Buying Beth

by Izzy Sweet

“What do you mean we were grabbed?” Sophia asks.

  I’m miserable myself, but the way Amanda is clinging to me and crying, I feel the need to try to comfort her. Tentatively, I start to pat her on the back, but I have no soothing words to offer. For one, my throat still burns like hell, and for two, I don’t want to give her false hope.

  As far as I can see, there’s no silver lining to this situation. We’re completely fucked. All we can do is try to stay alive and avoid being raped or killed, and I’m not sure we can prevent either from happening.

  “Oh my god, Beth. What the hell happened to you?!” Sophia gasps.

  Amanda stops crying long enough to peer up at me. She blinks her green eyes slowly, as if she is seeing me for the first time, and then says, “Yeah, you look like shit.”

  I feel hysterical laughter starting to bubble up in my throat and have to swallow it back down, because frankly, I know laughing is going to hurt like a bitch.

  “Lindsey pepper sprayed me,” I croak out and instantly regret saying that much.

  “Oh fuck,” Sophia says with some surprise and then shakes her head. “Of course she did.”

  “Why did she pepper spray you?” Amanda asks, a wrinkle of confusion appearing between her brows.

  Slowly, but surely, my vision is returning to me, and it’s becoming easier and easier to breathe.

  I just look at her. I could tell her it was an accident, that Lindsey didn’t intentionally hit me with the spray, but the question just isn’t worth the pain it would cost to answer it.

  “I’m sure it was an accident,” Sophia says after a moment, answering for me. “Damn, she’s still asleep. Lindsey. Hey Lindsey, wake up.”

  Lindsey starts to groan as if she’s in pain.

  “Come on,” Sophia says impatiently. “Wake the fuck up. We’re in deep shit here…”

  “What…” Lindsey moans groggily.

  Loud, stomping footsteps sound outside the door and then the lock clicks open. Amanda jumps back, startled, and begins to shake beside me.

  I tip my head up, focusing on the door as it swings in. Three men dressed all in black march inside and then I feel Sophia beside me.

  “No,” Amanda immediately starts to sob.

  “Shush,” I hear Sophia whisper. “Stay calm.”

  The three of us squeeze together as if we could somehow protect each other. There is strength in numbers. Maybe we’ll make it out of this if we stick together.

  I slide my gaze across the three men’s faces, taking in their bad haircuts and smirking lips.

  “What the fuck is going on? Who are you?” Lindsey demands with righteous indignation.

  “Shush,” Sophia whispers harsher.

  Lindsey shoots her a look full of loathing and shakily gets to her feet. As she tugs her skirt down, I notice one of the men begin to chuckle. I wonder if he was the one who lifted her skirt up in the first place.

  “So, let’s see what you’ve brought me, Sasha,” a smooth, husky, Russian voice says in the hallway. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about that voice that sends a shiver down my spine.

  A fourth man steps into the room, but unlike the other three, he’s dressed in an expensive designer suit and not black combat fatigues. Immediately, I recognize him as the man who holds all the power here. I’ve grown up around these kind of men, I’ve been surrounded by them all my life. It’s not only in the way he’s dressed, his charcoal grey suit is impeccable, it’s also in the way he stands and exudes dominance.

  The other three men in the room are bulkier and obviously stronger, but the way they watch this man, you’d think he was an all-powerful giant.

  “I can take no credit for these girls,” the Russian voice from earlier says and the man himself appears in the doorway.

  “Oh?” Mr. Smooth asks with interest as he lifts a dark brow. He looks at us, his dark eyes slowly perusing over Amanda, Sophia, then me.

  When he gets to me, he looks a little taken aback.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Lindsey fairly seethes as she stalks forward, drawing his attention.

  Mr. Smooth’s head turns towards her.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Lindsey repeats when he doesn’t answer.

  His dark eyes light up with amusement and he grins a feral grin at her. “I’m your new master.”

  “Master?” Lindsey sputters and stops besides Sophia. “Master?” she repeats, and gives us a look like ‘can you believe this guy?’

