Word came from one of the FBI informants about a human auction going down somewhere in the city. Someone out there was planning to sell off women and girls to the highest bidder. Who’d be stupid enough to do that shit under Renzo’s nose?

In his fucking city?

He called his team together for a quick debriefing on the situation, making sure they were working their contacts and informants. Since they had no clue about the details on the auction, it was a race against the clock to stop that shit before it happened. The first step was finding out the identity of the people behind it.

Sex trafficking.

He’d been recruited by the FBI because of his background, and because he’d do whatever was necessary to get the job done. The existence of his task force was on a need-to-know basis and so far, nobody needed to know. They didn’t follow any rules, and their funding came from outside of the government, from a group of shadow figures who also had their own agendas.

The man who’d put the task force together, Dane “Dutch” Hutchins, thought Renzo didn’t know all this. But Renzo didn’t go into anything blind. He needed to know all the players. He didn’t tell Dutch what he knew, because it served Renzo’s own purposes. But if ever the time came when it no longer served him, he’d be out.

Lately, he’d been seriously considering getting out of the FBI. Fact was, he didn’t really need the FBI’s backing. Thanks to Monster, he had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes. He put those hard-won dollars to good use every day. Their benefactors couldn’t be there forever and there’d come a time when the task force would no longer exist.

Something good had to come from all that bad shit.

When he was finished with the guys, he made his way back to his main office inside the club. Nowadays, club business moved smoothly. When he’d first started with the club, he’d been the one to do it all. He trusted nobody with handling his shit. But he’d gotten over it. Now, he had a manager, an assistant manager and a whole team of people to deal with everything Club Ȇxtase. All Renzo had to do was show up most days and count his money.

Club business was good business, at least for him.

He had a reputation and people saw what you showed them. You could smoke your weed and your hookah in his clubs. Hell, you could fuck whoever you wanted in his clubs, as long as everyone were of legal age and consenting.

Fuck that.

The club was his. Bought with the money he’d gotten Monster to sign over to him with a knife in his side and a gun at his temple. Renzo had never seen a pen move so fast.

His office door opened and Dax appeared, stepping inside with a frown. “You handle your shit?”

Renzo bit back a smile. Gotta love Dax, his friend didn’t mince words. “I did.” He nodded.

Dax sat near him on the edge of his desk, fingers finding their way into Renzo’s hair, massaging his scalp. Renzo rolled his chair close enough so that he could put his head in Dax’s lap, his arms around his waist. One of Dax’s hands stayed in Renzo’s hair, the other slid up and down his back. It was instinct with the two of them.

“What’s next? You headed home?” Dax sounded way too hopeful, but Renzo didn’t hold it against him.

“No.”

Dax made an aggravated sound. “You want to tell me about dude from the bar?”

Renzo had gone a good few hours without thinking about Lowell Scott. Low was his. His secret. But Dax was his best friend, so Renzo told him, “Three years ago, I saw him. He walked past me, he was hot, he smelled like warmth, and I’ve been wanting him ever since.”

Dax’s movements stopped so Renzo lifted his head.

His friend stared down at him with a stunned expression. He was as tall as Renzo’s six-two frame, only wider with more muscles, and sported close-cut dark hair, skin on the lighter shade of brown and eyes the color of Tennessee whiskey. Renzo trusted Dax with his life and his weakness. And now, he was trusting his friend with Low.

“Three years?” Dax murmured.

Renzo nodded. “Three years.”

“Why did you wait?” When Renzo told him, Dax’s eyes widened even more. “Oh shit.”

“Yes.”

“What’s changed, though?” Dax asked. “The other night at the bar—”

“That’s what’s changed,” Renzo told him. “We hadn’t met before. The other night…” He closed his eyes on the memory of Low’s wide eyes, his scent. He could go on like he had before. He’d done it for three years, after all. But that warmth. Low had burned him the other night. How would it feel to have all of it, all of him focused on Renzo?

Wanting Renzo like Renzo wanted him?

He could walk away without knowing the answer to that question, but he was too cold. Getting colder by the day.

