3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Ophelia

T he streets are fairly quiet, only a few people about as I make my way to the nearest bus station. It's a built-up area of office blocks and apartment buildings, so a lot of people either walk or bike to work, a few who work farther out of the area using the buses or their cars.

I'm alert, making sure I'm not being followed, because danger is always just around the corner. This is why I didn't park my car closer to this part of town; if I was followed from the apartment, it'd be easier for them to trace me because it's a brand spanking new Corvette. Instead, I'm getting the bus out of town in one direction, then I'll catch a train in another direction before walking for another thirty minutes to get to my car in one of the many lock-ups I rent.

It sounds like a lot of work, but it's necessary for our safety.

Once I finally arrive at the lock-up, where my powerful Black Beauty is waiting, I slide into the front seat and take a moment.

Two sides of the same coin. That's me. I am light and fluffy, and I am dark and dangerous. Kinda like Batman, but without the pointy ears and cape. I won't say Batman hasn't inspired me, because the whole billionaire with a face for business and a face for danger is exactly what I am. It's tiring, and I'm pretty sure I'll also be alone forever, unable to hold down an actual relationship that doesn't end in disaster. But every time we save a life, it's all worth it a hundred times over.

This drive should clear my head, though, pull me out of my self-pity party and back to where I need to be: strong and decisive.

An hour later, the gates to my property loom ahead, all dark and foreboding as they begin opening when the sensors from the security system detect my car. I love this little slice of Heaven. While it may be where my parents both lost their lives, it's now the place my girls and I live and thrive. Their homes are smaller than mine, situated on either side just over four hundred yards away. All of our homes are behind a tall brick wall, surrounded by hundreds of tall trees and covered by security devices everywhere.

My phone pings as I'm pulling into the garage to park Black Beauty.

Opie: Come see us by the pool!

I guess I'm going straight out to the pool we share; and bonus, not a cloud in the sky today, which is rare here in May.

Opie is sitting by herself. Well, I can't really call it sitting, she's lounging on one of the sunbeds with a gin glass full of liquid in hand…

I know she can be a little eccentric, but I doubt she's got water in there. There are another two full glasses on the small, white, round table beside her.

"Bro, it's ten in the morning. Why are we drinking gin?" I collapse onto the sunbed beside her after air-kissing her cheeks, grabbing one of the spare glasses because…well, who else are they gonna be for if not me and Tabby?

Apart from our competent house personnel, who make it a point to move around the house like ghosts, it's always just the three of us. Okay, minus the rare times that Logan comes over for a dip in the pool—and my pussy.

Opie sits up from her slouchy position and looks at me with a huge grin crossing her freckled face, her light-blue eyes sparkling at me like I should know the answer to my own question. I don't.

"It's past noon somewhere, doll face. So we're totally allowed, aaaand…we're literally celebrating, aren't we? Unless it didn't go to plan and we're not crossing dickface Roland's name off the list like you said?" She frowns as she finishes speaking and looks at me seriously. "Did you lie to us, Fifi?"

She knows I would never.

Sipping at the gin, I chuckle and lightly shake my head.

"It's all good, everything went to plan, dickface Roland is dead. Bullet went straight between the fucker's eyes. So, yeah, let's celebrate the shit out of this!"

Because fuck it, if we don't celebrate our wins then life would be miserable.

"Hey hey, Fi. I grabbed some bagels from your favorite shop downtown." Tabby holds up the plate of food as she heads over to join us by the poolside. "Figured we'd need a little sustenance if we're gonna be celebrating today." She giggles and shrugs, putting the plate down on the same table as the gin and sitting beside me to air kiss my cheeks.

Picking up the extra gin glass, she raises it up high.

"To one less douchebag in this world!"

We all cheer, raising our drinks and clinking glasses to the toast.

True to herself, Opie gives us about twenty minutes of light, fun, banter before she reaches under her pool chair and pulls out her laptop.

"Jeez, Opie, are we boring you already?" Tabby rolls her head over to look at me since she's lying between us like the filling of a best-friend sandwich. "Guess it's just you and me, now, huh?"

