Page 56 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

The moment Carter and his goons turn to see the commotion, Bones pulls out a baseball bat and smacks it hard against the back of Carter’s skull.

Lester and Arman draw weapons just before Devon and Keith can raise theirs. Carter falls to the ground, and I seize my moment and leap from the Defender.

The lumberjacks emerge from the tree line, roaring like savages, their numbers enough to make Carter’s men falter. They lower their weapons and drop them to the ground, slowly raising their arms.

“Take the shit,” Devon says as Lester grabs his arms and yanks them behind him.

“Take it and keep the money. We’ll go. We don’t want any trouble,” Keith grunts.

So much for loyalty. I guess when you’re an asshole like Carter, loyalty is hard to come by.

Carter groans on the ground, twisting in the dirt and clutching at the back of his head. Bones must have hit him hard. Not hard enough to kill him, I hope.

I get the sack over his head and shoulders as Arman, backed up by Nathan and Liam, hauls Devon and Keith until their faces press against the brickwork of Reggie’s bar. West appears from inside, his rifle pointing menacingly at Carter.

Carter wriggles and kicks, crawling and moaning, but he’s too concussed to resist. I drag his body over to Bill’s car, and once I’m up against the Defender, I tie the sack firmly in placearound his neck and reach into the car for ties to secure his hands and feet.

He’s a small man but still a heavy half-dead weight. Bill doesn’t help me get him into the trunk, but that’s nothing new. Bill always was a selfish asshole.

I glance back at Reggie’s. West is outside now. It’s my instinct to barrel into the fray and back him up, but that’s not my role tonight.

When I slide into the passenger seat, Bill shakes his head.

“This fucker really pissed you off.”

“He messed with someone important to me.”

Bill nods and puts the vehicle into drive. We speed off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust to prove that we were ever there.

Bill and I don’t speak on the journey. Carter is livid at his capture, thrashing around as much as he can, making threats that he’s in no position to carry out.

He thinks he’s going to make me cower, but his ease with extreme violence only bolsters my conviction.

“You won’t fucking get away with this, you fucking wasters. What the fuck is this?”

I snort, rubbing my hands over the worn denim encasing my thighs. My hands itch to squeeze Carter’s neck until his eyes bulge and to hear him beg for his life.

“What do you want? Is it money? I’ve got plenty of fucking money. Name your fucking price.” Although his voice is muffled through the sack and the car interior, the hint of fear and desperation rises in his voice with every word.

No amount of money would tempt me to release this man back into the world.

I flick on the radio, blocking his muffled shouts with upbeat country music.

Bill says nothing as he drives with one hand on the wheel, as though we’re taking a trip to the beach. I watch the trees blink by, like a scene in a flick book.

My pulse intensifies with anticipation as Bill pulls up slowly at a bend in the road and turns in. The car jerks and dips over the gravely surface and eventually comes to a stop.

We turn to look at each other.

“I’ll make the call.” He pulls out the burner phone I gave him.

I nod and leap out of the car, resting my rifle on the ground before I slam the passenger door and round the vehicle. Ripping open the trunk, I drag Carter out by his feet this time. His body hits the ground awkwardly, and he grunts with discomfort. “I’ve got a daughter. I’m a father. She’s only a baby.” He tries to keep his voice even, but there’s a waver in it. Just the mention of Hallie has my blood boiling.

Bill turns the Defender and crawls away back down the trail. I watch him go as the beams get dimmer and dimmer until the vehicle speeds away.

At my feet, Carter starts to thrash and growl. I lift my right knee up at a right angle before jamming my foot into his gut with every ounce of strength I have.

He groans and curls in on himself as I issue a second kick to his shoulder, and then I drag his limp body further into the trees, pulling him into a kneeling position. All my anger, my bitterness, my resentment at the loss of my childhood at the hands of a man just like this one surges to the surface. Skye’s broken and pleading eyes drift into my consciousness. The way her body shook as she sobbed at the loss of her baby.

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