27009 (Welcome to Whitlock, book 2)

by A. A. Dark

  “I’m not going to take her face. I want to calm her down. To talk to her.”

  “And feed her head full of your schemes? I know what you’re doing. You don’t want all this information on the new board members for nothing. You’re up to something.”

  My eyebrow lifted, but I ignored him, heading closer. “What’s your name?”

  “H-help. M-me.”

  “I can’t do that. Not like you want.”

  Harder, she cried.

  “I was a slave once. Like you.”

  Her eyes lifted in confusion, and my lips pulled back into a smile as I watched something spark inside her.

  “That’s right. Listen to me good, slave.”

  “Charlee.”

  More, I inched, until I was only a few feet away. I squinted, reading the numbers on her chest. “Twenty-seven-double-oh-one. That is who you are now. Charlee is no more, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Master Barclane is a good Master compared to some. But to see that, you have to submit to his wants. Submit, slave.”

  “Never,” she breathed out.

  I smiled bigger. “I once said that too. I have the scars to prove it. It was the stupidest thing I ever did. That’s how you get hurt. Or die.” My voice dropped so the master couldn’t hear as I closed the distance. “Submit and live. Rule him, slave. You have that power. Only you. Twist him here,” I said, pointing to my temple, “and there, you will win.”

  “What are you telling her?”

  Footsteps approached, and I turned, looking over my shoulder at his angry face. “Do you want me to help your slave or not?”

  “No. I want you to leave. We’ve discussed too much. It’s not safe having you here if you’re not going to stay.”

  My eyes connected with Charlee’s again, and I saw how a part of her was different now. Alive, when before she was fading on the inside.

  “Will you get my twins an apartment or not?”

  I didn’t look at him. I kept my stare on the slave, letting her watch me work—win.

  “Yeah, yeah. Twins and an apartment, fine. You have to go.”

  “As you wish.” My hand came out as I smirked, grasping her long, thin fingers. Blood was caked under her nails, but she didn’t flinch at my touch. She almost stood taller as I watched her mind work. “Submit,” I mouthed. “If I shall ever return to this place, I hope to meet you again, slave. If your Master allows, I’d like to have someone to go shopping with. A friend. This life doesn’t have to be a bad one. Remember that.”

  Our gazes held for a long time before she nodded “Y-Yes. Yes,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Please come back. Please. I…I can be a good slave.”

  “I know you can.” I winked, then turned, breaking our connection to face Master Barclane. “You hear that? Take good care of this one. She may surprise you.”

  A small growl sounded as his hand shot up and pointed to the door. “She’ll be good because I’ll make her. Now, go.”

  I walked around him, wrapping my face again and stopping at the door. “You will wait a half hour to contact your Master. If you call Bram before then and I am apprehended, there will be a blood bath. The guards not following me will die, and you, I will come back for you. But not before I let out your secret. The world will know. Your daughter, your reputation, will be ruined. And I’ll have the news on the entire time I’m removing your face. You will watch everything you love and have worked for crumble to the ground while you die. Do not cross me, Master Barclane. Bram might not kill you, but I will.”

  He didn’t say a word as I slipped out the door. Two Masters headed my way in a fast stride, and I joined my hands again, fixing the knife to fit in my other sleeve as I kept still at Master Barclane’s entrance. Talking died off and the one closest to me slowed as they approached. His eyes traveled up and down me, but they continued past.

  A deep breath left me, and I glanced up to the camera at the top of the hall. With a signal of my finger, I took the opposite way, heading toward the Whitlock Wing. The guard pulling duty outside the door grabbed the radio at his shoulder at my approach. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I knew he was one of mine as he turned and walked away from the entrance.

  My pulse was pounding. Although I was almost positive I was in control, I could very well be walking into a trap. I was told Bram had left, but what if he hadn’t? What if he was waiting for me inside? I trusted no one. I couldn’t. Otherwise, I’d be doomed.

  Faster, my heart pulsed as I reached out, gripping the door handle. I turned it slowly, pushing the barrier open. Dimness met me, making the unease heighten. The glow above the sink was the only light on, but it gave me a view of the apartment I’d left. It was exactly the same. Each piece of furniture I’d picked out for West and I remained.

