by Bella Jewel
He comes up behind me again, reaching around, and this time I let him without my breath hitching, or my booty pressing into him. I try not to focus on his gorgeous big hands, or the way his biceps feel curled around me. Instead, I focus on the gun. I focus on the way he places my hands on it, the way he shows me how to hold it, how to aim and what not to do.
I take in every single word.
“Now, try and shoot the target without too much thought. When you’re shooting in a heated situation, you’re not getting time to line up a target and make a clean shot. You have to think quickly.”
I nod, and he steps away.
I take a deep breath, and then I aim and shoot, without thought, just like he said. The bullet misses the target, and my heart sinks.
If I’m in trouble, I’m going to die, without a doubt.
I’ll try to shoot someone only to end up being the one who gets shot.
“It’s okay. Try again.”
I do. Over and over.
Eventually, I make the shot. And every time after that, I get a little better.
“You don’t have to hit anything vital—remember that. You just have to be able to get away. Anyone who has been shot, even if it’s just a graze, will be dazed enough for you to run. That’s all you’re aiming for. Go for the biggest part of the human body, the chest. You’re far more unlikely to miss there.”
I nod, swallowing.
Then I practice some more until I’m confident that I could make a shot, albeit a crappy one.
“I think I’ve got it,” I say, turning to face him.
He nods. “Yeah, you’ve got it. That gun is yours for now. Keep it with you. Better if you keep it on you because if you have it in your purse, the chances of getting to it when you need it are slim.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, giving him a grateful smile.
He steps forward and takes my shoulders in his hands, meeting my eyes. “You don’t hesitate, you hear me? You gotta shoot, then you do it. Your life, above anything, is more important than everything else.”
My heart swells.
Maybe, just maybe, he does like me.
Maybe, just maybe, we might have something building here.
14
WAVERLY
“Thank you for coming,” Dax says the moment I walk into his large house.
He’s wearing a suit, looking crisp and clean and professional. It’s a little alarming, seeing him so tidy and calm. It means he’s come up with something, and that can’t be a good thing, because whatever it is, he’s clearly confident about.
“I was worried about you,” I say, and that’s a big fat fucking lie.
He looks at me, and I can see that warmth shimmer through his gaze. “You’re a good person, Waverly. You understand me in ways nobody ever has.”
Believe me, buddy, I don’t.
“What is going on?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Are you well? You look like you’re tired.”
Goddammit, he’s skipping past my question. “I’m just really exhausted. My ex has been calling and . . . we’ve been fighting. I took some stuff a few nights ago and it just . . . I feel like I’m weakening . . .”
I’m a liar—a filthy liar.
I don’t even know what stuff I am talking about. I just know that he thinks I’ve had a rough past and I need to keep that little act up.
“You said you weren’t going to keep using,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s hard for me. I’m living on friends’ couches and I just . . . I have nothing . . .” I put on the big sob story, letting a tear leak out and roll down my cheek.
“Come and live with me, Waverly. Come here; let me take care of you. I can give you a good life.”
Well shit, that took a dramatic turn that I really didn’t see coming. “We’re not . . . we’re not together, Dax.”
He steps forward. “We can be. I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another human. Let me have you. Come, stay here; we can enjoy our lives.”
“I don’t . . .” I shy away and look at the ground, because honestly, looking at him right now is making me nervous. Really bloody nervous.
“Think about it,” he says, his voice a touch harder. “Just think about it.”
“I will,” I say, to keep the peace. “I really will. But, right now . . . there’s just so much going on here. We need to work it out.”
“I’ve got a plan. Come, sit down. Let me tell you what’s going on, or better yet, let me show you.”
Show me?
God, that doesn’t sound good.
Not at all.
He takes my hand and leads me through the house, and then, before I know what’s happening, we’re going down to the basement, my stomach is turning and I know whatever is about to happen, it’s not good. He’s going to show me something that I’m not going to be able to fix—I just know it. He’s going to make sure this is something I never come back from.
“You’re on my side, right?” he asks me, stopping at the door and turning towards me. “You know what I’m doing here is actually helping these women?”
No.
“Yes, I know that. Why?”
“I just need to know you’re not going to freak out.”
Not freak out?
I’m already freaking out.
God, I’m freaking out so damned bad.
He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door and when we step inside, every bad thing I could have imagined is nothing compared to what’s in front of me. There’s not one, not two, not ten, not twenty, but at least fifty women in here. They’re all seemingly having a great time, with music, drugs and booze, and he’s got the basement set up like a party house. He’s making damn sure it looks fun. There are beds strewn around in the corners, and food wrappers lying about, but the women . . . they seem, I don’t know, out of it.
He’s got them drugged, probably something they don’t mind, but all the same, they’re seemingly not concerned that there is a massive group of them down here, or that they’re locked in and can’t get out, and they’re being fed a shit load of free drugs. Are their lives truly so bad that this situation doesn’t scare them? Or do they just think they’re at a party? But what will happen when they realize they’re not and freak out?
