Destined For The Alpha: Six Heart-Racing Shifter Romances (Werewolf's Harem Book 7) (10 page)

L
ess than three hours later
, Walker found himself deep in the Mississippi woods. The chopper had dropped him in a field thirty miles north of Jackson, just a few minutes from the address Ben had listed as the auction warehouse. Walker had found a silver sedan waiting for him, and he’d checked in with Ben on the way over to the warehouse.

“Don’t bother making up a back story,” Ben counseled. “I don’t have time to create an identity for you, so I used your actual credentials. You’re a shifter, you have money, and you’re single. No one has more reason to be at this auction than you.”

“Are they going to just let me walk into this place?” Walker asked.

“I had one of the Luna Corp secretaries pose as your personal assistant. She called and got you a seat at the auction.”

Walker gave a mirthless chuckle.

“You find this funny? It’s all a business transaction to these guys.”

“You mean, as if this wasn’t an illegal, black-market human trafficking auction?”

“Yep,” Ben answered, unfazed. “I’m going to warn you, these guys aren’t much for shifters. They think we’re sub-human.”

“Not a problem. I’m planning on shutting down their little marketplace, not making friends.”

“Walker…” Ben started, then paused.

“Spit it out,” Walker said.

“It would probably be better if you didn’t stir the pot. If you hurt one of these guys, the whole bunch of them is probably going to come after us. They’ve got some connections, humans I’d rather not cross if we can help it.”

“Like who? Who’s stupid enough to back a bunch of redneck assholes that are running a slave trade?”

“A couple of the top-tier morons running this place are hooked up with some crazy anti-paranormal group. The Legion, they’re called. Religious nuts doing crazy science experiments, trying to ‘cure’ shifters and vamps. Pretty terrible stuff, I’m afraid.”

“The Legion,” Walker repeated. “Sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“It’s the same group that’s been giving the Louisiana shifter pack so much trouble.”

“That’s right. Their pack alpha sent out a mass email looking for help. What’s his name?”

“Shaw, I think. My point is, if one of these guys identifies you, it could be big trouble for us. Not just the company, and not just you and me and Lucas. There are females here to consider now.”

Walker snorted.

“Since when have you cared about females? You’re still hung up on that brunette that dumped you over Christmas.”

Ben hesitated, and Walker sensed that there was something going on with the other male. Even if Walker was the kind of guy to talk feelings, now definitely wasn’t the time.

“Right. It’s none of my business. We’re getting sidetracked. What else do I need know?” Walker asked.

“Just be careful, and make sure you check out the trunk of the rental car before you wade in.”

“Gotcha. Will I have the chopper when I’m done?”

“The pilot is staying put. He can extract you and take you as far as the closest private airport. I figure if this female is all shaken up, the last thing she needs is hours in a helicopter. It’s rough on the nerves.”

“Right. Have a flight waiting for us, if you can.”

“Got it.”

Walker caught the sound of a woman’s voice in the background of Ben’s call.

“Are you with Aurelia?” Walker asked, his tone growing sharp.

“Uh… good luck!” Ben said, disconnecting the call.

“What in the fuck?” Walker asked, looking at his phone. His bad feeling about Ben’s lady problems doubled, but Walker stuffed it down. He needed to focus.

Shaking his head, he dropped the phone and the keys onto the passenger seat. Looking at his watch, he took a deep breath. He had a little time before he was due at the auction, and he planned to do a little reconnaissance. 

He got out of the car and crouched, shifting into his wolf form. Even though he was a massive, tawny timber wolf, he was much quieter and faster in this form. He’d honed every muscle and mastered every agility exercise in his human form, but when it came to stealth there was just no beating a wolf. All the better for staking out his surroundings.

He approached the warehouse, making three slow circles before slipping up to the very edge of the parking lot. He watched human men milling around the entrance, impatient to enter. There were a number of nondescript white men in ratty camo clothing, some guarding the door and others inside. Auction employees, presumably. 

Several well-dressed men in suits were also present; Walker assumed that they were buyers or buyers’ agents. None of them spoke, preferring to watch their peers with a high degree of suspicion. Even flesh traders didn’t trust flesh traders, it seemed.