  Convulsively, I swallowed through the fear of haunting memories. So much had happened in this space between my dead husband and I. Between Bram and I. Tears burned my eyes as I forced myself forward toward the stairs and hall. A soft hum came from deeper within the darkness. A sweet sound.

  My hand clutched the knife until my fingers were almost numb. One door—the library where I’d stabbed West with the scissors. The second door—my old bedroom. I wanted to go in. Bram’s aftershave lingered and weight tugged in my chest. Still, I went forward, until I came to a stop at the cracked door to my left. The light tone was louder now, sweeter to the building anxieties. I eased it opened, eyeing the older woman whose head jerked in my direction. She was in a rocking chair next to a small bed wearing a maroon, loose-fitting robe. She was a slave, but with time behind her, allowing her to work. A blanket littered with firetrucks had my breath catching. I hadn’t wanted to believe it, I’d tried not to imagine it, but the temptation was too much.

  “Who…?” Distress pushed the woman to her feet as I unwrapped the cloth from my face. The blade of the knife was visible and I used it to motion for her to move to the far side of the room. I could barely look away from the bed, or the curled up little boy in it.

  “You’re...her. You’re the slave he looks for.”

  “Move. I won’t hurt him. I just want to see.”

  The reluctance was there, but inch by inch, she retreated as I got closer.

  “He found you? You’re here to stay?” Even as she asked, her gaze went to the door as if she expected Bram to come in behind me.

  “No.”

  Dark hair peeked out from the blanket and my lips parted at the rosy cheeks that became visible at my nearness. The child, Alvin. Bram had told me about him. Begged me to help raise him. He had spoken to the weakness within when he’d pleaded for me not to get on the plane. He teased me with the idea of us being a family. I hadn’t believed him then, but the child was really here. And Bram…he was taking care of him. The realization had me blinking through tears. Confliction, heartbreak, disbelief—they choked me until I could barely breathe.

  Slowly, I eased toward the bed. The creaking of the mattress had the boy’s head turning in his sleep. He was so small. Three years old was my guess, but I wasn’t sure. His arm eased from beneath the blanket, revealing red pajamas, and his lids fluttered open. Blue eyes, Bram’s eyes, had me dropping the knife at my side and my arms reaching out before I could stop myself. For cousins, they looked so similar. It was crippling to the woman inside me who grieved for something she could never have.

  “Wait.”

  I didn’t listen as the boy’s arms came out to meet mine. Lifting him into my lap, I peered down into his round, curious face. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he fought it, lifting his little hand up toward my face.

  “You must be Alvin. I’m Everleigh.”

  “Ever-leigh.”

  The soft voice had my eyes going wide. He could talk...and good.

  “That’s right. Are you happy, Alvin? Do you like Bram?”

  At Bram’s name, the boy’s face turned toward the door and he squirmed the smallest amount.

  “He’s not here, sweetie. You like him then?”

/>   “The boy adores him. It was hard the first couple weeks. He cried for his mom and dad, but he’s taken to the Main Master. Very much so. They’re good together. Heartwarming to watch. They wear matching suits. It’s adorable. The Main Master,” she paused, “he’s changed.”

  The woman smiled, but I didn’t. I couldn’t at the pain stabbing into my heart.

  “I keep hearing that he’s changed. I’m not sure it’s for the better, though.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong. Maybe out there it’s not, but here, in his home, there’s warmth I didn’t see when I was first brought in to care for the child. If you could see—”

  “No.” My arms cradled the child closer to my chest, acting as a barrier to what I knew I couldn’t stop. Instead, I put my attention on the little boy. “Maybe someday we can meet again, little Alvin. I think I’d like that, but I have to go.”

  Grabbing the bear next to his pillow, I eased it to his chest while he wrapped around it...and I wrapped around him. My eyes closed, and I breathed in his scent. I had no idea how things were going to turn out. I could die in this rebellion. I could get caught and truly end up in the White for my betrayal. Holding to hope that Bram would pardon me because of love could be my biggest mistake. Some things were unforgivable, and breaching his domain was only scratching the surface in this mission.