The quick lift and release of my shoulders is my only answer. We both know Opie can't be offline for long. She craves the information and updates from the multitude of pies where she's buried her fingers. It's impossible to blame her for it since she's the reason we find our targets as quickly and efficiently as we do—mostly.

"I can still partake in the conversation, you know. I'm totally capable of multitasking." To emphasize said competence, she raises her glass to her lips and takes a huge gulp then grins like a loon. "See? Drinking and sleuthing. Fácil !"

"I don't know about easy, but it is practical, I'll give you that." Taking my own sip from my glass, I rest my head on the back of the chair and run last night's events through my mind, searching out any mistakes I might have made, anything I could have done differently or better. Of course, there's always room for improvement, but save for the zoning out on that rooftop, my mission went off without a hitch.

"Holy shit! Oh my God!" Sitting up in unison, both Tabby and I turn to Opie as she scrambles up into a sideways sitting position, her feet flat on the ground, her fingers flying across her keyboard.

"What? What's going on?" There's no telling if she's ohmygodding in an excited or a terrified way since her entire focus is directly and solely targeted at the screen. As I burst out my question, my attention turns to Tabby, who has frozen on the chair and is now staring at the shimmering pool water reflecting the stubborn rays of the sun.

The silent freak out I'm witnessing is only making me panic a little more, which is why I stand, abrupt and determined, making my way to Opie and speaking directly into her ear. "Tabs is losing her fucking mind, Opie. Speak."

In a nanosecond, our techy girl's fingers stop their rampant attack on the keys and her face lifts from the screen. The only reason I relax just a fraction is the tiny curl at the corners of her lips giving me hope and reassurance. If we were found out or about to get a bullet in the forehead, she'd be corralling us inside so we could get the fuck out of here.

"I got a ping on our number three." This time we all freeze at Opie's words, our eyes landing on her laptop as if we could even begin to understand the codes and weird language she uses on there.

"Are you sure?" I'm the first to break the heavy silence because getting my hopes up like this is a sure way to piss me off if we're wrong about this.

"Fuck yeah. Remember how we narrowed him down to four aliases? We had a few more, but these four were sure-sure. Like, cement-sure." I frown.

"Cement can crack, Opie. I need titanium-sure. Anything else could expose us." Placing my drink down on the small table, I look up to the sky, forcing myself not to get excited about this until it's a one hundred percent thing happening. The screen that surrounds the entire pool area is like a dark dome above us, protecting us from the outside world. Mosquitoes, of course, but also snakes and any other form of reptiles attracted to the water. We may have a lot of them in Florida, but only four are venomous, meaning the odds are in our favor. Still, I'm not taking any fucking chances, which is why we hired a company to keep our property clean and inhospitable so nothing slithery can hide and scare the fuck out of us. That includes pest control to eliminate their favorite food.

"Look, right here." Opie points to her screen at what looks to be an invitation to some kind of…gala?

"What am I looking at?" Squinting my eyes as I lean in and bring a hand to my forehead to protect my view from the sun, all I see is the name James Smith. "Oh, shit!"

"Ah, you see it too, yeah?" Opie's grin is fucking brighter than the Florida sun, and that's saying something, considering we're in the "Sunshine State."

"What is it?" Tabby has joined us, peering over my shoulder and leaning in. It's when she gasps that I know she's seen it.

"James fucking Smith. Literally the most common name in the United States, which means finding this fucker is a mammoth project, but fuck you!" Her voice grows louder and louder until she's double middle-fingering the screen. "My source, who owes me a favor and a couple of orgasms, is temping at a private airfield in Fort Lauderdale. Their clients are all dangerous as fuck. It's super hush hush, like literally lose-your-life kind of bad if they find out he's leaked any information." Opie is Miami born and bred and her use of the word literally used to make my eyes twitch. Not sure when it became normal and acceptable but it only makes me flinch when she inserts it more than once in a single breath. Like now, when she's so excited I'm afraid she'll pee all of her gin right onto my pool deck.

"And he risked it for you?" I hate coincidences but I can't deny this feels good and right and fucking Karmabulous .

