Lock

by Kimberly Knight

  "Own me?" She blinked.

  "In this city, I'm the king, which means I can do whatever the fuck I want. Your husband had the audacity to steal from me, so yes, my dear, I own all of you. That value you can bring me is the only reason you're still alive, so if you want to remain valuable, I suggest you keep quiet and do as you're fucking told."

  Present Day

  Since the moment I met Zell, I couldn't get her out of my head. She had told me that she had been held captive since she was twelve. I thought my father was bad, but this was worse.

  Much worse.

  What mother didn't let her kid out of the house for over five years? And before that, only to cross the street to feed fucking ducks? I couldn't even imagine not being able to come and goes as I pleased, especially at age seventeen. And to think her mother had all but sold her virginity.

  Dad and I took the elevator down to the waiting limo. "Did you have a good time?" he asked as we slid inside.

  I chuckled. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Because she was a virgin."

  The limo pulled away from the curb. "I've been with a virgin before."

  "You need a woman that will rock your world, Son. Give you a blow job that will make your eyes roll into the back of your head." He winked.

  "Is that why you cheat on Mom with whores?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

  He laughed and reached for a bottle of scotch to pour himself a glass. "Your mother hasn't laid on her back since she hurt it years ago, so yes, why not get sucked when I own them?"

  I blinked. "Own them?"

  "Yes, the penthouse is part of the Russo Empire."

  "Really? Why haven't you told me that before?"

  He took a sip of the scotch he'd poured. "There's a lot you don't know."

  If I hadn't met Zell, I probably wouldn't care about the workers in the penthouse. I wanted away from the so-called Russo Empire. I wanted to do things on my own and not have to live by my father's rules. That was why California was calling my name. But I had met Zell, and something was telling me that I needed to help her. To get her out of that place even though it was the nicest penthouse I'd ever seen in my life.

  So, I pretended like I was interested. "Then tell me. I'm a man now."

  Dad stared at me for a few moments as the limo pulled up to our building. "You're right. It's time I told you about your Uncle Dominic, and for you to start following in his footsteps."

  Dad led me into his home office after we walked in through the front door. Mom was nowhere in sight. She was probably in bed sleeping, given it was after midnight. I sat in my usual seat in front of his desk as he went behind it and sat in his. As I waited for him to speak, I chuckled to myself. Every conversation we'd had over the years about the birds and the bees, and now this one about owning whores, he had treated as a business meeting. I had sat in the same brown leather chair and waited for him to tell me about women each time. There was no compassion or anything of the sort. It was always straightforward.

  He lit a cigar, and I watched as smoke wisped into the air. "I know I haven't talked much about your uncle over the years. He was my twin brother and my best friend."

  I grunted slightly. I'd never known my father to have any friends. "How did he die?" The only things I knew about Uncle Dominic was that he was my father’s twin and had died before I was born. Same with my grandfather on his side of the family.

  Dad blew out another puff of smoke. "He was shot."

  He said those three words so casually, as though it was an everyday thing. Maybe it was for him. I knew my father had a gun on him at all times because I'd seen it on several occasions. What I didn't know was why. He showed me how to shoot a gun when I was fifteen but I never wanted to carry one.

  Dad continued. "As you know, the family business started with your grandfather, but what I didn't tell you was that we deal in more than drugs."

  "I've figured that out," I stated. Was I really too young? I was old enough to sell coke and shit. I knew about women, and when I started selling at fifteen, I wasn't an innocent boy.

  "Your Uncle Dom ran the whores."

  "You mean a whorehouse?"

  He nodded. "And selling them to buyers around the world."

  "Wait." I held up my hand. "You mean human trafficking?"

  He shrugged slightly. "If that's what you want to call it."

  "That's what it's called, but why do you sell women like that?"

  "Why?" he mused, giving me a look as though he thought I was stupid for asking such a thing.

  "Yeah. Why sell them if they are bringing in money at the whorehouse?"

  "The ones at the penthouse aren't sold like that."

  I sighed with a little relief because, for a second, I'd presumed Zell would be sold even though her mother was the Madam. A mother who was willing to let her daughter lose her virginity as a prostitute would also not bat an eye about selling her to the highest bidder. And then it hit me. "You mean there are others?"

  He grinned an evil smirk. "A lot more."

  I was trying not to show any emotion. Everything my father said and did was wrong, but I had to pretend I was interested because the more I knew about the family business, the more it would help me figure out how to help Zell. "Wow, Father. That's … That's a lot to take in for one night."

  "Well, now that you're eighteen, you're ready to take on more responsibility."

  "You mean you want me to run the women?"

  He nodded. "Eventually, but first, I need to teach you everything."

  "What is there to teach? You get a woman and sell her, right?" I assumed there was more, but I didn't want to let on that I was interested by asking him for details. I knew how my father worked, and I needed to play into his hand.

  Dad chuckled. "There's a lot to learn. It's more than selling drugs." He took another puff of his cigar, and we were silent for a few moments. “Tomorrow, I'll take you to the warehouse."

