MADISYN
Carlos’s menparade me around like I’m a trophy.
Felix, one of Carlos’ associates, forced me to undress and change into a black lace bra and underwear set that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I’m exposed and on display. My clothes are stolen from me before I’m shucked out of the closet and dragged into the spotlight.
“Our prize for the evening,” Carlos announces as I enter the chaotic scene.
The men are boisterous, several of them tossing empty beer bottles at the cage in the middle of the basement.
Thankfully, they don’t pay me very much attention, their focus on the two men throwing jabs back and forth in the cage.
Aaron and Mikhail are going at it.
I can’t imagine it’s a fair fight. Aaron is a highly-trained FBI agent, but he hasn’t had a lot of street fighting experience. Then again, I also didn’t suspect that he was running with the cartel.
I betrayed Mikhail.
Aaron betrayed me. Not that we’re together. I don’t want anything to do with him.
I wrap my arms around myself, but it’s chilly.
Felix pushes me closer to the cage. “Enjoy the entertainment,” he whispers into my ear. He’s giving me a front-row seat, but I don’t want it.
Yet, I can’t seem to look away, either.
“Stay here,” Felix orders. He leaves me by the cage, heading toward Carlos to exchange a few words.
I can’t tell what’s being said, but they’re both momentarily preoccupied.
There’s a satin robe lying at the edge of the cage. I reach my small hand in, pull the red cloth through the metal bars, and wrap it around myself, pulling the sash around my waist.
I swim in the gown, but at least it covers me. How long until they force me out of the red material and put me on display once again?
Mikhail breaks his concentration with Aaron, locking eyes on me. It’s only for an instant, and he pays the price.
Aaron has a switchblade in his grasp and tears at Mikhail’s flesh. He’s lucky it’s not impaled.
The crowd cheers for Aaron, but Mikhail hasn’t slowed or faltered. Both men ignore me as they throw punch after punch, landing blow upon blow on each other’s bodies.
It’s painful to watch.
Aaron doesn’t play clean or fair. He slams on Mikhail’s bare feet and trips him, knocking him to the ground.
“Is that how you want to play?” Mikhail shouts at his opponent.
Spit flies in the air between them as they pound the shit out of one another.
Aaron mutters something, but his back is to me. I can’t make out the exchange between the two men.
Mikhail rips the blade from Aaron’s grasp. It flies across the cage and hits the metal bars before clanking to the ground. “How about we fight like men?”
“You’re not a man,” Aaron shouts.
I pull the robe tighter, folding my arms across my chest. The air is chilly and stale. The room smells musty and of sweat. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away.
If Mikhail wins, what happens to me?
He isn’t going to just let me go.
If Aaron wins, I’m not any better off. He’ll treat me like a rag doll, toss me around. Abuse me. It’s what he does. He treats me like garbage because it makes him feel better about himself.
I’m not waiting around to find out who wins and gets to claim me as their prize. I shuffle through the crowd, moving farther from the cage, when I stumble into one of Mikhail’s men, Luka.
“Come with me,” he whispers, latching onto my arm.
“Get off me! I’m not going anywhere with you.” I yank myself free from his grasp. We catch Felix’s attention when he realizes that I’m not standing by the cage where he left me to watch the fight.
“Suit yourself, but I’m not sticking around to see what happens,” Luka says. He jets out through the rowdy crowd, managing to disappear.
I hurry after him. If he has a way out, I’m taking it.
“You’re leaving your boss behind?” I trail behind him.
“You sound surprised,” Luka says and smirks.
“I thought you bratva type all stick together.”
He grabs my arm and leads me down a dark hallway. He yanks the first door on the right open and pushes me inside. He’s right behind me. “Keep walking.”
“You know your way around the cartel’s home?” I ask.
“No. While Mikhail was fighting with your boyfriend, I was doing my own bit of reconnaissance.”
“Aaron isn’t my boyfriend.” At least not anymore. He hasn’t been for quite some time, and the thought of him touching me brings bile rising to my throat.
“Whatever.” Luka doesn’t seem to care either way. “My orders are to get you to safety.”
“Your orders? Who do you work for?” I can’t help but doubt his loyalty to Mikhail and the Russian Bratva. Sergei pretended to be loyal to Mikhail. How do I know that Luka isn’t another sleeper agent?
“Mikhail Barinov,” Luka says. He brushes past me and grabs my hand, dragging me through the tunnel. “Keep your voice down,” he whispers.
I’m silent except for the breaths I take, as I’m both chilly and exhausted. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as we run through the dark path. There are a handful of doors every few hundred feet, and I can’t even begin to fathom where they lead or if we’re heading deeper into danger.
“This way,” Luka says as he pulls open one of the doors, and we hurry through another corridor. “Slow down, try to look inconspicuous,” he says.
How will I manage to do that wearing a bright red robe?
Footsteps clomp against the floor as a guard heads in our direction.
Luka shoves me up against the cold stone wall, his hands on my hips, his mouth pressed against mine.
The guard whistles approvingly as he breezes right past us.