"It's my magical pussy, it makes men, and occasionally women, do crazy shit for just a taste." She shrugs like she's just told us that today is Monday and Tuesday's on its way.

"Okay, so where's he headed and how do we know it's the right James Smith?" Fucking cunt. I wish I knew his real name so I could curse it until he falls dead in the most horrendous way.

"Detroit. He's there for approximately eight hours before making the return flight. My friend said that he's sure he's seen this guy's image on a flight manifest before, but it was under a different name. Michael Miller."

"That's one of the aliases! Holy shit on a stick. It has to be him." Tabby perks up, almost spilling her drink in the process.

I've got a million questions on the tip of my tongue but Opie holds up her finger to stop me as she continues speaking, a smirk on her face because she knows me so well.

"No, we can't get him on or around the plane or flight field. The security is immense and it's too dangerous. As for why he's going to Detroit, I don't know. But…I've been researching for hours and I do know that there is this auction thing happening during the time he's going to be there. There are no specifics for exact date or location and it's a long shot, a very fucking long shot, but it's a lead." She smiles as though she's just solved world hunger.

"So I need to go and buy some antiques? Or sell some? Whatever I have to do, I need to get in there." Excitement courses through my veins at the thought of unaliving another one of these trafficking fuckers.

"Oh, babe. No. It's not that kind of auction. This one is for people." Opie's grin gets wider, mischief shining bright in her big, brown eyes.

"What the actual fuck?" I'm disgusted at the thought. This is exactly what we're trying to stop from happening and now…

"Okay, so I should probably have led with the fact that it's not a trafficking thing. The details are all very secretive, but I've heard that it's quite the classy affair. A friend was invited to attend one a few years ago. He didn't end up going, or if he did, he didn't say anything." Looking up from her screen, Opie lifts her glass and downs the contents, super smug about her new revelations.

So I might need to sell my body for a weekend? I'm actually okay with that because I'll do whatever it takes to rid this world of the evil lurking in the shadows. "Get me in then."

"It's not that easy, Fifi. There's a whole fucking process with questions and invitations and…" She squints at the screen, her mouth moving as her eyes dart left to right, over and over again. "You need a sponsor."

"Where the fuck do I get one?" Now I'm on my phone, pulling up Marco Mancini's number and ready to ask for a favor, knowing damn well he comes collecting when the time is right for him.

"It's all word of mouth, you don't just apply or sign-up. Hold on…" I'm about to press the call button when Opie looks up at me with fire in her eyes. "The only way in is if you're scouted or recommended by a past client. You know any of those?" I keep staring at her long after she's finished talking, then nod and press call.

"Signorina Warren, to what do I owe the privilege?" This man may be fifteen years my senior but that doesn't mean his silky, Italian-tinted voice doesn't make panties drop from both sides of the Atlantic. Oh, his wife is the luckiest woman alive.

"Mr. Mancini, hi. I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm sure you're very busy running the world." His dark chuckle makes my skin tingle without my permission. "But I need a favor." There's a pause, broken only by his hum on the other side of the line.

"You realize I always cash in my favors, yes?" It's my turn to pause before getting in the proverbial bed with the devil of New York City. No matter how I turn it around in my head, I cannot let this rare opportunity pass me by.

"Yes. It's a big ask but you know I'm good for it." I mean, we're on similar career paths, so it's not like my soul is in danger.

"Bene. What can I do for you, Miss Warren?"

"I need to find a sponsor for the A Night to Remember Auction." It occurs to me that he may not know anyone who's dealt with them. I mean, how do you even know if someone's been a client for these super-secret things? Fuck, what if I've given myself away? Marco is one of the smartest men I know and if he's got a bone, he's going to gnaw on it until he gets the answers he wants.

"Hmm, si. The one in Detroit?" My eyes seek out Opie's, wide with the hope I'm allowing to fill my heart. But when I speak I keep it all locked down.

"Yes."

"I know someone. Do you need an invitation as a buyer or an item?" The cool and detached way he speaks of this whole thing makes me flinch until my working brain takes over.