  It wasn't lost on me that Dad hadn’t mentioned how my uncle was shot or why. The conversation turned to business because, after all, that was who my father was: all business. I stood. "Great. Looking forward to it."

  I left his office and went to my room. I didn't know how long it would take, but I would learn everything there was to know about how the other side of the business was run because that would give me the opportunity to get Zell out of that place. It would go against my father, but in the end, that was what I really wanted to do now that I'd learned the women weren't at the brothel by their own choice. Once I was the boss, I would do whatever the fuck I wanted to do.

  I crawled into bed just as my door swung open without a knock. I was about to yell at the person until I realized it was my father. "Yeah?"

  "Your mother isn't here."

  My gaze was on the wall in Erin's room and not on the textbook in front of me. I couldn't concentrate because all I could think about was Frankie and when he would come again. I just wanted to talk to him one more time, to speak to someone my age. He seemed to know what it was like in the outside world, and I wanted to know everything he knew.

  Erin snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Are you paying attention?"

  I blinked and shook my head slightly. "Sorry."

  "What are you daydreaming about?"

  "Frankie," I admitted.

  Erin grinned. "You have a crush on him."

  I arched a brow. "A crush?"

  "You like him."

  "He was so cool." And cute, but I didn't tell her that.

  "Zell." She blew out a breath. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to like him."

  "Why?" I frowned.

  She thought for a moment. "Okay. Let's pretend we're still doing our coursework, but I will tell you what I think you need to know."

  "Okay." Now that I knew that the cameras didn't pick up sound, I felt more at ease about what I said around the house. It wasn't as if I did anything wrong before, but just knowing there was no audio lowered my anxiety about getting into trouble.

>   Erin pulled her chair closer. "Follow along in your book like you usually do." I nodded. "Frank Russo owns the brothel."

  "Brothel?" I knew that the house was a brothel because of the book Cannery Row, but hearing it come out of her mouth kind of surprised me.

  "Yes, but the difference is, none of us chose to do this."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, for me …" She paused, frowning and scrunching her forehead. "I went out with friends after work for drinks, and afterward, I got into a taxi to go home. But the taxi didn't take me home."

  My blue eyes widened as I pictured one of the yellow taxis I used to see when we crossed the street to the park. "Where did it take you?"

  "To a warehouse where there were cages of other women."

  "What?" I breathed.

  Erin frowned while looking down at her book. "I never saw my friends or family again."

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. "The other girls are Leanne and—"

  "No." She shook her head. "The other girls in the cages never came here."

  "Where did they go?"

  She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know for certain, but they were probably sold to men as sex slaves."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Kinda like what we do here, but maybe not so—glamorous."

  "How so?"

  "I know that you've only known this penthouse as your home, but not every home is like this."

  "Okay?"

  "There are places that are dirty, smell bad, have no heat in the winter or air conditioning in the summer. And then there are places that have no windows, where women are chained up until they are used for sex."

  "That's horrible."

  Erin nodded. "It is. I hate to use this word, but the girls and I were lucky to get sent here and not sold off."

  I let her words sink in for a few moments. "So, Mr. Russo is a bad guy, but are you saying that Frankie's a bad guy too?"

  She shrugged again. "That was the first time Frankie has ever come here, but his dad does own the place."

  "I thought Madam was the boss?"

  "She's the boss of us, but Mr. Russo is her boss."

  "Oh." I was silent again. "Do you like it here?"

  Erin tilted her head slightly and furrowed a brow. "No one likes doing this, Zell."

  "But you have to," I stated.

  "But we have to," she agreed.

  It made more sense now that I thought about everything that happened at the house. There were guards at the elevators, and Tyler, who used to go with us to the park. I thought it was for my safety because Madam didn't want anything to happen to me, but in reality, it was to keep the girls in and to make sure Erin didn't try to run when we went to feed the ducks.

  My gaze flicked up to hers. "Is Mr. Russo my father?"

  She started to shake her head but then stopped. "I … I don't think so."

  "But you don't know?" Madam had told me that my father died but what if it was Mr. Russo? I hadn't known Madam to have any friends, but it was clear she had a long history with Mr. Russo.

  Erin blew out a breath. "From what I've seen over the years, Mr. Russo and Madam are strictly business."

  "Yeah," I agreed even though I didn't know that firsthand. "He's never wanted to see me."

  "And plus"—she reached out and grabbed my hand—"I don't think Madam would let you sleep with your brother."

  "Oh, gosh," I breathed, and my eyes widened. What if Frankie was my brother? It wasn't as if Madam was a good mother to me. Frankie chose me, and Madam did try to stop him.

  "It's not like they're related, Saffron."

  I remembered Mr. Russo's words, and that had to mean he wasn't my father. Unless Frankie wasn't his son? Several thoughts spun through my head, and it made me want to see Frankie again even more.

  "I need to tell you something," I whispered.

  "You can tell me anything."

  I took a deep breath. "Frankie said that he'd get me out of here when he found out that I haven't been outside in five years."

  "Really? How?" She arched a brow.

  "He wasn't sure, and then he had to leave."

