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and then the last week exposed to Davis and even his friends when they came to the house.

I’ve taken some moments to ponder that and decide that consent is the difference. I did not consent to wearing this tight, revealing, ugly dress, the one my boss thought was appropriate attire for human trafficking. I did not consent to any of these people milling around the hangar to see me, either. So, I grip the blanket tight and turn down every offer for even water because I don’t want to reach out with my bare arm and take it.

I’m sitting sideways, my head leaning against the seat, my gaze following Davis’s every movement. I know part of him is mad at me, and I deserve that. I scared him. He cares about me and I made him worry. I’m also mad at him for keeping things from me and leaving me out of the loop on my own problems. I’ll get over it, and judging by the way he’s looking at me, he will too.

My bottom is going to be sore. Of that, there is no doubt. And I’m actually looking forward to it. The release it will give me after so many hours of stress. I close my eyes for a moment and picture myself draped over Davis’s lap, my bottom exposed, his palm swatting me over and over until I can release this pent-up tension.

A shadow comes over me and I open my eyes to find Davis crouching down in front of me. He sets a hand on my thigh. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah.”

“We can go now. If they have more questions, they’ll contact us later.”

I give him a wan smile. I’m relieved. I just want to get out of here.

He helps me climb out of the patrol car, somehow recognizing that I’m not going to release the blanket even to let my hand out. I’m barefoot, having ditched the stupid heels hours ago.

It’s only a few yards to his SUV, and then he opens the door and lifts me into the passenger seat. I’m grateful for that small favor. I couldn’t have climbed in gracefully.

“Hang on a second.” He leaves the door open and rounds to the trunk. When he returns, he’s holding a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They’re his so I will be lost in them, but they’re better than the dress that’s making my skin crawl.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“I’m going to shut the door so you can change, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.

He smiles and then leans in and kisses my forehead. No one is close by, but I’m surprised by his outward obvious affection. He hesitates and then shuts the door. I know no one can see me because the windows are tinted and no one is nearby out the front of the SUV.

I quickly drop the blanket and remove the disgusting dress, grateful to have it no longer touching my body. It was a symbol of my sale. It made me feel dirty.

I shove both the blanket and the dress to the floor of the SUV and hurry to pull the huge T-shirt over my head before sticking my legs into the enormous sweatpants. I could fit my entire body in one leg, so it’s kind of a joke, but it’s better than the alternative, and I gather them up with my hand and tug them under the T-shirt.

When I rap on the window with my knuckles, Davis turns back around and opens the door. He wordlessly pulls my seatbelt over me and buckles it before grabbing the pile from the floor. After shutting the door, he turns around and takes several long strides to hand the two items to a nearby cop. They might need it for evidence or something. I don’t care. I’m just glad it’s gone.

Moments later, Davis is in the driver’s seat and we’re pulling away from the hangar. Part of me would like to close my eyes and ignore the world, but I have questions.

“Did they find the other woman in Lazinski’s basement?” I ask softly, almost afraid of the response.

“Yes, sweetie, they did. She’s going to be fine.” He reaches over and gives my knee a squeeze.

I blow out a relieved breath. “Thank God. How did they end up with someone to replace me? Did they kidnap her?”

He glances at me and then takes a slow breath. “Mila hired her to replace you. She started last night.”

“How is it that Mila happened to find someone like me to replace me so quickly and with such good timing? Coincidence?”

He finds my hand and squeezes it. “No, sweetie. It wasn’t a coincidence.”

I jerk my gaze to his. “Mila was in on it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know you thought she was your friend.”

I can’t breathe. “My God.” My head is spinning. “Mila? She was always so nice. Was I the first?”

He cringes. “No. At least the sixth. We can’t be sure yet.”

I flinch. It’s so hard to believe. “But I was there for a year.”

“He only sold one girl a year. Deposited the money in his account and claimed it as income. His club was upside down without it.”

I shudder. I could have died. I could be on a plane to the Middle East right now as someone’s sex slave. I shake the thought from my head. “How did you acquire so much information?”

He glances at me, hesitates, and then clears his throat. “I went to the Lounge the first night you were at my house. In a twist of fate, Lazinski hired me to find you.”

I jerk my gaze to him. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

I shake my head. “That wasn’t fair, Davis.”

“I know.” He stops at a light and meets my gaze. “I’m sorry. I wanted to protect you. You were safe in my home. No one knew where you were. I hoped to put an end to the threat without worrying you further.”

I blink at him. I want to be angry,

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