  The amusement vanishes from Mr. Smooth’s face.

  Lindsey shakes her head and our new ‘master’ seems to hone in on her. She has his undivided attention now.

  The way he’s watching her reminds me of a predator watching its prey before it strikes, and Lindsey has no fucking clue it’s happening. She’s so worked up, so insulted and full of indignation, she can’t see the warnings he’s giving off.

  “Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?” she asks, her voice growing higher and shriller by the second.

  “Shut up, Lindsey,” I hear Sophia whisper-hiss in warning. She must be seeing what I’m seeing.

  These men, I have a feeling they don’t give a fuck who we are. If they did, they wouldn’t have just snatched us out of a parking lot.

  “No, I do not know who you are,” Mr. Smooth says, taking another step into the room.

  He inclines his head to the side and there’s an open, interested look on his face, but in his eyes I can see something cold stirring. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  No, I mentally urge Lindsey. Don’t tell him, please. I don’t know why the fuck we’re here, or what these guys want with us, but I’ve got the most awful feeling that they’re not going to like finding out we come from powerful families. We’re probably better off just going along with this while we wait for someone to rescue us.

  And someone will rescue us, I know it. Someone had to have seen what happened… they had to. And when our families get wind of this, they’ll find us. They’ll spare no expense to get us back.

  It’s better that these guys don’t know who they’re fucking with.

  Lindsey narrows her eyes, and she must not see the warning in his eyes, because her lips twist with a mixture of pleasure and disdain. “I’m Lindsey Hawthorne, and my father is Michael Hawthorn, as in Hawthorne Real Estate. Ring a bell?”

  Mr. Smooth slowly nods his head and he frowns as if he’s not happy to learn this new information. “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

  Lindsey’s eyes light up and she looks almost excited as she says, “Then you know you’re in deep shit for kidnapping me. You’ll be lucky if my father does—“

  A loud bang rings out, assaulting my ears, and Lindsey just drops.

  She doesn’t try to stop her fall.

  Her arms don’t come out.

  She just drops to the floor with a thump.

  I didn’t even see the gun appear. Everything just happened so quickly, and I was too busy mentally pleading with Lindsey, to pay attention to the other men.

  Beside me, Amanda screams.

  Sophia gapes.

  I look to Mr. Smooth, then to the man beside him with the gun in his hand. The man with the Russian accent.

  I look down at Lindsey.

  Did that just happen? I wonder as a cold wave of shock washes over me.

  Lindsey’s blue eyes stare lifelessly up at the ceiling, but I just keep staring at her, expecting and urging her to blink.

  Get up, Lindsey, get up.

  But she doesn’t move.

  She doesn’t twitch or blink.

  She just keeps staring.

  The light that was in her eyes just a moment ago has flickered out.

  Somehow her eyes have dimmed and emptied.

  A dark pool of blood begins to spread around her, staining her white blonde hair.

  Then I see it, the gun shot. The hole in her forehead. And it registers. What just happened finally sinks in.

  I can’t stop myself, I scream.

&nb
sp; “Lindsey’s dead, oh my god,” Sophia mumbles beside me. “He killed her, he fucking killed her!”

  Mr. Smooth turns back to us, his grin spreading. “Would you three like to tell me about your famous fathers too?”

  Amanda shakes her head, sobbing and sputtering out, “No, no.”

  A spike of fear slams through me as I meet his eyes. Oh my god, if he finds out who my father is I’m going to die.

  Just like Lindsey…

  Mr. Smooth stares at us long and hard, and I feel fucking petrified. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t speak. “You are no one now, yes? You are my pets.”

  Amanda nods her head up and down, and Sophia whimpers. Fuck, her father is the Chief of Police. She’s screwed even more than I am.

  “Who’s responsible for this?” Mr. Smooth asks, turning to face the three men in black fatigues.

  “Ronny,” the Russian answers. “It was his idea to grab the girls from the parking lot after botching the first grab.”

  “No, boss, I—”

  Again the gun goes off and the guy in the middle drops to the floor.

  The other two jump away, startled.

