Freya belted the robe around her waist and shuffled toward the windows. The passage of time was hard to gauge. No clocks. Tinted windows. Little outside interaction. She couldn’t tell time by looking at the sky, and even if she could, today was cloudy and overcast. At best guess, it was sometime around mid-morning. They didn’t even allow her pen or paper so she could mark the days.

She hated being cooped up. Not knowing when or where she was. Even during the last year, working at clubs, she’d kept something of a schedule. She didn’t lounge around all day until it was time to go to work. She’d done things. Jogging. Yoga. She’d volunteered a few times at a shelter. Anything to keep her from getting mired inside her head.

Jaxon was out there somewhere.

He knew where she was.

And if she were lucky, he’d be back tonight.

She’d have to survive another meeting with Charles at the very least.

Last night, after Yuri showed her the live video of Michelle, Freya had pretty much accepted she was done for. That she’d tell Charles she’d marry him, and then...her life would become hell. She’d never see her family again, Jaxon, her friends. She might as well be dead. But now? Now, she had a chance. If Jaxon could find Michelle, then maybe everything would work out. Freya had to believe. She needed to see things working out all right for her sister, even if it was terrifying just being here.

Before Freya had honed in on forensic anthropology as her education focus, she’d filled her head with cultural studies. From an academic standpoint, she understood that what was happening to her was the same thing that’d been going on for centuries. It wasn’t until recently that women had begun to be viewed as more than property. She was simply a commodity. It was the law of supply and demand that put her here.

She didn’t have to like it, but she understood. Powerful men wanted what they wanted.

Yuri Gabor was just the delivery system.

People like Charles would get what they wanted, one way or another, or at least that’s what he’d like to think.

The entry door beeped in the next room.

Every morning, the same woman brought Freya breakfast. Sometimes it was cooked downstairs, other times it was some fast food fare. The woman never stuck around and didn’t speak—or look—at Freya. She had to wonder who the woman was, why she did what she did. If it was willingly, or if Yuri had something on her, too.

“Your breakfast is getting cold. Come.”

Freya whirled around at that voice.

Yuri stood in the doorway, that awful smirk on his face.

She bit her lip to keep from saying anything. From here on out, she had to be incredibly careful what she said and did around him.

“I must be coming up in the world, if you’re delivering my meals yourself.” Freya pushed her shoulders back and forced herself to walk toward Yuri.

He turned and preceded her to the small, two-person table in the main room.

A tray bearing two breakfast omelets, fruit and coffee waited for them.

Freya’s stomach growled, betraying her resolve to keep her distance.

She had to eat, and knowing Yuri as she’d come to, he’d probably take the whole spread with him out of spite if she didn’t.

Yuri pulled out her seat, playing the gentleman.

Why was he here? There had to be a reason. It wasn’t as if he sought her out because he enjoyed her company. She was pretty sure Yuri didn’t like people, that he saw everyone with two legs as either a commodity or a customer. Those who didn’t fit either category were useless to him.

She picked up the fork while Yuri sat. He didn’t touch the silverware. He merely leaned back, observing her. She rolled the fork in her hand.

Was it the food? Had he done something to it?

It wouldn’t make sense to poison her, at least not to kill her. He’d expended too much money to keep her alive. Then what was it?

Had Michelle done something? Was she okay?

No, if his leverage on her was harmed in any way it would be detrimental to his power over her to tell her. Michelle must be fine.

Jaxon.

Did Yuri know?

She swallowed, and sweat broke out along her spine and under her arms.

No, she couldn’t think about Jaxon. If she did, then Yuri would begin to suspect her if he already didn’t.

“To what do I owe this honor?” She cut off a bite and proceeded to eat. If she was going to fight back or escape, she needed to eat.

“Charles called this morning. He was exceedingly pleased with your performance last night.”

“He—what?” She stared at Yuri. Performance?

Yuri poured them both coffee, as if by breaking the silence she’d flipped some sort of switch.

“Charles likes a challenge. You are what he’s looking for. Spirited. Beautiful. Educated. Well-bred.”

“What am I, a race horse, now?”

Yuri chuckled and picked up his silverware.

She wanted to chunk the pot of coffee at him, but experience had taught her that Yuri could be cruel.

