Protector: City of Sin

by Jenny Lynn

  Charles arched an eyebrow at me, his patience wearing thin, and I walked past inside the devil’s domain. “Follow me,” he instructed, sensing my reluctance. He walked up a staircase, then to the left down a corridor. There was a black door bolted shut from the outside - he unfastened the lock and stepped aside. My mind was reeling against the thought of being locked up again, even though the entire compound was itself a prison.

  “Inside,” he said. “This is your space now, Ella.”

  The softness in his voice sounded insincere to me. He was trying to charm me into obedience, and I was unwilling to do what he asked of me. I crossed my arms, refusing to be locked in that room willingly. He may as well understand that now - if I was going to be his prisoner, I was not going to be a compliant one. “Ella, you are testing my patience. If you would just give yourself time to adjust-”

  When he reached a hand forward to grab my arm, I twisted out of his grasp. I kicked him away, my foot connecting with his knee causing him to fall forward, cursing at me. When he grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me up against the wall, I half expected his violence this time; strands of my hair flew across my face as he pinned me in with his arms. I closed my eyes for a moment to compose myself, then looked back at him, meeting his anger with my own.

  “Do you think that’s the worst I can do, Ella?” he sneered.

  “I don’t know, Charles. Do you think that’s the worst I can take?”

  He laughed, the sound grated on my nerves. I hated him, hated him. I wasn’t a violent person, but in my mind I was already imagining the most horrific deaths for him. Long, slow, gruesome. He clearly loved pain and suffering, I thought it would only be fair he experienced it for himself before he finally sucked in his final, ragged breath.

  “This is how you want to play? Fine by me.” Grabbing me by my hair he pulled me in the room after him. I slapped at his hands, struggling to get free, my eyes watering as I felt myself dragged inside the room. He walked past a bed into an adjoining bathroom, throwing me down onto the ground. My elbow smacked against the tile and I yelped, pain shooting electric through my arm.

  “Get out of those rags, and shower,” he said as he loosened the collar of his shirt, rolling up his sleeves. For a terrifying moment, I was worried he was going to take off his clothes to shower with me. Instead he sat in a nearby chair and retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Lighting one, he inhaled and threw his head back, letting the smoke trail out from between his lips. I looked up at him from where he left me on the ground.

  “I was planning on giving you privacy, but you lost that privledge, and now I need to sit down until my fucking knee stops throbbing. So you have two choices,” he said. “You can take off what you’re wearing and shower while I sit here and admire my new purchase. If you don’t do what I asked immediately, I’ll call for my security. One, two, maybe three of them - it will depend on how much you piss me off, Ella. I’ll have them undress and wash you. Who knows - maybe I’ll reward their loyalty by letting them do whatever the hell they want with you. The choice is yours.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I said, trembling.

  “Are you sure about that?” he arched an eyebrow at me.

  I pushed myself to my feet, my legs shaking. I couldn’t look at him while I pulled down the zipper of my dress and let it fall at my feet, stepping out of it. I chose the lesser of two evils. I chose submission. When I did manage to glance in his direction Charles smiled, taking another long pull of his cigarette, relaxing with his arm tossed over the back of the chair triumphantly.

  Removing my bra, I started to slowly back up towards the shower. Then, taking in a quivering breath, I felt myself burn red with shame as I removed my underwear. Charles said nothing as I walked under the shower head and turned on the water, gasping as it hit my skin in cold pinpricks until I adjusted the temperature.

  He lit another cigarette, watching me as I did as I was told. He said nothing, made no attempt to join or touch me. A small mercy. I washed my hair quickly, keeping my eyes shut to try and pretend I was anywhere else. Then I quickly lathered my body, rinsed, and turned off the water. Looking around, my hands wrapped around my body, I waited for further instructions. Charles finished his cigarette, flexing his leg to test how it was feeling.