  Oh fuck, oh fuck. I seem to be incapable of thinking anything but oh, fuck.

  Amanda’s little sobs start to turn into loud, blaring wails.

  Mr. Smooth turns back to us and orders. “Take the girls to the holding room.”

  The two men in black fatigues hesitate for a moment and then jump forward to do his bidding. They have to step around their fallen comrade and Lindsey to reach us.

  “What about the bodies?” the Russian with the gun asks as the two guys start to shove us forward. “How would you like me to dispose of them?

  Mr. Smooth glances down at the bodies and turns away. “Feed them to the pigs.”

  5

  Johnathan

  Four girls missing from my parking lot. Four fucking girls someone had the balls to take from my fucking property.

  Do they not know what my property is? Do they not know who the fuck I am? Who the fuck I work for?

  My mind doesn’t like the answers it comes up with.

  Whoever took the girls from my lot doesn’t know a god damn thing. They don’t know that my property has become a neutral zone for the city. That no one fucks with anyone on my property.

  I fought Lucifer long and hard on this place. He didn’t want it, he didn’t like it, and he ensured I knew the cost of keeping a neutral zone in his city.

  A neutral zone for anyone to come talk without worry of being ambushed. A place that isn’t owned by anyone but me.

  Sure, I work for Lucifer, and I’m in his inner circle. But this is a place that is outside of that realm. It’s mine. And some stupid fuck just took four girls off my property.

  I’d call them women, but fuck, they’re barely out of their teens, if I’m guessing right.

  Pulling my cellphone from my pocket, I dial the one fucking person I fucking hate calling.

  “Yes, Johnathan? What is it now?” Simon’s bored tone comes through the phone.

  Fucking prissy bastard.

  “You need to get down to the bar. I’ve got a problem.”

  “Your bar, your problems. You know the rules, Johnathan. I could care less if someone is puking in your beer cooler.”

  That’s about fucking typical of him. He doesn’t give two shits. Doesn’t even want to know.

  “Yeah, well, get your ass down here. I’ve got a few purses here and the names on the IDs are odd. I can’t place ‘em, but I know ‘em.”

  “So underage drinking happens all the time, Johnathan. Good night.”

  “They got yanked from my parking lot, Simon.”

  “Hmmm. Well, you did say you wanted it outside of…. what was it? Everyone’s hands but your’s?”

  “Simon, listen to the fucking names. You owe me for the fucking shipping container.”

  “Give me two of them.”

  “Elizabeth Norton… and Lindsey Hawthorne. I recognize the Hawthorne last—”

  “I’ll be there in nineteen minutes, don’t touch a thing. In fact, drop the purses where you stand.”

  Hmph, now he listens to me. The fucking asshole. Who the fuck did I just name off?

  “What the hell?” I ask as I look down at Beth’s ID.

  Her long, red hair in the picture is flowing down past her shoulders, her smile is so awkward. It’s her bedroom eyes though, those damn eyes. The ones that can break a man’s will in an instant.

  “Do as I say! Now!” The line disconnects and I’m left standing there in my parking lot with a small circle of people forming around the scene.

  Looking around me, I raise my voice. “Back into the bar or leave, those are your two fucking options!”

  Dropping Lindsey’s purse after I shove the ID back into it, I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to let go of Beth’s. It’s not that I want to hold onto her stuff like a fucking teddy bear, but just being able to look down into her eyes brings me a sense of calm. A sense of calm before the fucking hurricane that is about to take over my little piece of the world.

  I can sense it coming, with Simon at the fucking wheel.

  The parking lot is dark by design. I don’t like assholes thinking this place is inviting. I left the one street light alone, and it’s cost four fucking girls something.

  Their lives? Maybe. Fuck.

  Waiting like this is going to fucking kill me. I don’t even know why I should fucking care beyond someone doing it on my property, but the thought of Beth being taken makes my heart turn cold and angry.

  Someone took something from me.

  I watch as a large black Escalade pulls into my parking lot, and I want to shake off the skin-crawling sensation I get knowing Simon is here.

