Caught in the Devil's Snare

by Dani Matthews

  The last two doors at the end of the hall are bedrooms. The one on the left is completely empty while the other boasts a readymade bed. I find myself gazing at it apprehensively. It’s queen-size and has a tall, silver-toned headboard that is feminine but simplistic. The sheets look soft and welcoming, and I quickly back into the hallway.

  After drawing in a sharp breath, I return to the main room and check to verify the chain is still in place on the door. It is. I could leave…

  No, not yet. What if he’s watching to see if I stay? I’ll wait until it’s dark and find a shelter or something for the night. Until then, I have no choice but to wait.

  I lower myself to the floor, setting the phone and keys down as I lean my back against the nearest wall. I’ve always yearned for a phone so that I could communicate by text with others, but I’ve never been able to afford one. It was difficult enough just getting through high school, I could have never handled a part-time job—not with as often as I was moved around.

  Out of curiosity, I open the envelope, and my mouth falls open. There are hundreds of bills in it. I count hundred-dollar bills, fifties, and twenties. There must be at least three or four grand in the envelope. I drop it as if its burned me and quickly rise to my feet, hurrying to the nearest window to peer outside. The window doesn’t face the front of the building.

  This is really happening. The bearded man has secured me an apartment and has every intention of giving me a monthly allowance. Things like this don’t happen in real life. It just doesn’t. I swallow as my gaze slides back to the envelope on the floor.

  He’s expecting something in return, but I have no intention of finding out if I’ve become a victim of human trafficking. Someone else in my shoes might be willing to sell their soul to the devil, but I’m not. I will find my way on my own, and on my terms.

  My heart sinks.

  I’m also worse off than before. I’d lost my backpack and my ID, and I don’t have extra clothing. I glance down at my current state, making a face. What I’m wearing is definitely not street material, but I don’t dare take a penny of that money to buy something sensible.

  If I leave everything untouched, I don’t owe him a thing.

  Four

  Devlin

  Aiden holds open the door, and I climb into the limo, settling into the nearest leather seat conveniently situated across from the mini wet bar. While Aiden drives me to my second meeting of the morning, I pick up the tablet I’d left discarded on the seat earlier. I’d been monitoring the news on my way to Kade Security, a company I’d taken over five years ago. Under my command, it’s flourished. The technology is state of the art, and the home security business has become one of the most top rated in its field.

  Next on my agenda is a meeting back at the hotel with the managers. I hate mornings like this, but it can’t be helped. My legitimate businesses are just as important as the illegal ones.

  I scan the newest article about the District Attorney’s missing daughter. As I’d expected, her disappearance made the headlines. Luckily, I was able to clean up the scene and those connected to the crime before any damage could be done. The cops are chasing false leads, and I find it amusing.

  The limo slows for one of the numerous intersections as I tuck away the tablet. I glance out the tinted window with disinterest as my thoughts shift to the upcoming meeting.

  When my phone vibrates in my pocket, it draws my attention back to the present. I slip a hand inside my suit jacket and pull out my phone. I’ve been expecting Carter’s call. I’d sent him to Charli’s this morning to give her the new ID and the credit card I’d put in her name. She hadn’t had any sort of identification, so I’d taken the liberty of giving her one to make life easier. A credit card can be kept on her person daily, and I can transfer funds into the account once a month. It’s less hassle than dealing with cash.

  “Yes?” I ask curtly into the phone, adjusting the tie at the base of my throat. I hate ties.

  “She’s gone,” Carter informs me.

  “I gave her five grand yesterday, she’s probably out spending it.”

  “She hadn’t touched anything in the apartment and must’ve fled during the night. I found the key, money, and phone untouched.”

  My expression darkens as I straighten in the seat. “She rejected everything?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “She didn’t take any of the money?” I ask, needing verification that she’d refused my generosity.

  “Not a single cent,” Carter confirms.

