Half-Million Dollar Bait： Campus Belle’s Hell - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading Half-Million Dollar Bait： Campus Belle’s Hell, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of Half-Million Dollar Bait： Campus Belle’s Hell.
I was mentally tearing Ethan Lowell to shreds, branding him every filthy name in the book.
Then I caught his sharp frown as he snapped at the goon, "Back off. The boss wants this one personally." His finger jabbed toward me. "Feel like explaining to him why you interfered?"
The musclehead threw up his hands with a greasy laugh. "Relax, man! I know better than to cross the old man." His eyes raked over me with disdain. "Not that I'd want this firecracker anyway—looks like she'd bite."
Damn right I would.
If any of these creeps laid a finger on me, they'd be picking their teeth off the floor.
Jaw clenched, I watched Ethan shoot the men a warning glare. "Butler's handling her from here."
"Whatever you say, boss man." The lackey's smirk made my skin crawl.
Ethan muttered something crude before steering me toward the garden. The second we were alone, I whirled on him. If this was my last chance for answers, I'd make it count.
"Human trafficking? Really, Ethan? Was the whole 'UN consultant' bit just practice for your Oscar audition?"
"Sophia, listen—" He grabbed my wrist, voice dropping to a razor's edge. "I'm deep cover. This was the only play."
"Bullshit! You just admitted your bosses signed off on delivering me like some UPS package!" My laugh came out jagged. "Newsflash—I don't do damsel in distress. You'll need a body bag first."
His grip tightened. "Not happening. The raid goes down tonight. Just play along until—"
A rustle in the hedges. In one fluid motion, he palmed me a Zippo. "Camera's in the hinge. Get the buyer's handoff on video, and border patrol swarms this hellhole by midnight."
When I hesitated, his next words sent ice down my spine: "This isn't some street-corner operation. That mansion? Front for the largest cartel north of the Mekong."
My knees almost buckled. Drug lords. Dark web auctions. Half a million dollar price tags.
None of it made sense.
"Who's the boss?" I hissed. "Why target me?"
Ethan's eyes darted toward the security cameras. "Ghost story. Six months here, and I've only seen his shadow." His jaw worked. "But someone really wants you, Sophia. Bad enough to burn five hundred grand."
The pieces clicked with sickening clarity—the Mandalay meetup, the "job offer," even the damn tuk-tuk driver. All staged.
Because somewhere in this nightmare, a phantom kingpin had put my face on his wishlist.
And nobody—not even Ethan—knew why.
Then I caught his sharp frown as he snapped at the goon, "Back off. The boss wants this one personally." His finger jabbed toward me. "Feel like explaining to him why you interfered?"
The musclehead threw up his hands with a greasy laugh. "Relax, man! I know better than to cross the old man." His eyes raked over me with disdain. "Not that I'd want this firecracker anyway—looks like she'd bite."
Damn right I would.
If any of these creeps laid a finger on me, they'd be picking their teeth off the floor.
Jaw clenched, I watched Ethan shoot the men a warning glare. "Butler's handling her from here."
"Whatever you say, boss man." The lackey's smirk made my skin crawl.
Ethan muttered something crude before steering me toward the garden. The second we were alone, I whirled on him. If this was my last chance for answers, I'd make it count.
"Human trafficking? Really, Ethan? Was the whole 'UN consultant' bit just practice for your Oscar audition?"
"Sophia, listen—" He grabbed my wrist, voice dropping to a razor's edge. "I'm deep cover. This was the only play."
"Bullshit! You just admitted your bosses signed off on delivering me like some UPS package!" My laugh came out jagged. "Newsflash—I don't do damsel in distress. You'll need a body bag first."
His grip tightened. "Not happening. The raid goes down tonight. Just play along until—"
A rustle in the hedges. In one fluid motion, he palmed me a Zippo. "Camera's in the hinge. Get the buyer's handoff on video, and border patrol swarms this hellhole by midnight."
When I hesitated, his next words sent ice down my spine: "This isn't some street-corner operation. That mansion? Front for the largest cartel north of the Mekong."
My knees almost buckled. Drug lords. Dark web auctions. Half a million dollar price tags.
None of it made sense.
"Who's the boss?" I hissed. "Why target me?"
Ethan's eyes darted toward the security cameras. "Ghost story. Six months here, and I've only seen his shadow." His jaw worked. "But someone really wants you, Sophia. Bad enough to burn five hundred grand."
The pieces clicked with sickening clarity—the Mandalay meetup, the "job offer," even the damn tuk-tuk driver. All staged.
Because somewhere in this nightmare, a phantom kingpin had put my face on his wishlist.
And nobody—not even Ethan—knew why.
End of Half-Million Dollar Bait： Campus Belle’s Hell Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to Half-Million Dollar Bait： Campus Belle’s Hell book page.