  Erin squeezed the hand she was still holding. "Zell, that could be dangerous."

  "I shouldn't trust him?"

  "His dad owns us. I don't think Frankie is innocent in this."

  I really liked Frankie, and I wanted to trust him. If he was a bad person, wouldn't he have made me have sex with him? "What do I do if he shows up like he said he would?"

  She swallowed. "I don't know."

  I didn't either.

  Every time a man came to the house, I held my breath. It didn't matter if I was in my room, the kitchen, or already cleaning one of the rooms. When I heard the girls start to get ready, I waited to see if I would be called too. Not because I thought Madam would make me work with the girls now that she thought I wasn't a virgin anymore, but because I was still waiting for Frankie.

  With each passing day, I began to believe more and more that he wouldn't come back. He’d seemed so sincere. He’d gotten my hopes up that someday I would get to see more than just the duck pond. I wanted to see the entire city, ride in a yellow taxi, make snow angels. I didn't even think he meant that he would get me out of the penthouse permanently. I just wanted a few hours to have fun again.

  Except he never came back, and my life returned to normal.

  My mother had been missing for three days.

  She’d left her cell phone, her credit cards, and everything else that my father could use to track her—if he wanted to. The doorman had told us that she’d gotten into a taxi alone, and that was the last time he'd seen her.

  I honestly didn't blame her, but I wanted to know why and make sure she was okay. I wouldn't have told my father anything if she would have told me her plan—I would have helped her pack a bag—but she never told me she wanted to leave. And Mom was never alone, except that day our housekeeper had called in sick, giving my mother a way out. It was as though she'd vanished.

  Exactly what I had planned to do once high school was over.

  Once my father learned that she’d gotten into a cab on her own, he’d shrugged, and that was that. That was fucking that. He didn't call the cops, he didn't cry or panic, and he sure as shit didn't care. He didn't even seem worried that she might turn him in or anything. How he and my mother had sex to make me eighteen years ago was a mystery to me. Not once did I remember seeing them hug or kiss; I never heard them say I love you to each other. He was all business and other women, and my mother was just—there.

  The morning after my birthday, my father came into my room and told me to be ready in ten minutes because we were going to the warehouse instead of looking for my mother. I couldn't believe it, but then again, I could.

  The limo pulled up to a big steel building. There were no signs or anything to indicate what was inside the door. But I knew what was inside.

  "This is where you keep the whores?" I asked.

  The back door of the limo opened, and Dad slid out, buttoning his suit jacket. "Until they're sold."

  "And how long does that take?" I followed him out of the car.

  Dad grinned and opened the door to the building. "Depends on how appealing the woman is, but at least once a month, we have an auction to sell them."

  "Right, that makes sense."

  He slapped me on the back as I walked inside. "I'm glad you're really taking to this. It makes me happy."

  "I'm happy you're teaching me more about the family business."

  The metal door closed behind us with a slight bang, and I looked around at the large, open space. It was your typical warehouse, but instead of machines or storage, there were several areas enclosed by chain-link fences with quite a few women inside of them. It was exactly how I pictured it, except I thought the women would be naked or dressed in only their bra and panties. Instead, they were dressed in street clothes, business clothes, clubbing clothes.

  "How do you get them all?" I asked, looking at the
cages.

  "There are various ways, Son. It's just kidnapping." He said the last sentence as though kidnapping were an everyday thing for him. I suppose it was.

  "Like what?"

  He lifted a shoulder. "I have several men that I employ as grabbers. Some work for taxi and ride-sharing services. Or there's the traditional way of grabbing a woman walking alone and throwing her into a van."

  "Is that what I will be doing?" Please say no.

  He shook his head. "No, I have plenty of those men on the payroll. You'll be overseeing the intake of the women and then the sale of them."

  "Okay."

  I needed a way in as soon as possible, so I could get Zell out. I wasn't actually sure what I would do with her once she was out of the penthouse, but I had to help her. She had such a long life ahead of her, and the thought of her laying on her back while some sick fuck fucked her made my blood boil, especially given she was still a virgin and innocent.

  With my hands clasped behind my back, I walked along the cages as if I were assessing the merchandise. I wanted my father to think I was really interested, and I gave an occasional nod as though I approved. I didn't. The women looked scared, dirty, hungry, and I fucking hated it. I was only eighteen, but unlike my father, I had morals.

  "Like what you see?" Dad asked.

  I bobbed my head in approval. "You have some pretty ones."

  "Auction is in three days. Then you'll learn how much each one is worth."

  "I can't wait."

  The three days went faster than I expected, and it was auction day all too soon. When I woke up that day, my stomach churned. How was I going to sit back and watch women get sold off as though they were property? I thought about where they were going to go, how they would be held captive like Zell but ordered to have sex whenever the fucker wanted, locked in a basement to be a plaything, working the streets in another country. The list of dismal possibilities was endless. And it fucking sucked. I was okay with selling drugs, but now I was going to have to sell innocent women.

  I fucking hated my father.

  The limo drove toward the warehouse, and with each mile we got closer, the more my stomach did somersaults.