arabs are becoming confrontational now over the numbers, and they shout at each other in Persian. I realize they are Iranians.

I speak in Dari to them. "You’re bickering like little children over a toy is costing me a lot of money."

They stop and stare at me. I look at Luis and raise five fingers, then drum them on the chair and raise them again, telling them. "I will win. Go home. Save your money for the next time."

They spew obscenities at me but take my advice and leave together.

Luis grins at me, pleased. "You, indeed, did not need luck today."

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