Page 15 of Creeping Beautiful

“Can she fight?”

“She can learn. She’s young enough. And she’s a virgin. We have the certification to prove it. Only one of two, this time around. Of course, that means her price is higher than most of the others. Two point five million for this one.”

“Pass,” I say. Not because I don’t have the money, and not because I’m not enticed at the idea of a virgin. But because Maria doesn’t look intent on staying alive. She looks like she’s considering her options right about now. Like maybe she should just let the gators eat her and put her out of her misery. And while I would like a girl who’s not afraid of dying, the last thing I need is one who will give up in the middle of something terrible and take the rest of us down with her.

I’d bet money right now that Maria snaps before she turns fifteen. She either kills her owner—and that’s more common than Gerald or anyone else out at this island would ever admit to—or hatches plot after plot to escape, or kills herself if all else fails.

Yeah. Maria is no survivor. She’s a quitter if ever there was one.

We go through the motions after that. Gerald tries to interest me in each of the remaining twenty-four girls. But none of them are what I’m looking for. And I’m sick of this little tour. I’m fuckin’ hot, I’m fuckin’ disgusted—with myself for being here, and with everyone else because they’re probably enjoying it—and I’m fuckin’ tired. All I want is to go back to my yacht, take off all my clothes, and dive into the tepid waters of the Caribbean for a midnight swim.

Hours later, when Gerald finally gives up on me, he says, “OK, let’s head back, Philip.”

“Wait. I thought you said there were two virgins? You only showed me one. Unless you forgot to mention it?”

“No. I didn’t forget. But the last one, Adam. She’s… not very high quality. Not what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe you don’t really understand what I’m looking for? Because none of those other girls you showed me even came close.”

He pauses. Sighs. “Very well.” He leans forward in his seat. “Philip, take us into the garden enclosure.”

“Garden,” I mumble under my breath. “Sounds… promising.”

Gerald huffs out a laugh. “The Garden of Evil is the enclosure’s full name. Snakes.”

“Nice touch.” I lean back in my seat and look through the bars at the thick vegetation all around us. “What kind of snakes? Not rattlers, right? Tell me you don’t actually let them get bit?”

“Rattlers?” Gerald chuckles. “No. Anacondas.”

I lean forward in my seat once again. “All right then. That’s kind of badass.”

Gerald shoots me a look.

“Do not judge me, old man. You have twenty-seven girls out here in the jungle screaming for their lives as wild animals try to eat them.”

“We take every precaution. It’s not a sport, Adam. It’s a well-researched matching exercise.”

“Whatever. Just show me the snake girl and then we can go back for the auction.”

It takes almost fifteen minutes to make our way to the other side of the island where the garden is. And the name fits. The moment we drive through the lock I feel like we enter another world. The air is even more humid and heavy than the rest of the island. The whole place smells like a bog. The trees alongside the road cover it in a canopy of dark, menacing branches and leaves.

I like it.

It reminds me of the marshy woods back home. It makes me think of all those days I spent as a kid out there in a small boat, fishing on the river and catching little gators, and generally being a wild heathen.

But I am not prepared for what I see when we pull up to the cage and Philip turns the Land Cruiser’s engine off.

Maybe there’s more than one snake in this swamp but it doesn’t even matter. The one I see is the only one necessary.

It has to be more than thirty feet long. Has to be. The thickest part of its long, almost greenish, body looks wide enough to eat me whole if it was hungry enough. And when Gerald shines the spotlight on it, a deceptively small head arcs towards us and stares with unblinking eyes that are as dark as pits. The forked tongue slips out, then back in, then out again. Like two baby snakes. And even though I’m not a hundred percent sure the hissing sound I hear isn’t just insects, I’m fairly sure it’s the snake.

A chill runs up my spine.

Not because of the snake, but because of the girl.

The cage she’s in is a skinny rectangle standing on end. Or, more accurately, hanging from a large support beam. I would not fit inside it. Only a child like her would. And just barely, at that. She’s standing upright, arms at her side, head forward. The bars of the cage press against her shoulders. Trapped in this position until someone buys her.

Or… that snake crushes the cage and her with it.