by LP Lovell
Table of Contents
Prologue
Anna
Rafael
Hold Me
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by LP Lovell
Hate Me
Collateral #1
LP Lovell
ARC COPY - NOT FOR SALE OR DISTRIBUTION
Contents
Prologue
1. Anna
2. Rafael
3. Anna
4. Rafael
5. Anna
6. Rafael
7. Anna
8. Rafael
9. Rafael
10. Anna
11. Rafael
12. Anna
13. Rafael
14. Anna
15. Rafael
16. Anna
17. Rafael
18. Anna
19. Rafael
20. Anna
21. Anna
22. Rafael
23. Anna
24. Rafael
25. Anna
26. Rafael
27. Anna
Hold Me
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by LP Lovell
Prologue
Anna Age Thirteen
My heart pounds so hard I’m afraid it might escape my ribs. Standing there, amongst the other children, I feel like a flashing sign is lingering above my head, and it makes me shrink in on myself, wishing I could just become invisible. I stare at the dirty, cream-colored tiles at my feet and chew on my bottom lip until I taste blood in my mouth.
The slow click, click, click of shoes over tile sounds like the drumbeat to an execution. Slamming my eyes shut, I fight a trembling breath. There’s a silent pause. My skin prickles with awareness, and I swallow heavily before slowly opening my eyes, my gaze fixed on the floor. All I see are the shiny shoes stopped right in front of me, pointing my way ominously. No amount of shrinking can make me invisible. I should know better by now than to think that any luck could possibly come my way. After all, I watched my sister stand in this exact room three years ago. I cried as this same man dragged her away, never to be seen again. She could be dead…or worse. I don’t know. For three years I have lived in this orphanage without her, and I’ve never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by every trace of good in this world. And this man seeks to seal my fate, to take me and send me who knows where.
I’ve heard the stories of the Volynschik, uttered in frightened whispers by terrified children. I used to think he was a myth—a story told to scare children into behaving. The man who comes and steals children from their parents. But I have no parents, and neither did my Una. He took her, and now he’s going to take me. My heart rate rises as I slowly drag my gaze over his suit to a slightly lined face with dark eyes and hair streaked with grey. He looks like a normal man, but the cruelty in his eyes makes me shiver. His lips split into a smile that makes my stomach roll, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Bending at the waist, he grasps my chin in his hand until his face is mere inches from mine. His tobacco-scented breath blows over me as his eyes trace my every feature. “Beauty is such a curse, little one.” A small whimper slips past my lips, and I try not to panic, but I can’t help it. Fear hits me hard and fast, and I take a step back. He smiles again. “There’s nowhere to run.”
“Please,” I hear myself say.
He straightens, and a gruff laugh slips from his thin lips. “She already begs. I’ll take her, and the other two.”
The matron eyes me, the scowl never leaving her face. Her grey hair is pulled up in a tight twist and the floral cardigans she wears do nothing to hide the monster she really is. The Volynschik hands her a stack of bills and they shake hands before she dismisses the rest of the children.
I’ve just been sold, bartered like cattle at an auction.
One
Anna
Present
I count the tiles on the far wall. Thirteen across and fifteen down. One hundred and ninety-five in total. I can recall every crack, every smudge of dirt, every chipped and blackened bit of grout like a map imprinted on my mind. These things that should be without consequence and hold no meaning are my only salvation within these walls. Tiles and cracks—a necessary distraction.
My vision jolts rhythmically as hot breath assaults my neck. Calloused fingers grip my hips, short nails breaking my skin.
“Look at me,” he snarls. With a resigned sigh, I turn my face to him. I couldn’t tell you what he looks like, just another faceless figure, non-descript and unimportant. He thrusts into me, grunting and groaning as he takes his pleasure. My vision glazes and my mind drifts to the same place it always does; nowhere. Utter absence of thought or feeling.
I used to think of the life I once had. I would hope and dream of something better. That time has long since passed. What once felt like the most brutal form of degradation is now my normality, and in my acceptance, I have found a degree of peace. This just is…I just am. I exist. He exists, and this is my life. As soon as you accept a situation, it becomes far more bearable. Hope is what breaks even the strongest.
He grips my jaw as he lets out a long groan into the crook of my neck. Breathing heavily, he slowly lifts his head. As soon as he releases me, my head rolls to the side, and I go back to counting the tiles.
“You’re a shitty lay, Rubia,” he hisses. I say nothing, and he pushes away from me. I hear him stagger across the room before the door slams closed. And here I lay, waiting for the next one, and the next…and the next.
Two
Rafael
A chorus of agonized screams ricochets around my skull until a dull ache forms behind my eyes. Tossing my paperwork aside, I get up from my desk and yank the office door open. All the girls in the warehouse look up from their workstations, dressed in worn and dirty-looking underwear, their little paper masks stopping them from getting higher than a damn kite breathing in my shit.
“Get back to work!” I shout, and they all scurry on with what they were doing.
