Fractured

by René, Dani

  “I just want to get to work. But there is something else . . .” My words falter into the silence as the door slides open and Jackson saunters in.

  “I’m Jackson,” he greets, offering me a hand, which I shake.

  “It’s good to meet you,” I tell him. Once we’re all seated, he pulls the folder over to where he’s sitting beside Mark.

  “You mentioned when you called there was something you wanted help with?” He looks up at me, and I nod. The thought of them aiding me with finding Autumn makes me nervous. I need this, more than anything, and I’m praying that when I explain the situation, they’ll be happy to venture on this assignment.

  “My father’s been working undercover most of my life. He’s been mostly absent when he’s been on a job, but this time, it’s gone south. I was informed he’d been killed while trying to take down a trafficking ring. He’s always had connections through his days when he served, as well as after when he took over my grandfather’s position in the FBI. They were both retired SEALs.”

  “Okay.”

  “My friend, my best friend, the girl I love,” I start my explanation with a raspy tone, feeling my heart thudding against my ribs. “She’s gone missing, and I know the man who killed my father had a hand in it. I can’t go to the cops, because they don’t or won’t have the resources to find him.”

  Mark and Jackson look at each other. I can tell they’re shocked at my admission, but I need to tell them everything.

  “Do you think your father was involved in her being taken? Or would this be after they killed him?”

  “I think they’ve taken her to send me a message. When I spoke to my dad’s colleague, he told me this man, Christopher Marlin, has been in contact. He has my girlfriend, along with a number of other girls. His threat is to sell them or kill them if I don’t take the ransom money. I want this man.”

  “He must know you’re back. Can you get us more information on him? If we can get some of his more well-known whereabouts and where he was last seen, we can piece it all together. Since we have a name, we can start tracking.”

  Nodding, I tell them, “Yes, I can call on my father’s colleague and get the information. Or try to. I’m not sure how much more they’d be willing to give me since I’m just the son. But I’m going to try.” Shaking my head, I fist my hands. “I know my father’s murderer won’t think twice about doing something to my girl to get back at me, and I want to find her. I need to find her. Time is running out, and I’m not sure she’ll even be alive if we can't track this asshole down.”

  “If you have any issues, let us know. I can get intel from them as well. It may be trickier since he was undercover, but there’s no challenge we don’t enjoy.” Mark leans back, his elbow on the arm of the chair and his fingers under his chin, and I wonder if he’s considering how they’re going to go about finding Marlin.

  Jackson looks at the iPad he brought into the meeting before he glances up and asks, “What about her family? Anyone been hurt or contacted for ransom?”

  I shake my head. “No, her mother is beside herself. Autumn’s father passed away when she was younger. He’s made himself known by the video sent to Sunderland, so I have no doubt it has to do with me and my father. Revenge for Dad being a mole in his operation.”

  Jackson nods. Mark nods. They look at each other, and I hold my breath. It’s as if I’m selling my soul waiting for them to decide if I’m worthy.

  “And you’re interested in joining our team full time?”

  “I am. That’s one of the reasons I came here.” I knew from the moment my training began, I’d never be a fully-fledged SEAL. I’m not my grandfather nor my father.

  “It’s up to you, Muff,” Mark tells Jackson, chuckling when his friend shakes his head in frustration. They’re good friends. You can see the camaraderie between the men.

  And I realize I want that type of friendship.

  “If you work for us, you listen to our orders. No running off on your own trying to be a hero,” Jackson tells me with a serious expression, which is a stark contrast to what he just looked like when Mark let his call sign slip.

  “I can take orders, but I’d like to be on the team that goes to find her. I’ll do anything I can to keep her safe,” I tell him earnestly. “I can’t sit back and wait.”

  “Then you’ll be a great asset to the team. The men who work here don’t sit on their asses. They work hard,” Jackson says. “And Twilight over here will overlook the whole team that will be on your girlfriend’s case. If I’m happy with your work, you can join us as a fully-fledged team member.”

