Page 8 of Bought By Sin

But something about the hardened defiance in her eyes haunted me. It thrilled me, too.

“What’s her name?” I asked the Hernandez, raising my voice and facing him.

“The slave?” He huffed. “Her contract said she’s supposed to be Mila. Mila Beckett.”

I tilted my head, sizing him up. “You have her contract on you?”

He furrowed his brow. But then just as quickly, he used his free hand to wipe sweat from his forehead as he nodded. “Yeah. I got it. We gotta carry papers ’round here. Other assholes always trying to steal anything they can from our crews.”

“You wanna talk about stealing?” the Garcia runner exclaimed. “You show up here with no money. You stole from my⁠—”

I cut him off, lifting my hand again. “If you sell her to me, perhaps I’ll spare your life.”

The Hernandez stared at me. For a long second, he seemed to struggle to understand. Then he laughed once, like he couldn’t believe the deal I was suggesting. His eyebrows popped up high and he shrugged. “For real?”

I nodded.

Dean stepped closer. “Lev, what the⁠—”

I shot him a look to shut up and he did.

“Yeah, you can have her. But not just for my life. I want a commission, too.” He sniggered, like he was a genius.

“How much?” I asked without missing a beat.

“You wanna buy her, that’s gonna be…” He rubbed his chin. “Ten thousand.”

I glanced at Dean, giving him the nonverbal order to retrieve cash from the car.

As soon as Dean muttered to himself and turned to go to the car, I indicated for the man to hand over the contract. “Sold to Lev Volkov,” I stated, offering him a pen.

The Hernandez grinned, shaking his head and laughing to himself. He got the folded-up paper and spread it open so he could strike out the name of his boss and scratch in mine. His penmanship didn’t matter. All I cared about was that he’d given it to me and hadn’t really considered the semantics of my offer.

He rubbed his hands together, backpedaling as he waited for Dean to bring him cash.

I faced Mila and nodded to my car. “You’re mine now. Let’s go.”

Her jaw slid as she ground her teeth, eyeing me like I was the devil. She stepped toward me. The Garcia frowned and lowered his arm. Then as I spun, I lifted my gun and shot the Hernandez. One shot, right between his eyes. He pitched forward and Mila twisted to face me.

Fear wasn’t blazing in her eyes, but I marked the confusion she couldn’t mask.

“I said perhaps I’d spare his life,” I explained dryly as I put my gun back in its holster and tipped my chin as a silent order for her to get in the car.

Dean furrowed his brow, watching me like he was one step behind and didn’t like it. He didn’t lag for long. He opened the door to the backseat of my car, and Mila climbed in without a word. Once he closed it after her, he asked, “What the hell?”

I had no answer for him. I wasn’t sure why I’d decided to do something like that—buying a slave to bring home like this.

But I had, and I was determined to see how it would go. As I moved to get into my car, I embraced this intrigue about this wordless, stubborn woman. This stranger who might give me a way to stay sane as my uncle died and Gregori taunted us from afar.

4

MILA

Islid into the backseat. The other man closed the door, shielding me.

No. He’s trapping me.

Confined in the back of this SUV, I was alone and with no way out. I didn’t need to reach for the door handles to verify that I was locked in. These tinted windows wouldn’t smash from the mere might of my elbow banging into it.