He pushed away from Dax and got to his feet. “Come on. We need to see a man about an auction.”

* * *

He let himself into the garden apartment through the sliding glass patio doors. And yeah, let himself in was code for “he picked the flimsy fucking lock” while Dax stood next to him, keeping watch. Nice place, he’d bet it looked beautiful in the daytime. But in the darkness, the densely populated trees surrounding the apartment building worked well for hiding their entrance into the dark house.

The doors opened into the kitchen. Renzo took the lead, and Dax knew enough to take up the rear without his usual grumblings. For that Renzo was thankful. He used the flashlight app on his phone to light his way through the kitchen and living room, creeping slowly through the empty place before heading to the back where the bedrooms were located.

He’d memorized the floor plan for the place so he knew to take a left for the bedrooms, instead of the right which led to the laundry room. First bedroom straight ahead was his destination, and he found the door ajar. He glanced over his shoulder at Dax then pushed the door open gently. He made out a figure sprawled on his back. Renzo walked to the bed and stood over the sleeping figure, gun pressed to the middle of his forehead.

“Now.”

Dax switched on the overhead light.

Renzo tapped on the sleeping man’s forehead with the gun, hiding a grin when bleary eyes blinked open and widened comically when they fell on him.

“Mr—Mr. Vega.” Bubbles made as if to sit up, but Renzo halted that movement with a firm press of the gun’s muzzle to his temple.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” He shook his head and flicked a glance over to where Dax stood at the bedroom door, gun pointed at Bubbles, too. Bubbles blanched. “You move and he shoots, and I can’t have you dying. Yet. I’ve got some questions.”

Bubbles swallowed. Eyes red and unfocused from sleep or the liquor he could never escape? Renzo couldn’t say. Bubbles liked his liquor and pills, which had been the reason he lost his job driving for MARTA. He fell in with some bad people, and Renzo had taken an interest in him, using him as an informant in exchange for supplying his habit.

“Sir.” Bubbles’ Adam’s apple dipped rapidly. “I-I—whatever you need.”

His nickname was more than fitting. He was a short, round man. Bald round head and face and a huge, protruding belly. He’d been married once. But his wife left with his two children after Bubbles got arrested for possession of narcotics one too many times.

“I pay you good money, don’t I?” Renzo eased down onto the bed, sitting near Bubbles’ restless left leg.

“Y-yes. Good money.”

“Yeah.” Renzo nodded. “I keep you in pills. And when you want to empty your balls, I provide you with the most beautiful women with the tightest pussy.”

The bed vibrated as Bubbles trembled. “You do, sir. Yes.” Sweat glistened on his brow.

“All I get for being so generous is your loyalty, no? I ask for information and you deliver it. Isn’t that right, Bubbles?”

This time all he got was a series of rapid nods that must have made poor Bubbles dizzy.

“Then tell me…” Renzo leaned forward, nose wrinkling at the heavy stench of liquor that emanated from Bubbles’ pores. “Why am I hearing whispers about an auction going down in my city?” He lifted an eyebrow at Bubbles’ audible gulp.

“I-I was coming to see you tomorrow, Mr. Vega.”

“You were?” Renzo chuckled. “Well.” He glanced back at a smirking Dax before bringing his gaze back to Bubbles. “Looks like I saved you a trip.”

“Yes,” Bubbles whispered. His gaze left Renzo to settle on Dax as if he couldn’t decide who to fear more.

Smart man.

“Speak,” Dax barked.

Bubbles’ jumped.

“I-I don’t know much.”

“Tell me what you do know.” Renzo crossed his arms. “And do it before I remember you made me drive all the way out to Villa Rica and I make him shoot you in the fucking face.”

“It’s Timothy Groves. He’s the one holding the auction,” Bubbles said quickly. “I heard some guys talking about it. Groves wants to get back in the game and he intends to do it with something big.”

