Prickly Business (32 page)

He entered the living room to find a collection of men and women who looked much like his parents—upper class, white-collar types. Most were Caucasian, although there were some other ethnicities mixed in. A man at a table next to the door asked for his ID. Avery thanked whatever deity existed he’d remembered to bring the fake one he’d bought when he first started college. It listed a false name, address, and birth date, but he’d spent enough to ensure it could pass for real to even the most well-trained eye.

The man handed him a card that read fifty-two. Then Avery finally allowed himself to look around the room.

The “merchandise”—and God, it nauseated Avery to even
think
that word—was a lot more varied than the clientele. The girls shared common traits. They were thin, pretty. Some lovelier than others but all young. None of them could be older than their late teens, and some even appeared to be prepubescent. They wore nothing but their underwear. Bare chests and panties for the girls; skimpy briefs for the few boys. They all looked—and smelled—terrified.

Avery couldn’t contemplate it. The sight of them, the scent of their fear, sickened him. He wanted to snatch them all up and run, get them away as fast as possible. Instead, fighting to keep his expression blank, he wandered the room.

How did these people look so normal? How could they be so calm? Avery thought when someone was truly evil, as these people must be, it should show on the outside too. There should be a sign, some outward indication of their revolting inner natures.

Anyone in this group could have easily passed for the businessmen and women he saw in downtown Portland, dressed in nice suits and dresses as they went about their workdays. Or like the members of his father’s country club or his own family. They could’ve been anyone.

They didn’t look like the type of sickos who would purchase another human being, a
child
, and use them for sex against their will. But they were—they
were
—and Avery could feel the start of a panic attack at sharing a space with them, breathing the same air, at the thought they all assumed he was there for the same reason.

His gut twisted violently enough Avery had to put his hand on the back of a chaise lounge to steady himself. He noted the security guards that lined the room. He’d guess they were European—they had that sort of look about them—and it felt like something out of a Hollywood mobster movie. If Avery hadn’t been scared shitless, he might have laughed at the craziness of it all. Laughed or maybe sobbed hysterically.

He couldn’t afford to lose his cool. He was a Babineaux. How many high society parties had he attended in his lifetime? He’d grown up putting on plastic smiles and mingling with shallow, entitled people. Nothing mattered more to his parents than appearances. If Avery knew anything, it was how to pretend.

So he faked it. He strolled the room with his most bored expression in place. Inwardly he was seething, growing more and more anxious as the minutes passed.

By the time a man entered the room and announced the bidding would start, Avery feared he might break down and vomit. Or shift from the stress. These children were being sold. Right that very second, while he sat there. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, not without risking his own life and thereby losing any chance he had of helping them. And Lacey.

Oh Jesus.

Why hadn’t he told Dylan? Why had he thought he could do this alone? How could he have been such an idiot?

He should’ve taken the information they’d gotten from Snowflake straight to the police. He should’ve—

Avery’s thoughts broke off in a jangle. A man had entered the room behind the auctioneer. A man he recognized.

Detective Melnyk.

Avery’s head spun. The tall blank-faced blond was dressed like all the security guards and had an earpiece in place.

Oh God. He’s part of it. He knows. He’s involved.

The words repeated in Avery’s head, over and over, gaining volume, speed. He clenched his sweaty hands tight in his lap and prayed Melnyk didn’t spot him among the men sitting around the room.

Avery had to escape. He had to get out
right now
, before Melnyk saw him. His skin prickled and his temples throbbed, but he couldn’t jump up and run off without drawing attention to himself.

Pulse racing, he forced himself to stay there. He watched with his heart and stomach in turmoil as one after the other, the boys and girls were paraded to the front of the room. A guard ordered them to step up onto a low platform. Then they were instructed to turn this way and that while the auctioneer called out amounts and the people around him calmly raised their hands to bid.

It went on like any other auction Avery had attended with his father, which made it even more obscene. He fought the urge to scream with every passing minute.