  Finally, he threw me a towel from under his chair and gestured for me to follow him back into the bedroom. My stomach lurched; I was going to be sick. This was it, he was going to rape me. What kind of men do this to women? He was pathetic, disgusting, the lowest form of humanity. And I was trapped.

  He took a garment out from the closet and laid it on the bed, then walked over to the dresser and touched a keypad on a small, smooth, black surface. The tablet sprang to life, counting down, giving me thirty minutes. Thirty minutes until what, I wasn’t sure. Approaching the bed, I realized it was a gown and a pair of heels. I didn’t need to see the label to understand these were expensive and probably cost more than three months of my rent. Had he bought them just for me, or did they once belong to someone else he had kept in this same room?

  “Be downstairs in the sitting room by the time the clock runs out. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Ella.”

  Charles walked away, leaving the door open when he left. I rushed over to shut it, disappointed but not surprised to realize it only locked from the outside. Still, it created a barrier between him and I, and that was enough for now. I slid down onto the floor and started to cry, unable to hold back the hot tears that traced their way down my cheeks and collected near my nose.

  Taking a deep breath, I banged my head against the door in frustration. I needed to keep it together. If he broke me, that would mean he won. But if I kept fighting him, how much worse would it get? The clock was ticking, I had limited time and even more limited options. I wiped my face with my hands, then got to my feet. In the bathroom I splashed my face with cold water to relieve some of the redness, then I ran my fingers through my hair. I found a hair dryer under the sink and roughly dried the strands, leaving them loose and wavy.

  Back in the bedroom, I reluctantly put on the outfit that had been left out for me. It was soft grey silk, clinging to my body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Fastening the thin ankle strap of the heels, I looked at the clock. Five minutes to spare. I had better go downstairs to see what this maniac wanted.

  Holding onto the bannister, I heard soft music in the distance. I followed it down, around the corner, and along another hallway. It opened up into a luxurious room with cream walls and carpeting, thick heavy black drapery and black leather furniture arranged around a fireplace. He had a fire going now, there was a large abstract piece of artwork over the mantle, and marble statues in every corner of the room. The room was modern and lacked any warmth; despite the roaring fire, it was the coldest seeming room I had ever been in. It suited him perfectly.

  “Have a seat,” Charles gestured to the empty space beside him on the couch.

  I walked over, my heels tapping then muting once I reached the carpet. I lowered myself onto the couch, as far from him as I could manage without seeming outwardly disrespectful. He looked me over and I squirmed in my seat. He reached for a bottle on the table and poured its contents into two small, slender glasses, then handed one to me.

  “Drink,” he said.

  I was about to refuse, but snapped my mouth shut before I did. It wasn’t a question, but a command. I really needed to adapt to my situation. He tapped his glass against mine, then lifted it to his lips. I did the same, taking it like a shot, and winced as the liquor hit my tongue.

  “I hate to drink alone,” he sighed as he refilled my glass. “Don’t you?”

  “I’m not a big drinker,” I admitted.

  “You aren’t?” he asked. “Well, tonight you are. How do you like Mezcal? You can enjoy the taste better if you sip it, you know.”

  Oh thank God, I thought to myself, realizing he was sipping his drink. I was a total lightweight under the best circumstances, let alone in the cur
rent state I was in. I took a small sip; it was much more tolerable this time.

  “When I was a child,” Charles said, leaning back and placing his arm across the back of the couch, his fingertips grazing my shoulder lightly, “my favorite holiday was my birthday.”

  I sipped my drink to dull the revulsion of his arm touching me. “I loved the gifts, and it was different from Christmas. I wasn’t expected to give anything to anyone else. I know, I know, I was such a selfish little shit. My parents both traveled for work, I spent a lot of time with babysitters until I was old enough to be left by myself. They always made me feel like I was in the way, but on this day - ahhh, for once everything was about me.”

  He sighed, his eyes closed, as if he were reliving a cherished childhood memory. I don’t know if he wanted me to pity him - I didn’t. So what? He was lonely, neglected, craved attention. So was half the world. It didn’t matter. Nothing gave anyone the right to treat another human being like property.