  Chapter 7

  Layla

  I walked the halls trying to remember what room Jessa was in. I wasn’t sure why my anxiety was so high. Aamir might have been making up with her for all I knew. Or maybe their break up wasn’t going as easily as he thought. Those things took time, didn’t they?

  Two men rushed by, heading around a turn. My lips pursed as I paused, looking back at the doors I’d just passed. It wasn’t one of these...was it? I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been to her room and only barely recalled Jessa mentioning the number.

  A window came into view and I glanced down, scanning the pool area to make sure they weren’t below. It was empty aside from the blonde woman from earlier. She was sitting at a table alone. A sigh left me and I rounded the turn, heading deeper into the corridor. I scanned the numbers, stopping at one that tugged at my memory. Before I could knock, a bang sounded from behind the wooden surface. Muffled voices pierced the air. One was Aamir’s. Relief flooded, and I knocked, hearing the room go quiet. Time stretched, and my brow drew in as I knocked louder. The door opened and words became trapped in my throat.

  “Layla.” Travis smiled as he stood in the entrance. The door remained close to his side, preventing me from seeing anything beyond him.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought this was Jessa’s room. I thought…” My head shook. “I could have sworn I heard Aamir.”

  “You did. Perfect timing. I was just about to find you. Please, come in.”

  Grasping my bicep tightly, he jerked me inside and shut the door. I could barely wince in pain before I was faced with a sight that had me frozen in terror and confusion. Aamir was sprawled across the floor, and two men were placing Jessa’s unconscious body in a small trunk. I jerked, even if I didn’t understand what was happening.

  “Oh, don’t worry. She won’t be in there long. Once you all are on the boat, you’ll have different accommodations.”

  “B-Boat?”

  “That’s right. You wanted a new place to go, remember? I’ve booked you the perfect place. Whitlock will welcome you with open arms.”

  Again, I pulled against his hold. My feet were moving, but I wasn’t going anywhere. A cry escaped at the heightened pain, but it only got worse the more I fought to break free.

  “You’re going to make me a lot of money, slave. You and your brother. I hit the jackpot with y’all.”

  Pressure pushed against my neck as Aamir’s body was lifted. I opened my mouth to scream, but before sound could come, stinging crippled me. Thickness entered my neck, working toward my throat, and the room began to move. I began to move. I was falling. Disappearing…

  ****

  Stifling heat. Sweat. I groaned at the throbbing in my head as I tried to open my eyes. I was so hot, I could barely breathe. And I kept swaying. Voices yelled in the distance. They were unrecognizable for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. Another language? Yes. It was unfamiliar to me, leaving me even more lost to the black I floated in.

  Again, I tried to open my eyes, but no matter how hard I tried, the order in my head wouldn’t allow them to comply. My mind was screaming to wake up. Something was wrong. Something…

  Nothing came. Deeper, I sunk into the darkness of unconsciousness. For how long, I wasn’t sure. Gagging tore me from the nightmares and I rolled to my side, seeing light break through as my body catapulted into life. Wood registered beneath me, as did the smell. Gasoline? Diesel? A mix of urine?

  Up and down, we moved in a fluid motion. It was barely there, but I felt it through every aching inch of my stiff frame. It hurt to move. To think. Shakily, I lifted my head, blinking rapidly to bring my blurry vision clear. Hazy bars came into focus, and I followed them down toward my feet. Where was I?

  My memory wouldn’t return. A soreness in my neck had my fingers coming up, and I pressed into the skin, wincing. Loud words were shouted, and I froze as two boys who looked younger than me barreled by. More words I didn’t understand. Their skin was dark, and their ragged shirts had holes randomly torn throughout.

  “Layla.”

  My eyes scanned the room full of wooden crates. Nets and random cloths were tied at the top, and I spotted a boy laying in a hammock. His foot hung over the side and he appeared to be asleep.

  “Layla.”

