by Addison Jane
“Don’t judge my character choices,” I whispered. “I figure men who buy women are up themselves jackasses with small cocks, so that’s what I’ll embody.”
“At least you don’t have to pretend with the small cock part.”
“I’m not opposed to telling Isiah I’m your gay lover,” I threatened with a growl, knowing Romeo would have to go along with whatever story I spouted.
He shook his head. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
Mr. Tattoos held the elevator doors for us as we climbed inside, turning to face them as they closed, obviously not threatened by us given I could have shot him, or stabbed him, or anything by now.
When the doors finally dinged open again, I realized why. He stepped out, holding the door as at least five semi-automatic weapons were pointed directly at our heads, ready to watch them explode like fucking watermelons. My body tensed, but Romeo was the definition of ‘who gives a fuck.’
“Romeo,” a booming voice exclaimed.
Slowly the guns stepped backward.
There was a broad smile on Isiah’s face, and his arms were held open like he was welcoming home an old friend or a member of the family. With his dark hair slicked back and his perfectly pressed suit, he reminded me of one Angelo Moretti or one of Blizzard’s Old Lady Rose’s family—the Italian mafia.
I knew this guy wasn’t though. He didn’t have those connections. He was just a rich bastard who found joy in the pain of others. Especially by the sounds of it, women. I had to fight my natural instincts which wanted to walk right up to him and punch him in the fucking throat and then cut his dick off. Instead, I followed Romeo out of the elevator with my shoulders back, trying to act casual. As casual as you can be when you’ve entered the lion’s cage at feeding time.
“Isiah,” Romeo greeted, taking his hand in a strong and confident shake.
Isiah beamed down at my brother like he was a long, lost friend, which made me feel slightly uneasy.
How close were these two?
Was there something that Romeo wasn’t telling me?
Nerves started to swirl in my stomach, questions shooting around my head, and my muscles suddenly feeling like they were preparing to run.
No.
I needed to fucking trust him. This was his world, this was his home. He knew what he was doing. I’d grown to realize that with Romeo, it was all about putting on a mask and being whoever you needed to be to get through whatever situation you are in. I’d watched him so easily speak about killing Isiah with his bare hands on the way here, to smiling and greeting him like they played poker together once a week and traded stories about their underworld accomplishments. He chose to play a part, and that’s exactly what I needed to do myself.
I was here to help him find Eliza. I promised I’d do that, and me freaking out right now wouldn’t do either of us any fucking good.
“Isiah, this is my friend, Cooper,” Romeo spoke up, drawing my attention as he held his hand out indicating me.
I pushed my shoulder back and lifted my chin, stepping forward. “Heard a lot about you,” I noted, trying to act nonchalant.
His eyes moved over me.
We’d decided not to go with a suit, and stick with jeans and a button-down shirt. I felt more comfortable that way, and more like I could just be a badass version of myself rather than some stupid ass businessman.
“I heard you had a smart mouth with one of my guys downstairs,” Isiah noted, tilting his head slightly as if he was waiting to see if I would stand by what I said or drop my balls and apologize and try to suck up.
It was a test.
I knew it was and by the way Romeo’s finger was twitching. He knew it was too.
“Baldy tattled on me because I was mean to him?” I laughed. “Seriously?”
There were a few seconds where all I could hear was my heartbeat in my ears. I was pretty sure everyone in that fucking room could hear it, and it was going to be the last sound before five semi-automatic machine guns riddled me with fucking bullets.
Then Isiah cracked a smile. “You know, Romeo, you could learn a lot from your friend here.” Isiah grinned, stepping up beside me and patting me on the back. “You need not to take life so seriously. Come on, let’s have a drink, then we can discuss business.”
Isiah and a couple of his men lead us into another room. It was pristine—so much so that I wondered whether it was all just for show.
One of the bodyguards moved over to a small sidebar while we made ourselves at home on a couple of large leather armchairs which appeared like they were straight out of a sixties gangster movie.
We were there for less than a couple seconds before Isiah—not the type of man to fuck around—got straight to business. “What can I do for you tonight?”
The guard popped open some cupboards and pulled out three short glasses and some scotch. Even from here I could tell it was the expensive kind. The kind that you couldn’t buy in any store, the kind that came straight from the brewer.
“Cooper’s looking for someone,” Romeo explained, nodding to me to continue.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out an old photo Romeo had managed to dig up. “I’m looking for a young girl that I heard you bought a couple years ago,” I told him, reaching out and handing him the picture. Eliza was pretty. That was really the only word I had to describe her because she just looked so damn innocent. I felt wrong using anything more than that. “She was promised to me, and the asshole sold her out from under me before I could get her.”
Isiah’s eyes were narrowed on the photo, his lips pursed. He took the glass of scotch offered to him while he continued to examine the photo. He lowered it as he took a sip of his drink. “I’d like to know how you knew she was sold to me.”
We didn’t.
We were guessing.
A glass was placed in my hand, and I tightened my fingers around it.