At first, I wanted to go as a buyer. Cozy up to James Smith, make sure he's the right target and end him at the first opportunity I get. Then it occurs to me…what better way to get close to him than to offer myself up on a silver platter? I mean, it's risky, for sure, but I'll go in using an alias and once we're alone, I'll cross him off my list.

"Item." As soon as the word is out of my mouth, Opie jumps to her feet, almost dropping her laptop in the process, and points her index finger at my face, her teeth clenched and her eyes bulging with rage and worry. She knows me better than this. Once my mind is made up, all bets are off.

"Ophelia…" Oh shit, my first name out of his lips means this is bad. "Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?" No, not really, but I don't have a choice.

"Yes." I feel confident and I trust Opie and Tabs will have my back one hundred percent, but still, that one word is a complete lie.

"Well, just in case, let me explain it to you." Holding my palm up to Opie, I pull my cell away with my other hand and put Marco on speaker phone. "This isn't Sotheby's where you can buy a rare painting from the Monet collection. This is selling sex for a weekend. The buyer pays an insane amount of money and the item gets five hundred thousand." Well, that'll go to charity, obviously. Cancer research needs the funds, always. And sex is just that…sex. Not to mention that what Marco doesn't know is that it won't get that far. I'll kill this asshole before he lays a single finger on me.

"What's a little sex if it can help people with cancer?" Yeah, no fucking way Marco Mancini is buying this line of bullshit. Thankfully, he's not only a great businessman but he's also gracious enough not to call me out.

"You'll be picked up at the airport, I'm assuming that's how you're traveling?"

"Yes, my private jet." I can't fly a regular airline, I'm going to need to transport my weapons.

"Yes, they'll pick you up at the airport in a private car then take you to Club Lust where you'll be auctioned off for the weekend. Do you need me to add protection for you?" As honored and touched as I am that the fucking Don of the New York Mafia is offering the umbrella of his protection, I can't accept it. I can't have him involved in this.

"No, thank you. I'm all covered."

"Bene. If you need anything, let me know. If you're accepted, you'll receive an email with an application. Answer the questions carefully and as truthfully as possible."

"Okay, easy enough." His dark chuckle has all the hairs rising up on my arms. That sounds like the opposite of easy.

"Once that's done, you'll have an interview with a man. I don't know the name because I have never attended, but you'll be informed in due time." Wait…if he's never partaken how does he know all of this?

"For someone who's never participated, you sure know a fuck load about it." A muffled growl comes through the line, and in the background, I hear his wife laughing out right before she speaks loudly enough for me to hear her.

"Oh, someone's using their potty mouth. Tsk, tsk, tsk." What?

"Ignore my Tesoro, she likes to tease me about my hatred for curse words." I snort because no fucking way this dude doesn't curse.

"Done, but I'm curious. How do you know so much if you've never been?" Opie, Tabby, and I all hang on every word he has to say.

"Let's just say my enemies tend to talk about a lot of things when the light at the end of the tunnel draws near." Ah, gotcha. "Now, Ophelia, I will come through for you, but just be careful. Some of these people are dangerous."

We all three roll our eyes, knowing the fucking head of the mafia is giving me lessons on staying away from danger. He's the fucking definition of it.

"Says…" Well, I can't outright give his title over an unsecured line, can I? "You."

"Touché."

"Thank you, Marco. I owe you one."

"Yes, you do. I'll let you know when I'm ready to collect." He hangs up before I have time to question him so I look up at my girls, phone forgotten.

"I know what you're going to say."

Tabby places her hand on mine and squeezes but doesn't respond. Opie, on the other hand, speaks enough for the both of them.

"Are you fucking insane?"

"I suppose I am." That shuts her up, her mouth hanging open and her eyes narrowed. No matter how we turn the situation over, this is the best option.

As soon as I'm alone with James Smith, I'll fucking end him for the part he plays in trafficking innocent girls.

"Well, I guess we're going to Detroit." Opie's tone is defeated with a hint of excitement. Adrenaline is our only addiction and this is prime quality shit we're about to test.

Not an hour later, an email notification pops up on my phone from an unknown.

"A Night to Remember"

"Fingers crossed, girls. Let's kill some dirty bastards."