Sinners and Saints
By
Ambear Shellea
Published by
Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, LLC.
Novi, Michigan 48374
The right of AmBear Shellea to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover Design by
Rue Volley
Edited by
Elizabeth A. Lance
Copyright© 2014
All rights reserved
Published by
Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, LLC.
Novi, Michigan 48374
Dedication
As always, I want to thank my fans, you help give my worlds existence and the people in them a vibrant life. Although I do not know all of you personally, the highlights of my days are always opening email and messages that you send, comments you make on reviews or the many discussions we get into over books, story lines and so much more. I am truly blessed, not only with the ability and creativity to come up with such things, but the chance to get to know my fans from all over the world, who without these stories, I would have never met. Thank you to all of you who may have started out as fans, but have become awesome friends.
To my family and friends who put up with all the ups, downs and craziness that comes with being an author. You are my sanity in the world of crazy and I thank you for it.
This book was written and dedicated to my faith in humanity. Although the news and social media have very little to say that is heartwarming and worthwhile on the good side of things, Humanity still exits and will continue to exist through anyone who is willing to exhibit compassion. While in this story the act of compassion and kindness is over the top, for the average Joe without an endless bank account, sometimes the smallest act of kindness can have the biggest impact. In my opinion, a smile is the best thing you can do for anyone. That smile you flash at a perfect stranger might not mean much to you, but it could mean the world to the person who receives it.
Please enjoy Vylette's wild ride into the darker side of life, among the grey side of things.
Sinners and Saints
People see the world in Black and White, but sometimes
in order to survive,
you must live in the Grey.
By AmBear Shellea
Chapter 1
The thunder of Vylette's heartbeat pounding in her head deafened almost every sound around her. Flames of fear burned in her chest, constricting her breathing and the blind fold knotted in her hair was paving the way for an oncoming migraine. Her wrists were on fire from the coarse ropes as she yanked and pulled trying to get free. Tears fell like rain down her face, soaking her fight torn shirt. Dried mud scratched at her exposed skin through her ripped jeans and overwhelmed by fear, she barely noticed the cold tile under her bare feet.
The commotion of heavy boots and nasty voices coming closer stopped her dead in her tracks. She tried to calm her breathing and focus on the direction of her advancing visitors. Smug, inappropriate comments helped to pinpoint they were just a few feet away and on her left. She kept as still as possible until grubby rough hands jerked her from the chair she sat on.
“No! Get your hands off me!”
Head butting and kicking, she did her best to fight off the men dragging her to only God knew where. She didn't know what they had planned, but she knew she were safer without them.
What felt like fire scored her face when one of the men hit her. She dropped to the ground, crying and spitting blood out of her mouth. The bright stars in her line of vision seemed to blink in tune with the pounding in her ears.
She barely had time to take a breath before another blow, to the ribs and head this time, threatened to send her into unconsciousness. Already tense and rolling around in agony, it took only a few more hits and she stopped moving, stopped fighting, trying to catch her breath and breathe past the pain.
They are going to kill me.
To save the small amount of strength she had left, she let them pull her from the floor. Every muscle, every bone and every nerve ending screamed in pain throughout her entire body and she had to lean into one of the men as she worked to walk. Each step was a roller coaster of agony, highs and lows in different degrees. Some stole her breath, some shattered her silence and the highest peak promised the dark oblivion.
She hadn't realized her blindfold had come off until the unnatural shine of the light blasted her eyes. Squinting against the glare she noticed they were in an otherwise darkened hallway only illuminated by huge caged lights nailed to the ceiling about every ten feet or so. Her gaze darted as much as she could allow given her swollen eyes to make out her surroundings. The long hall was lined with doors every few feet, all painted in red with the exception of the wide wooden door at the end of the hallway.
As they moved closer to the door she spotted some kind of symbol carved into the wood, separated by a small sliver of light showing where one panel met the other. Getting closer every second, the symbol on the door became clear. The body of a coiled snake, its severed head lay apart from the body. It was a gruesome sight even in wood.
The blood splatter along the floor and walls only deepened her gut wrenching fear burning away any pain she felt. Once again her panicked breathing had her chest on fire and her muscles flexing in protest with every inch closer to that door.
Her captors must have noticed because she soon found herself held by the two men strong arming her into submission. Battling the fear of the unknown, her mind going into overdrive sending flashes of every horror movie she’d ever watched, had her kicking like a crazed animal.
Putting weight on her heels, she tried to halt their advance. The meaty hands as strong as bars only gripped her tighter, lifting her off the ground and carrying her the remaining distance and through the door.
Chapter 2
Two steps through the door and she suddenly forgot to how to breathe. The room looked like a hotel suite. Soft carpet covered the large floor. Small perfectly square tables scattered around the room decorated with crystal lamps sat between the lush furniture that splayed around and nestled against the far wall. The walls, unlike in the dingy hall, were freshly painted a dark coral color accented by a white chair rail trim that ran midway separating the dark color at the top and the smoky gray at the bottom bringing it all together. Just as the hall seemed to scream horror flick, this room insinuated peace with one exception—lots of tension.
