Read Online The Flesh Cartel #2: Auction by Rachel Haimowitz - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Haimowitz
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accidentally—
Nobody had tried to stop him yet. No shocks from Tasers. The leash dangled impotently from his collar.
Madame sat patiently. And Dougie. Crying. Mascara on his cheeks.
“Stop this,” Dougie pleaded. “Please, please.”
Mat snorted at Madame, who was fucking smiling down on him, obviously pleased.
Fuck her. She’s not fucking worth it.
He went to Dougie, crouched beside him. Wrapped his arms around Dougie’s small, shaking shoulders. Gathered Dougie’s head to his own shoulder. Kissed his hair. “Shhh,” he murmured. “Shhh. I’m here now.” And in that moment, the crowd and the guards and Madame and this whole fucking nightmare fell away, and they were together, and it was okay.
And then there were two sharp stabs in his left shoulder blade, and his world filled with convulsive fire, and he screamed and fell away as two men pulled Dougie from his unresponsive arms.
He barely heard Dougie shouting his name over his own screams, the roaring in his ears. Dougie begging them to please stop, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything!
Shut up, he wanted to say, and Stop, please, and I’ll do anything too if you just stop . But his lips and tongue worked no better than the rest of him under the force of the electric charge, and then his mind shut down, and the world went silent and dark.
54
They tased Mat over and over again, until he doubled over, until he was facedown on the floor convulsing. Dougie couldn’t go to him. They wouldn’t let him. Somebody had him by the collar, holding him back so firmly he choked himself.
They were going to separate them. Dougie had been given a chance, and he’d failed . He’d failed miserably. But more than failing Madame’s test, he’d failed Mat .
I’m so sorry.
Mat had been depending on him. He hadn’t known it, but
he’d been depending on Dougie, and Dougie had failed him. Failed them both.
He watched, absolutely helpless, as they shackled Mat into the chains that had lurked, ominous, in the background since Dougie had come onstage. Arms above his head and still unconscious, he dangled, all his weight yanking down on his battered wrists.
Madame signaled to one of the stagehands waiting in the wings, and the man nodded and disappeared and came back a moment later with a wheeled cart draped in a sheet. Dougie stared at it, helpless, horrified, mind spinning wilder and wilder pictures of what might be under there, what they would do with it, do to Mat . . .
He squeezed his eyes closed and choked back a sob. Upstage, the men Mat had beaten were picking themselves up off the floor. Madame had passed them off as audience members for some reason, but Dougie knew better, had recognized them as guards from the day shift despite the masks. He knew full well what they were capable of.
Madame ignored them in favor of Dougie. She draped a hand on his shoulder, nodded to the guard clutching 55
Dougie’s collar. The man let go. It burned him how confident she was that he wouldn’t try to run, try to hurt her, try . . .
fuck, who knew. Be more like his brother, maybe. But no, all that’d gotten Mat—rousing now, for better or worse— was tased and hung from shackles. It hadn’t gotten him any closer to free.
It had gotten those men off Dougie, though. And a hug—it’d gotten them that precious, stolen moment together. Maybe, to Mat, that was worth it. But Dougie would’ve rather not seen him at all than seen him suffering like that on Dougie’s behalf.
Besides, what if it was their last moment together ever again?
Madame, hand curled around the back of Dougie’s neck, led him over to the covered cart, now parked just a foot from the chains where Mat hung. Mat lifted his head, caught Dougie’s gaze. Tried to stand, couldn’t. Tried again. His hands were fisted, fresh blood trickling down his forearms from under the shackles. He finally found his feet at the same moment Madame pulled the sheet from the cart with a flourish.
A flogger. A cane. A heavy
Nobody had tried to stop him yet. No shocks from Tasers. The leash dangled impotently from his collar.
Madame sat patiently. And Dougie. Crying. Mascara on his cheeks.
“Stop this,” Dougie pleaded. “Please, please.”
Mat snorted at Madame, who was fucking smiling down on him, obviously pleased.
Fuck her. She’s not fucking worth it.
He went to Dougie, crouched beside him. Wrapped his arms around Dougie’s small, shaking shoulders. Gathered Dougie’s head to his own shoulder. Kissed his hair. “Shhh,” he murmured. “Shhh. I’m here now.” And in that moment, the crowd and the guards and Madame and this whole fucking nightmare fell away, and they were together, and it was okay.
And then there were two sharp stabs in his left shoulder blade, and his world filled with convulsive fire, and he screamed and fell away as two men pulled Dougie from his unresponsive arms.
He barely heard Dougie shouting his name over his own screams, the roaring in his ears. Dougie begging them to please stop, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything!
Shut up, he wanted to say, and Stop, please, and I’ll do anything too if you just stop . But his lips and tongue worked no better than the rest of him under the force of the electric charge, and then his mind shut down, and the world went silent and dark.
54
They tased Mat over and over again, until he doubled over, until he was facedown on the floor convulsing. Dougie couldn’t go to him. They wouldn’t let him. Somebody had him by the collar, holding him back so firmly he choked himself.
They were going to separate them. Dougie had been given a chance, and he’d failed . He’d failed miserably. But more than failing Madame’s test, he’d failed Mat .
I’m so sorry.
Mat had been depending on him. He hadn’t known it, but
he’d been depending on Dougie, and Dougie had failed him. Failed them both.
He watched, absolutely helpless, as they shackled Mat into the chains that had lurked, ominous, in the background since Dougie had come onstage. Arms above his head and still unconscious, he dangled, all his weight yanking down on his battered wrists.
Madame signaled to one of the stagehands waiting in the wings, and the man nodded and disappeared and came back a moment later with a wheeled cart draped in a sheet. Dougie stared at it, helpless, horrified, mind spinning wilder and wilder pictures of what might be under there, what they would do with it, do to Mat . . .
He squeezed his eyes closed and choked back a sob. Upstage, the men Mat had beaten were picking themselves up off the floor. Madame had passed them off as audience members for some reason, but Dougie knew better, had recognized them as guards from the day shift despite the masks. He knew full well what they were capable of.
Madame ignored them in favor of Dougie. She draped a hand on his shoulder, nodded to the guard clutching 55
Dougie’s collar. The man let go. It burned him how confident she was that he wouldn’t try to run, try to hurt her, try . . .
fuck, who knew. Be more like his brother, maybe. But no, all that’d gotten Mat—rousing now, for better or worse— was tased and hung from shackles. It hadn’t gotten him any closer to free.
It had gotten those men off Dougie, though. And a hug—it’d gotten them that precious, stolen moment together. Maybe, to Mat, that was worth it. But Dougie would’ve rather not seen him at all than seen him suffering like that on Dougie’s behalf.
Besides, what if it was their last moment together ever again?
Madame, hand curled around the back of Dougie’s neck, led him over to the covered cart, now parked just a foot from the chains where Mat hung. Mat lifted his head, caught Dougie’s gaze. Tried to stand, couldn’t. Tried again. His hands were fisted, fresh blood trickling down his forearms from under the shackles. He finally found his feet at the same moment Madame pulled the sheet from the cart with a flourish.
A flogger. A cane. A heavy
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