by Anthology
When we break apart, he’s breathing harshly. “Are you goddamned stupid?” He swoops down and capture my lips. “God, you’re so stupid.” He kisses me again.
This time I pull away. “This is more than just me. I did it for the others.”
His breathing is ragged, and he pulls me in for another kiss. “You could have been killed.”
“It would have been worth it.”
“Don’t. Don’t fuckin’ say that,” he demands, nearly throwing my words from a few days ago back at me.
“You brave, stupid, woman. I need to send this off. It’ll all be over soon.”
In the dark corner, I watch as he pulls out his cell phone and snaps a picture of the paper. Then he fires off a text. He pockets the phone and the paper, and we look at each other excitedly.
“I love you.”
“Goddamned woman. I love you.”
Our lips meet again, in what would be our last kiss.
It was all over.
We just didn’t know it yet.
Holt
“FIND HER. I want that little whore brought to me immediately.”
Gutierrez.
A weight settles in my gut, and I look around for a place to hide her. His voice is coming from the left, which leaves the stairs as our only option. She finds my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. We’re in this together.
I tug her arm to push her up the stairs in front of me but pull her into my chest when Darnell appears at the top.
“Found her boss.” He smirks and slowly descends the stairs. “She ain’t alone.”
Brandi whimpers. I grab her arms and pull them behind her back as if I’m restraining her. “You get the chance, you fight me and run,” I whisper in her ear. Then louder I say, “I didn’t know you were looking for her.”
We step out from the shadows.
Darnell cocks his head at me, as if he’s trying to figure something out. He’s as smart as an acorn, so I’m not too worried about him piecing shit together.
“You always find pretty little things running amuck and keep them to yourself?” G asks. He’s got a smug look on his face, and his head of security, Ron, mirrors his posture.
“She didn’t let herself out. I was trying to figure out who set the little dove free.”
“I was wondering that myself.” G steps forward until he’s standing right in front of Brandi. Slipping two fingers beneath her chin, he raises her head to meet his eyes. “Where’d you come from, pet?”
Her eyes flick nervously to Darnell, then back to Gutierrez. But she doesn’t answer.
“No? Well let’s see what we can get out of you with a little…incentive. Bring her to the den.”
Son of a bitch.
I wrench her arm behind her back, as if I’m obeying G, and march her towards the den. Her wrist flexes, and I capture her fingers in mine. My gut twists. This could go all sorts of ways, the majority of them bad.
“Wait until we reach the door.” My breath blows across her neck with the low murmured words, and her skin breaks out in goosebumps. Her fingers tighten in response. “I love you,” I tell her, because I might not get another chance.
“Hit me and break right.”
The sweat from her palm joins mine. This feeling of overwhelming helplessness crashes over me. There is no plan in the world that could prepare me for this. Which is okay, I guess, since I’m a wing-it sort of guy.
I feel her tense, and at the last second, I ease my gun out, pointing it at her back as if it’s been there the entire time.
As G swings open the door to his den with Ron at his back, Brandi pulls forward as if she tripped. She lets out a small yelp.
“Clumsy much, bitch?” I sneer, bending down to yank her up.
With a force I didn’t know she was capable of, she twists, and using both arms smacks me dead across the face. It stings like a bitch but inside I’m fucking proud of her for not holding back. My feet propel me sideways clumsily, and I crash into Ron, the gun in my hand going off. He takes down Gutierrez, and the three of us fall in a heap in the doorway.
“Get the fuck off me, and somebody get her!”
I groan loudly and lift myself from the pile, stumbling and weaving. Then I charge forward in search of Brandi.
Darnell must have gone after her.
“Another fucking dead body. You people are killing me,” Gutierrez says from behind me before I hear his footsteps follow.
I need her to have made it out, at least found somewhere to hide. Once I sent off that text to Deke, the plans were in motion. The team should be here any minute to bust this operation wide fucking open. She needs to stay safe until then. Fuck, I need her to. I don’t know what I’d do without here. Not now. Not that I’ve found her, and we’re so fucking close.
I race out the door, but Darnell is hot on my heels. I scan the yard frantically, but there’s no where to hide. The property is a huge expanse of grass that meets a tall, wrought iron fence. No neighbors. Nobody to help in sight.
I hurtle around the house, but I’m not quick enough. He tackles me to the ground, holding me there with the weight of his body.
G catches up to me and throws the door open, the light of the dawn sun barely peeking over the horizon. The soft light provides a lot of cover in the shadows, but it won’t last long. It looks like it’s going to be a cloudless day, meaning I have about thirty minutes to shut this shit down, or her hiding place will give her away.
The morning is quiet as we creep from the mansion. A few paces onto the lawn, the sound of grunting fills the air. Fuck.
“This way.”
“You gonna tell on me, you little slut? You want to see my head blown off like Todd? All because you didn’t want to spread your legs for me?” He grinds his pelvis into my ass, the ridge of his hard cock making my stomach clench in disgust.
I push up and scramble forward, my fingers digging into the soft earth, ripping my fingernails as I scrabble for purchase. But he follows me, his body crushing mine into the earth. “Too bad princess. I won’t give you the chance.”