Two more men in dark suits arrived, and the doors were opened. The guys at the door stopped the first customer, frisking him and removing two handguns from his person.

Walker cursed to himself. He’d hoped that he could just walk in with his weaponry, but obviously that wouldn’t be possible. He’d have to go with his second plan, stashing weapons close to the exits. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best he could do.

Running back to the car, Walker shifted back to his human form. He opened the trunk of his car, silently thanking Ben when he found three bags stuffed with pistols, shotguns, various grenades, and ammo. He made quick work of stashing the bags near the front, back, and side door of the warehouse. Then he quickly changed into a button-up, suit, and dress shoes. Hopping in the car, he pulled into the parking lot about twenty minutes after the first customers had been let in.

Walker strode up to the rusty corrugated steel warehouse, steeling himself as he approached the door.

“Whoa there,” one of the door guards said, holding out a hand. 

Walker cocked a brow, giving the hand an icy glare.

“Name?” the second guard asked, flashing a clipboard. Walker suppressed a smirk and decided to call the guards Clipboard and Handsy, both for his convenience and amusement.

“Black,” Walker said, staring the first guard down until he dropped his hand and stepped back. 

“Black…” Clipboard said, scanning the guest list. Walker counted the seconds until the guy realized that Walker was a shifter, and not some hedge fund schmuck looking for a novelty fuck.

Clipboard’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat in alarm. There it was, Walker thought with amusement. Fear and curiosity crossed Clipboard’s face, and the guard backed up until he stepped on Handsy’s foot.

“Watch it, dude,” Handsy snarled.

Clipboard cleared his throat again, thrusting the guest list at Handsy and pointing to a handwritten notation about Walker’s breed.

“Uh, right,” Handsy said, eyes dropping to the ground. “We still need to check you for weapons.”

Unbuttoning his suit jacket, Walker spread his arms wide.

“Make it quick. The auction starts soon,” he snapped. Both guards jumped, glaring at each other for a long moment. Clipboard won the staring contest, meaning that Handsy ended up frisking Walker. Handsy did a thorough check, a little too thorough, and when he found Walker clean… the guard just looked too relieved. Walker couldn’t explain it, but he knew without a doubt that these redneck bastards were up to something. 

“Quit looking at me like that, and let me inside,” Walker growled, losing the last of his patience.

The guards backed up, Handsy even going so far as to open the door for Walker. Rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles, Walker headed inside.

Whatever he’d expected the inside of the warehouse to look like, this definitely wasn’t it. Outside might be rustic and country, but inside was all sleek black and steel surfaces. The warehouse had two big open areas. To the left was a stage area with a large circular platform, surrounded by several rows of plush black movie-theater style seating. To the right, Walker saw all the potential buyers and several guards milling in front of a large glass window.

Clipboard brushed past him, heading for a black door to the left of the glass window. Walker guessed it was some kind of office for the auctioneers. He’d check on the female first, then let himself into the office and find the person in charge. If he could made the first offer and make it sweet enough, he might be able to walk the female out unharmed. He could always come back for the slave traders tomorrow.

Walker took a deep breath, then approached the viewing window. He noticed that every single guard was now laser focused on his every movement, but he shrugged it off. Several of the customers were eyeing him, too; a deeply tanned, older Asian gentleman, a thin, sickly-looking white woman in her fifties, and a ruggedly tan, casually dressed man in his forties. If Walker had to guess, he would label them as Thai shipping magnate, a spook from an unknown US or British governmental agency, and a Australian billionaire big-game hunter. Each was flanked by a younger assistant or bodyguard, and each very curious about Walker. Each reprehensible in his or her own distinctly horrifying way.

Shutting out the prickling consciousness of internal alarm bells going off in his head and the openly assessing stares of guards and customers, Walker stepped right up to the viewing window. The humans milling around drew away from him, giving him one more hint that something was wrong. Usually humans had no idea they were rubbing shoulders with a shifter, unless Walker chose to reveal it.

Squaring his shoulders, he raised his gaze to the viewing window. Shock ran through his system, despite his mental preparations.

She was exquisite. 