“You may have endeared yourself to Charles last night with your defiance, but I would not recommend an encore.” Yuri ended the statement with a bite, leaving Freya on pins and needles.

“Oh?” She hadn’t acted, it wasn’t like she was pretending, she’d simply been herself.

“Charles will return tonight. You have six more chances, but I would not advise you to wait much longer. This is the man who holds your future in his hands. How long that is, now that’s up to him. He seems to think you’re special to him. My advice? Hold onto that. Make that your truth. Be special to him, and you’ll live. Piss him off, and you’ll likely die.”

Freya opened and closed her mouth. As a modern woman, it was nearly impossible to wrap her head around this fate, that she was a prisoner to be passed from person to person. She wasn’t unaware that her treatment so far wasn’t precisely bad, and it could be worse. In her gut, she knew Charles was worse.

“What about my sister?” Freya asked.

“Michelle is being taken care of.”

“Where is she? What are you doing to her?”

“Nothing. That’s the beauty of it.” Yuri pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “Michelle believes that she has found a new sugar daddy, someone who will pamper her, put her up, buy her things.”

Freya peered at the image of her twin sister cocooned in a white, fluffy bed by herself. They were being kept in nearly the same style, it seemed, but for vastly different purposes.

Michelle was unhurt. She was safe. For now.

But where was she?

The balcony blinds were drawn back, and outside she could see a bit of the beach. Water. Somewhere near the coast? Close by?

Yuri pulled the phone back before she could pick out anything unusual about the landscape.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Freya asked.

“You don’t, but if you want to try me, be my guest. Your sister is rather...irritating.” Yuri’s lips twisted up in a not altogether pleasant fashion.

Yeah, he must have spent some time with Michelle.

Freya cared about her sister. She was hard-wired that way, but she wasn’t sure she loved the person Michelle had grown up to be. They were twins. For so much of their lives, all they’d had was each other. At some point during their adolescences, Michelle had made a choice, a willful decision about herself. She wanted to let other people do the heavy lifting for her. To always be the victim. It was at that fork that they’d parted in a fundamental way, but they would always be sisters.

The door beeped again.

Yuri glanced up, frowning, as a man Freya hadn’t seen before stepped in.

“What happened?” Yuri asked.

“Sorry, sir.” The man never glanced her way. “The guys found Donny, but they can’t get to him yet.”

“Then why are you here? Tell me when you have actual news to share.”

“It’s just—sir? A word?” The man gestured at the door.

“Fine.” Yuri pushed to his feet and buttoned his jacket.

Who was Donny?

Why did Yuri want him?

What was going on out there?

Freya cut up several more bites of food, wolfing her meal down while her mind turned the problem over.

It stood to reason that an organization like Yuri’s would have issues. They were criminals, making a buck off others. Loyalty wouldn’t be the strongest.

Her gaze fell onto Yuri’s barely-touched plate.

She licked a bit of the omelet off her finger.

What the hell?

Freya leaned over, and channeling that part of her that would always be a mirror image of Michelle, spat on Yuri’s omelet. She used the spoon to smear the saliva around. It was petty and childish, but she had to fight back in whatever manner she could.

Jaxon would be there tonight. Maybe they’d find Michelle soon? And then this could all be a dream. A bad dream, but a dream nonetheless.

“It looks like a normal prepaid phone.” Jaxon rolled the block of a phone over in his hand.

“Good.” Ian leaned against the bar. “It has a passive trackin’ device, so even if she turns it off—which I’d recommend in case they do sweeps—it should keep us appraised of where she’s at so long as she can keep it on her.”

“How much is this going to cost me?” Jaxon braced himself for a number.

“Nothin’. Consider it part of the friends and family package.”

“Ian, man, come on. I can’t take this. It’s worth—what? Couple hundred?”

“An’ I’m tellin’ you, nothin’.” Ian tossed a couple bills onto the bar for his lunch and stood. “Gotta get back to the office. I’m runnin’ down leads on where your girl’s sister might be, but it’s a needle in a fuckin’ haystack.”

“Were you able to do a background check on her? Or Freya?”

“I was, but you ain’t goin’ to like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Michelle’s a bit of a freeloader.”

“How?”

