“This was a bad idea,” Ash growled as we stepped into our study.

I closed the door behind us, turning to see Erik already pouring drinks over at the bar cart.

“You know we had to.”

“Two and a half mil?” Ash muttered, swearing under his breath.

I shrugged. “C’mon, like it matters.”

“It’s not the money.”

It was never about money with us. I suppose it had been once, back before we’d built ourselves into the men we were today. Back when we came from the streets, it was about money. Now? Well, now money was hardly an issue.

Now, there was no denying that all three of us were criminals. To be clear, we were not good men. We’d started small, but we’d quickly scaled into the underworld empire we were today. We sold arms, mostly, dabbling in smuggling, but it was the guns that paid the most. Our biggest client?

The U.S. Government, of course — they needed guys like us to buy and sell weapons with people they couldn’t be seen buying from or selling to.

We were damn good at what we did, and it paid very well.

So yeah, we’d come from nothing, building what we had now brick by brick. We’d risen up, we’d become rich.

And then Amy had happened, and it all changed. After that, something broke in us.

I looked away. “You know what would have happened if she stayed.”

Both Erik and Ash looked down grimly.

Yeah, they knew. It was why we were in this whole thing. It was why we’d spent the last six months inserting ourselves into the whole fucked-up scene that had taken over at the Auction House.

You see, the Auction House had always catered to a certain element of the underworld — specifically, the rich element who looked for a certain measure of submission. It also catered a certain caliber of women — women who craved an equal measure of control. It’d been a good thing for a long time — in fact, the three of us had bid on, and won, women there before who became our playthings until they chose to leave.

Because that’s the thing — despite the dom/sub arrangements brokered at the Auction House, everything was on the level and more importantly, everything was consensual.

But change had happened. Somewhere up the underworld food-chain, there’d been some restructuring, and suddenly, the Cunninghams had taken over control of the actions.

And things had changed. Things had gotten not good.

The clientele had slowly changed, from men who wanted that extra edge in their lives to men who just wanted to hurt women. And the girls had changed, from the willing submissives to, well, the not so willing.

Or not willing at all.

Most of the former clientele had left, us included. Even with living in the shadows and being part of the criminal underworld, that sort of thing was nothing that interested us. A woman submitting — even one you had to train, and slowly dominate — was one thing. Forcing someone into that life though was beyond the pale.

That wasn’t domming and subbing, that was just slavery.

So we’d left the Cunninghams to do their own business, leaving the auctions behind us.

And then Amy had happened, and that’d been our tipping point. That’d been the point where we’d gone back to the Auction House, against every single one of our principles, in order to get in close.

And then we were going to kill both Ryan and his father, and burn their empire to the ground.

I gritted my teeth as I took the scotch Erik offered me, swallowing a healthy slug of it. I glanced up at my two friends. “You know what would have happened if he’d gotten her tonight.

Erik’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. “Yeah, man, we know.”

He didn’t have to say it out loud, because we all knew. She’d have been taken back to Cunningham’s penthouse, most likely beaten and abused, and then made to endure him using her body any way he pleased. And after he was done with her? Well, Ryan Cunningham had a disgusting reputation of letting his men have their way with his girls when he was done breaking them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing back the rage of that man getting his hands on her.

On Mia.

I’d had one look at her in the club tonight, and I’d been undone. One look, and I was shattered — broken, hooked.

Obsessed, you might say.

And I knew my friends well enough to know for damn sure I wasn’t the only one.

“So now she’s ours,” Ash growled, swirling his drink around the glass in his hands.

“Careful,” Erik shook his head, pushing his hands though his blonde hair.

“You both know what I mean,” I muttered. “She stays here for now.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed at me. “We can’t just keep her here.”

“If she leaves, there’s nothing to stop Ryan from picking her up himself. Not to mention, they’ll know for damn sure we’re not what we say we are.”

“This is dangerous,” Ash said quietly.

“She’ll be fine here.”

“I mean for us.”

We looked at each other, and we knew. We knew her being here wasn’t just dangerous because of Cunningham, but because of who she was.

Gorgeous, fierce and yet delicate. A fighter, but somehow broken.

And I knew we’d all felt the immediate pull back in the club. I knew we’d all felt that primal need to protect her.

To keep her.

To claim her.

The three of us shared a lot — including women. But more than that, we shared certain kinds of women, in a very certain way. The way where we were in control, and the women were the kind that craved that control. The kind that submitted.

One look at Mia Thorne had told us one thing: we had to have her submission. And now she was here, our prisoner, for all intents and purposes. Locked away under lock and key, and at our mercy.

And Lord have mercy, we would have her sweet submission.