My gaze snaps to where my second, Samuel, stands in the middle of the warehouse. In front of him, a guy is hanging by his bound wrists, the metal chain creaking as his weight swings back and forth. His clothing is torn and bloodstained, an array of cuts littering his body. A crimson pool is slowly gathering beneath him, tainting the dull grey concrete. Sam casually wipes his hands on a dirty rag before doing the same with his blade.
“You shouldn’t drag out his suffering, Samuel.” He folds his arms over his wide chest, glaring at me.
“No. No, please,” the man begs, lifting his head weakly.
“Remind me what he did.” I sigh and lean against one of the metal support pillars, taking a cigar from my pocket.
“He rolled over on us for the DEA, boss,” Samuel says.
I nod and place my cigar between my lips, lighting it. Sucking the smoke deep into my lungs, I stare at the man chained in front of me. “Ah, yes. The mule turned rat.” I know exactly who this man is. I know everything that concerns my business. But, like Samuel, sometimes I like to play with men such as Javier Garcia.
“They made me!” he blurts. If there is one thing I hate more than a rat, it’s a pussy. “They said they would protect me.”
I laugh, throwing my head back as the sound breaks through my lips, cutting into the tense silence. “I am Rafael D’Cruze.” Moving closer, I grip his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “There is no protection from me. There is nowhere you can run. Nowhere you can hide. They played you. They knew I would kill you.” A low keen breaks from his lips and he starts rambling, begging. I smile.
“You don’t want to die?” I ask with a smirk.
“Please, I have children,” he begs.
Releasing him, I
place my cigar to my lips and inhale the cloying smoke until my lungs burn. “I do not take betrayal well.” He nods, incoherent words falling from his mouth. I take a cloth from my pocket and dab at a streak of blood covering his cheek. “But I do not like to leave children without a father, and I am a believer in redemption, Javier.” I pat his cheek, and he sags in his chains.
“Thank you. Thank you,” he breathes.
“My mercy is not without cost.” He’s already nodding his head, agreeing to terms he has not yet heard. Because when faced with the choice, a man will do anything but die. “You will continue to work with the DEA and tell them whatever I instruct you to. Are we clear?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good.” I grin. So easy. The only way to play the DEA is with their own dirty tricks. They may threaten a man like Javier with jail if he does not comply, but I hazard that he’d rather go to jail than suffer a cartel execution. So very gruesome. “Good, Javier. Let him down, Samuel.” Samuel presses a button on the wall and the winch drops, allowing the chains to fall slack.
Javier breathes a sigh of relief, rubbing at his bruised and bloodied wrists. Without warning, I lash out, my fingers locking around his throat. His eyes bug wide as he chokes on a breath. Blood from one of the many cuts Samuel bestowed on him coats my hand in a sticky layer. “Betray me again, and it will be your children who pay the price.” In my line of work, you must become a monster in order to maintain power.
My phone starts ringing, and I shove Javier away from me before turning my back on him. I take the phone out of my pocket, smearing blood over the screen. Nero Verdi. Fuck’s sake. The man goes through cocaine like it’s water. I slide the answer button.
“Samuel, drop Javier off and while you’re there, acquaint yourself with his wife and children,” I say over my shoulder quickly.
“Yes, boss.”
I turn around and walk back into my office, placing the phone to my ear. “Nero.”
“I see you’re up to old tricks,” he says, that hint of the Italian accent barely noticeable in his voice.
“Eh, fucking gringos putting rats on the ship. I’m dry until Thursday, Nero.” I still haven’t worked out why a capo is buying enough cocaine to supply several cities, but then, it’s Nero. I wouldn’t put anything past him. As long as I get paid, I don’t give a fuck.
“I don’t need another shipment. I’m calling in my favor.” I take a seat and lean back in it, my muscles tense. It’s been five years. If he’s calling it in now, then it has to be something big.
“What do you need?” I ask.
“I’m buying a girl. Andre is negotiating her sale as we speak…”
I groan. “You know that little fuck will rob you blind.”
“I had to use a middleman, Rafael. I can’t very well walk into the Sinaloa cartel and ask to buy a sex slave, can I? I can’t draw too much attention to this. Once the sale is done, Andre will bring her to you.”
“I don’t deal in girls, Nero. You know this. I owe you, but don’t ask me to—”
“I’m not buying her as a slave.”
“What are you buying her for then?”
“Collateral.”
“Collateral for what?” Silence. “You’re not going to tell me.”
“It’s safer if you don’t know. No one can know she’s with you.” What the fuck is he getting into?
“And what exactly am I supposed to do with her?”
“Just keep her safe. I can’t get her out of Mexico yet.”
He’s serious. “And you aren’t going to tell me who she is.”
“Her name is Anna Vasiliev. I can’t tell you more than that right now.”
I rub my fingers over my temples. “That means she’s not someone I want near me.” But what can I do? I owe Nero a debt that can never really be repaid, and he’s never once asked me to. Until now.
He huffs a short laugh. “I need her with someone I trust, someone no one will dare fuck with.” I really have no choice, and the feeling irritates me.
“Call me when Andre has secured the sale. I’ll have my men collect her.”