  I can’t help but grin like a kid at Christmas.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Autumn

  I’m cold. So cold, I’m not sure I’ll ever be warm again. The clothing they’ve given us doesn’t cover much, and it’s the skimpiest I’ve ever worn. A shiver trickles down my spine. Even in the strange surroundings, I have a feeling I know what they’re expecting of us. All females. All young. Five girls, including me, are staring at each other like we’re lost at sea with no life raft.

  “Ten minutes,” a deep, gruff voice states from the other side of the door. Another tremble snakes through me, and my chest tightens with fear. I’m not sure what they’re going to do to us, but it can’t be good.

  Two girls whimper as they pull on the tight, black dresses. I glance around, realizing I have no other choice but to obey for now. Until I can get an idea of where we are, it’s best to do as we’re told.

  They haven’t hurt us just yet, but if the man can kill JD’s father, he can do the same to us. I miss my mother to the point of pain. My heart bangs against my chest, hard and fast, and my throat is thick with anxiety. As much as I try to tell myself JD will find me, with each passing day, I don’t think it’s possible.

  When the door to the room swings open, we’re called with a mere crook of a finger. I’m sure if we didn’t obey, we’d be hurt. My feet move of their own accord. Shuffling behind each other in single file, we make our way down a long, dark hallway.

  My muscles are tense, and my stomach coils with ugly images racing through my mind as to what they’re expecting of us. But the moment we’re led into an enormous ballroom, which is furnished with expensive sofas and tables and a bar running along one wall, I’m confused.

  The man in front of us grins, and I notice he’s perfectly poised as if walking through the door somehow transformed him from an angry ogre into a gentleman.

  “This is where you will work. Any of the boss’s clients will come to you and request certain services. If you refuse . . .” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I don’t expect him to because the darkness he glares at us with makes my skin grow cold.

  The thick scent of cigars lingers in the air, and there’s a cloying smell of expensive alcohol. I’m not too familiar with whiskies and such, but from the look of this place, I doubt they’d be drinking anything cheap.

  The cocoa-colored leather of the sofa shimmers along with the crystal chandeliers that hang from the high ceiling. There are a handful of girls in the room, but each one is seated with a man in a suit.

  Most of the girls look younger than me, and revulsion slithers up my throat. Some of them are kneeling at the client’s feet, others are perched on their laps.

  “Move.” The order is gruff, and another icy shiver attacks me, freezing me in place. Dark eyes land on me. “If you don’t move now, I’ll make you move.” His eyes glint with humor that doesn’t show on his serious expression.

  I force myself to walk deeper into the room until I’m at the smooth, shiny bar. The glass surface is so polished I can see my reflection. One of the girls behind the bar stops in front of me and offers a smile.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Uhm . . .” I glance around, watching the other girls, noticing them holding glasses of dark liquid. “Water, please.”

  “Darling, you’re going to have to start drinking a lot stronger to get through this.” Her warning is
clear. I’m not escaping. I’m not being rescued.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask as she sets the glass down on a coaster in front of me.

  A sad smile plays on her lips, and I notice how pretty she is under all the makeup adorning her face. Her long, dark hair falls in waves down her back. Green eyes peer at me as if I weren’t real.

  “Too long,” she finally responds before acting as if I were nothing. But when a cold awareness trickles down my back, I know someone’s behind me. His large, looming figure has me slowly turning to regard him.

  The man is probably over six feet. His broad shoulders are encased in a black suit jacket with a gray shirt underneath.

  “You’re new.” He lifts a hand, and I can’t stop the flinch that appears when his fingertips stroke my cheek. “I won’t hurt you,” he muses. “Not if you don’t want me to.” The promise is low, the huskiness of his voice causes my stomach to convulse. I think he’d enjoy hurting me.