  Anger stirs within me. I’ve never felt the urge to take care of another human being for the sake of being kind. I protect those that work for me because it’s expected. Not once in all my twenty-seven years have I had the inclination to make someone else’s life better. It’s just not who I am, but Charli’s different. I know how unkind street life can be, and if someone doesn’t step in to help her, she’s going to end up dead.

  A slow burn begins to simmer deep within my gut. I should put her out of my mind and forget about her, but I haven’t been able to do that since the moment I’d laid eyes on her. She doesn’t want my help, and it’s not like I enjoy giving it, yet I still find myself doing exactly what I shouldn’t. “Find her and bring her back to the apartment. Call me when it’s done,” I order before ending the call.

  She needs a damned babysitter, and as much as I don’t want to involve myself further, it looks like I’m going to have to wrangle one for her. I’ll also have to make it clear that ignoring my instructions will bring consequences. If I hadn’t stepped in last night, she’d be overseas right now—on her back as men use and abuse her body, or worst-case scenario, she could be dead. Instead, I’d spared her life, and now I consider her mine—just like everyone else in my organization.

  I think I need to pay Charli a visit.

  * * *

  She’s still gone.

  I brace my hands on the balcony railing that overlooks Manhattan below. The private balcony has always been a source of solitude when I need to unwind. Contrary to what others may believe, violence is a necessity in my life, not a preference. The scenic view and the private pool usually ease the day’s tension, allowing me to relax—something I seldom do during the day.

  Tonight, it holds no appeal.

  She’s out there somewhere, the stubborn little fool.

  Rejection isn’t something I’m accustomed to feeling. I’d thought I was doing her a favor by setting her up in her own apartment, giving her a new lease on life, and supporting her financially. As much as I’m aggravated that she’s becoming problematic, I also can’t resist a hint of admiration. I’ve paid off plenty of people in return for their silence, and I’d learned early in life that people will sell their souls for money. There isn’t a single person I know that would have turned down what I’d given her. Yet, she’d done just that and walked away with just the clothing on her back. It takes a strong-willed woman not to cave under the pressure of temptation.

  As fucked up as it, it just makes me want to bend her to my will even more. One way or another, she’s going to get off the damned streets and make a life for herself. I’m going to see to it. Though I can’t do shit if Carter doesn’t find her. Last time he’d checked in with me, he’d decided to start searching the homeless shelters.

  This is not how I’d expected my day to unfold or end. My day had been filled with meetings and resolving various complications—all considered a typical day. But I’ve also had to make time to figure out what to do with Charli—something I’m unaccustomed to. I control everyone around me, so when there’s a problem, it’s usually dealt with promptly.

  Charli’s not a quick fix, that’s for damned sure.

  I’m currently in the process of trying to secure a companion for her, someone that can communicate with her and help translate when she’s out in public. It’s been more difficult than I’d anticipated. At first, I’d sought to hire a female companion, but the more I’d thought upon it, the less appealing the idea b
ecame. The kind of women I’m familiar with would never put Charli first, and instead, they’d put their own wants and needs ahead of hers. Charli doesn’t need a companion that’s more focused on their own social life than genuinely helping another.

  Ideally, an older man would be wise, because I refuse to hire someone that might hit on Charli. The problem with hiring an older companion is that he might be married or have a family, which is quite likely. Charli needs someone that can live with her and be there twenty-four/seven. So that has led me to consider recent graduates that have studied deaf communications. Those are the ones that’ll be looking for a job and be more willing to relocate. As an incentive to focus on their job—and by that, I mean completely on Charli, I plan to pay them more than any job in their chosen field would.

  Finding the right applicant has proven difficult, but I think I may have found a man that might just be perfect for the job. He’s a recent grad and happens to be gay, so there won’t be any issues with him taking a personal interest in Charli. Tomorrow, I have an interview scheduled with him at nine. I’ve already had his background checked thoroughly, and I haven’t noted any red flags. I’ll see how he is in person, and if all goes well, I’ll debrief him on Charli’s situation without going into detail about how she’d come to be in my care.