I hang up the phone and shake my head. Maybe I could have said no, but Nero Verdi helped put me where I am. I owe him a loyalty that very few are privy to. He’s proven more than once that he’s a good friend to have, if not very dangerous. The Italian is ruthless, power-hungry, and completely lacking the morals the mafia usually pride themselves on. The cartels, for the most part, don’t like outsiders, but Nero and I, we play by different rules, more ambitious ones. Empires are built on such bloody alliances.
Three
Anna
The lock clicks ominously, the sound echoing around the almost empty room, before a shaft of light creeps over the dirty floor. I remain where I am, on my back, on the sagging bed. One distinct set of footsteps enters the room. A dragging limp that I know is his damaged right leg. I glance up at Alejandro, and his lips press into a tight line as he drags his eyes over my exposed body. There’s no point in putting clothes on here; they just get torn off. Modesty is for those who care. I don’t. His greasy black hair sticks to his forehead and sweat patches spread from beneath his arms and around his neck, staining his checked shirt. He grabs his belt loops and hoists his jeans over his gut. Alejandro is a disgusting excuse for a man, but his favors are easily bought. Suck his dick, and he’ll get me almost anything I want. I learned fast in here that drugs help ease the situation. More specifically, ketamine, though it’s not as easy to get a hold of as cocaine or heroin. I’ve accepted this fate, but I can’t quite bring myself to completely give up, and that’s what heroin is, dying without actually taking the bullet.
“Did you bring some?” I ask, my voice cracking.
He shakes his head. “No. Get up. It’s your lucky day.” A sick grin works over his lips. “Or perhaps unlucky.” He laughs and turns away, walking back out of the door. I push to my feet and move to follow him, hesitating in the doorway.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask quietly as a trace of panic starts to creep up on me.
He smirks. “You have a new owner, Rubia. I’ll miss those sweet lips wrapped around my cock.” I know the way this works. I’ve seen girls outlive their usefulness—become worn out and undesirable. Or get diseases, then they’re either sold or killed. And useless girls… the places they end up… Sold. The word evokes a fissure of fear that stirs the edges of my numb mind. I know what humans are capable of, the depths of depravity they can sink to. It’s not so bad here. I’ve had much worse.
“Hurry up!” Alejandro barks.
I step over the threshold for the first time ever. I was dumped unconscious in this room the last time I was sold, and I’ve never seen what’s beyond these walls. I don’t even know how long ago that was. Time has no place here.
I follow him down a corridor and through another door. Bright sunlight hits me, and I squint away from it, nervously glancing around at my surroundings. It’s a warehouse. Frowning, I look behind me at the maze of wooden walls erected in the middle of the vast space. Holding my arm out, I allow the sunlight to dance over my skin as it drifts through the windows high above us. So close. I was so close to freedom, all this time. I’d assumed that the dark little room was buried in the basement of some building, impenetrable and forgotten.
Alejandro crosses the warehouse and holds open a door, gesturing me inside patiently. “Clean up and put on the clothes.”
The door slams and I stare at it for a second before I strip out of my clothes. Do as you’re told. It’s an easy rule to follow, one that requires no thought at all. I’d usually comply, stuck in my numb acceptance, but the only thought whirling through my mind is that I’m going to be sold or killed. This may seem like a horrible way to live, but I know well that it can be far worse. I close my eyes as the memories of vile acts and depraved violence whirl through my mind, dragging me out of whatever blind state I’ve come to cling to. On the other side of this door, freedom is so close I can almost taste it. There wa
s a time when I thought of escaping. They might kill me, but I’d rather die than end up with someone like the Master again.
A plan starts to take shape in my mind, tentative at first, like a wild animal approaching new surroundings, careful and nervous. I tiptoe toward the prospect and then back away before nervously moving forward again. Back and forth, life and death, the known and the unknown.
I’m in a gym-type locker room. I move over to the communal showers and turn on the water, using the sliver of hand soap to wash my hair and body as fast as I can. Months of dirt and grime wash down the drain in a whirlpool of tainted water. I’d say I feel clean, but I don’t. Of course I don’t. I’m stained to my very soul, and no amount of soap will rid me of that.
Getting out, I dry myself with the worn, ratty towel left on the bench. The clothes are simple, a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top, but they’re clean. I can’t remember the last time I wore clean clothes or clothes at all for that matter.
Finally making a decision, I tie my hair up in a knot and frantically search the locker room. I go into the showers and turn on several of them until the room is filled with the sound of water hitting tile. Steam rises, filling the space rapidly. I go to the end stall and grip the metal pipe with the showerhead on it, that’s attached to the wall. The metal groans when I yank on it, but it doesn’t give. Summoning all my strength, I yank it three more times until it comes loose. Water bursts from the broken pipe, soaking my shirt and burning my skin. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to take it as I rip the final bolt out of the wall.
Alejandro’s heavy, uneven footsteps echo over the sound of the showers. I hurry across the room and crouch down beside one of the lockers, watching as his form appears through the thick steam.