Finally after maybe a dozen sales, the auctioneer announced a break. One of the other guards approached Melnyk, and Avery used the opportunity to slip from the room unseen. Or so he hoped.

He fled while trying to appear as if he wasn’t. A man near the door asked if he was all right. Avery dismissed him with an airy gesture. “Please give my apologies to the host. There’s an urgent matter that needs my attention. You understand, I’m sure.”

The man nodded, and Avery strode from the house. He walked to his car at a near jog, jamming his thumb on the key fob to unlock the doors.

Once he had it open, he nearly dove into the car. He started the ignition with trembling fingers, reversed from his parking spot, and sped down the driveway as fast as he dared.

Rain battered the windshield and made his tires skid on the gravel. Lights flashed in his rearview mirror, and Avery’s throat spasmed in terror.
Oh God.
Was someone else leaving, or were they coming after him? Had Melnyk seen him after all? What would happen if they caught him?

Avery slammed down on the gas pedal and used one hand to search blindly for his phone while steering with the other. He’d call Dylan right now. He’d tell him everything. They’d go straight to the police, and then—

The sudden impact against his rear bumper flung Avery forward. A second strike shattered his rear windshield and in that second, Avery’s world devolved into nothing but chaos and pain. His hand slipped from the wheel, and the car spun out of control. It all happened too quickly for him to process. One second he was screaming and the next, darkness.

W
OLFHOUND
WASN
’
T
where Dylan wanted to be tonight, except Avery was out with Jaden—something about neglecting his friends. Even though they’d been out with Jaden over the past few weeks, Avery said something about spending quality time together, just the two of them. Who was Dylan to argue with that? He’d pretty much monopolized Avery’s time since their argument.

Something niggled at him, though. Avery was still acting strange. Dylan knew he was keeping something from him, and his first instinct was to make Avery tell him, but they’d been down that road. Tomorrow, preferably after he fucked Avery into boneless relaxation, they’d talk. He would ask Avery what was going on and he’d tell him about the dead end with Snowflake. And Jesus, wasn’t he glad he
hadn’t
told Avery about the text. He’d be pissed if he’d prepared a strategy all week only to be left in the dark with no goddamned instructions.

Tapping the scarred wood of the Wolfhound’s bar, Dylan stared down at his phone for the umpteenth time today. Still nothing. What the hell was taking Snowflake so damn long to get back with him? Dylan didn’t think he was purposely avoiding him, otherwise why would he have sent the first message? But what if the party had been postponed for one reason or another? What if someone had caught wind of Avery’s little investigation? What if…?

He should text Snowflake just in case.

“Hey there, sexy.” The low tenor curled around Dylan.

“Not interested.” He didn’t even turn around as he took a swig of the lager in front of him. No need. He wasn’t here to pick anyone up and he wasn’t here to make friends. Strangely enough the only reason he
was
at Wolfhound was because it made him feel a little closer to his mate when they weren’t together.

They’d spent several evenings with the guys shooting pool and goofing off back in the corner. And aside from hitting a club (which, one—he had no desire to do, and two—if Avery saw him, he’d probably think he was either following him or didn’t trust him, and neither was true), there was no other option, unless he wanted to sit at home or at Avery’s loft. Alone. They’d spent plenty of time at both places, but he’d be all by his lonesome, wondering what Avery was doing.

So here he was. Chilling the fuck out at Wolfhound, getting hit on by every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wasn’t his mate.

Christ, he should just go home.

He ran a hand through his short hair and contemplated doing just that.

“What’s up, dude?” Lucas slid onto the empty stool beside him.

Dylan turned and gave him a tight smile. “Not much, just….” He glanced down at the phone again.

“Still haven’t heard anything?”

Guilt flirted with him once more, but he pushed it aside. Avery was going to be pissed when he found out the guys knew about the first message when it took so long for Dylan to fess up to him.
Shit.

“Nah. Not yet.”

“Where’s your man? I didn’t see him at the tables.”