A group of young, half-naked, scared woman stood against the wall closest to her in a long row, all looking either scared or baked out of their minds, a few looked both. All eyes stared to the other end of the room where four body guards stood, two on each side of the couch, protecting the tall and obviously rich, tailored man standing behind a coffee table, anger and concern darkening his gray eyes. His arm and his voice aimed in her direction shook the room.
“What happened to her?”
For the first time since her blindfold fell off, she looked at one of the burly men who had dragged her in. Dirty blonde hair fell shamelessly across his mud covered face almost reaching the smile full of nasty teeth. His clothes looked just as battered as the ones she wore. When he spoke his foul breath turned her stomach.
“She was fighting us. She hasn't been through training yet like the other girls have. She is new to the gr
oup.”
The well dressed man spoke softly, but fiercely, “I am deducting twenty thousand from your payment for the expense of a Dr. and a really good make-up artist to cover up all those bruises that will show up by morning.”
Her eyes darted to the dark corner where a short man dressed like a seventies mobster stepped forward. “Now that's not fair. We can find a different girl to take her place.”
The rich man wasn't having it.
“No! I don't have time for that. These are all the girls you have, correct?”
“Yes. I have to say, you are putting me in a quite a bind buying all my girls.”
Mr. Money-Bags shook his head. “You are being more than compensated. I have already shown you the four million. I think that will take care of any inconvenience you may have for a few days until you can score some more women. Now, let's get back to business.”
Tall and wealthy stepped forward and stopped in front of the first girl. He ran his hands over her with the care of a doctor as he inspected her from head to toe, careful of the large bruise under her eye. He looked at the girl and started his questions.
“My name is Dorrian Buchanan. I am going to ask you some questions and I expect honest truthful answers. What is your name or at least the street name you go by?”
The tiny little brunette dressed in a shiny red cocktail two-piece number looked up at the man as if he were some kind of alien.
Dorrian looked back at the wanna-be mobster.
“Mr. Falken, is she a mute?”
“No, Mr. Buchanan she is not. She was a tough one to break, a lot of spunk you know. For the first two months she was here, while she was training, we kept her drugged...”
“Drugged? How many of these girls are hooked on what? If I find out you are holding out on the information, I am going to have one of my guards send you through 'training'. Understand?”
“Yes sir, I get it. All but the new girl are strung out on something. The first three are addicted to prescription pain killers and the rest are hooked on ecstasy.”
“Uh-huh. So what is her name since she cannot speak.”
“We give them all new names when they come here. Her Johns know her as Kat.”
She was surprised when Dorrian snapped his fingers and one of the Zeus looking guards handed him a clipboard full of paper and a pen. The rich inquisitor began taking notes on the girl then moved on to the next, again inspecting her like a prize possession up for auction.
“What is your name?”
Another small framed brunette with a quiet voice answered back obediently.
“My Johns call me Kitty. They usually send me and Kat as a team.”
“What's your story, Kitty?”
“I am a young naughty native to the porn industry always welcoming any experience to get me noticed. Nothing is out of the question and the more violent the act the higher the price.”
The man in charge gave the little mobster a dirty look before turning back to Kitty. “I will decide what storyline you will go with, but that is not what I meant. How did you end up with Mr. Falken? Where were you taken from?”
Before the girl could answer, the man in question stepped forward voicing his suspicion.
“Are you a cop or something? Why are you asking that question? While I'm on the subject why all these questions in the first place? You see them. You either want them or you don't.”
Mr. Buchanan turned, folded his hands, clipboard in tow, behind him as he addressed the accusation.
“First off, make no mistake, I am buying all of these woman. They are just what I have been looking for. As for where they were abducted from, I have many connections. What would happen if say, you kidnapped her from New Jersey, but I am unaware of this, and I let a John take her there? That increases the chances that someone will recognize her and tip off the cops. I am all about my business, Mr. Falken. I am not about to invest all this money on these woman and not be thorough enough to guarantee my protection from the law. I am a very wealthy man because I am very good at keeping secrets. Now if you don't mind, may I get back to it?”
“Sorry, Mr. Buchanan. I, too have an investment to protect. If we are done here, I will be on my way.”
“No, I still need you here in case I have questions they cannot answer. That is why I am doing this here instead of at my warehouse. I tell you what, for your patience, I will give you back the twenty grand I was going to deduct.”
Mr. Falken nodded his agreement and took a seat in a nearby chair. The acquisition continued.
“Now, Kitty, you were taken from where?”
“I was with Ciara, Amee and Kandie. We were part of the Bombshell Brunettes. It was a dance group at our college in Detroit. We were coming out of a late night practice when we were kidnapped and we have been with Mr. Falken ever since. That was three years ago.”
