Landon: FBI Special Agent: FBI Brotherhood Book #3

by Ann, Bry

  The beatings. The rape. The mind games. The pain. The drugs. I can take it all.

  But my bitter heart can’t take watching girls come in horrified and having to be the one to train them to have their lives ripped apart. They’re innocent in all this. I wasn’t.

  I refused to train the first girl, so they killed her. In front of me.

  I caught on fast after that.

  “Have her ready in an hour.”

  A girl is shoved in. All I see is blond hair falling onto the cement hard enough to shred the skin on her knees. I don’t move. I don’t look. The more I give a shit about these girls, the more they suffer. They’ll suffer enough without my help.

  With those instructions, Sty leaves.

  “Essie,” a voice hisses.

  My entire body jolts like I’ve been shot. My eyes squeeze shut. I'm high, I'm high, this is my imagination fucking with me.

  “Essie! Oh my God, what has he done to you?”

  Hands run up and down my trembling body. Then tears.

  “Essie. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. I knew it!”

  Sobs echo across the dingy room. Keeping my eyes closed, I force my voice to stay cold.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Jenny.”

  Jenny literally peels my eyes open with her fingers. Her big blue eyes meet mine.

  “First, I looked everywhere for you, but if I were here of my volition, the plan would be better.”

  I shoot to seated, feeling rage like lava burn through my veins.

  “Does Zaid know you’re here?”

  She winces. “No. That’s why I'm not panicking yet. Zaid’s a monster, but he wouldn’t do this to me. He hasn’t hurt me one time since the day our father almost beat me to death. I think he cares about me in his own way. I’ll get you out, too.”

  Oh, Jenny, always the optimist. I ruffle her hair. Zaid did let me go by Tammy, and I’m pretty sure it was for Jenny. Although, my read of Zaid has always been way off.

  “Let’s both pray Zaid has a heart somewhere.”

  “Come. Let’s get you ready,” I whisper in a flat voice, feeling nausea swirl in my belly.

  “Ready?” she shrieks, literally trying to lift herself over the railing of my top bunk with her long limbs alone. “You’re skin and bones. You’re hurt.” Her voice cracks. “Zaid hurt you.”

  “Not just Z,” I mutter. “Jenny, listen to me.” I grab both of her hands and try to convey the urgency of our situation with my voice. “I have to get you ready. You’re in danger here.”

  My eyes water. Damn it. Damn it. I have to rein in my emotions.

  “How did you end up here, Jenny?” My voice cracks. Jenny’s face saddens.

  “I looked everywhere for you. I knew Zaid had something to do with your disappearance. After not hearing from him for months, I went to his place to confront him.”

  I wince.

  “The bastard who threw me in here—”

  “Sty,” I murmur.

  “Well, Sty,” she spits, “grabbed me, drugged me and took me here. To you. How did you get here?” Her fingers run over my bruises. “What did he do?”

  Ignoring her, I crawl off the top bunk with purpose, dragging Jenny with me.

  “What’s your number?” I ask as I drag her to the “beauty room.” The place full of slutty clothes and makeup where they make me get the girls ready.

  I won’t let Jenny die.

  She snorts. “Who cares? There’s no way they are calling me by a damn number. My name is Jenny—”

  “Don’t say your full name,” I cut her off. “Oh, and call me Tammy. My name is Tammy here.”

  She furrows her eyebrows. “Tammy, why?”

  “You’ll understand in time.”

  “Is it a genius thing?”

  I give her a sad smile, shutting the door to the beauty room. “I'm no genius, Jenny. Not anymore.”

  * * *

  “Where the fuck is she? Sty, you Goddamn idiot!”

  Z. My heart pounds. Maybe even worse than the day I ended up here. Please let Zaid have a heart, please let him have a heart somewhere…

  Our door swings open and there stand all 225 pounds of muscles that make Z.

  “Jenny,” he barks.

  Jenny leaps from her mattress below me, scowling in her slutty, see-through, white t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts that are basically underwear that I made her wear.

  “You fucking…” Jenny’s hand flies up. Z catches it.