I take off in a jog around the side of the house, skidding to a dead stop. Darnell marches forward, a smug grin on his face, while Brandi struggles in his grip.
Our eyes lock.
Our eyes lock.
I know something is wrong by the look of resolution on her face.
Brixton’s face cracks with a look of desperation. He knows something is wrong.
“Are you done playing games?” Gutierrez asks, his voice scarily calm.
I do my best to remain strong, even though my heart is breaking. I want to scream at Brixton to go inside. He doesn’t need to be here for this. He needs to take care of the others. He needs to take care of himself.
I feel like a caged animal, anxious and wild at the same time.
“You going to tell me who let you out of your cage?”
This is bigger than me. I need him to understand that this is out of our control. I had him for a short time, and it was the best moment of my life. Now I have to let him go.
My eyes flit between Mr. G and Brixton, contemplating what I can do.
I lift my chin higher. “It was Ro-ˮ
“No!” I roar, and suddenly the entire world is spinning out of control. I hear Gutierrez shouting beside me in fury. Darnell shouts back. A gun fires. The sound of a helicopter approaches.
But all I can think about is the blade that’s been thrust into her chest.
G issues instructions and takes off with Darnell following, but I can’t make sense of it all. Her hands encircle the handle, and she stares at it as if she’s in shock.
She raises her eyes to mine, hers going unfocused, and she blinks a few times.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out through the pain rushing through me. “I love you.”
She collapses onto the ground.
The sounds of sirens approach, and a voice sounds over a bullhorn. “Put your hands in the air.” Fuck it. My wellbeing doesn’t mean shit if I can’t
help her. Numb legs carry me the four steps to her still form, and I use my body as a shield over her.
Lying down over her, protecting her, holding her, I grab her hand, terrified to find it’s already going cold.
“Molly,” I yell, shaking her slightly. Her body doesn’t move, but her head lolls on her neck so that she’s staring up at the sky. Blood bubbles between her perfect, pink lips.
“I hear sirens,” I cough. I can’t hold on. My vision is filling with darkness. Something instinctual inside me feels like once I close my eyes, I won’t wake back up. “You saved them.” I try to smile, but I can’t tell if I actually do. My beating heart slows.
“Ah, shit, baby. You did. You saved them. You have to hang on.” My face cracks, even though I’m trying so hard to hold it together. “We’ll get you to the hospital.”
Her breath wheezes from her lungs.
It’s too late. I’m too late. We’re all too fucking late. “Goddamnit!” I yell. Gathering her in my arms, I hold her close to my chest, rocking her back and forth. She doesn’t move, and her eyes become fixed and glassy, pointing towards the cloudless, blue sky.
She’s gone.
***
Alejandro Gutierrez was smoke. The paper Molly retrieved was exactly what I needed to close this operation and take those fuckers down. We were just too late. I was too late. I couldn’t save her, and I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat.
The raid was carried out thirty minutes too late. Gutierrez loaded the girls into a van, his guns and drugs in another. I was to take the guns, and he drove the girls I guess, going from a text he sent after he ran back into the house. We were supposed to meet. G never showed, and instead, the FBI staged my arrest.
This is far from over.
My alias is Brixton Holt. Using my real name could get me killed. When the FBI needed a man undercover, I was the perfect candidate. Unattached and an all-around badass. Two years of infiltrating the largest sex trafficking ring in the country, I felt as dirty as the monsters I worked for. That is, until she caught my eye.
I named her Brandi for her cognac eyes, but her real name was Molly Sinclair. We broke the rules, and in the end, she payed the ultimate price.
My new mission is to make sure the only person who leaves in a box is Alejandro Gutierrez. I’ve gone Maverick. This is all about vengeance. I’ll make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on a woman again.
Epilogue
AS SOON AS word about my fake prison release hit the streets, I began hitting up my old contacts. Not much has changed on the dark streets of Minneapolis. I’m welcomed back into the fold like an old friend.
Less than one day of searching, and I found Gutierrez’s new compound. From what I can tell, he’s believed the lies the FBI has leaked into the media. That he’s safe. That I wouldn’t flip. I can’t say that he has full trust in me again but he has enough.
Besides losing Molly, the thing I regret the most is that this isn’t over. That her death hasn’t been avenged. That we weren’t able to save everyone that day.
But I made a promise to her and to myself that I wouldn’t stop until I take him down once and for all. Her death won’t be without purpose.
The rules have changed around here. Gutierrez lost all of his contacts for international buyers, so he’s shut down that side of his business. At least for now. His girls are now untouchable. He keeps them locked in the basement, but he’s the only one with a key. Anyone who touches them without his permission is dead. No questions asked.
He’s learned from his mistakes, but he hasn’t learned enough.
He’s forgetting the cardinal rule: Trust no one.
His stupidity has brought him back into my trap.
I’m not fucking around this time. There’s no more room for mistakes. I lost the ultimate prize, and this time, I’m out for blood.
As soon as I got back, Gutierrez had a test for me. A test I’d pretend to pass, but in reality, I’d never do what he says again.