  That part might be a little tricky.

  Five

  Charli

  The usual anxiety I experience upon waking kicks in the next morning, and I scour the room as it comes into focus. The sight of half-empty cots, in addition to the scent of body odor mingling with other unwelcoming scents, alleviates my momentary unease. The thin blanket falls to my lap as I sit upright, brushing a strand of hair away from my face as I remain on the lumpy cot.

  I’d slept later than I’d been hoping, which isn’t all that surprising. It had been difficult trying to fall asleep last night. I’d kept worrying that the bearded man might send his goon after me, and my overactive imagination kept envisioning that I’d wake up and find the brown-eyed henchman hovering over me.

  After I rub my eyes, I stumble to my feet and glance at the other shelter inhabitants that haven’t left yet. Most are ignoring me, but one man is openly staring at me with contempt. I’m bewildered by his hostility until I recall that the combined cost of my outfit is probably worth more than he can ever hope to bum off pitying strangers. In his eyes, I don’t belong here, and I’m taking space that would better benefit someone else.

  Discrimination is present even on the streets. If you have more than someone else, they’ll judge you for it. Envy can be an evil monster, and for once, I’m glad that I have nothing for anyone to steal. If I had, it would have been stolen while I’d been sleeping.

  I’d like to walk over to the man who looks as if he’s suffered many hardships in life and explain that, I too, have been there. But I won’t. He wouldn’t understand me, and even if I was willing to use my voice, he wouldn’t listen. He’s jaded, and nothing I say will change his opinion.

  Determined not to give the man a second thought, I make my way toward the room’s exit. On my way out of the shelter, I give one of the volunteers a small smile of thanks before stepping out into the sunlight.

  It’s a new day, and I already have an agenda mapped out. First, I’m hoping that I can trade my clothing at a second-hand store for a few cheap outfits and a pair of sneakers. It isn’t much, but it would be a start.

  My thoughts focus on the upcoming day as I walk down the busy sidewalk, ignoring the blisters that the sandals had already given me. Living off the streets isn’t a preference, but for now, it’s my reality until I can figure out a better way. If only someone would take a chance and hire me. It would make all the difference in my life.

  An arm unexpectedly slips around me, pulling me into a half-embrace as something pricks my side. It takes only a second to comprehend what’s happening, but by then, it’s too late.

  The world turns hazy, and my eyelids droop. The strong arm resting upon my shoulders brings me closer to a hard, masculine side, and I stumble as I’m led towards the street. I should be panicking, but my mind won’t allow me to process the emotion. The protest and urge to run is superseded by my body’s betrayal with its need to sleep.

  A black SUV wavers before me, and the open door looks larger than life as it prepares to swallow me whole. I’m carefully maneuvered into the backseat, and without control over my body, I slump against my captor. A warm hand cradles the back of my head as my face is tilted so that brown eyes hover above mine. Masculine lips are forming words, but my vision is fading in and out, making it impossible to focus.

  The floor is now moving.

  It’s disorienting and causing my stomach to somersault. Fabric is pulled over my head, and my arms are maneuvered as something is tugged on over my shirt. Next, plastic is pressed against the bridge of my nose and settles along my ears.

  Even as I struggle to stay conscious and alert, I desperately try to concentrate on what’s happening. I think I’m wearing a sweatshirt and sunglasses.

  Brown eyes…

  Who has brown eyes? Why are they familiar? The bearded man? Yes, but his were so cold. These eyes are different, kinder.

  The man who’d brought me to the apartment! It’s him. The goon I’d feared that would re-appear and snatch me up has indeed done exactly just that. My head lolls to the side, resting on something warm and fabric-covered. A shoulder, maybe?