Stretched out over an expanse of black velvet, the female looked impossibly small and fragile. She was diminutive, perhaps only five feet tall. She had blonde, straight hair that fell past her shoulders and smooth, lightly tanned skin. She wore a slinky crystal garment that barely covered her voluptuous breasts and generous hips, leaving her stomach and shoulders bare. Walker stepped forward, dragged toward her more surely than a magnet.

He kept his hands at his side, actively worked to keep from balling them into fists. Stepping to the left, he examined her face. Heart-shaped, with soft blonde brows and a sweetly shaped mouth. Her chin had the tiniest cleft, and her cheeks hinted at a dimpled grin. He wanted badly to see the color of her eyes, but she appeared sleepy, perhaps drugged. 

When his groin tightened at the sight of her, Walker felt acute shame. A foreign emotion, to be certain. Shame was useless to men used to the ‘no fucks given’ lifestyle that Walker preferred.

Exhaling the breath he’d unknowingly held, Walker turned to one of the guards.

“Take me into the office,” he ordered, pointing at the door he’d seen earlier.

The guard’s gaze slipped over to Clipboard, who now stood only a few feet behind Walker. Dismissing the other guard, Walker turned to Clipboard.

“They want to see me anyway,” he said, waving a hand. It was not a question.

Clipboard paused, then nodded and beckoned Walker toward the office. The door opened as he approached, and a white-haired man in a suit stepped out.

“Mr. Walker, I’m guessing,” the man said. “Welcome to our facility.”

The man was short, probably only 5’6”, and wearing a very fine dove-grey suit. With his frosty white beard, thick white hair, and thick Southern accent, Walker couldn’t help but associate him with fried chicken. Still, there was an air about him, a ruthless glint in his eye, that made Walker cautious not to underestimate the man. The man put out a hand for a handshake, but Walker completely ignored it. The man’s grin widened at Walker’s refusal.

“And you are?” Walker asked, stepping closer to impress the height difference. Walker towered over the man by at least a foot. When the guards stepped closer, the man raised a hand to ward them off.

“You may call me Mr. Smith. We don’t much go for full names around here, of course,” he said with a chuckle.

Walker cocked his head, remaining silent. Mentally, he was tracking the movements of everyone in the room. Tension thickened the air, and Walker was preparing for a serious fight. After long seconds of silence, aware that he didn’t have Walker’s full attention, Mr. Smith spoke again.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Black?” he asked. His cheerful tone was a smooth, flawless façade. 

Walker refocused, keeping his expression completely neutral.

“How much?” Walker asked, willing himself to stillness. He had a number of poker ‘tells’, all of which he needed to control. He wanted to be blank, unemotional, unfathomable. He wanted to make everyone sweat.

The guards looked nervous as hell, but Mr. Smith didn’t even blink.

“We haven’t determined that number yet, have we? That’s what the auction is for, my boy,” he said, the same bland smile pasted on his face.

“I don’t want an auction. Just give me a number. A million?” he asked, allowing his impatience to show.

Mr. Smith chuckled, shaking his head.

“The bidding starts at one million, five hundred thousand,” he said, clucking his tongue.

“Two million, then. Get her out of the cage,” Walker replied, waving a lazy hand at the female.

“We don’t do business like that, Mr. Black.”

“Fine. Twenty million,” Walker said, giving the man a look of pure annoyance.

The room went quiet, and even Mr. Smith paused for a few seconds.

“Ah. Tempting, very tempting. But everyone must have an equal chance, of course. We’ll be seated now, and await the arrival of our last guest,” Mr. Smith said, turning and motioning everyone toward the auction area. 

Walker threw a look over his shoulder, noticing that the female was now sitting up, hands pressed against the glass wall. Their gazes caught, and her eyes were a bright green shock of utter desperation. She pawed the glass once, a very wolflike response. Walker felt his wolf stir, the impulse to free her riding him hard. He glanced around, then looked back at her and held up a hand, gesturing that she should stay put. 

Wait for me, he mouthed.

Tears formed in her eyes, and her mouth wobbled, but she nodded.

Turning away and walking to take a seat in the auction area was one of the hardest things Walker had ever done. Hell, he’d killed for a lot less than this. Still, he bided his time. He faced forward and kept his expression stony, even when he could hear the guards moving the girl out of the holding tank. One of the guards handed Walker an orange paper paddle. Each guest got a different color, it seemed.