I am the messiah and I’ve come back from the dead.
He wants me to dispose of a girl who doesn’t follow the rules. A girl who thinks her rebellion will set her free.
Chloe.
Molly would be proud of the fight she instilled in this girl. I know I am.
I walk into the office in the new compound, a rundown warehouse in North Minneapolis. He went for less opulence this time, embracing the scum that he truly is. It didn’t make a difference though; there was an attempted raid this morning. It wasn’t the FBI this time, I would have known about that. But he’s made enough enemies with his lies. Nobody has respect for this callous shithead.
The prone form of the girl lies on the ground, Darnell’s booted foot planted in her back.
Jesus, they’ve done a number on her. She’s unconscious from the looks of it, her face swollen to unrecognizability. They beat her within an inch of her life.
“Dispose of her,” Gutierrez says, puffing lazily on a thick Cuban cigar. “Make sure she doesn’t resurface.”
His eyes hold mine, a challenge in the bottomless, black pits.
I stare down Darnell until he moves his fucking foot. Without a word, I grab the girl, throwing her over my shoulder with her torso draped down my back, and exit the room.
Carefully, I lie her down in the trunk of a black Tahoe parked in the garage and climb in the driver’s seat.
Gutierrez expects me to put a bullet in her head. It’ll already be a miracle if she survives.
My defiance would be too obvious if I drop her at a hospital, so I continue towards the city, scanning the streets for a discreet place to put her where someone is bound to come across her and help.
I nearly crash the truck when I see it.
The words lit up on the building couldn’t be more obvious on this quiet street. Deep down, my chest contracts. I don’t believe in fucking fate, but I can’t help feeling like this is a sign. From Molly.
Circling the block, I turn into the alleyway and count the buildings until I reach the one labeled as Sinclair’s, and put the truck in park.
Goddamnit, Molly. I miss you. I feel hollow without you. Opening my jacket, I pull out the picture I had printed immediately after the raid. It’s the only picture I have of her, and I carry it with me always. I took it after I made love to her the first and only time. Her head rests on my pillow, cocked to the side while she looks out the windows. Those perfect pink lips tilt up at the corners in a tiny smile. She looks as pure as a fucking angel.
As a dove.
I tuck the photo back into its safe place.
This is for you Molly. This is the first of many. You delivered me.
With a cleansing, deep breath in my lungs, I exit the truck. When I open the trunk, I try to wake Chloe. I shake her, but she doesn’t move. Clenching my fist, I rub my closed hand along her exposed sternum.
Her eyes pop wide, frantically taking in her surroundings, and she lets out a startled scream.
Good job, baby, I want to tell her but I keep my fucking mouth shut.
Lifting her thin body from the trunk, I make quick work of propping her against the dumpsters outside the door and cover her with an old blanket.
“No!” she cries in a garbled voice.
“Be well, Chloe.” I stroke her hair, causing her to scream again, then I bang my fists against the heavy metal door at the back of the building.
I heave myself back into the truck, turn the key, and take off down the alley.
At the corner, I wait, watching through the rearview mirror.
Seconds later, the door to the building bursts open, and a man rushes out. He spots her, pulling her into his arms. His head lifts, and he sees me idling at the corner.
I peel out and drive away.
One down.
The rest to go.
JAMISON
An Opposites Attract Novella
By: Lena Black
CHAPTER 1
“YOU ARE SO drunk!” Meghan exclaims, bumping into me and laug
hing. I stumble on the cobblestone street, my ankle wobbling and giving out on me for a nanosecond before I regain my balance.
“Just a little,” I laugh out with a snort.
We stumble towards North End Park, clinging to each other for stability and warmth. It’s a bitter April evening in Boston, the kind of night that braces and chills to the bone. Usually, on evenings when the weather is deathly cold, you’ll find me in the warmth of my apartment with a mug of Irish whiskey-laced coffee and my boyfriend, DVR. Though, this is not any old night. Technically, it’s early Friday morning, but that’s neither here nor there. This is my twenty-fifth birthday, and there’s no one I’d rather get sloshed and stuck out in the bitterness with than my sister. I can’t wait to fall into my warm bed, without so much as washing off my makeup, and pass out cold. I intend to sleep good and ugly tonight.
Even though the spirits sitting hot in my belly help with the chill, my face begins to burn from the frosty wind lashing it. However—it’s not nearly as bothersome as the penetrating sensation of being watched overcoming me. I discreetly glimpse behind us, hoping it’s just the alcohol giving me the heebie-jeebies. When I spot the male-shaped figure about twenty-five paces back, my heart begins to race violently.
Normally, this might not make someone nervous. It’s just another guy out for an early morning stroll—dressed in all dark clothing—with his face obstructed by the shadows he’s clinging to religiously.
Yeah.
This situation is anything but normal, and his intentions aren’t noble, something deep down in my gut affirms.
I must be really distracted because I don’t hear Meghan loudly calling my name, “Abby. Come in, Abs.”
“What did you say?” I ask as we intersect Cross Street along Hanover.