What then?
“What?” I say, stepping in. Dax locks the door behind me. There’s no getting away from this. This is an overload, an extreme, something that I honestly don’t know how to process. “What is this?”
“These women are all getting sold. Do you know just how much money there is sitting in here? Millions. Men, especially those overseas, will pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for women like this. All I have to do is sell them. It’s a fuckin’ perfect plan. Peter won’t care that Bennett is dead, because we’re going to do the transaction of a lifetime that’ll set us up long enough for us to find another cop to do our dirty work.”
Oh god.
That’s a terrible, terrible fucking plan.
I’m freaking out. Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert. My knees are going to give out. I feel like I’m going to scream, yet there’s nothing I can do about it. I know I have to play along—I have to, now more than ever, because if don’t I might very well not walk out of here, and he’ll get away with this monstrous act.
“Where did you find so many of them?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm but even I can hear how afraid I am.
“Street corners, junkie dens—you name it. I promise them all a better life, give them all the drugs they could ever want, and make sure they have food and alcohol and somewhere to sleep, and they’re happy. They’re happy to be here because they know it’s better than where I got them from. I’ve introduced them to some men who have taken a few of them out and shown them a good time. All it takes is word of mouth, and they all trust me. The stupid fucking idiots trust me.”
Oh my god.
Monster.
Sick fucking monster.
“A week, tops. I’ve got buyers, big-time men overseas who make a fuckin’ heap of cash out of women like this. I’ll sell them off, bunch by bunch, and then I’ll disappear for a while until we can get things back on track.”
He turns to me, eyes meeting mine. “Come with me.”
“That’s . . . you wanted me to move in before, and now you want me to leave? Dax . . .”
“Move in. Leave. As long as it’s together, who cares?”
“Can we focus on this right now? You were freaking out only days ago about Bennett and telling Peter, and now you’ve got this going. What if the cops come looking for Bennet?”
“It’ll take them a while to figure it out. We’ll be long gone by then.”
That’s what he thinks.
“What about paper trails? They’re going to be led to this house eventually, and everything you have here will lead them to you. You’ll never be able to come back. You’re not thinking about the big picture. You told me if they look, they’re going to find what they need.”
He stares at me. “That’s not for you to worry about. All I need you to do is help me. Help me get these women sold.”
“You want me to . . . help you?” I swallow, my stomaching twisting.
“Yes.”
“Can we get out of here? I don’t feel well.”
He nods, and just as he’s about to step out, a woman stumbles up to him. They’re all attractive women—not stunning, but they’re not bad to look at. The one who comes over to us is high as a kite, and clearly drunk. She smiles at Dax and puts her hand on his arm, slurring, “Where have you been, big boy?”
He puts on the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen and gently takes her shoulder in his hand. “I’ve been getting some supplies. I wouldn’t want my girls to miss out.”
She giggles. “You’re so nice. I can’t believe we found you. We’re lucky.”
Honey, you’re not lucky. You’re fucked.
“You should stay. Party with us?” she asks.
“I will, I promise. But right now I’ve got to get some things. I’ll have you all brought down some food soon. What would you like?”
“Pizza!” she cries, throwing a hand in the air.
“Pizza it is.” He turns, leading me out of the room. The door is closed and locked, and that’s that. Those women, even if they start to fight, aren’t getting out of there. What if, though, they do figure it out and band together? He’d never be able to take more than fifty women down. Has he even considered that? I’m not sure I want to ask, because quite honestly, the answer will probably terrify me.
I just want to get out of here.
I need to get the hell out before my composure cracks and I lose it.
I need to get Alarick.
The club.
And we need to fix this.
Now.
I HAVE TO WAIT FOR a lift into the club, and I’m like a cat on hot bricks as I do. When one finally arrives, I get in and order the older member to take me there as quickly as possible. He does and the second we’re safe, I launch out of the truck and run inside. It’s nighttime now, and the guys are clearly having some sort of party because there are skimpy women walking around everywhere.
Great.
I shove through the people to find Alarick standing at the bar, Briella by his side, laughing with Cohen. They’ve got beers in their hands, and they seem to be having a grand old time. That’s about to change.
I shove past a woman who is currently making out with Kendric by the bar. She’s got her hands all over him, and he’s got a handful of her ass. No doubt they’re going to disappear into a room very soon. Or not. I’m fairly certain these women don’t care. That’s what they’re here for—a good time, not a long time.
I finally make it to Alarick, and the moment he sees me, the smile falls from his face.
“Waverly, what’s wrong?”
“We need to talk. Now.”
He nods, and we’re out of the bar and into his office in a matter of minutes. Cohen comes in too. Briella shuts the door and locks it, and then they all look to me.
