Page 85 of Break Out the Girl

Sterling smirks. “Didn’t you get the line up?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Must have missed it.”

He digs out his phone, pulling up an encrypted site then tapping in a series of numbers. “Here.”

On the screen is a series of photographs showing half a dozen girls. Each has a number next to them. Number six is Sky. There is an asterisk next to her digit. I point to it. “What does this designate?”

“Ah, the main prize. Number six is always the hardest to track, but whoever finds her gets to have her, not just for the weekend, but for keeps. There are no limits nor fines for damage done to number six.”

“Fascinating,” I say, bile rising in my throat.

Sterling winks, a repulsive glint in his eye. “May the best man win.”

“Indeed, Sterling. Indeed.” My eyes lock on the digital map grid on the screen. “And are we given their coordinates?”

“Hardly.” Sterling chuckles. “Wouldn’t be a hunt if we had that information, now would it? The prey are already in their hidden positions. Once the horns sound, they’ll be released to run. Though the prize,” he taps his finger on Sky’s photo, “might be quite hard to find. Let’s just say I’ve some inside information.” He smirks.

Idiot.

And also a dead man. But not today, he might still prove useful.

“Tell me everything,” I command, eyes turning to slits.

He blinks. “The Director had her head man set up the prize in the heart of Sector Four. That information cost me ten-k.”

Sector four.

I zoom in on the map and take a mental snapshot.

Good, that really does help. Looking up at Sterling, he’s still dazed by my hypnosis. “You now have inside information that the prize is in sector two,” I tell him, thinking quickly. “And you are going to let that information slip, so everyone in this room also knows that to go to sector two. You will forget that you told me anything about sector four. Understand?”

That should muddy the waters.

He nods. “The prize is in sector two. Oh, there’s Gerald, I must go say hello. I wonder if he knows.”

I release a breath as the fool wanders off. Before I can work out my next move, a sudden hush ripples through the library.

The doors swing open, and the Director of Ménage Manor finally makes her appearance.

She is striking, commanding the space in an immaculate, structured riding suit, tight cream breeches, and a tailored jacket with velvet trim. Her hair is sleek, dark and tucked back in a knot at the back of her neck. I work through my memories until I hit upon one.

She and my father. Several years ago on our estate.

I wasn’t privy to their conversation, but what was her name?

Carol.

That’s right. A pedestrian name for such an evil creature. Unfortunately, her last name escapes me currently.

“Gentlemen,” her voice rings out, smooth and entirely dominant. “The fleet is waiting for you at the terrace to take you out to your starting lines in the pasture. I suggest you finish your drinks. The horn is about to blow, and the quarry is waiting.”

Her eyes rove around the room, pausing on me for a fraction of a second, but they move on as a cheer goes up around the room.

The men drain their glasses and move eagerly toward the terrace doors.

I look at her cold, beautiful face.

Carol who? Who was her father from whom she inherited this estate?