  Aamir’s voice cut through the confusion. I forced my head back up, seeing him past my feet in a cage next to mine. He was sitting, clinging to the bars weakly.

  “W-What happened?” My mouth was so dry, I could barely speak.

  “I don’t know. The last thing I remember...Travis. He pushed us in the room. Then, nothing.”

  Travis. Memories burst through in vivid colors. Jessa getting put in the chest. Aamir on the floor.

  “God. Oh, God.” My nails tore into the wood as I scrambled to get up. My strength was all but gone as I managed to sit. Balance kept escaping me with the sway, and I gagged again at the rocking.

  “What? What did you remember? Where are we?”

  I reached out, grabbing the bars to scoot closer. When I wrapped my hands around my brother’s, his eyes grew fearful.

  “I don’t know. He called us slaves. He...mentioned a place called Whitlock. Aamir, I’m scared.”

  “No. Slaves? Slaves of what?”

  “I don’t know.” A sob shook me, and my head lowered against the thick metal separating us. Heat quickly met me as Aamir mirrored my actions, bringing us only inches apart.

  “Jessa’s not here. Where do you think they took her? She’s not dead, right? I mean, they wouldn’t have killed her…would they?”

  Harder, I cried at his panicked tone. This didn’t seem real. Nothing made sense.

  Foreign voices increased again, and I lifted my head as they began to pass.

  “Please. Please, help us!”

  The boys stopped, speaking between each other in a low tone. One with a bruised left eye and a cut lip said something I couldn’t understand. The other boy nodded, then they continued walking, as if seeing us in a cage wasn’t a big deal.

  “We have to get out of here. I have to get us out of here.”

  Aamir was repeating himself as his head stayed against the bars. He didn’t look as though he felt any better than I did. The rocking was getting more pronounced, or I was becoming more sensitive to the motion. It did nothing to help me clear my head. It made the haze worse as I fought through what I could remember.

  “Travis mentioned a boat. I think that’s what we’re on. I don’t feel good. I want to go home.”

  “Just try to hold on. I’m going to figure something out. I’ll get us off here, I promise.”

  A roar tore through the room from the far side and I
jumped. With all the wooden boxes and crates, I couldn’t see the area it had come from. I pushed as close to Aamir as I could, pressing into the bars with everything I had. What sounded like some sort of order or accusation was yelled. An impact split through the room, a sickening thud that had a small sound escaping me. A boy’s cries followed, and hands no bigger than mine came into view. The palms flattened against the wood and what I could see of his forearms lifted as if he were trying to stand. Within seconds, his small body flew more in my direction. A man rushed forward, slamming his boot into the boy’s stomach, sending him rolling even more. He couldn’t have been more than twelve. He was trying so hard to catch his breath through the sobs as the man continued to kick all over his tiny body.

  “Stop! Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

  I hadn’t remembered throwing myself toward the front of my cage. I was jerking at the bars wildly, crying, more afraid than ever.

  The man paused, and for the first time, I took in his size. He was big. Really big. His back was twice as wide as Aamir’s, and he was tall. Scarily so. He looked like a giant from my small cage. On my knees, I only had a few inches above for room. I wouldn’t have made it to his knees positioned like this. Knees that now looked as wide as my head.

  An eerie silence followed as Aamir tugged at my shirt. He was trying to bring me closer, but I couldn’t move. I stared at the back of the shaved head, waiting for the monster to turn. To come beat me too. He didn’t. He bent down, shoving thick fingers through the boy’s dark hair and jerking him to stand. With his other hand, he spun him, holding to his shoulder while he slid down to cover and grip the kid’s face.

  Crack!

  The pop was so loud in the silence, I felt it in my bones. My brain wouldn’t allow me to believe the violent twist I had saw. The boy’s knees gave out and his body went limp, dangling under the man’s hold.

  Still, the giant didn’t look at me. He began walking off, carrying the limp boy like a ragdoll, letting the bare front of the kid’s toes drag against the floor. Repeatedly, I gagged through my screams. Aamir wasn’t pulling anymore. He clutched me in a death grip, no doubt in just as much shock as I was.