  I suppress a shudder when he tilts my chin upward so my eyes can lock on his steely gray ones. I can’t find words, so I play demure, hoping if I appear fragile, he’ll treat me as such.

  No other man has ever touched me in any way. I’ve never been with anyone, and the fear that has a grip on my heart threatens to still the beating muscle.

  Would I die here?

  “I’d like to sit and talk to you,” he tells me before tangling his fingers with mine and tugging me deeper into the room toward a fireplace that roars as we near it. The heat makes me shiver. Even though I welcome it, the reason I’m here is much more sordid than I could ever flesh out in my mind.

  The man gestures to the lush, leather armchair, and I’m thankful he didn’t make me sit on the sofa and nudge himself beside me. I’m about to settle onto the cushions when he grips my hips and sits down, pulling me onto his lap.

  I can’t hide the cringe, and he notices it immediately. The corner of his mouth tilts upward, his amusement has my stomach tightening with anxiety at what he’s expecting of me.

  “Like I said, I won’t hurt you.” He looks genuine, as if the thought of making me cry doesn’t appeal to him, but that doesn’t explain why he’s in a place like this. Surely him being here would guarantee he’s one of those monsters that girls are warned against.

  And as much as I want to fight and push away from him, his grip on me is steel-strong. I have no way to battle. His one arm curls across my waist, his hand splayed on my stomach. The warmth of his touch not heating me at all; instead, it chills me to the bone.

  “Tell me your name,” he requests with a smile.

  I want to look away from his steel eyes, but I force myself to focus. “My name is Autumn,” I tell him, attempting to keep the fear from trickling into the words.

  “What a pretty name for a pretty girl,” he coos, lifting his free hand to once again run his knuckles over my cheek. Goosebumps dot every inch of me at the touch. “You say thank you when I compliment you.” There’s a harsh warning in his tone.

  “Thank you.”

  “Good. Now tell me what you’re studying, or what you’d like to major in one day when you finish your studies.”

  “How do—”

  “That’s not what I asked you.” The deep growl that rumbles in his chest makes me shake in his lap. “If you answer me and you’re a good girl, I’ll take care of you.”

  “I want to study music. I like singing, and it’s been something I would like to pursue. If I’m able to.” My voice comes out as a whisper laced with trepidation and fear. My heart is locked away, but I can feel the agony that grips it at the thought of never having a normal life. I was taught to have faith that things will always work out, but in my current situation, it seems too far-fetched.

  “Would you sing something for me?” he asks, keeping his voice neutral, but desire glints in his eyes.

  “I’ve never . . . I mean, I’m not used to singing in front of strangers.” The lie rolls off my tongue like sweet honey. If I play this right, perhaps he’ll let me go, and I can just venture to the bar again. Perhaps the bartender was right. I will need something stronger than water to get through this.

  “I’d like to listen. We can go into one of the private lounges,” he suggests before lifting me from his lap. I don’t miss the bulge that’s so prominent in his slacks. I struggle to swallow the bile that rises in my chest and focus on the carpet instead.

  Once again, he takes my hand and leads me through the room toward a wooden door. A few men we pass greet him, but their hungry gazes are on me.

  Once he pushes open the door, he steps aside to allow me to enter first. The lounge is furnished with black leather sofas, two of them, along with a large wingback chair the color of red wine.

  The carpet is patterned with ruby flowers, offering up a warm feel to the room. Windows on one side give off views of a darkening sky, and I wonder briefly what time it is.

  “We’re alone now.” Three words send ice through my veins, causing a shiver to wrack my body. I turn to regard him. He’s seated in the wingback chair, his legs crossed, his elbows on the arms. His fingers are steepled together as he watches me.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I attempt to calm my nerves and lift my chin. “What would you like me to sing?” I ask, thankful that my voice is steady, even though my hands are shaking and my knees feel as if they’re about to give out.

