Dirty

by A. C. Bextor

  “You haven’t bled yet, have you?” he asks.

  She’s not sure what his question means.

  “Your cunt’s not ready,” he assumes. “I can smell you, though. You smell sweet, like honey.” He inhales dramatically and leaves her gasping for air.

  As Casey releases another whimper, Hangar’s lips touch hers and she purses them shut. He licks her face and the smell of his breath, coupled with the feel of his hands on her, cause her to convulse in an agonizing momentum.

  “Sweet pussy,” he says again, wrapping his hand around her throat.

  The act cripples her ability to breathe. Her small hands cover his wrists, clutching them in fear and pleading with him to leave her alone.

  I’ll call you ‘monkey’ if you don’t mind, though. It suits you.

  Visions of Max come screaming to the surface of her mind. His hardened face, softened because she knows him. His deep hazel eyes, so gentle in nature, peer at her softly in the recesses of her mind.

  Hold old is my monkey?

  The sound of his voice calls to her as the room begins to fade and darken. Thankfully, like a blanket protecting her from the outside, she hardly makes out Hangar’s further torment.

  “You’re going to call me ‘daddy’ and beg me to punish you.” He squeezes tighter around her neck, and her hands slip from the hold of his wrists.

  “You’re going to be a very bad girl, princess, and when your color changes, I’m marking you as mine,” he continues to seethe.

  Shaking uncontrollably and still fighting for air, Casey closes her eyes and tries to void out his words.

  Shortly after, he drops his hand and her body slouches against the wall now holding her up. A few seconds pass as she regains her focus.

  She knows he’s looking down on her, waiting with bated breath for her to acknowledge what he’s done, but fear has her paralyzed and in constant study of her bare feet resting on an unclean, cement floor. In comparison, Hangar’s black boots look overwhelming and powerful. The smell of his leather cut permeates her senses.

  She thinks quickly about her friends who lay on papers under her mattress and longs to forget her life in their faces. Max’s strong and secure presence comes to mind, and her eyes water as she silently begs for him to rescue her.

  Even though she knows he can’t.

  “I think about you, ya know?” he says casually, using his finger to manipulate her hair from around her face. “When I fuck your mother, I think of you.”

  Her body trembles again. Another mentally unwanted advance being forced on her memory of him. Of all the men who come and go from her room, Hangar is by far the most reckless and scary. His words about her mother hit her chest with full-force. Her own mother hates her. She knows this, but now she has a slightly better understanding of why.

  Grabbing her shoulder and pulling her from the wall, Hangar once again positions himself behind her, but this time he pushes between her shoulders to move her forward.

  “Shower time, beauty queen,” he remarks in a jovial tone. His near-chuckle makes her want to run away, but fear of consequence keeps her going.

  One foot in front of the other. Max isn’t one of them, maybe I should tell him, Casey ponders with desperation.

  Once they make it to the bathroom, she assumes Hangar will do the same as Cilas usually does and stand outside the door, waiting for her to finish. He doesn’t. Instead, she watches Hangar move inside and turn on the shower for her.

  “Take off your clothes,” he instructs as he positions himself against the basin of the sink. “Do it slowly and don’t leave anything on.”

  Casey swallows hard and doesn’t move. Her hands give away her fear as they shake uncontrollably at her side. Her knees feel weak, as though they’re being held together by a tight string that’s ready to snap.

  “If you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you, and I won’t be gentle.”

  Shivers run the length of her spine as she lifts her arms to undo the buttons at her throat. Her eyes dart about the floor, trying to stay focused on maintaining her breathing.

  “Someone in here?” a voice calls out from behind the closed door.

  Hangar looks at Casey, his eyes narrow in hatred, then move to the door as it opens and they see Anna making her way in. Casey can’t help but feel a false sense of safety, even as small as it may be, to the fact that another person is in witness.

  “Why the fuck are you in here?” Hangar barks, raising his voice with each cursed word.

  Anna’s eyes dart to Casey and back to Hangar. Her small, frail cheeks jump as she purses her lips in anger.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” Anna claims. It’s the strongest voice Casey’s ever heard her use.

  Hangar laughs at her. His laugh is so loud it carries a haunting echo, which reverberates throughout the small room. The shower continues to run and steam swirls around them.

  “And who are you to tell me where I can and can’t be? You’re a slave.”

  A slave.

  Straightening her posture in challenge, Anna’s chin rises with it as her words are meant to threaten. “Hoss doesn’t allow you near the girls.”

  Pulling out a key, Hangar shows it off like a trophy. “Then how do I have this?”

  Anna casts a nervous glance to Casey. “Viktor said you were to never be near them.”

  At the mention of Viktor’s name, the room loses its oxygen. Casey takes a step back and Hangar stands tall before walking toward Anna. The smack of skin against skin sears the air before Anna yelps in pain.

  Looking in her direction, Casey watches as Anna holds her face. A small amount of blood trickles from her lip.

  “Don’t say his fucking name to me. Don’t threaten his fucking name to me. I’ll tell him . . .”

  Anna, standing straight and ready to pounce, finishes his thought for him. “You’ll tell him what? He trusts me. He’ll listen to me before you, so, please, tell him.”

  Another slap echoes across the walls as Anna’s head falls to the side. Casey remains still and braced, fully expecting to be next.

  He’ll love the picture. He’ll love what I made him, Casey thinks to herself in order to remove herself from what’s happening around her.

  Hangar spits on Anna, brushing her shoulder as he walks by with parting words. “The day will come soon when you’ll scream for Viktor. Both you bitches will.”

