PROLOGUE
UNKNOWN
Asharp hiss whistled through my clenched teeth as I prodded the swollen area around the open wound. The slight pressure made the surrounding muscle twitch, sending a bolt of fiery pain shooting from the vicious bite mark.
“That damn mutt,” I grumbled under my breath as I plunged the unused needle into my hip. As I pressed on the plunger, injecting the much-needed antibiotic, I hoped it worked the same on humans as it did the animals and I wouldn’t die suddenly from some strange reaction. Antibiotics were antibiotics, and I wasn’t in the position to not take the risk, considering it was the only medicine I could get my hands on without drawing questions about the massive dog bite.
Paper rustled as I lifted the unopened gauze package to my mouth and used my teeth to rip it open. Careful not to touch everything I’d just cleaned, I placed the gauze over the missing chunk of flesh and muscle, gently wrapping it to keep bacteria from contaminating the wound.
Jaw tight, I ground my teeth, remembering that night and how my perfect plan went to hell in a split second. Heat flooded my veins as my anger rose, mixed with the consistent burningthrob radiating from the damn bite, causing sweat to slick the back of my neck and drip down my bare chest. Now I not only had the fucking headache of making sure I didn’t get gangrene or rabies or some shit but was also one product short to deliver to the buyers.
How was I supposed to know that woman had brought her demon dog to hike the trail alongside her?
A frustrated huff escaped as I thought about all the extra work that oversight would cause me. Now, there’d have to be a last-minute trip to Anchorage to find a replacement. I rolled my eyes, knowing it was less work taking those women off the streets, but they also weren’t worth as much to my buyers as the healthy ones I procured on the Soul Trail. But at this point, meeting my promised quota mattered most.
The heavily armed Russian assholes who bought stock from me didn’t give a fuck about excuses, only results—in this case, young, pretty women. Plus, even if they didn’t shoot me after finding out I was short,how would I explain what actually happened? It sounded made-up even to me, and I was there that night.
Everything had gone to plan, exactly how I’d done it dozens of times before, until that damn wolf dog lunged out of her tent when I unzipped the door. To keep from getting my jugular ripped open, I wasted a round on the mutt. Between the commotion of me fighting with the animal and the gunshot, the woman had woken up and bolted into the woods, making me chase after her.
Which put me in an even worse mood since I fucking hated running.
It didn’t take long for me to catch up with her enough to get a shot in. Of course my aim was perfect. Sure, the night-vision goggles helped, but it was still fucking difficult to hit someone right between their shoulder blades while running through thetrees. Disoriented, it was easy to drug her and then haul her slight frame to the mine, which was when I thought the plan was back on track.
Not by a long shot.
Setback number two happened while I was hauling her back to the mine where I was holding the others. Out of nowhere, completely taking me off guard because I’d gotten far enough away, came her damn dog. With her over my shoulder, I couldn’t react fast enough before his sharp-ass teeth sank into me and tore out a chunk. The shock and pain made me drop her, and on such a steep slope, she just kept on rolling.
And rolling.
And rolling.
The good part was that the dog followed her down, which meant the demon wasn’t attempting to eat more of me; the bad, he stood over her like some damn bodyguard. Without real bullets in my gun and not wanting to get close enough to use my knife, there was no way for me to know if she was still unconscious or dead.
Guess I would never know if she was dead from the fall or died later from her injuries. Hell, she could’ve even drowned from the amount of rain that came in the days following the shit show. I wanted to return to kick her body into the ravine after the rain stopped, knowing it would take her far away from anywhere close to the mine, but it was too late.
The fucking righteous cavalry had swarmed and recovered her body, and bonus, Anchor Bay’s favorite vet had made best friends with the hellhound. I wasn’t too worried, as the rain would’ve washed away any evidence that could point to me, but there was still the unknown threat to my operation.
What did they find?
How much did they know?
Was I now a suspect?
Ignoring the swirling questions, I snatched the fresh change of clothes off the floor, knowing I needed to hurry. Tugging on the rough cotton, my wince reflected back at me in the smudged, cracked mirror over the sink as I dragged up the pair of black pants and matching long-sleeve T-shirt. The clothing was overkill considering the warmer late-summer temperature, but I couldn’t risk drawing attention to the obvious injury when I went to work later.
Jerky movement in the mirror brought my gaze to the reflection of a woman attempting to escape. Watching her futile efforts had the corners of my lips curving upward. The drugs in her system, which I had an ample supply of courtesy of my buyers, kept her like the others, barely lucid and too weak to escape their cells or even yell out for help. The heavy sedation was key to keeping them from hurting themselves, but not so out of it that they couldn’t move, which could lead to bedsores and faster muscle deterioration.
Those helpful insights were all detailed in Dad’s journals. They were the perfect step-by-step guide for almost all circumstances revolving around the procuring and selling of women. It was important to keep the stock waiting to be sold as healthy as possible in an old, drafty mine to maximize profits. It was almost an art form, balancing the perfect type and amount of drugs, food, hydration, and of course timing. The living product needed to be moved often, not only to make room for more, but the longer you held on to a product, the higher the potential of them getting sick, hurt, or worse, dying. That always sucked. Not only was the money you would’ve made lost, but you also wasted valuable resources keeping them, as well as the effort to procure them in the first place.
A soft moan had me focusing back on the woman rolling along the worn mattress.
“Thanks for the quick fuck,” I said to her reflection. “Not that you had a choice. I have to go out, so be a good pet and get your rest while I’m gone. I’ll be back for more of you tonight.”
Her pitiful whimper echoed off the walls of the small cell.
“You know, all this could be over if you told me where you hid your journal.” A deep chuckle vibrated in my chest. “Well, not over—you’re way too much fun for that—but I might be inclined to be more gentle.”
I waited, hoping that this time she would finally tell me. At her slight headshake and mumbled words, I whirled around to face her, fingers curled into tight fists at my sides. Fiery anger flooded my veins. My feet slammed onto the worn dirt floor as I stormed to the edge of the tattered mattress. My knees popped when I squatted low to grip her dirt-streaked face in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at me.