A loud cheer came from where his friends played pool. Dylan turned to look, almost expecting to see Avery jumping up and down, his wiggling touchdown dance. Dylan smirked, remembering the first time Avery had pocketed a shot on his own. A hole in one, he’d called it. And still did, amid all the protests that he was thinking of a different game. His hedgehog was fucking adorable.

Lucas chuckled at their friends’ antics and eyed Dylan like he was expecting an answer.

Oh… “Out at some club with Jaden.”

A deep V formed between Lucas’s brows. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but all he said was “Huh. Jaden didn’t mention that earlier.” He said it in a nonchalant manner, but something about it bothered Dylan.

Jaden had come by the shop earlier to have his brakes changed. It wasn’t something they usually did at Green’s, especially on a sports car, but he was the alpha’s son, and, more importantly, he was Avery’s best friend. The longer they were together, the more their friends mingled. And well, brakes were brakes.

Dylan had talked to Jaden for a bit while Luc changed his brakes, but not about anything specific. And no, now that he thought about it, Jaden hadn’t mentioned his plans with Avery, but it’s not like Dylan and Jaden talked about that kind of stuff. But the concern in Luc’s voice mixed with the mystery of Avery’s secrets and the lack of communication from Snowflake had Dylan picking up his phone to type out a quick message.

Still no info???

He hit send then set the phone back on the bar and watched it like it was going to bite him. Something was wrong. None of it added up.

“You okay, D?” he sounded worried, but Dylan didn’t try to soothe his friend, not that he could. He was losing his fucking mind, scenarios flitting through his head like a nonstop horror movie.

His phone whistled.

SF: Told u 2 lose my #

Dylan: I will… as soon as you send me the place and time.

Dylan’s heart was in his throat. What the fuck?

Another notification chimed.

SF: Sent 2dys ago.

SF: Get lost.

Dylan couldn’t breathe. All of a sudden, Avery’s secret, Lucas’s confusion, Snowflake’s silence—it all made sense.

His thumbs raced across the screen.

Dylan: Got lost in space. Send again.

Please, please, please. Dylan didn’t beg. Ever. For anything, but fuck if he wouldn’t get down on his knees and pray to prove all his suspicions were wrong.

The next message flashed on the screen. An address in Lake Oswego. Thirty minutes away.
Motherfucker.

Dylan pushed away from the bar so quickly the stool tipped over and people around him scattered, but he didn’t turn around as he headed for the exit. Not even when Lucas started asking what was wrong and yelling for him to wait.

Ice-cold rain slapped him in the face as he stepped outside, still he didn’t stop. Slamming into his car, he scrolled his contacts until he found the one he was looking for.

One ring. Two. Three. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry I can’t come to the phone. You should leave a message and wait by the phone until I call back.”

Dylan clicked off before the beep sounded. God, he hated that voice mail greeting. He dialed Jaden, who picked up after the first ring.

“Hello,” Jaden laughed into the other end of the line. It sounded like he had company. Hope twinged in Dylan’s chest.

“Jay, let me talk to Avery.” It was rude and demanding, but Dylan didn’t have polite and coaxing in him right now. Panic was threatening to swallow him whole and only one thing could fix it.
Avery.

“Um….” Confusion laced his tone. “He’s not here, Dylan.” Then quieter. “I’m, um, I’m at home.”

Dylan didn’t exactly believe the last part, but he would have no reason to lie. Would he?

It didn’t take long until he was in his car and peeling out of the parking lot. “Have you heard from him today?” he asked, taking a corner too fast but not daring to tap his brakes.

“No.” Jaden sounded nervous.

“What do you know?”

“I… I don’t….”

“C’mon, Jay. I think….” God, it hurt to say the words. “I think he’s in trouble, okay? I need you to tell me whatever it is you know.”

“Trouble?” Jaden choked. “Like with Victor?”

“Worse.” Dylan tapped the brakes to make a left-hand turn then floored it.

“Worse?” Jaden whispered, voice trembling.

“Jaden? Come on, man. Talk to me.”

Three fucking blocks and he hit every goddamn stoplight. Why the hell did his mate have to live on the opposite side of town?