  “Surprise me,” he tells me, tipping his head to the side as his gaze glides over me. Though I’m wearing clothes, his stare makes me feel naked, and I don’t like it at all.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on something, anything, trying to conjure a song I love and a melody I can get lost in while I’m being appraised by a man who looks like he’s old enough to be my father.

  Sadness wells in my eyes, but I choke it back and start singing. The words of a song by Birdy take hold, and I get lost in the lyrics. My voice bounces off the walls, and the gentleness of the tune makes the tears I’d been holding back trickle down my cheeks.

  By the time I finish, I’m crying. The man who brought me in here is still staring at me. He hasn’t moved closer, which I expected him to. His eyes sear through me as if he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he can’t work out.

  “You have talent,” he tells me after a long bout of silence. He straightens in the chair, then pushes up to full height. Slowly, he makes his way closer, and my breath catches in my throat when he stops inches from me. The warmth emanating off him has my lungs struggle to work. He doesn’t just take over a room — he imposes himself on the people in it. As if he owns every person he comes into contact with.

  “Thank you,” I quickly whisper, realizing he’s waiting for my answer. His touch lingers on my face before slowly dipping down my neck. When he reaches the neckline of my dress, an involuntary shiver races through me.

  “Your skin is the color of chocolate,” he observes. “I wonder if you taste as sweet.” The moment the word is out of his mouth, he leans in and ever so slowly traces the tip of his tongue over my cheek, then moves his mouth toward my neck before sucking the flesh hard.

  I stumble backward in shock, my eyes wide at what just happened, but he doesn’t seem perturbed at all. His tongue snakes out, licking his lips as he regards me with fire blazing from his eyes.

  “You’re delicious.” The smirk that graces his expression now is pure evil. “Come here,” he commands in a tone that means business. His eyes glower when I don’t move. “If I have to make you, it will only hurt more.”

  My feet shuffle toward him as more tears streak down my cheeks. He smiles, his hand gripping the back of my neck, holding me in place when he suddenly pushes me to my knees.

  My eyes widen as I stare up at him, pleading silently for him not to do this, but I know it’s pointless. He’s not going to listen to me. I’m here to please the clients. I want to be strong. I want to fight back. But the moment I do, I’m only going to be hurt even more. In that moment, I try to go somewhere safer in my mind.

  “T
hose pretty, plump lips are going to do things to me that a girl like you has probably never experienced,” he warns me before he pushes my face against his crotch.

  As the tears fall free, I realize today, my situation is going to break me down.

  Chapter Sixteen

  JD

  Even though it’s only been twenty-four hours, the tension that’s got a hold of me is slowly twisting me up in knots. When Jackson and Mark agreed to bring me on board for Autumn’s search, I dove right in. We’ve been in the office; tracking, searching for any security camera footage, but we’ve come up with nothing.

  I contacted a few of my dad’s colleagues. While we wait for them to come through with something, anything, we have to go through files and files of traffickers who mainly focus on the New York areas. We’ve narrowed it down to a handful of names, but without confirmation, it could take longer to find her.

  My phone buzzes on the desk beside me, and when I pick it up, I tap the answer button before pressing the device to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “James Montagu.” The deep voice of Timothy Sutherland comes through the line. The man who worked with my father for close to fifteen years. He was someone my father trusted, and now I’m asking him for help.

  “Mr. Sutherland, it’s good to hear from you,” I tell him, hoping he’s calling with news, with information I can use to find my girl.

  “I wanted to let you know I’ve spoken to your father’s superiors, and they’ve agreed to help you with the search. We have a team on standby as well as the information about the last seen whereabouts of the man who killed your father. When your father didn’t check-in, we tracked his phone to a place in Brooklyn, New York. The warehouse was abandoned years ago, but there are no records of it being bought, so we’re thinking our man may be using it as a storage facility.”

  The words storage facility make my stomach coil with disgust. There are men out there that see women as bargaining tools, as possessions they can barter with, purchase as if they were goods at a market.