“And what are they going to do?” he asked incredulously. “We’re both untouchable.” He brought the cigar to his mouth and took a deep drag. “And we aren’t undermining their operation. They make the money. It’s none of their business what we do with the girls once they’re our property.”
“They might think we’ll turn them in.”
“Turn them in to whom?” Carter asked incredulously. “The feds? We both know they won’t do shit. Those psychopaths are untouchable. They know we aren’t stupid enough to declare war against them. Besides, this is a business for us too. I’m not doing this shit out of the goodness of my heart. I’m doing this because it’s easy money—and tax-free.”
There was a lot of money on the table. Carter and I had split fifty million dollars two ways a couple of times. As a billionaire, I didn’t need more money. But when cash was that easy to get, I wouldn’t look the other way. “Then you go to the Underground and bid on her.”
“You know I can’t. It has to be you.”
When I bought the girls, I turned them into models for a few shows. Once they were finished, they were released back to their families. The Skull Kings thought I just had a weird fetish for slaves, and I was parading my property in front of the world because I thought I was above the law.
But once the girls did their time, they were sent back to their families. It was the only way to extract them without risking their necks and ours. The Skull Kings had more important things to worry about, so after a few weeks, they were on to the next batch of slaves they wanted to sell.
“Like I said, we can’t do this forever,” I said. “Our fathers warned us what these guys were like. I don’t think we should take that lightly.”
“I don’t take it lightly,” Carter said. “But I’m not a pussy either.”
I finished my scotch, letting the amber liquid slide right down to my belly.
“Besides, if we don’t do this, who will? You know what will happen to those girls.”
They’d be raped, tortured, and then burned alive. Women like that didn’t become pets of good men. They became punching bags of men who wanted to exercise power over their enemies. When a deal went south, taking their enemy’s daughter seemed to be the most effective form of revenge.
But the girls had nothing to do with it.
“I think we should have someone else do the bidding.” We had loyal men that had been working for us for decades. It didn’t take a genius to bid on a woman until they won her. “That way we no longer have to be involved in it.”
“You know that won’t work. They want faces. They want identities of rich and famous men. By taking away anonymity, it keeps everyone in line. It keeps it legitimate. They don’t just let anyone in there. If you send someone in your place, they’ll think it’s suspicious. And that will be our downfall.”
Wealthy men in our inner circles actually believed I bought slaves for pleasure. I had so much cash that I spent it on eccentric things, like people. Selling lingerie and treating women like objects complemented that belief very well.
Even though it was completely false.
I already had more power than most men. I didn’t need to buy a slave to feel powerful.
I already was powerful.
“Are you in?” Carter asked.
If I refused, this woman would suffer and die. It was a matter of life or death. I couldn’t let that guilt weigh me down. “You know I am.”
“Great.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket and opened it up so I could see it. “Anastasia Purkov. She’s the daughter of a Russian investor. She went to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon and never came home. She had just been selected for the Russian ballet when she went missing. Her father got in touch with my people, and that’s how I received his message.” He pointed at her picture. “She’s a beauty.”
With dark brown hair and blue eyes, she was definitely eye-catching. If a woman was attractive, it was even more likely she was captured for trafficking.
“Her father pissed off one of his clients in Budapest. I think that guy commissioned the Skull Kings to do this.”
It was disgusting. Men paid other men to capture an innocent woman just to piss off their enemy. And then that woman was sold for another profit so she could be a slave. Then she was purchased for a third time—by us. The amount of money being spent on a human life was horrific—just because of the pussy between her legs. “When is the auction?”
“Tomorrow night.”
I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. “I’ll get her.”