by Sophia Reed
I mentally laughed. Not much, but it felt good to see someone else wrongfooted for a second.
The guards waited on the outside of the Harem door. I thought probably they weren't supposed to be in the room at all. Every time I'd seen them they were waiting outside or just inside the room. Naturally Bevington would want to keep his toys to himself.
"You need to be prepared," Lettie said.
She'd been nothing but kind to me, but I nearly snapped at her, asking what she thought I was doing in here in one of the bedrooms, digging through the case of stuff Evie had sent with me. "What do you mean?" Even that came out short, but I thought she'd understand.
I was pawing through the case, looking for everything I'd seen Evie pack which seemed to be rearranged, when Lettie put a hand on m arm. I stopped and looked at her, intending to go right back to what I was doing, then stopped completely.
Lettie nodded like now she had my attention. "He asks for two of us at a time on purpose."
Impatience. Wasn't that every guy's fantasy? Hell, he could insist his entire harem put on a live sex show for him. Maybe it was a surprise that so far, he hadn't, not since I'd been here. Then again, there was always the risk that one or more of us might find pleasure that way and I thought he would want to be the only one who could provide any of us with pleasure of any sort.
I went still with that thought. Pleasure. Or pain? I thought he was willing to let pretty much anyone hurt us with his permission.
Like maybe each other? What could be more divisive? Did he care if we liked each other? I didn't know but the answer was probably that he did care.
That he was against it.
"What are you talking about?" It wasn't something I really wanted to know.
Lettie dropped her chin down, kind of like half a nod. "He's apt to order me to take a cane to you."
I almost collapsed onto the bed, catching myself at the last minute and still dropping, but to the floor, curled onto my knees so my ass didn't hit. My breath came unevenly. Unwillingly, I looked at Lettie, searching to see anything that might be lying. That she was making it up to hurt me. That she was putting herself in a position of power.
There was nothing. Her big dark eyes met mine, full of compassion, fear and sorrow.
There was a panic filled creature inside me, scrabbling in terror, seeking exit somehow and somewhere. My eyes darted around the room, looking for somewhere to hide, somewhere impossible the guards wouldn't find me and drag me unprepared, not dressed or made up, down to face the madman who this time might kill me for such an offense.
If Lettie hit me, she'd have to do it hard enough to please him or he wouldn't accept it. He'd make her keep doing it. He'd have the guards do it, beating me until they fell and the next took their place.
He'd do it himself.
Or maybe it would be only a dozen cane strokes from Lettie. All of them over the new brand.
No matter what, I couldn't.
I became aware she was babbling in a panic almost matching mine. "Erin, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have told you, I'm so, so sorry, I thought it was better you were prepared, I can try to avoid hitting too hard but – oh, god, Erin, maybe he won't ask it. Maybe it's just going to be him watching one of us play with ourselves while he tries to fuck the other, god, that's only, the motherfucker, I want to kill him."
She was too loud. She was too loud and the guards were in the next room and I thought that probably we had up to about 30 minutes to prepare because what did they know about how long assignations with maniacs took to dress for? But on the other hand, they wouldn't wait forever. Likely they were as scared of the old asshole as we were and good, I hoped their days were vile, I hoped they rotted in their beds at night, dreading their upcoming shifts.
In the meantime I did the fastest thing I could think of to stop Lettie. I put my arms around her in a hug and when that didn't work, I kissed her.
Her mouth was warm and soft and surprised, if a mouth can be surprised, and then before I pulled away, she kissed me back, her tongue briefly on my lips, mine reaching out to touch hers. We looked at each other, equally surprised, then laughed, surprised at that, and then said at the same time, "We'll figure it out."
I dressed first, determined to have that out of the way if the guards became impatient and dragged us down before we were ready. Not that the make up wasn't extreme enough that Bevington would easily notice if it was missing. Just that the schoolgirl costume was impossible to miss.
Lacy black bra. Matching crotchless panties. I'd always thought those things were disgusting. Garter belt running under the panties, hooking to stockings, and thick socks I didn't want in the warmth of the night pulled up to my knees. No shoes. Wouldn't want to endanger those old balls with something hard that could kick.
I supposed I should be grateful we weren't wearing stilettos with the outfits.
White short sleeve button down, with the stupid little half bowtie, and the skirt, a travesty made possible by catholic schools everywhere. Dressed, I put my hair in pigtails, thinking I looked more ridiculous every second.
I'd have to bend over the vanity to put on my makeup. No way was I sitting. Even bending hurt, pulling the skin taught. The panties were pulled up like a thong. If there'd been another thong packed I'd have worn that.
The makeup kit was several different products. Evie had told me the most important if It was short on time was the eye shadow, followed by the lipstick. Followed by everything else. I reached for the absurdly huge case of eye make up and opened it to the large colorful powder discs.
One of them was sitting crooked.
Nothing in me thought that was a mistake.
Lettie was finishing putting on her clothes, not looking at me. I knew I'd gone tense, and she was observant, but I continued moving. If she looked up, she'd see me reflected in the mirror. But I wanted to know what I was dealing with before I shared anything. I trusted her as much as I could under the circumstances. She'd helped me, several times.
