“Then who were the buyers?”
“Some were humans who wanted shifters as test subjects. One buyer was a human who wanted a child shifter as a pet; they kept him in a fucking cage. A few were shifters, though. One wanted some bears for his illegal fighting pit; another wanted one for their brothel; another wanted a sow as a sex slave.”
She curled her upper lip, disgusted. “So, basically, there are all sorts of shitty reasons why someone would buy another living being at auction. And that means I can’t make any assumptions about who might be bidding on the loners.”
“Is Corbin aware of what’s happening?” Cesário and the grizzly were old friends. Corbin allowed him to check out the rec center for potential recruits because he believed it was good for loners to have a job, direction, and purpose.
“He knows. He sat in on the interrogation. So did my landlord, Tate Devereaux. He’s going to use his contacts to help.”
“Ah, the Olympus Pride’s new Alpha. I’ve heard many things about him—all positive. He and his father are good people to have on your side. That pride will help you get to the bottom of all this shit sooner rather than later.”
“You ever heard of Gideon York?”
“Oh, I’ve heard of him. He was a bad apple if ever there was one. Why?”
“Rupert Merchant said the jaguars talked about ‘the family,’ ‘patriarch,’ and ‘kin.’ We’re thinking Gideon might very well be alive.”
Cesário sighed. “I’d like to think the twisted fuck is dead, but if there was one thing Gideon was good at, it was surviving. Yeah, he could have got out of his compound. And yeah, he could be running these auctions. He used to traffic guns and drugs when at the compound. I can see him easily making the jump to trafficking people.”
Havana nodded. “If you hear any news regarding the auctions, I’d appreciate it if you’d point me in the right direction. I’m not asking you to get involved or throw any manpower my way. I know the Movement’s purpose is to deal with extremists, not wayward shifters. The minute the group starts targeting anyone other than extremists, they become assassins and lose credibility as defenders. I’d never ask you to misuse any of the resources you have. Just let me know if you hear anything.”
“That I can and will definitely do. And you’re right; pursuing our own kind isn’t the purpose of the Movement. I don’t want to have to personally step the fuck in, so you’d better not get dead, Ramos. It will seriously piss me off.”
She felt her lips tip up. “It will piss me off even more.”
He grunted. “Keep me updated.”
“Will do. By the way, Bailey says hi.”
He huffed. “She hasn’t gotten herself killed yet? Now that surprises me.”
“I’ll let her know you miss her.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Still seething, Tate stalked through the antique store and jogged up the stairs to the apartment above it. He, his parents, and siblings had all lived there at one time. It was now only occupied by Vinnie and Tate’s youngest brother, Damian.
Vinnie’s mother, Ingrid, managed the store. She willfully ignored that her son smuggled money through many of the antiques—something he often did for anti-shifter extremists, who had no clue that Vinnie was a shifter. He then passed on that info to members of the Movement.
As Tate strode into the living room, Vinnie looked up from where he was sitting on the sectional sofa reading something on his phone. The older man frowned. “What dumb fucker put that look on your face?”
“A sick son of a bitch who thinks it’s acceptable to have loners drugged, kidnapped, and then put up for auction,” replied Tate.
Vinnie blinked. “Say that again.”
Instead, Tate explained, “A cougar tried to drug and kidnap Havana last night.” Too restless to sit, he stood in front of the fireplace as he brought his father up to speed. Sitting in the armchair, Luke occasionally tossed in pieces of information.
Puffing out a breath, Vinnie rested his phone on the coffee table. “Jesus.”
“Fucked up, isn’t it? I’ll reach out to our contacts. I’m not optimistic that they’ll know where Gideon is, or if they’ll have any info about the auctions—they’d surely have otherwise put a stop to them.”
Vinnie nodded. “You should give Maddie a call and warn her that the people at the homeless shelter could be in danger, just in case Havana hasn’t yet done so. How long did it take to get the cougar to confess it all?”
“Not long. He was pretty cooperative.”
“How many bones did you need to break before he became so cooperative?”
“None. He was chatty because he wasn’t eager to go through another fifteen hours of horror, apparently.”
Vinnie’s head jerked back. “Who tortured him for fifteen hours?”
“Bailey’s mamba bit him,” said Luke. “And then they all left him to suffer overnight. Havana waltzed into that basement earlier as polite and pleasant as a kindergarten teacher. She didn’t push him to talk. Just gave him the option of answering her questions honestly or being bitten again.”