“Judgin’ by what I was able to come up with, she’s a fan of living off her boyfriends.”

Jaxon frowned. That couldn’t be more dissimilar from Freya. Even when she’d mentioned hard times, it was always in the frame of what she was doing about it. To change things.

“Trackin’ Michelle’s difficult because she uses resources not tied to her own name. Best I can figure out from her social media footprint, she was in Orlando, then Chicago, until about a week ago. She’s still postin’ things, or someone’s doin’ it for her, but there aren’t any more location tags. Could be she got smart, turned off her GPS. Pretty girl like that usually has some unwanted attention. If you can talk to Freya at all, get us somethin’ more to go on, that’d be useful.”

“Freya’s been gone for almost six weeks. What’s she going to know about where her sister is?”

“Maybe Gabor mentioned something?” Ian shrugged and zipped up his coat. “He doesn’t know she has a line to the outside world now. He could have said too much.”

Jaxon nodded, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. Freya was a fighter. People noticed when she left. When she wasn’t there. Wouldn’t Michelle be the easier sister to make disappear?

Jaxon’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the name.

“What?” Ian asked.

“It’s Thomas.”

“Who’s Thomas?”

“My boss at the Swan Palace, the guy who manages the club for Yuri.” Jaxon tapped the screen. “Hello?”

“Wilson, I need you to come up here for a bit, and bring your boxing gloves or whatever the hell it is you wear.”

“Why?” Jaxon asked slowly. He glanced at Ian, who watched him with an intensity that could be unsettling.

“You want to keep working here, don’t ask questions. Bring a change of clothes.”

The call cut off.

“What’d he want?” Ian asked.

“To come in early, bring my gloves and a change of clothes.” Jaxon had an uneasy feeling about this. It wouldn’t be the first time a club owner had retained a bouncer as more than just security. Usually this was the point that Jaxon left a job, but he didn’t have the moral luxury here.

“You goin’ in?”

“I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anythin’. We could call this in right now. You know Owen would jump on it.”

“Then what about Michelle?” Jaxon grimaced. “I’ll do it.”

“You need back up, call. Don’t be a Lone Ranger.”

“Do you even know who the fuck the Lone Ranger is?”

“Course I do.” Ian grinned. “I’m goin’ to check on Taylor, then get back to the office. The puppies are shittin’ up a storm.”

“How’s she liking teaching full time again?”

“Loves it.” Ian’s grin widened. Just the mention of Taylor’s name made the man’s face change.

“Tell her hi for me. I’ll check in later.” Jaxon pocketed his phone and headed for the rear entry where he’d parked.

A lot of guys working the club scene got by doing whatever they needed to do. Jaxon had been in that situation plenty of times, but he’d drawn the line at being a hired tough guy who didn’t ask questions. It was one thing to go toe-to-toe against an opponent in the ring to see who was the better athlete. Beating up some guy for not staying in line just wasn’t it for him. Jaxon took no pleasure in beating the shit out of people. He wasn’t like that.

He got behind the wheel of his BMW and pointed his car toward downtown. He prayed they got lucky, that one of the guys would get a hit on Michelle’s whereabouts and come tonight, this would all be over. Then again, he’d thought all they had to do was find Freya. He had a sinking suspicion things were a lot more complicated, that they weren’t seeing the bigger picture at all.

Why Freya?

Why not Michelle?

Why keep Freya in Seattle?

Why this charade?

Jaxon didn’t consider himself brilliant. He wasn’t smart like Freya and he didn’t have a decade of experience tracking down bad guys like some of the others, but even he knew bad things were afoot. He just hoped they could get ahead of this somehow.

Even with the lunch traffic, it took him nearly a half hour to get to the Swan Palace. The lot was nearly empty, which was a little surprising since it technically closed for only four hours in the early morning. Those daytime clients should be partaking of what the palace offered, at least in the front of house.

He grabbed his gym bag from the back of the car and let himself in through the employee entrance with his keycard.

The kitchen was unusually silent and the lights in the main performance space were all the way up.

Jaxon tip-toed his way to the end of the hall and peered out at the area usually bathed in dim light and spread thick with customers. Empty like this it seemed...sad. Lonely. Full of broken dreams and stolen futures.

A woman mopped the stage.