But pain can turn people on each other and Bevington knew how to cause pain.
The blue eyeshadow cup popped the rest of the way out of the case and into my hand. The entire case was hollow, a weirdly wasted space making the buyer think they were getting more makeup than they actually were. The eyeshadow discs snapped into place, a series of twenty-four colors, three rows across, eight discs in each row.
Under the makeup, a knife had been slipped in, thin enough to fit through the two inch disc of powered shadow. The blade was about six inches long, not even an inch wide, and the handle very short. It was a nasty blade, meant to be held close and used at close range.
It didn't seem remotely possible Evie had put it there. She'd warned me the best way to stay safe as I could – which wasn't much – was to go along. She'd caned me with full force so Raven could see what I could endure.
That was almost laugh worthy at this point. Yeah, Evie, you have no idea.
Most likely the blade had come from Theo. Nothing he'd done had been quite right. He was slow to chase me and didn't retaliate when dropped by a car door to the balls.
"Problem?" Lettie asked. She'd noticed I'd stopped moving.
"Which one would you like me to expound on first?" I asked in an even voice.
She made a wordless sound of agreement and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Which gave me time to search through the kit. I slipped the knife into my garter straps along the top of my thigh, wondering how long until that was discovered, and did a little jig to see if it would stay in place and, if so, if it would draw my blood before I had a chance to use it on anyone else. It did stay in place and it didn't cut me and I could hear Lettie moving around so I sped up, checking into the case, shaking it upside down.
A rose pink disc of shadow fell out, showering puffs of glimmering powder onto the vanity and a note dropped out from behind that.
I righted the kit, blew the shadow off the vanity, opened the note.
M
ale handwriting, almost as illegible as my father's.
If you're what I think you are, you'll know how to use this. Don't be a hero. Get in and get out.
No signature, because he wasn't an idiot. Whoever it was had directed it and it had to be to me. I'd watched Evie unwrap the kit and she'd used the make up she was sending me with to do the tutorial.
The choices were Evie – unlikely and the writing looked like a man's hand. Or Chad. Right. Or Theo. No one else had access. Theo had searched my bag as we arrived at Bevington's house of horrors. He'd had access, he'd had time to write a note, and I'd thought both the timing was odd to finally search a bag put together by the people who sent him, and that there was something wrong about him.
There was – whatever he was, he wasn't a Chad. He might be undercover. He probably was undercover. He'd recognized me but didn't pull me out. I'd have done the same thing. Only once in my career had I encountered someone else undercover and I had to let it go. He wasn't in dire straights, but he could have used help. I didn't help him. I never learned what had happened to him. He hadn't made me, as far as I could tell, but I had nightmares for a year after.
On the back of the note, there was a phone number. My first thought was that was stupid. My second thought was, whatever number Raven knew for Theo, this wasn't it. So maybe not so stupid.
I had no intention of calling him. I couldn't imagine how that wouldn't put everyone at risk. But I could memorize it and destroy the note itself, flushing it down the toilet. The best thing he'd done was supplying me with a weapon. I'd have had the knife when Bevington branded me if I'd thought to do my makeup as required.
At that thought, the pain in my backside sailed up and ignited, bringing tears to my eyes. I started over on the makeup, still thinking. Lettie came out of the bathroom and went back to her own prep, quiet.
If I'd had the knife then, I'd probably have been injured fighting Bevington who had his own knife, but I didn't think I'd have resisted using it.
Or maybe not. Because he'd undressed me before he burned me. I wouldn't have known and he would have found the blade. I'd have had to decide whether to kill him then when I didn't have the proof I needed.
The proof I got after he'd branded me.
Being deep cover was always dangerous. There was always a chance of getting killed. All of law enforcement carried that risk. Undercover more so because no one likes to be made a fool of.
But I'd never been through anything like this. Even my time in the Brotherhood with Jesse, when he broke my cheekbone or at least fractured the fuck out of it, was nothing like this.
And girls and women went through this every day. Without choosing to do it for a job. Without having done anything wrong in their lives to deserve such a fate.
I never went undercover thinking I was going to die. I went undercover knowing there was risk, and knowing I had a job to do.
I was going to do that job. I had the contacts I needed. I'd like the contacts Bevington had somewhere, the people who inherited the girls after he broke them, provided they weren't buried somewhere in the canyon.
Most likely that information would come to light after he was dead.
Because I didn't think that both of us would live through today. But there was Lettie to consider. She hadn't asked for any of this and if I could bring her out alive, I was going to.
I finished putting on the make up and turned to look at Lettie. Surprisingly, she had a hand over her mouth and she was laughing.
"What?"
She looked gorgeous. Her dark skin was lit up with the make up she'd applied, her full mouth glossy and edible, her eyes dramatic. Her fingers weren't touching her lips. She wasn't messing with perfection. She pointed at my own mirror.
