Chapter One
Taylor
Two Years Ago
“Doyouhavemymoney, Darlin?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and plaster a fake smile on my face. “I do, but I don’t have all of it. Accessing some of his offshore accounts is proving to be more difficult than I originally thought.”
It’s not, but this scumbag doesn’t need to know that. He has enough money to sail away on a yacht and never come back.
Me, on the other hand? If I can just gather a little more, my escape from under this dirty millionaire’s thumb will look as if the girls and I have disappeared without a trace.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as one of Ron’s guards steps up behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck and my spine shivers, but I will my body to remain unphased.
If you don’t let them see your fear, you remain in control. You remain one step ahead.
Ron taps his hand on the wooden table of the vacated bar. “Tsk Tsk, young lady. I told you if you missed one more deadline, I would send your little friend on the first ship overseas. Is that what you want? You want your name written on her sale receipt? Because I would be more than happy to, if you don’t give me what I want.”
Blinding hot rage rises inside me, threatening to billow out of my ears in a cloud of smoke.
He will not touch Reagan. He will touch none of the girls I have been selling myself for over the past three years.
My hands ache to ball into fists and knock this sorry excuse for a human being on his pathetic ass. But I don’t. Not until I can save them.
“No sir. If you could please give me to the end of the day, I can get it to you by then.”
His brows furrow and his eyes make an obvious track down my entire body, and I try to swallow the bile rising in my throat.
I want to light myself on fire so I can destroy this hideous “uniform” he makes all of us wear. White polos, plaid skirts, white stockings paired with black and white oxfords.
Real fucking original, creep.
“Hm. I shall think about your order, but first, I need you to repay me for your delay. If you try to use your teeth again, I will smash that pretty little face of yours against this table and sell you to the lowest bidder.”
I nod, despite everything in me revolting. I want to fight. I need to find another way to survive.
Almost there, Taylor. You can do this.
Taking a deep breath, I round the table and kneel between his open legs. Ron smiles down at me, his white hair falling slightly in his eyes. His mouth opens and I close my eyes as he utters the words I have heard one too many times. “Time to pay the master number 534.”
I wait for his hands to guide me into position because no matter how hard I try, I can never bring myself to perform the act, causing me to lose an ounce of myself every time it occurs.
The feeling of something on my face causes me to jump. It's not the pressure of hands or a knee to my nose, or a slap to the face. It's… it's…wet.
Slowly my eyes fly open and the sight in front of me can only be one from a dream come true.
Ron’s head hangs lifeless as blood drains from the center of his forehead. And suddenly the room erupts.
Realization hits me like a train. This is my escape. This is my chance to save the girls. This is my chance to finally break free, to survive.
The sound of shouting and gunshots ring throughout the bar, and I stand on shaky legs.
Taking a quick glance around the room, I see it is full of men in leather jackets with red face coverings. A few stand around waiting for the remaining men to finish restraining the only living guard.
Bodies litter the floor, but I don’t allow myself to focus on them and make a break for the door.
My hand reaches the metal bar of the door and I almost breathe a sigh of relief as the cool Canadian air hits me. But the relief doesn’t last long when strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back into the bar.