I wasn’t a part of his circle. I wasn’t meant to know anything. Especially not which girls he’d bought, or the fact he’d bought them at all. I fought the urge to nervously clear my throat. Instead, forcing myself to take a large drink of scotch. It burned all the way down but cleared the airways free.
“Because the asshole owed me, and next thing I know he’s telling me she’s done a fucking runner. I believed that bastard, too, until recently.”
Isiah raised his brow, he was curious, believing my story.
“Romeo helped me hunt him down, finally,” I continued. “Was sick of him getting away with shit, undercutting my business, and living life like he was a fucking king. So before I blew the bastard up, he admitted he’d sold her to you before I could get to her. Wanted to make some money out of her rather than just give her up for free.”
He looked down at the photo again, as if lost in it for a moment.
Romeo was a mask of relaxation, but his eyes watched Isiah like a fucking hawk.
“She was offered to me anonymously,” Isiah finally spoke up, and I tried not to flinch when I realized we’d gotten it right. “It was an online bid. I won. Transferred the money. Got an address. I sent someone to pick her up, but the buyer wasn’t there. Just this girl, in the boot of a car.”
I rolled my shoulders, making sure to be obvious about it. As far as he was concerned, I wanted this bitch. I felt like I deserved this bitch and that I was cheated.
He obviously had no idea who she was. Or who had sold her to him.
“You know where she is or not?” Isiah stared back at me, moving his jaw back and forth. “I don’t give a shit what you want for her, I’ll fucking pay it. I just want what belongs to me.”
It was hard to tell what was going on in his head. I didn’t know if he knew where she was and was just trying to squeeze me for whatever I fucking had, or if he was wondering how he could do this and make money out of it by screwing me over. The way his eyes often moved to Romeo told me that he was taking my brother’s place in this into consideration. There was a certain level of respect there w
hich I was trying to ignore.
I didn’t want to know what Romeo had done to earn that kind of shit from a man like him.
A man who basically had no boundaries or hard limits.
“I will look into it,” Isiah finally admitted before throwing back the last bit of scotch in his glass and holding it up for someone to refill. The look in his eyes was deep and intense and slowly began to transform into a smile which pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in buying something else?”
I shrugged casually. “I could be tempted… but only if you deliver the girl.”
The sparkle in his eye disturbed me. He quickly reached for a remote which was situated on the small glass top side table to his right. With one press of a button, things on the wall across from us began to shift and move. Two panels slid back to reveal a television.
“I always deliver, Mr. Cooper, don’t you worry about that. So how about we take a look through the club, and you can tell me what you might like.”
I didn’t fucking like this. So I looked over at Romeo, ready to get the fuck out of there.
I didn’t want to point out any girls, knowing they would most likely be this predator’s next targets. The gleeful way his face lit up at the prospect of picking out some girl from a crowd like they were just cattle and I’m looking for a good rump steak, had my temper flaring.
“Personally, I’ve had my eyes on the two in the corner at the bar,” Isiah leered, just short of licking his lips like he was eyeing up a juicy steak. “The short one especially. A lot of men would go for her. You know the type, the child fetish thing they have going on.”
I don’t think I’d ever wanted to kill a man more in my life than I did in that moment.
“While we appreciate it, I need to get Cooper to the airport,” Romeo interrupted, placing his untouched drink down on the coffee table in front of us and getting to his feet. “He flew in especially to meet with you, but his men will start to get a little itchy if I don’t deliver him back to his jet soon.”
The way Romeo spoke it was like I almost believed what he was saying, and I knew it was a fucking lie. He never faltered or wavered, his tone always so flat, so sure. But just as I was getting to my feet and placing my drink down, I saw a look on his face that definitely wasn’t controlled. It was only a second. A brief flash of shock. Then it was gone.
I wasn’t sure if Isiah had seen it, but I couldn’t help but follow my brothers gaze, wondering what it was that would make him break his strong exterior and essentially look like what I could only describe as… scared.
The television on the wall was separated into nine different screens. Each one focused on a different part of Isiah’s club downstairs. Everything looked normal, like just any other club—one that didn’t prey on young women. But when my eyes reached the bottom corner, my heart dropped, and I clenched my fist, ready to fucking fight my way out of here.
She wasn’t in Arizona at school.
She was in Isiah’s fucking club.
Meyah.
Yeah, my fucking Meyah.
Dakota grabbed a shot off a tray as we walked through the pulsing club. The waitress turned around to yell at her, but Dakota just threw back the shot, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before placing the empty glass back on the tray. I could barely hear my own laughter over the music, but she grinned and grabbed my hand, hauling me toward the bar.
Dakota was a classy woman.
No, she really wasn’t.
She was a ‘don’t care what people think, don’t bother trying to impress anyone, who gives a shit what people think’ type of woman. And honestly, she was exactly what I needed to show me that I could really be free and outgoing. And I shouldn’t be scared of disappointing people because if it made me happy, and didn’t hurt anyone else, then why the hell should I care whether people agreed with my life choices.
I just wanted to be happy. That was the goal in life. I just needed to stop fighting it.
“I think we’re gonna get in trouble,” she called, leaning right in close to me.