“The other brunettes here are part of your group?”
“No, Amee was killed by a John.” The girl pointed out the girls that were part of her group. The two next her, “This is Ciara and Kandee, they go by Luscious and Lusty, then myself, Kitty. Kat over here was brought to replace Amee as my sex partner for our Johns.”
Mr. Buchanan continued and the closer to her he got the more she lost control of her muscles and trembled in fear.
I have to get out of here. I don't want to be a toy for some John.
“I see. Step back and take the other brunettes with you.”
“Where do you want us?”
“Just sit on the floor over there, in that corner.”
Kitty and the other girls did as they were instructed and Mr. Buchanan moved down the line. He stopped in front of a baked blonde wearing a tattered old black lace teddy.
“What is your name?”
“Dolly.”
“Dolly, where were taken from?”
Vylette's heart broke at the sight before her. Dolly immediately began to shake and broke down in uncontrollable tears. Mr. Buchanan turned once more to Mr. Falken.
“What's with this?”
“She was the first tramp I took. She has been with me for six years. I hijacked her from her suburban home as she was leaving to pick up her kids from school. That was after I had my way with her in that sweet ass SUV. I made it look as if she ran away with her lover so no one would come looking for her. She is high quality merchandise. Pretty blonde hair, big tits and legs that go on forever.”
“I see.” he turned back to the sobbing blonde. “Go join the others.”
Looking angrier by the minute, Mr. Buchanan made his way down the line one girl at a time. Some were able to talk while others took the same route as the blonde, breaking down in tears. It took all of about fifteen minutes before he made his way in front of Vylette. Standing eye to eye he motioned for the captors to let go and join Mr. Falken.
“What is your name?”
She squared her shoulders in defiance. “Why does that matter?”
“Because I like to know the names of my girls.”
“Do you now? Well, aren't you a saint. I guess that makes up for buying and selling women like merchandise?”
She glared right back when he looked at her crossly as if she were a misbehaving child. She stood still, afraid to move despite her brave sounding tone. She knew at any moment she could be struck again. He gave her a look as if he’d seen something she didn't, he turned his back to her and to his huge body guards.
“Get them loaded in the limo.”
The guards moved around the room, gathering the scared women. When they had all the girls, but her huddled up in a small grouping by the door, Mr. Buchanan turned to Mr. Falken, pulled out a small pistol, killing the man and his guards.
She stood shaking, hands over her face, staring at the three bodies bleeding on the carpet dead from bullets in the skull. She jumped when Mr. Shoot-to-kill grabbed her and pulled her toward the door. As much as she wanted to fight to get away, her body refused her will and she followed the instructions of the man with the gun. Her min
d screamed run and get away, but her fear reminded her she couldn't come back from a head full of hot lead.
Chapter 3
All was quiet in the limo. Mr. Buchanan was nowhere to be found, as he never entered the car. Vylette sat cramped against the door due to the fact that none of the girls wanted to be very far apart. Although the metal door handle dug painfully into her hip she was thankful the ropes were removed from her wrists which now harbored angry burn marks that were stinging bracelets of pain looking like pink and bloody cuffs just above her hands.
Her adrenaline slowly wore off letting her feel just how much of a beating she had actually taken. Breathing was both a luxury and a curse. The ability to do so kept her alive and alert, but the bruised muscles and what felt like a cracked rib were like shards of glass shredding her lungs every time she drew breath.
The cool feel of leather seats was almost comforting to her heated skin. She looked around the car and her hopes of escape faded with each mile they traveled. The doors were somehow locked from the outside discouraging all attempts to jump, and since the windows were tinted and stuck in place, she couldn't tell where there were headed or guess where they might end up.
After what seemed like forever she felt the limo come to a stop. A few moments later, Mr. Buchanan’s face appeared when he opened the door.
“Time to get out! No funny business or I will have no choice, but use force. Now, I want you to follow my guard into the building.”
He stepped aside and waved them out. She looked at the man and his outstretched hand, her mind raced for ways to escape, but she seemed to only have the need to escape and no ideas of how to do so. Her brain on overload, going so many directions at once, she couldn't make sense enough to form a plan.
“Let's go!”
Swallowing the fear lodged in her throat, she gingerly climbed out of the limo and began to follow the head guard as he made his way through the dark alley and into a nearby door of a large warehouse. As she followed him through the door she was surprised to see that even though outside it looked like an abandoned warehouse, inside, just like the last place she was, it looked elegant and expensively decorated. She stood in a small dimly lit foyer, with a door at each side of the small space. A long wooden polished table sat nestled against the wall, with a large bouquet of flowers on one end, a huge mirror centered hanging on the wall and a crystal vase held a chilled bottle of wine on the opposite end. The guard motioned the girls that shuffled in behind her to sit on the bench that lined the inside wall. Gently grabbing her arm the guard pulled her closer to the table.
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