I looked back at myself. I looked like a little kid who'd gotten into mom's makeup stash. I mock glared at her in the mirror. "A little more help and a little less mirth?"
"Not sure there's any help for this," she said. "Let's start over."
35
Cole
We were close enough the signal to the tracker was almost steady. Not strong. But enough we search.
I had her message. She was ready for extraction. She'd done what she set out to do. Most of it.
She was ready to come back.
Now we had to reach her in time.
36
Annie
The guards took us down together. Lettie had finished my makeup minutes before they'd pounded on the door, telling us we'd had long enough.
The sky outside the mansion looked bruised with predawn dark. The green hour had passed but instead of lightening, the sky darkened. Probably oncoming thunderstorms. Probably not an omen.
We walked side by side, one guard in front of us and one behind. Through unspoken agreement we didn't talk or look at each other, didn't touch or exhibit any signs of friendship. Nothing that could be used against us, or to pit us against each other.
The guards stopped us at the door to his majesty's chambers, knocking out an obviously coded rhythm. Then they opened the door and we were ushered in and despite my fear, I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes.
He was a real estate broker. He sold homes to rich people and had obviously done well enough with his commissions to be rich himself, but still. He wasn't royalty. He wasn't master vampire. The security, the coded knocks, the deferential attitudes – it was all a bit over the top.
And yet the instant we stepped through into his private chambers, everything in me went on high alert. Scenting the air. My eyes closed in an attempt to use my sense of smell better. There was a lingering charred smell in the room, which might have been my imagination and might have been my flesh.
There was nothing else. No lingering or fresh smell of branding iron heating. But it felt like the brand began stinging and burning again, so much worse than it had been minutes earlier. It took me a minute to understand this was because I was sweating. The salt from my sweat did not feel good on the new burn. I wondered if sweat salt carried too much bacteria to be healthy or if the salt being human salt might help. Then stopped, realizing I was only distracting myself.
I was afraid.
Bevington was relaxing in a robe, sitting in one of the armchairs in his bedroom with his feet up on an ottoman I was sure had been used for things I didn't want to know about. "Ahh, better late than never," he said to the guards, and I felt both of them still before they replied with obsequious responses. Bevington was no more interested in those than I was. He waved his hand as if shooing away a fly.
"Someone should remain with you, Mr. Bevington. There are two of them."
That was the asshat who assaulted me in the shower and I thought personally if Bevington decided to beat him to death for making such an obvious observation, I wouldn't raise a hand to prevent it.
Bevington just laughed. "Your math skills are improving, Joseph. You may both wait outside until I'm finished with these two. It may be a while." He leered at us, as if he had anything either of us wanted for any amount of time.
The guards looked at each other and the one who wasn't Joseph (and wasn't, in my book, marked for early demise), said, "We'll be right outside, Mr. Bevington."
"Whatever. Whatever. Go."
So flattering he couldn't wait to be alone with us.
There hadn't been time to wait for any responses from Cole. That would have been too much of a risk. No way to go back after, since the guards showed up. Outside it was still night, though draining toward morning.
Cole would get the email. Even coming from an address he didn't know. His techs would be working shifts around the clock. They'd find it.
Question was, how long would it take for him to come to where I was.
Question was, how to hold out until there were more people than me and Lettie.
Bevington shifted, sitting up in his arm chair. That caused his silky robe to split apart from the tie at the waist, each side slithering off him to frame his genitals on full display. No problem with his er
ection tonight. Bevington rubbed his hands together. His beady little eyes gleamed.
"Let's start with the two of you taking off all your clothes and do it sexy. Or no, undress each other!" His erection bobbed.
I tried to ignore it. I wasn't sure yet how this was going to play out. I'd rather have backup before trying to get out of a locked house with a handful of armed guards in it and three nervous girls who weren't cops. I could undress Lettie, if it came to that. At least I liked her.
No more than 90 minutes since I sent Cole the email. If he was in Vegas, he'd be getting here by now. The flight wasn't that long. He owned his own jet.
My heart gave a nasty little thump. I didn't want to acknowledge that he should be here already. The trackers should lead him to me. I'd expected when I was taken that he'd be right behind me.
He wasn't.
No one was. No one was bursting through the windows. No cherry lights strobed.
Where are you?
Lettie reached for me and removed my tie before I batted her away, meeting her eyes, my own giving nothing away. She looked scared, reached again for the neck of my shirt. I started to move, to look around her to where Bevington sat, caressing himself. But he spoke first.
"No. You know what? I have something better."
The malignancy in his voice. The malevolence. It was astonishing. I wanted to take down the trafficking ring and I wanted to live through this and go home to Cole.
Otherwise I would have pulled the knife then and cut his throat with it.
After I cut off something else.
Bevington was unaware. "I'm going to have the two of you cane each other until I'm – " pause as he stroked himself, lovingly. "Satisfied." He looked up at us, from one to the other. "And then I'll do it for a while. When I finish you'll think your little adventure last night was a love tap."
He was talking to me. I met Lettie's eyes. I wanted to think she looked fearless. I was afraid she'd look insane.