  “Watch it, little sis. You’re in no position,” he warns as he scans her up and down, “to come at me like that.”

  “You pig. You’re just like our father!”

  Jenny’s shoulders slump. I'm behind her, but I see the outline of tears in her eyes. Z goes stiff. In a flash, he has a hand around her throat and is squeezing so hard Jenny starts to panic. I fly from the bed and run at Z.

  “Let her fuckin’ go, Z. She has a job, right? If you hurt her—”

  “Shut up, Tammy.” He backhands me so hard I fall to the floor. “This is between brother and sister.”

  He turns back to Jenny and loosens his grip a bit.

  “If I were like father, I’d throw you to the ground and make Tammy watch as I fucked you.”

  “You’d never,” Jenny spits. “Not even Father did that to me!”

  “Oh yeah, and why is that?” Z raises his eyebrows.

  “Zaid, are you gonna keep us trapped here?”

  Jenny starts to cry. Z’s jaw ticks.

  “You’ve seen too much. I didn’t want you here or I would have taken you here when you were ten pounds lighter, but you’re here now. I'm sure we can find a use for you.”

  “Zaid, you can’t!” I scream, tripping on my feet to stand. “You can’t! She’s your sister, Zaid!”

  Zaid rounds on me, eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Wanna bet, 214? And I’ve told you, that’s Z to you.”

  He pulls a gun out and shoots her. BANG!

  Jenny’s beautiful body falls to the floor, all her light snuffed out in a flash. I can’t hear anything past my shrill screaming.

  “Problem solved,” he mutters.

  Elephants, pigs, donkeys, quadratics, statistics… my mind short circuits and I black out.

  Chapter Five

  Tammy

  Six Months Later

  “Hands on the wall,” Z barks.

  I put my hands on the wall.

  “Spread your legs, damn it. You know the drill.”

  I spread my legs. I don’t have even a minute to brace myself for the pain before he’s thrusting inside me. I'm already sore down there. Bruised. I feel more bone than skin, but if I do this, Z will give me drugs.

  I need the drugs! My life is one long haze of swirling images, but it’s been too long since my last real high.

  “Fuck,” Z hisses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  He pulls himself out of me and comes all over my thighs and ass. As soon as he’s done, he kicks me in the back of my kneecaps, sending me tumbling to the ground, hissing in pain.

  “Get the fuck out. Clean yourself up. You have a job later and Sty’s bringing a girl in for you to train. You have two hours to get her ready.”

  He storms out of the room, dropping a little bag of white powder on the way. I scramble on all fours to reach it. My treacherous heart is pounding. Still, I can’t stand it when they make me train the girls. I’d rather them beat me and fuck me and sell me any day.

  They cry and I can’t stand their tears.

  Jenny cried and Z shot her. His own sister.

  I shudder as I open the bag of white powder. Immediately, I lean down and sniff. Another girl, another girl… there have been six since Jenny was killed. Six women I’ve trained, watch get taken, hurt, and then inevitably, they break. That’s when my job is over. Z or Sty takes them away to the compound off site. That’s where the drugs are aplenty, the rigidity a bit less. Women who go there can leave without Z or Sty or anyone else hovering over them, because all they’ll do i
s what they’re told.

  Their soul is dead… and I'm part of the cause.

  Shuddering, I lean down and take another hit so I don’t cry.

  My world spins around me. I feel almost giddy. Almost. Even drugs aren’t that powerful. Once the room is full of sights and sounds I know aren’t real, I stumble to my feet and go back to the room they’ll expect me to be in.

  I wish I’d break. I don’t understand why I'm not broken yet. Then I wouldn’t have to train. I could just spread my legs and get high all the time. Doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

  Pushing aside the thought, I tumble to the floor. Whoa, I feel dizzy. Ha, dizzy. Ha ha, funny.

  “Tammy,” Sty barks.

  Even high, I jump to attention. Sty pushes a woman in, but she doesn’t fall like everyone else. She trips a few steps before righting herself.