“Hey, where’s everyone at?” he asked.

Something wasn’t right.

The woman glanced at him so fast that if he weren’t looking he might have missed it. She pointed at the ceiling.

Huh.

Jaxon headed for the VIP staircase and pulled out his phone.

No new messages.

He powered his phone off and shoved both it and the burner into the bottom of his bag. If things went down in a bad way, he didn’t want to hand evidence of his real intentions over to someone he already knew was bad news.

The second floor was also noticeably silent, the mood music had been killed and no one going to and from the rooms.

What if Thomas and Yuri were waiting for him upstairs? What then?

If Jaxon didn’t show up, he might as well admit his guilt.

He breathed deep and climbed to the third floor.

He needed to think as if this were a bout. He had to bring his A-game. No room for failure.

The door to the Queen’s Nest stood open, and Thomas was at the landing. He glanced up from his phone, a scowl on his face.

“There you are,” Thomas said with none of the urgency he’d expressed before.

“What’s going on?” Jaxon glanced over his manager’s shoulder into the suite behind him.

A man sat handcuffed to a chair. Yuri Gabor sipped coffee, sitting across from a pale, wide-eyed Freya.

“We had a little issue with the boss’ assistant. Seems he thought he could steal some customers, start his own business.” Thomas edged closer, keeping his voice low. “We need to teach him a lesson, and you’re the perfect guy to do it.”

“Me?” Jaxon frowned.

“You’re moving up. This is your opportunity to prove yourself to the boss.”

“You want me to—what? Exactly? No beating around the bush—what do you want me to do?”

“What do you think you’re here for? Use your fists, not your brain. Don’t ask any more stupid questions. Come on.”

Thomas turned and walked into the Queen’s Nest.

Most of the security team, plus a few guys he’d never seen before, were lined up against the mini bar, their postures tense.

“Mr. Wilson, I’m very interested to see your skills at work. Proceed.” Yuri leaned back in his chair.

Jaxon had to think of a way out of this. Yuri didn’t want to teach the guy tied to the chair a lesson, he wanted to make an example out of him. Thomas wouldn’t outright say that he wanted Jaxon to kill the guy, but that’s what was going on here.

He set his bag on the floor and pulled out his gloves. They fit his hands like old friends. He’d meant to go back to fighting, professionally, but not like this.

Jaxon studied the man in the chair.

Mid-thirties, maybe. Not overly active. He was a soft, paper-pusher kind of person. Chances were, he was just as rotten as Yuri, but it didn’t change the way Jaxon felt about hitting a person.

“Come on, this isn’t even fair. Uncuff him.” Jaxon grimaced.

He’d never punched someone who wasn’t also trying to punch him back, but there was a first time for everything.

Yuri was going to have to shell out some extra money for the top-notch cleanup crew. He didn’t even mind the expense. Watching Jaxon dance around Donny was magical. Yuri didn’t often see the value in bloodshed. It was more economical to put a single bullet into someone and be done with it. But Jaxon was a pleasure to watch. A true professional, and he’d shown no hesitation or familiarity when it came to Donny. They were strangers. Yuri was rather tickled that they’d lucked into such a gifted young man.

Besides, Donny had it coming.

Yuri wasn’t sure how many of the others had made secret deals with Donny to jump ship, but now he didn’t have to. The threat of Jaxon’s fists would do nicely. Kismet was a wonderful thing. But Yuri had other things to do today, besides terrorize his staff.

“Don’t you think it’s time to put him out of his misery?” Yuri asked.

Jaxon took a step back. Sweat, mixed with the other man’s blood, trickled down his face, dampening his clothes.

“You don’t want me to do this here,” Jaxon said between breaths.

“Why not?” Now Yuri was intrigued.

“It’s messy, and you don’t want to have to transport a body.” Jaxon spoke as if he’d done this before. Interesting. For whom? And why wasn’t he working for them now? “I can take him someplace he won’t be found.”

“Where?” Yuri asked.

“If I tell you that, then we all know.” Jaxon gestured around the room. “Not much value in a spot everyone knows.”

Yuri liked resourceful people. Jaxon had performed above and beyond Yuri’s expectations. Should he extend the trust?

Thomas stared at Yuri.

