The earring tracker was still in place. The necklace too. So far, I'd resisted the urge to touch them.
The fact none of the thugs took them suggested this wasn't a robbery. That is to say, they didn't want my jewelry. Nor had they hurt me. They'd strongly suggested it was in my best interest to go along with them, and they'd shown me they were all armed.
Also, they were twice my size. I knew when fighting back wasn't an option. My life was a masterclass in that.
They'd bundled me into the back of a car, squashed between two of them, and drove me here. Gestured for me to stand in the corner, on the other side of the tattoo chairs, and wait. We didn't have to wait long.
I'd heard the guys' voices outside before the door opened and they were shown inside like they were here for a chat, maybea couple of drinks. No one was shoved, pushed or thrown. The whole thing was far too civilized.
That wouldn't last if the expression on Woody's face was an indication. He looked like he was about to start throwing hands. For now, he kept them by his sides, curled into fists. His glare on everyone, including Forrest and Leif, who walked in front of him.
They all glanced at me, acknowledging my presence, but containing any relief at seeing me standing there alive. They might as well have acknowledged the posters on the walls.
Displaying a variety of artists' designs, suggestions for tattoos in a multitude of sizes, any other time I would have taken a moment to appreciate them. Maybe consider getting one or two.
I dropped my eyes back to the linoleum floor, especially worn around the base of the chairs. Whatever was going on here, I needed to stay in character. Meek. Half-broken at best.
"Judge Cross." The senator strode out of a doorway at the back of the tattoo parlor, as if this was a country club. He looked out of place here in his dark suit. For all I knew, he had a whole sleeve of tattoos. Or a purple unicorn on his left ass cheek.
I couldn't picture it to be honest. He was the sort of man who'd have a scar repaired if he could. A tattoo would sully his image. An image that would be destroyed if people knew he was here and what he was getting up to.
No, he wasn't the unicorn tattoo-getting type.
"Senator," Forrest said smoothly no hint of surprise on his face. Perhaps this was what he'd expected. He knew the man well enough to anticipate him. After all, the senator hadn't made any attempt to hide who he was back at the Halloran.
"This is interesting." The senator's gaze swept across them and over to me.
"Is it?" Forrest asked. "You'll have to enlighten me as to why."
I made a note never to play poker with him. He was giving away nothing. On the other hand, a game of strip poker could be fun.
Woody opened his mouth. When Leif elbowed him in the side, he snapped it closed again. We all knew he was about to say something like 'this is fucking bullshit.' He wasn't wrong. Thiswasfucking bullshit.
"I was under the impression Miss Kohl was only in your company before she was added to the collection of lots," the senator said, as if I was an antique chair added to the auction at the last minute.
I'd like to high-five him with an antique chair. In the face. The kind with really thick, solid legs. That would do some damage. Maybe even kill him.
What was wrong with me that I was thinking that? Oh, right. He was taking part in selling women. He'd get what he deserved.
I made sure to look surprised and horrified when he glanced in my direction. I wasn't supposed to know what Forrest intended.
Forrest, of course, was unruffled.
"That's right, she was," he said. "And yet, here she is."
"Yes, here she is," the senator said. "And here you are. I'm curious as to why you followed her."
"I'm curious as to why I needed to," Forrest replied. Completely unmoved apart from a raised eyebrow. He could have been listening to someone in his courtroom explain why they were going a couple of miles over the speed limit. Those weren't the cases that went through his court, but that was the impression he gave.
"I made an early bid," the senator said. "One no one else could match. The money should have been deposited inyourchosenaccount already." He said the words carefully, meaningfully.
When money changed hands in a situation like this, it wasn't done via regular channels. No bank checks or IOUs.
No, this would be a secret bank account, offshore, away from the authorities. The fact Forrest had an account like that made my skin crawl. Of course he would though, it was part of his persona. He was their equal, as far as they knew. A fellow predator.
Until he became the hunter and they became the prey. That was hotter than it should be. What was wrong with me that my clit throbbed to think of him tracking down the senator and slicing open his throat?
Nothing, I decided. Nothing was wrong with me. I wanted justice for myself and women like me.