  The vehicle stops next to where I am standing, and it’s not long before I hear the high pitched whine of a BMW racing down the main road, towards my bar.

  Simon hasn’t gotten out of his vehicle yet, so I can only assume he’s putting on the human mask he wears to fool everyone into thinking he’s not a fucking robot, or some ancient spider, biding his time until he takes over the world.

  The black BMW with blacked out windows skids to a stop and parks besides Simon in his own blacked out vehicle.

  I watch James climb out of the car with a look of annoyance as he scowls at the Escalade.

  Coming over to stand by me, he mutters, “I was on a fucking date tonight, asshole. You two better have a good fucking reason…”

  He stares at the situation in front of us then looks down to the phone in his hand. Dialing some number, he puts the phone up to his head. “Yeah, babe, it ain’t going to work tonight. I’ll call ya later.”

  Growling, he looks over the scene while Simon finally makes an appearance. “Gentlemen.”

  I can just feel the scowl on my face when Simon says that. He’s so fucking aristocratic… not to mention a fucking germaphobe from hell.

  “You want to come into the bar for a drink?” I ask with a laugh.

  “I’d rather spend my night getting deloused,” Simon says as he walks around the car.

  Looking to where I dropped the purses, he squats down by an oily smear on the ground and turns his head to the side. “Someone tried using mace.”

  Standing up, he walks over to me and opens his hand. “Give me the purse and ID.”

  Grudgingly, I hand over the purse and ID, but I make sure to take one last look. “I don’t have any CCTV footage of this spot, Simon. It’s an oversight I’ll be looking into. But I want to know everything you can get on these girls and whoever the fuck took them.”

  Turning from me, he walks over to the other purses, making sure to take a wide step around the various puddles of water and puke.

  Picking each one of them up, he says, “I know what you want, Johnathan, and I’ve already informed Lucifer of the issues at hand.”

  “Why the fuck did you do that? This was an IOU you owe me from the fucking container ship babysitti
ng project,” I growl as I take two large steps forward.

  I can sense James matching my steps just before he grabs onto my arm.

  “Back down, John,” James says quietly.

  “What the fuck for?” I ask.

  “Because your boss has taken offense and issue with whatever happened to these girls. Lindsey Hawthorne, daughter of realty mogul Michael Hawthorne.”

  Now I know why her named seemed so familiar.

  Bending down, he picks up a purse. Pulling the ID, he says, “Sophia Cronin… Well, I hope it isn’t Police Chief Cronin’s very daughter, but I don’t doubt it.”

  Well, fuck. The sinking feeling in my stomach drops even further down. Beth Norton, I know the last name, but it’s escaping me.

  No doubt since Simon hasn’t said her name yet it’s going to be a fucking big one.

  “Amanda Brower, hmmm… No name from memory. I’ll have to check on her.”

  He stops pacing around the car and stands directly in front of me. His eyes pinch around the corners as he gives me a head tilt. He’s studying me with those ice blue fucking eyes behind his glasses. He’s looking at me like I’m some sort of specimen under a fucking microscope.

  “And Beth Norton,” I say.

  “Norton as in…” James starts to say.

  “Yes, as in Richard Norton. Senator Richard Norton.”

  Oh.

  Well, I was about to fuck a senator’s daughter. That’s a first.

  Fuck, who am I kidding? I want her still, and some soon-to-be-dead motherfucker took her from my place.

  Took my fucking property from my fucking place.

  I can’t fucking take it when someone touches my stuff. I’m feeling a cold rage just thinking of her name. I could give two fucks that she’s some senator’s daughter.

  She was taken from me.

  I growl into Simon’s face, “Fucking find her, Simon. I’ll give you a personal favor for this. No questions.”

  “That’s a good thing you offer, but the senator’s daughter and Miss. Hawthorne are of value to Lucifer, and as such to the inner circle.”

  “Whatever the fuck you say, just find the fucking girl.”

  His phone starts ringing as he is about to reply. Stepping away from me, he puts it to his ear. Listening for two minutes straight, he looks over to me and frowns.