Chapter Thirty Seven

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**Ghosts POV**

'It's not her'

A couple hours went by and with each girl that was sold off, I gripped the ends of the chair I was sitting in a little harder – knowing good and damn well that I was about to break this bitch apart. There was nothing I could do without blowing my cover, Nik's cover and the guys outside. It was too risky. No doubt, I could probably obliterate every soul in this shit hole, but I needed to play this smart if I wanted to find my girl. I just need ten minutes with Michael, and I could assure you, he'd be talking.

The guy's chime through my earpiece throughout the hellacious show I was forced to watch – thanks to the room being bugged. Luckily, the same drugged waitress kept coming by asking me if I needed anything and I could use my words to answer her, but really it was to answer the guys.

Another hour went by, and I was hoping the drugged girl wasn't done making her rounds. This time, I had a question for her. My patience was wearing thin the more I watched these girl – too young at that, and to be sold as if it was a cattle auction. Thank whatever God was listening that the windows were tinted because I was ready to rip throats out.

A soft knock to my door perked my ears as I roughly told whoever it was to come in – hoping it was the waitress. To my luck it was. "Do you need anything sir?" she asks as her words were slurring.

"Actually, there is," I reply. I watched as her face dropped lower than what it already was. She probably already thought I was some sleazy guy buying a few girls and just wanted to take advantage of her even more than she already had been. She never responded, but dropped her eyes so she couldn't look at me.

"I would like to speak with the host," I pause as I watch her face light up just a bit realizing I'm not here to hurt her. "I believe his name is Michael." The girl nodded her head as she now kept her eyes locked onto mine.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I hear Price demand in my ear. I ignore him. I had a game plan that hopefully would work, but Michael was a smart fucker.

"I will come get you when we are done sir," the girl says as she struggles to walk out of the room. I look down at her feet. She's still wearing the heels that are too high for her to walk in and I took note that blood was starting to creep out of the top strap on top of her foot.

I sit back down in my chair watching these poor innocent souls get sold to their 'new' homes. A part of me hated myself for not doing anything, while the selfish side of me was glad it wasn't Harley – because there's no telling what I would do.

Another hour went by, and my earpiece remained rather quite, which was odd considering the request I had asked from the waitress. Another soft knock came from the door behind me, and I knew it was her. I get up out of my chair to open the door, but before I could grip the handle, the door opened.

The man himself stood before me. My jaw clenched immediately as I wanted to give this mother fucker the worst. One for Harley, and two for the innocent girls he was making money off of. I quickly had to remember who I was and where I was before I blow my cover. Two guards stood behind him. Pussy. One of the guards was a tall Russian with icy blue eyes while the other was Nik – his eyes wide.

I knew what Nik was probably thinking – Fuck they found out. I reach my hand out for Michael to take – like a proper gentleman would. "Please to meet you," I say with the fakest smile on my face. Michael stood there for a few seconds before returning the handshake, but his grip not firm. Coward.

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