Prologue

Madison

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

I was in trouble. Again. Trouble being neck deep, drowning, and mired in an unfortunate situation. Another bang. Gunfire! This was more of a cataclysmic disaster. Like watching a wildfire burn, there was nothing I could do. As if searing flames burned closer, I felt the heat and sensed the impending destruction, knowing whatever was coming was going to destroy me, along with everything around me.

The acrid scent of gunfire burned my nostrils. Or maybe it was the stench of my fear.

Earlier tonight, I’d heard part of Emerson’s phone conversation. The cops were involved. A man had spoken through Emerson’s speaker phone. While Emerson scrambled with papers and hit keys on his computer at his desk, I’d listened.

“ Move the merchandise now.” The thick Irish accent on speakerphone had dripped venom. “If you can’t get them moved, dispose of the problem. Or I’ll fuckin’ bury you with them. ”

Emerson had gone crazy, and I couldn’t ignore what I’d heard. This time I wouldn’t pretend there was nothing I could do.

I had to be the brave one because the youngest girls huddled in the corner of the trailer. A couple of petrified-with-fear teenage girls stood next to me. They expected me to save them.

I couldn’t. We wouldn’t be strong enough to fight off the men holding us. Part of me felt responsible, not for them being taken, but for not doing more to save them. I could’ve gone to the police. I could’ve brought a weapon. I could’ve done a lot of shit. And there was just as much I never should have done.

I’d been na?ve. In the beginning, I’d been too trusting because I hadn’t realized monsters masqueraded in Armani, drove Bentleys, and whispered lies with the same lips that promised passion. The same hands that had once worshipped my body, also struck with deadly accuracy and caused bruises where no one could see.

Not all my bruises had been on the outside. Emerson Barras had tried to break me on the inside, too, when he’d shattered my trust, enslaved my future, and promised punishment if I ever betrayed him.

But I wasn’t broken. I’d run with my secrets.

“Shh,” I whispered to the girls.

Would his punishment be worse than this? More gunfire erupted outside the truck trailer. This was what they meant when they said life passed in front of your eyes just before you died .

I used to have dreams. Now, I existed in a nightmare with my tormentor.

No one said there wouldn’t be consequences for the choices I made. Momma had seen dollar signs where my dad had seen danger. Like a stupid girl, I’d chosen love over my family.

Because Emerson wanted me, I’d sacrificed school, my dancing, and my independence. I was none of those things anymore. I’d sacrificed being me to be what he wanted, to become his property.

My body vibrated with fear as the accordion door rolled up, and a man lunged onto the ramp.

Bang!

I lurched with the explosion of more gunfire.

The man’s eyes widened. Time slowed as he stared at me with his mouth agape. Blood bloomed across his gray shirt, his body jolted, knees crumbled, he tipped back and fell off the truck.

The girls’ screams reverberated through my head, mixing with the roar of chaos. Gunfire echoed through the steel warehouse. Some men were wearing suits. Others were clearly part of a motorcycle club with their leather cuts and heavy boots.

Everyone had guns. Somehow, I’d ended up in the crossfire of a sex trafficking ring and a motorcycle club turf war.

“They’re killing everybody.” One of the girls choked on a sob.

Bang! Bang! Every pop from a gun sent another sharp dagger of fear through my chest. I couldn’t protect these girls. I couldn’t protect myself.

I shoved one of the girls behind me as a large biker rushed forward. Broad shoulders blocked my view from the massacre happening behind him. Jeans hugged his hips, and a deadly knife hung from his belt.

There was nothing small about the intimidating biker. He was a volatile storm of muscle and intimidation. Tattoos covered arms like pythons, and fingers that could collar my neck, cut off my air supply, and snuff the life from me. With the weight of his stare, I could almost feel the cold steel of the rings on his fingers pressing into me.

I’d known I’d die at the hands of a man, but not this man and not tonight. Long legs, muscular thighs, and a chest with well-defined curves stretched to an inked neck thick with tendon. Dark hair, wild and windblown, curled to his shoulders.

Not only was I terrified of the fight, but the man’s gaze paralyzed me. He was huge. Yet, long lashes softened the dark hooded eyes drilling into mine. The muted blue of his irises looked almost gray in the darkened trailer. Facial hair didn’t distract from the contours of his jaw or the hard line of his full mouth.

“Step out of this trailer, and you’re fucking dead.” The rough demand sent chills over my heated flesh. He ripped the cut from his body and pointed to the top rocker on the back. Crawlers. Below the word, there was a large patch of a snake and skull. “When the cops ask who’s responsible, you describe this.”