  “Drink,” he instructed, opening his eyes to glance at my glass. He watched and waited until I drank half to continue talking.

  “What I eventually figured out was while the toys quickly bored me, the anticipation was something that sustained me all year - until the next birthday. Each gift held mystery, surprise, and best of all - potential. Potential to one day be something that actually amazed me, instead of losing its appeal soon after I played with it. I kept chasing that high, hoping to find something I loved, but I never did.”

  He shot back his drink, gesturing for me to do the same. I did, even though I was already starting to feel lightheaded. The liquor was strong, but what choice did I have?

  “As I grew older, the world just kept disappointing me. Only it wasn’t toys anymore. I wanted success, and to be respected, but… let’s just say that didn’t work out.” Clearly, I thought to myself. There was nothing respectable about Charles, and I doubted there ever had been.

  “Then I decided I wanted to be powerful, to be feared,” he said. “I will admit it gets a bit repetitive, but it has its moments that make it all worthwhile. With women, unfortunately, it’s usually the same thing,” he said, trailing a finger lazily in small delicate circles on my shoulder. “And that’s where you come in, Ella. I wonder to myself, are you going to be special, like she was? Or are you just going to disappoint me like all the rest of them?”

  “Special like who?” I asked, confused. “Who are you talking about?”

  Charles snapped out of whatever spell he had been under, his entire demeanor changing before my eyes as he sat up straight, then he had another drink. I had touched on something, something he hadn’t meant to tell me, and now he regretted it. So the monster does have a weakness, I thought, making a mental note.

  “The only way to find out if you’re special though, Ella, is for us to spend time together. For you to accept this life, your new life, with me.” I glared at him, saying nothing but letting my body language do all the talking. “I know, I know,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair, just as black as his heart. “You’re thinking; that will never happen. But I have ways to motivate you, Ella. You’ll see.”

  “How do you plan to motivate me?” I asked, genuinely curious what he planned to dangle. He had nothing I wanted, except for my freedom - and he wasn’t going to give that to me. I knew too much for me to ever believe he’d let me go. “Charles, listen to me. You have to eventually accept that whatever you’re missing - I won’t be able to give it to you.”

  Charles watched me, contemplating my words, the look in his eyes sending a chill through me. Without warning he suddenly gripped me by my hair, tilting my head back as I gasped. I winced as he traced a finger along the length of my neck, and I swallowed as he leaned closer to me. I kept my face as impassive as possible, staring up at the ceiling. If he wanted me to beg him not to hurt me, it wasn’t going to work. I was determined to hold out as long as I could to deny him the pleasure of knowing he had broken me down.

  “Physical punishment isn’t going to work as well on you as it has for me in the past,” he leaned his face over mine to look me in the eyes. His strong jaw was grazing against my cheek as he moved closer to my ear. Charles was patient, attentive, and handsome enough - for a sociopath. If sex and seduction were what he wanted, he’d be able to find it easy enough; but clearly his tastes were much darker than that.

  “Well then, I’m sorry to continue to disappoint you,” I said, keeping my voice calm and even.

  “No need to be, Ella, since I have something you want,” he said. He let go of my hair and picked up his drink, raising the glass to his lips, drawing out the moment. He was enjoying this, the masochist. “Drink,” he told me as he picked up the bottle and refilled our glasses yet again.

  “What could you possibly have that I want?” I asked.

  He ran his finger slowly up and down the length of the glass in his hand, watching me. He doesn’t have anything, I told myself. He’s bluffing. This is all a game to him.

  “Don’t you want to know what happened to your sister?” he said finally.

  Whatever expression my face made in that moment, he started to chuckle to himself. “Dana James, it’s not easy to forget a face like that. You look alike, did you know that? Of course you do, she’s your sister after all…”

  “You’re lying,” my voice pushed past my lips with considerable effort. There was no way - he didn’t - couldn’t - know anything about Dana. Unless… the auctions. He had been before, likely many times. Charles could have been there the night she was sold, he could know who bought her… or he could be manipulating me.