  Her ice blue eyes land on me, chin lifted, face set in a scowl. Her hair is nearly white, but I know it to be some shade of blonde. She already looks like she’s been starved. She’s all skin and bones. She won’t last two days here.

  I hate her already.

  She’s gonna make me watch another person die. The last one was Jenny. Even through my high, there’s a faint tightening in my heart.

  “Fuck you,” the arctic blonde spits.

  And here it goes…

  Sty approaches her, slowly, methodically, before letting the beast loose. His fist flies out and nails her across the cheek. She goes down, but that doesn’t stop him. He continues to pummel her with his fists and kick her until she yelps with pain.

  I don’t move from my spot on the bed.

  560÷760932=0.00073593961

  5493234÷89=61721.7303371

  I want the noises to stop. My head fuckin’ hurts. Rolling over to my side, I watch Sty pull away from the girl.

  “Clean her up,” he barks. “Two hours.”

  “Yes, Sty.”

  Bang! He slams the door behind him. I roll to my side so I'm face to face with the new girl. Blood is dripping down her nose and her eye is already starting to swell.

  “You alive?”

  “Still breathing,” she pants.

  “Good to hear. You need to get up. I have two hours to work magic.”

  The woman pushes to seated, wincing on the way, but being oddly strong for how banged up she is, especially given her already fragile state.

  “I'm Pamela. What’s your name?”

  “Tammy,” I mutter.

  “Tammy, nice.”

  Her eyes roam over me, sad, but there’s a fire in them I haven’t seen in any of the other women to come through here.

  “Fuck these bastards,” she mutters.

  My spine stiffens, but my mind is foggy.

  “You can’t say shit like that here unless you want to end up ten feet underground.”

  Pamela tilts her head to the side, white blonde hair going with her.

  “You don’t pull any punches do you?”

  “Why bother? Do well, you live, don’t, you die.”

  “There’s more than one way to die, Tams,” she says softly.

  “Tammy,” I bark.

  “Sure, sorry.”

  I shove to my feet and reach out a hand.

  “Can you handle standing?”

  “I’m a runaway,” Pamela whispers. “I can take a beating.”

  Need. More. Drugs.

  “Good.”

  I jerk my hand out further for her to take. Slowly, barely wincing, she accepts it and I pull her to her feet.

  “Let’s get you ready.”

  Reluctantly, she follows, but why do I get the feeling she’s gonna be the end of me?

  She’s gonna make me watch her die. I just know it.

  * * *

  “I'm not wearing that.”

  Pamela crosses her arms over her nonexistent chest. Her hair is done, her bruises mostly covered. I’ve worked magic. I just have to get her to wear this damn dress.

  “I don’t wear dresses,” she says softly with something behind it that says there’s more to the story.

  I empathize with her pain, but a hell of a lot of good that will do either of us here.

  “Look, sucks, but it’s this or that set that’s basically lingerie.”

  Pamela’s eyes start to water. I can see she’s trying to fight it, but she’s losing this time. I can’t fault her. She’s been stronger than the others up ‘til this point.

  “Look…” I sigh.

  “I just, they can’t just take me!” she screams, indignant. “They can’t. I may have been running away, but-but…”

  “It doesn’t matter why you’re here. If you don’t want to die,” I emphasize and shove the dress into her chest, “put on the damn dress.”

  “No. My clothes may be rags, but I like them. If they’re gonna try to force their way between my legs, they’re gonna have to try a hell of a lot harder than this.”

  Pamela holds up the dress. I scream. Literally, just scream at the top of my motherfucking lungs. I don’t know what happens next, but I fall to the floor, rocking back and forth. I hear Pamela with the pretty blue eyes—prettier than Jenny’s, even—screaming my name, touching me all over, but I'm losing it.

  Maybe I'm finally breaking like all the other girls.

  “The fuck is going on here?” Z.

  Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.Z.

  Tears prick my dumb eyes. All the other girls got taken, bribed, manipulated. I was the only dumbass to jump into this two feet in.

  I don’t even scream as strong fingers tangle in my hair and yank me to my feet.

  “Get your hands off her!” Pamela.