I bit my lip but shrugged. Yeah, I could guarantee it. Ripley and the boys had met a bunch of girls on the street. From what I could tell, they were regulars at the clubhouse, and while I should have stood my ground and rubbed it in their face that I was more important than them—which was unlike me, but at the moment, called for to get them to stop fucking glaring at me like I was trying to have sex with my brother—Dakota and I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t have time for those bullshit games, so we slipped away and found the nightclub the girls from the diner had suggested down the street.
Dakota frowned as she leaned over the counter talking to one of the bar staff who was shrugging and shaking his head. He walked away, and she threw her hands in the air before turning and stomping toward me. She leaned in. “He won’t serve us because we don’t have ID.”
I screwed up my nose, about to tell her we should just go and find Ripley and head back to the clubhouse where we could get trashed. “Can I get you a drink?” a voice growled in my ear. It startled me a little, and I spun around on the barstool almost knocking over the guy who had been standing a little too close for my liking. His mouth was moving, but there was no way in hell I was going to hear him over the bad drum and bass that thumped through the speakers.
I pointed to my ear and shook my head, trying to indicate I had no idea what the hell he was saying, noticing Dakota was doing something similar beside me with who I assumed to be this guy’s friend. He was dressed nice, I guess maybe a little overdressed for a club with a suit on, but he’d tried to tone it down a little by ditching the tie and undoing a couple of buttons. I could appreciate that.
Was I attracted to him? No.
Was I interested in any way at all? No.
But he was offering drinks, and I really wasn’t looking forward to the lecture I was going to get from Ripley and Huntsman after our disappearing act. I needed at least a little bit of alcohol in me for that.
He leaned in closer, placing his mouth right by my ear. “If we head back over there, the music won’t be as loud, and we can have a drink,” he practically yelled. I followed the direction where he was pointing, it was to a part of the club where there was a bouncer with a sign that indicated a VIP bar in the back. When I turned back, he held up a card that had the club’s name on it and the letters VIP.
I quickly looked over at Dakota who met my gaze and shrugged then nodded.
It would be nice to get away from the crazy of the club and the loud music for a little while.
Each of the men were gentlemen, holding out their hands to help us off our barstools before leading us with a hand on the small of our backs toward the VIP area. It was kind of nice to be treated like a princess occasionally.
The music began to dull as we passed by the guard, and as we walked past several doors, the hairs on my neck began to stand on end. The hall was long, but the further we got from the club, the more I started to think maybe there wasn’t a VIP area.
I looked over at Dakota who was frowning as if she was starting to put two and two together, and I pulled to a sudden stop. My date spun around as his hand slipped from my back, his sudden welcoming eyes narrowed beneath a heavy brow.
“We changed our minds,” I announced, standing tall and reaching for Dakota. Her hand stretched out to meet mine, but she was quickly tugged away with such force that her small body flew into the hallway wall with a sickening thud. “Dakota,” I called, diving for her as she crumbled to the floor.
A fist connected with my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs and forcing me to curl in on myself, fighting hard through the pain to stay on my feet.
“It’s the little one he wants the most,” a deep voice grumbled. “Get rid of the purple haired bitch, she’s too much trouble.”
“No,” Dakota screamed, and I looked back to see her kicking and throwing her fists. Fighting for her life as the asshole tried to grab any part of he
r that he could. “Meyah… run!”
There was so much going on.
Dakota was slapped across the face so hard I was almost sure it knocked her out.
I couldn’t force my body to move, I was too scared, paralyzed with pain.
“Let’s just stick them and carry them upstairs, ask what he wants to do with them,” asshole one mentioned. He was right behind me, I could feel him. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore how much it hurt and spun around, lifting my elbow at the same time.
A sharp pain shot through my body as the point of my elbow connected with Asshole One’s face, and he screamed like a little baby as he stumbled back, his hands going straight to his nose.
“You fucking bitch,” he hollered, his voice muffled beneath his hands. “My fucking nose.”
I saw the blood as it trickled from his hands, down his face and his wrists. His once perfectly quaffed hair was now in a mess, pieces falling across his forehead as he stared at me with a mix of pain and anger.
I looked over in time to see Asshole Two with a needle, pressing it into Dakota’s neck, her already weak body going completely limp and unresponsive. “Dakota,” I screamed, launching forward but Asshole One reached for me, his hand grabbing my wrists and twisting my body, forcing my arm up my back and my face against the wall. He didn’t stop, though. No, he wanted to hurt me back. He kept pushing, further and further to the point where I was scared my arm would snap. I could feel the bones being pushed to their max, the snapping was only seconds away.
“Let her go,” a calm voice ordered, followed by a loud click.
I knew the voice.
It reminded me of home.
Which is where I wish I were right now.
At home, in Athens, where I always knew there was someone close by and where I felt safe.
I almost cried in relief as I was released, my body wanting to crumble into a pile on the flood, but instead, I dove toward Dakota, crawling across the dirty hallway floor to her limp and unmoving body. My fingers reached for her throat, and I didn’t even care that I had blood all up my arms, a voice in my head repeating over and over.