He knew that look. Thomas trusted few people, which was what made him valuable.

“I want photo evidence it’s done, understand?” Yuri stood and fastened the top button on his coat. “Help Jaxon, then see to opening the doors, will you, Thomas?”

Yuri couldn’t run everything himself. If Jaxon could be trusted, if he proved himself, then Thomas could move up. They were all jigsaw pieces in a bigger puzzle. Besides, Jaxon was a more charismatic, likeable person, compared to Thomas. Jaxon might do well running the club once he knew the ropes.

Thomas, with the help of some of the other guys, carried Donny from the room. Jaxon stood back, letting them shoulder this burden while he gathered his bag.

“I’ll send a cleaning crew by later, my dear.” Yuri glanced at Freya. She’d sat still as a statue, eyes wide, for much of it.

Yuri almost felt sorry for her.

If she only knew her fate.

Charles could talk all day about how things would be different with his pet, but in Yuri’s experience, men like Charles rarely changed their stripes. He’d kill Freya, and call Yuri in a panic to dispose of the body.

It was simply what would happen.

Yuri exited the Queen’s Nest and secured the room.

There was other business to attend to today. Donny’s betrayal, trying to usurp Yuri’s business, had ripple effects that needed to be smoothed out. He’d like to pay a few visits to clients, remind them that it was Yuri and not Donny, who knew where the bodies were buried. They’d all come back to the fold eventually.

Yuri left the Donny mess to Thomas and headed for his car. Once behind the wheel, he got on the road, pointing the car west. Toward the ocean.

A necessary aspect of his business was owning properties. Quite a few of them. Just in case he needed an alternate location for a job. Renting wasn’t always an option, since there could be questions and prying eyes. There were a few exceptions, of course.

Yuri parked in a private garage and used his keycard to gain entry to the condos.

He’d never liked apartments or condos. Growing up the way he had, so many piled in on top of each other, had made him yearn for more space.

It was a shame the country estate had been seized. He’d enjoyed that property. All that space. In time, he’d have to copy it. Make some improvements. It had suited his business needs in a way few other properties had. Besides, he’d enjoyed the illusion of being alone.

Yuri unlocked the condo and pushed the door open. Except the chain barred his entrance.

“Coming!”

He closed the door and waited.

The chain scraped in the catch on the other side, then the door whisked open.

“Michelle, we need to talk.” Yuri pushed past her.

“What’s wrong? Is she not cooperating?” Michelle sashayed past him, the short, satin robe barely covering anything.

“She is. She bought the ruse hook, line and sinker.” Yuri’s concern wasn’t Freya. She was falling in line.

Michelle, though?

What was she playing at?

Yuri knew there was some end game Michelle was angling for, he just hadn’t nailed down what it was yet. She sat on the sofa, a cup of coffee close by.

Michelle and her twin were so remarkably similar in appearance, save for the hair. Freya’s was longer, while Michelle had a shorter, flirty cut. The true difference was in the eyes. It was why Yuri had known at a glance that Freya was the girl for the job and not Michelle.

“When’s the last time Donny came by?” Yuri could reference the security footage, but that would take time. Here and now, he wanted Michelle’s take on things.

“Oh, gosh...” Michelle turned to stare out through the windows. “You know, I’m not entirely sure? Which one is he?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Michelle. You won’t like what happens.” All it would take was a text to yank this comfort out from under her. Yuri could just as easily use both girls.

“He was here...maybe two days ago?” Michelle shrugged.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted me to do a deal with him, but I wasn’t interested.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“I don’t know. It sounded like trouble, so I said no.” She picked up the coffee and sipped it. “When’s Freya getting hitched?”

“You aren’t concerned for your sister’s happiness?” Whatever Michelle was planning, it hinged on Freya being out of the picture.

“We’ve never been happy. Why start now?”

“You do realize there’s a high likelihood that the man she’ll be marrying will kill her, don’t you?”

“We’re all going to die someday.”

“You’re awfully mercenary.”

“I’ve learned that no one looks out for me but me. Especially not my sister.”

Yuri understood that sentiment. He could even support it. But nothing he’d learned about either of the twins led him to this leap of logic.

He still wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. Someone was playing him, and he wasn’t going to roll over and let it happen.