“He’s lost his mind,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “He’s got women, a lot of fucking women. Alarick, there’s got to be over fifty. He’s going to sell the lot of them, make a big profit, and disappear until they can find another cop and the heat off Bennett is gone. He’s got them all locked in this basement and . . . oh god, he’s just feeding them drugs and alcohol. He’s promising them all this amazing stuff . . .”
“Slow down,” Cohen says, handing me a bottle of whiskey. “You’re freakin’ out, babe. Settle.”
I swallow, nod, and then take a big sip of the whiskey. It burns the whole way down, but the moment it hits my stomach, I feel a little warmer and a little less panicked.
“How did he get so many women?” Alarick asks me.
“He just picked them up off the streets and from junkie dens, as he called them. He has sent a few of them out with rich men, and those girls have come back and talked, and now they all believe they’re being sent to this amazing place where they’re going to have a better life. Not to mention he has them that strung out on drugs, they probably don’t care. Right now, they’re all having their addictions fed for free. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“Fuck,” Alarick growls.
“This is so bad,” Briella whispers, shaking her head. “We’re running out of time.”
“Bennett is the least of our problems,” Cohen grunts. “We need to get those fuckin’ girls out of there.”
“We need to send the cops in!” I say, my voice frantic. “Call Zariah. Have her send a team out there. They’ll see what he’s doing and that’ll be the end of him.”
“No,” Alarick says, shaking his head. “No, they won’t be able to just search his house; that isn’t how it works. It’ll take them time to get a warrant to do that. We need to get those women out so he can’t sell them and disappear.”
“What about Bennett’s body?” I ask, my voice frantic. “If they find the women, they’re going to find that, and I’m . . .”
“She’s right. They’re going to link the two pretty quickly and search, find that body, and it’ll be over with,” Cohen agrees.
“I need to think,” Alarick growls. “Fuck, I need to think.”
The cops are suddenly looking like the worst idea here. If we call them in, we’re risking so much.
“I think we stick to the plan,” Briella carefully adds, and Alarick looks up at her. “I think we get the body out, and then when it’s gone and it’s safe, we get the girls out. At least then, if and when the cops show up, the body is still gone and Waverly is safe.”
“You have a point,” Cohen nods. “If we can do both without interference, then we’ll be better off.”
“How the fuck are we goin’ to get in there, get a body out, and get over fifty girls out of that house without Dax knowin’ about it?” Alarick asks.
“Me,” I say, swallowing. “You’ll have to use me.”
Alarick looks to me, and I go on.
“He trusts me; he wants me. I just need to get him away for one night. Just me and him. We can go somewhere, and that’ll give you all time to get everything done there. He’ll lose it if he goes back and all those girls are gone. He’ll lose it and he’ll do something stupid; we’ll let Zariah take it from there.”
“How are we goin’ to get those girls out?” Alarick asks. “You know where he keeps the key?”
“I’ll pay attention. I’ll go over tomorrow night and I’ll stay. I don’t want to but I will. I’ll watch what he does, where he puts things and find out where the security cameras are. All we need to do is get him out, just for a night. I can do that, with the promise of things that he wants.”
“It’s risky,” Cohen murmurs. “It might not be safe for you, Waverly. A whole night alone with him
. . . He’s goin’ to want things you’re not willing to give.”
I swallow, feeling sick. “I’ll be okay. Just worry about getting this finished so I never have to see him again.”
“It’s the best plan we’ve got.” Alarick nods. “I’ll talk to the rest of the club, sort it out tomorrow. For now, we just need to enjoy the night and try not to think about what a fuckin’ shit show this has become.”
I nod, and then rub my arms. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink.”
Briella nods, and hooks her arm through mine, and we walk out. I need something to take my mind off what just happened, and alcohol seems like a valid choice. We head to the bar, and order a vodka and orange each before sitting on bar stools. Briella turns to me and her eyes are soft, concerned. “Are you okay, honey?”
“I’m fine. Everything is just chaos at the moment, but I’m fine.”
“If you don’t feel safe, you do not have to go back in there. They’ll find another way . . .”
I shake my head. “I have to go back in there. I have to finish this.”
She nods. “You’re strong, Waverly. Stronger than me, I swear!”
I laugh. “I doubt that, honey. Hey, is Mykel here?”
Briella nods, and looks around. “He might be out back.”
“Mind if I go find him?”
She wiggles her brows. “Go for it.”
I finish the rest of my drink and walk through the big groups of people, looking for him. I don’t find him out back, or in any of the living areas, so I go into some of the rooms. I find him in the second room down, and what I see him doing has my stomach flipping and my whole body coming to a complete standstill.
He’s leaning against a pool table, pants down, arms crossed, and there’s a woman on the ground in front of him, on her knees, sucking his cock. For a moment, I can do nothing but stare in complete horror as her head bobs up and down. He’s got his eyes closed, his jaw is tight, and the very sight of it makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode. It hurts so much.
I didn’t expect that I’d feel something for him, not after everything, but seeing him right now just proves that I was wrong about that.