Fuck. Me. Timothy Groves was the son of the man who once owned Club Ȇxtase. When his father died, Timothy tried to take his place, until Renzo made him see how much of a mistake that would be. The younger Groves had fought to stay, backed by a small cadre of men loyal to his father and the meager pull the old man once had in the city. But Renzo’s money reached farther, the men backing him were crazier, and eventually Groves slunk away to lick his wounds. Apparently, he’d been down but not out.

“When and where?”

Bubbles shrugged. “No one knows. He’s keeping it under wraps, but I hear it’s by invitation only.”

With the way he’d taken everything from Groves, Renzo was definitely not on the guest list. Which meant he had no way of getting into the auction, wherever and whenever it was held. Goddamn, they needed a plan B. Fast.

He got to his feet. “Ask around quietly, see if you can get more info.”

“Yes.” Bubbles nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Renzo turned away then stopped in the open bedroom doorway. “And Bubbles, if you make me have to come to you again, I will make you live just long enough to regret it.” He didn’t wait for Bubbles’ response as he led the way out the dark apartment, leaving the way they’d come.

In the car, he fired off a text message then tossed the phone aside and put his head back on the headrest as Dax drove. Shit. They had to come up with a foolproof plan to handle Groves, and it had to be done ASAP. Groves was a wily son of a bitch, and while he wasn’t as connected as Renzo or didn’t have his same clout, he could be a fucking thorn if he wanted to.

Groves and his father had run drugs out of their club, so Renzo would understand if the kid went that route. But selling off human beings to the highest bidder? That shit was unacceptable.

“You good?” Dax asked.

“Fuck no, I’m not good.” Renzo scrubbed a hand over his face. “An auction, Dax. A fucking auction.” They’d rescued trafficked victims off planes, boats and trains. The worst had been a ship container of women they’d intercepted in Chicago. Renzo had spent a goddamn month recovering from the triggers that had set off in him, and he didn’t have to imagine the aftermath for those young women.

The night terrors. Afraid of your own shadow. Trusting nothing, trusting no one. Even yourself, especially if the person who’d betrayed you had been someone you let into your life. You couldn’t even trust your own fucking body.

A mournful sound left him, and Dax gripped his knee. Squeezing.

“You’ll shut it down.” Dax sounded so sure. “It’s what you do.”

It was, but Renzo never ever made it to them before. It was always after. After they’d been taken. After they’d been used and humiliated and shattered. No matter what he did, or how much money he spent, he’d never be able to help them find those missing pieces.

“Renzo. Hey.”

He opened his eyes to find Dax had pulled the car over and unbuckled his seat belt. His friend caught Renzo’s face in his hands, pulling him close so their foreheads could be pressed together. Renzo gripped Dax’s wrist, staring into his eyes.

“You’ll shut it down.” Dax’s whisper was fierce against Renzo’s face. “You will. You’ll help those who want and need it. You’ll do your best.”

He’d give them another piece of himself. Each mission got a piece of him and pretty soon there’d be nothing left. But he’d keep going until that happened. He had to try for them, because no one tried for him.

He shook in Dax’s hold, dropping the illusion of strength he carried like the heaviest load on his back. Only Dax got to see him like this.

“You’re okay.” Dax gathered him into a tight embrace, and Renzo took the freely offered comfort, burying his face in Dax’s throat. “You’re okay.” Dax kissed the top of his head as Renzo melted down on the side of the fucking road.

Their relationship was hard to put a name on, but Renzo treasured it. They’d been friends for over ten years after meeting in Chicago. Renzo had broken into a man’s house looking for information on Monster, only to find a group of men already robbing the place. Dax and his crew. To this day, Renzo didn’t how it was that he’d left that house with six close friends, but he had.

He and Dax, they were closer than the rest, though.

He took a deep breath and lifted his head, pulling slightly away from Dax to look up into his friend’s brown eyes. “Thanks.”

Dax smiled, crooked. “It’s part of the job description, isn’t it?” He swiped his thumb over Renzo’s cheek. “As your best friend it’s my job to make sure you have what you need.” He winked then pulled away, buckling back into his seat. One hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping Renzo’s fingers. “Let’s get out of here, huh?”

“Let’s.”