  I think I fell asleep, because the next thing I become aware of is being helped from the vehicle. The strong arm is back, wrapped around me almost protectively as I’m escorted into what I think is the apartment building. The doorman’s face wavers before my eyes, and my lips part as if I want to speak, but I don’t think a sound escapes. His eyes aren’t on me anyway, he’s listening to my companion, and just like that, the world begins to fade once more. My body sags, and the arm supports my weight as we continue into the building.

  I blink and jerk my head to stay awake just as the floor pitches beneath my feet. The world tilts, and I’m quickly lifted into arms, my head falling limply against a shoulder.

  Somewhere, in the far deep recesses of my mind, I recognize that we’ve left the elevator behind and now he’s walking.

  Again, I struggle to pry my eyelashes apart. I glimpse long, blue curtains, then a narrow hall before I’m set on something soft. Those brown eyes hover above mine once more, but it’s too much work to focus on them.

  * * *

  I wake to the sensation of a soft mattress behind my back. The groggy state of my mind warns me that I hadn’t fallen asleep on my own, and I struggle to recall why. It takes a bit for my brain to play catch-up, and when I remember being drugged, I force my eyelashes apart and blink with confusion.

  I’m at the apartment, apparently lying upon the bed. The comforter is soft against my back, and I abruptly sit up, my head spinning as I put a hand to my throbbing temple. I’m aware that I’m fully dressed, thank God. It feels like a bulky sweatshirt had been slipped on over my shirt.

  When I lower my hand, my eyes widen. A man is standing at the foot of the bed, watching me with expressionless eyes. For a second, I think he’s a stranger, but then I begin to recognize the facial features that are no longer hidden beneath a beard.

  This man, he looks nothing like the hooded criminal who’d held a gun to my head. His hair, no longer concealed beneath a baseball cap, is so dark it’s nearly black and cut in a short, sophisticated style. Dark eyebrows hover over eyes that are now a steel gray instead of deep brown. The lighter color is striking against his handsome features, and dark stubble covers his strong jaw. The suit he’s wearing looks like it’d been tailor-made for him, and the dark blue jacket displays his broad shoulders to perfection. His shirt is white, and a narrow, navy tie with tiny burgundy stripes is positioned at the base of his throat. A burgundy pocket square brings more color to his sleek, business attire. Matching slacks finish the look, and from where I’m sitting upon the bed, I can’t begin to tell wh
at kind of shoes he’s wearing—not that I care.

  I scramble off the bed to face him, my eyes flashing with anger. What the hell does he want from me?

  He moves towards me like a predator stalking its prey, but I manage to stand my ground. As he pauses before me, I find myself tilting my head so I can hold his gaze. I can’t deny that he’s an incredibly attractive man. I may only be eighteen, but even I’m not immune to the sex appeal that oozes from his pores. And those eyes… They’re so indifferent, but I also sense a bottomless ocean of hidden secrets. There’s a lot going on behind those eyes, but I can tell he’s mastered the art of revealing only what he wants others to see.

  His lips begin to move, and my gaze drops so that I can read them. I have a moment to admire their firmness before I concentrate on the words they’re forming. “I’ve secured you this apartment for the next year, and I expect you to use it. You also have cash, a phone, and a new ID that was supposed to be delivered to you this morning.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Rejecting my generosity has displeased me greatly, Charli.”

  He doesn’t understand ASL, but it’s still natural for me to lift my hands and begin signing my thoughts on the complete and utter nonsense he’d just said.

  He steps closer, and my hands falter as he invades my personal space. His expensive cologne infiltrates my senses as his hand grips my chin, causing my eyes to widen from the suddenness of it. “I didn’t save you just so you could go back to living on the streets. I catch you on them again after rejecting my kindness, and we’re going to have a major problem on our hands,” he warns.

  The nerve!

  I lift my hand to slap his arrogant face, but his reflexes are faster, and he quickly catches it before it can make contact. His grip on my chin shifts, and he wraps a hand around my throat, physically forcing me backwards until my back touches the nearest wall.