  There’s a loud thud and her voice is quieter.

  “Shut the fuck up, Tammy.”

  That’s one of the other handlers here, Marcus.

  “I’ll handle her,” I hear Z grunt as he drags me off, sending shooting pain through my scalp.

  “She’s gonna d-die,” I slur.

  “Who knows? But she’s hot as fuck. She’ll make us good money. Don’t you worry, IQ.” He calls me that to torture me when it’s just us. “She’ll live for as long as she can fuck. Women like that are hard to come by.”

  “Jenny was pretty,” I hiccup.

  His grip tightens on my scalp. “Jenny would have caused problems for me. She always was a loudmouth.”

  A reporter. She was a reporter.

  I don’t realize we’ve stopped until I'm thrust against a wall with his hand around my throat.

  “What the fuck was that back there?”

  “I—” I splutter and gag as his grip tightens.

  “Do that again and I’ll fucking kill you, IQ.”

  Please. Oh God, please do.

  He must see the desire in my eyes because he sneers.

  “No, I’ll fucking kill three women in your place. In front of you. Make you stare at their lifeless bodies, knowing it was your fault they died.”

  I gag.

  “Just like you train them so well to be the nice little whores they are.”

  The vomit spills over. Z roars, takes my head, and slams it against the wall.

  My world goes dark.

  * * *

  “Get your hands off me! Help! Ahhh, help!”

  I rouse from my sleep, holding my head with both hands. It hurts. Oh my God, it hurts!

  “Ow!” Sobs echo down the hall.

  Pamela. I dig my nails into my skull as I force my shaking limbs to stand.

  “Pamela,” I croak. “Pam…”

  Damn, they never give them time. To adapt. To wrap their minds around this. My feet trip over each other as I fight to get to her.

  “Fuck you!” comes Pamela’s loud cry.

  I trip over my heel. She’s not ready yet. I have to go make her be quiet.

  “Oh, Essie Taylor…” Z’s voice sing-songs from behind me.

  My entire body locks up. Not that name, not that name, not that name…

  “Where do you think you’re going?�
��

  “I… She… Um…”

  I run. I know better. I'm weak and that makes me slow, but for some damn reason, I have to warn Pamela to shut her mouth.

  “Ow, he-help me!”

  “Oh no, you don’t. Sty’s playing.”

  Not Sty. Sty’s the roughest person here. I keep trying to run, but Z grabs my thigh with his hand—my thigh is now small enough for him to pretty much wrap his whole hand around. Using his leverage, Z pulls me straight to the ground. I scream as my knees crash down. He’s unrelenting in his pursuit to teach me to be heartless. If I suddenly develop a heart, they have to go back to training and cleaning the girls full time ‘til they find someone who can be as heartless, gutless, and stupid as me.

  “You did your part, don’t you remember, IQ?” he purrs. My stomach once again revolts at the nickname. “Now Sty’s doing his.”

  Faster than I can process the mood change, Z laces his fingers through my hair and slams my head against the stone. My world spins and my brain struggles to process the second assault. As my body revolts and stars fill my vision, Z’s breath is in my face.

  “Remember who owns you, Essie Taylor? I may let men fuck you, but you’re mine. I alone know your real name. You may hate your asshole parents, but do you want everyone here to know how good your mother looks in a bikini? Dana’s her name, right?”

  I try to move, but the pain’s too great and my head’s chirping. Like, bird noises. I can’t focus. Z knows he has me cornered, though.

  “That’s what I thought. Lights out, Tammy.”

  * * *

  “Hey, I'm here whenever you’re ready to wake up. I'm right here.”

  Cold hands gingerly brush across my forehead, over and over and over…

  “Mom,” I croak.

  A broken sound escapes the lips of the person above me.

  “I'm not your mom. I'm sorry.”

  More cold strokes.

  “That feels really good.”

  The lady stuffs something soft in my arms and tries to pull me up to sitting.

  “Don’t touch me!” I screech.

  Hands fly off. I roll my aching head to the side and see heaven. Hidden in the corner of the room for my eyes only is a tiny bag of white powder.