We were all too terrified to reply.

“Do you speak English?” he asked us.

“I do,” I said, trying not to let my voice crack .

“Listen, brown eyes,” he said to me. “Trust no one. Wait for the police.”

“We need to go,” a man hollered behind him. He also wore a cut, only this one had wings and a devil on the back. Heller Raiders.

We stared at each other, a silent war between us.

“Stay down,” he finally said. “It’ll be okay.”

Veins roped his corded forearm as he pulled the roll door down, locking us in again.

It was pitch black inside the trailer. Heavy breaths filled the silence. Sweltering heat suffocated, sweat soaked my shirt, and I couldn’t control the painful thumping of my rampant heart.

Eight girls clustered together in the corner of the trailer. More gunfire exploded behind us, from the cab of the truck.

“Get down. Lie flat.” My words were harsh because I was scared out of my mind. Sniffles and tears tore at my heart. To my detriment, I’d always been impulsive. I didn’t think I’d ever been as terrified as I was right now.

“Are they going to kill us?” a small voice whispered from the darkness.

No, what they’d planned for us was worse than death.

“You heard the scary biker with the tatts,” one of the older girls spoke. “The cops are coming.”

And these girls couldn’t trust the cops any more than they could trust the men who’d lured them to the motel, forced them into this trailer, and considered them merchandise .

Maybe these girls had terrible home lives, addictions, or they were just unlucky, but they were better off dead than what was planned for them.

I knew. The men who traded in skin were wealthy, powerful, and untouchable. They were mafia. They were men like Emerson. Only I’d willingly given myself to him. I just hadn’t realized I’d never be able to leave.

The girls quietly sobbed. There was a pause in the gunfire. If we got out of this, we were getting off lucky.

“I want my mom,” one of the younger girls whispered. “She doesn’t know I snuck out of the house.”

“I know you’re scared. So am I. Listen to me. I’m going to forget about everything that happened in that warehouse. When the cops get here, I’m going to tell them we’ve been locked up in this trailer. It’s not a lie. It’s just not the whole truth.”

“Why?” another voice from the darkness asked.

Because Emerson knew men on the force. But there was no time to make these girls understand.

“Let the cops figure it out,” the older girl spoke again. “I was supposed to get a couple hundred bucks to let some guy smell my feet and suck my toes. I have a warrant out for my arrest. Once the doors open, I’m going to run. The rest of you can do what you want.”

I didn’t scold the girl. Like her, I had nowhere to go. I’d become too entangled with the men who’d done this. They would be looking for me.

“You can’t trust anyone more than you trust your instincts,” I said. “If you have a family, go back to them. I don’t know how you got here, but whatever you were promised was a lie. Everything they said was a lie.”

I’d had moments of brilliance in my life, like the time I’d landed an audition for Juilliard when I was sixteen. Not that I was accepted, but it was still a defining moment in my life.

My dream to be a dancer.

Another defining moment was meeting Emerson Barras. I thought I’d attracted the attention of a wealthy and devastatingly handsome businessman, and I had. I just hadn’t realized his business was with the mafia.

He’d become a nightmare I couldn’t escape.

I’d been so stupid. A bottle of Cristal at a three-star Michelin restaurant, and I was drunk on possibilities.

Nine months later, I was sleeping with the enemy, trapped in a relationship with a man who’d made it clear I would never be free to leave. Discovering Emerson’s secrets, knowing what he’d planned to do to these girls, was a horror I couldn’t live with.

My plan, that I now recognize was flawed from the beginning, had been to get the girls out. Part of the plan worked. No one recognized me in jeans and a hoodie, but I hadn’t counted on so many guards being with the girls or that I’d end up mistaken as merchandise and be thrown into the back of the truck with them.

A hesitant touch rested on my back.

I heard it, too .

Sirens from the police cars grew louder. Clanging sounded from inside the warehouse.

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

The door of the trailer rolled open. Police swarmed the warehouse.

“You’re okay,” an officer said, holding up his hands. He clicked the radio at his shoulder. “I need a female officer.”

For now, the girls were safe, but I was fucked. My heart raced, and sweat soaked my shirt.

I didn’t trust cops.

Officers helped the girls from the trailer. I wished I could protect them, but we were all on our own. I couldn’t go home to Emerson. I never wanted his grimy hands on me again. He’d see my interference—my leaving—as a betrayal.

The cops wanted me to go to the station to give a statement. Either way, I was fucked. There was only one way to survive. Tonight, Madison had to disappear.