  “I could be, sure. But we both know I’m not. I have something you want, and you’re going to need to start following my directions to get it, Ella. Those are my terms. Are you in, or are you out? How much does Dana matter to you, really, even after all this time?”

  My face flushed hot. Asshole. He had sunk his teeth into something I was desperate to have, that I had been chasing most of my adult life.

  “What do you want from me?”

  He drank his drink, taking the opportunity to savor both the flavor of expensive Mezcal along with this exact moment he had been planning - likely since the moment he bought me.

  “A kiss, Ella,” he said with a roguish grin on his lips.

  “I don’t want anything more than that, for now, but it’s a start. With time, you’ll see, you can be happy here. But for now, I’m willing to trade you for it - with one condition; I want to believe it. If you can kiss me and make me believe it, like you’re kissing a man you’re falling in love with, then I’ll give you what you want. Have you ever been in love, Ella?”

  I felt sick, and not from the strong liquor churning in my stomach.

  I nodded, my hands shaking at my sides. I grabbed onto the fabric of my dress to stop them. How the hell could I convince Charles I felt anything for him except revulsion and hatred?

  He leaned in closer. “Alright, then let’s start there, Ella. I want you to kiss me the way you used to kiss him,” he whispered in my ear.

  A single tear fell from my eyes. He cupped my face tenderly in his hands, and he brushed it away with his thumb, then he waited. I took a deep breath and bridged the distance between us, pressing my lips against his.

  I tried to pretend I was someone else, floating above my body and watching two strangers kiss. I placed my hands gently against his chest and he slipped his tongue into my mouth, his hand pressed into the small of my back. His movements were confident, possessive, his strong lean arms pulling me closer towards him. Suddenly he flipped me over, laid me down on the couch, kissing me earnestly, then just as suddenly as we started - he pulled back.

  I blinked, stunned. Charles picked up his glass, sat down with his feet up on the table, then shot back his drink.

  “Go to bed, Ella,” he instructed, not even bothering to look at me.

  “But my sister, you promised you’d tell me-”

  “And you’re a disappointment,”
he sneered. “Get some rest, maybe tomorrow tyou can earn that information. But for now, I’d prefer my own company.”

  When I hesitated, Charles turned to focus those intense eyes on me. “I’m not the type of man who likes to repeat himself, Ella.”

  I got to my feet and ran from the room, up the stairs, stopping myself from looking back. I shut the door behind me and threw myself onto the bed, sobbing so hard my entire body was shaking. Did he really know where Dana was? Could he have any answers for me? And if he did - what price was I willing to pay to finally get the closure I was so desperate for, even now?

  22

  Beckett

  My head was already pounding before I even opened my eyes. Fair enough, that's what you can expect when you down half of a bottle of whiskey in one night. It wasn't my first hangover, and it wouldn't be my last.

  I dragged myself to the bathroom, stripped out of last night's clothes, and took a cold shower. Leaning my head against the cool tile, I let the water run over and refresh my heated skin. Relief.

  After grabbing a couple of pills from the cupboard over the sink, I dried myself off and wrapped a towel around my waist. It was time to move on to the next stage of my hangover protocol; food. I didn't have much of an appetite, but I knew I needed to fuel myself for whatever came next.

  In the fridge I grabbed packages of bacon and sausages, set a cast iron pan on the stove, and dropped a few of each inside. While they sizzled I started on coffee, checking my phone. I had no new messages from the man who had Ella, but I did have one from Bishop.

  "Beckett, call me when you get this."

  Simple, direct and to the point. That was his style, and I appreciated it now more than ever. I'd rather move past my breakdown yesterday, pretend it never happened.

  Today, I was back in charge of my emotions. I had a mission to focus on, a villain to direct my violence and anger towards. I was going to save the woman I loved, there was no other option. The beast in me was ready to destroy anything that stood in its way.