  Anna, sensing Casey’s tears, rushes to her. Bending down, she grabs her small, young upper arms with her hands and shakes Casey to get her attention. She’s talking, but Casey can’t hear her words. The white noise in the wake of panic and terror has enveloped her mind, clogging anything from the outside world.

  She feels Anna’s arms around her, holding her close and gently rocking her back and forth. The warm connection to another person, someone less scary and almost nurturing, brings her back to the present.

  “You said Max?” Anna accuses quietly, removing the evidence of Casey’s tears.

  The shower water continues to run, and Casey looks beyond Anna’s shoulder to study the humidity it brings.

  “Casey, honey? You called for Max. Tell me why.”

  Casey doesn’t understand why she’s asking. She had assumed Anna knew him and understood he’s not like the others.

  Pulling courage from deep within, Casey pins Anna with a distance stare. “I wanted him to come help you.”

  “Sweetheart,” Anna breathes, pulling her in to surround her in a hug. “It’s okay. Hangar won’t get near you again.”

  Knowing Anna isn’t in a position to make that promise, Casey looks for anyone else to help. “W-when is Cilas coming back?”

  Anna tilts her head, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know, but I’ll talk to Viktor, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Casey answers as she enjoys the feel of Anna’s fingers running through her hair. In essence, she’s erasing those fingers from the dimly lit hallway and the effects they had on her.

  Removing the last fallen te
ar from Casey’s face, Anna stands straight and looks down. Casey is taken back when she sees the drying blood left on her lip and the rapidly swelling skin around her right eye.

  Anna soon realizes what Casey’s staring at. “I’m okay, honey. Come on. Let’s get you showered, okay?”

  Nodding, Casey starts to remove her clothes. Taking off the nightgown, she’s left in only her underwear. Anna waits for her to remove those, as well. Once Casey’s done so, she tosses them in the trash, not saving them to be cleaned.

  “Did he touch you?” Anna seethes.

  Shaking her head, Casey doesn’t offer the full truth. No, he hadn’t touched her exactly.

  But his fingerprints still burn on her as though he had.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After searching nearly every building of the compound looking for Casey, I’m left with only the outside areas. It’s dark already, and I’m trying not to think the worst, but there’s no obvious reason she’d be out here.

  The back door to the club is open. This is the same place I found the boys cleaning the storage units while Hoss was screaming at them earlier this week. I don’t see anyone out there, but as I walk closer to the building, I hear faint mumbling coming from somewhere inside.

  Leaning my ear to each closed door, I wait to hear more. There’s nothing coming from the first three, but as I stand against the fourth, the mumbling gets louder. Reaching for the handle, I find it’s locked. I walk a few more steps and again the voice level increases, but it’s only one man’s voice I hear.

  “Mine, mine, mine.” The deep voice is calm, but eerie. “She was mine first. She’ll always be mine.”

  The last door of the building has been left slightly open. Now that I’m closer, I see the faded light casting a small glow on the slab of pavement on the steps and below them.

  “Fuckin’ bitch will pay. Viktor will pay . . . Ahhh.” The sound of his pain echoes throughout the small room. I’m not sure if he’s already injured or he’s doing it to himself.

  When I step closer, I press my body against the wooden wall of the building so whoever’s inside would have to come out entirely to see me, leaving me room for a surprise attack if needed. Quickly moving my hand to the door, I pry it open further to hear the voice with more clarity. I hope to recognize who it is.

  “Hoss . . .” he breathes then lets out an agonizing scream. “F-f-fucking pussy.”

  As I stare at the ground below, waiting for more words to come, I realize who is speaking.

  Hangar. That crazy, fucking bastard.

  “They’re all cunts. Every fuckin’ one of ’em.”

  His maddening self-thoughts appear to be directed to anyone involved in the club. What I thought before was that Hangar was the wildcard. Proof be positive, it’s him. His kind of crazy is off the fucking charts.

  Quickly, I debate. I could leave, walk away and he’d never be the wiser. Or I could open the door, face him, and try to find out where Casey is. If he knows, then I need to get to her before he does.

  The decision is made when I stand from the wall, turn and open the door as wide as it will go.

  Hangar is sitting on a metal chair at a steel table underneath the shelves of Hoss’ proudly displayed decaying skulls. Blood is dripping down his jean-clad leg, onto his thick black boots, and finally to the floor. He’s holding one of the instruments he was using to torture the man they called Scottie.

  It isn’t until Hangar looks up and finds me standing here that I can finally see exactly what he’s been doing.

  His stomach is covered in blood. He’s a small man, and his stomach isn’t toned by any means. The screams and pants I heard minutes earlier were from him; he’s been carving on himself. The blood covers most of the markings, so it’s hard to make out exactly what he’s done, but one cut is clear.

  It’s the letter M. Mine.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he hisses, catching my attention and setting the blade down on the table as he sits back in the chair to look at me.

  “Girl’s gone missing,” I tell him as if I don’t care. “I made the night’s round to her room and she wasn’t there. I’m lookin’ for her before Hoss finds her gone.”

  “Casey,” he states, all-knowing and with a heated breath, his jaw clenching tightly.

  My gut tightens with sickness when he sees my concern, and he smirks.

  “Did you take her?”

  “For a little while.” He smiles. “Not done with her, though. Fuckin’ cunt Anna interrupted our fun.”

  My blood burns under my skin, so I clench my hands into fists. If he’s fucking with me and I take the bait, revealing my concern for Casey, all the intel I’ve gathered so far is worth nothing, not to mention I’d be outed completely. Still, though, I find it hard to stay calm.

  “Where’s she at? I need her accounted for.”

  “Shower. That’s where I left her,” he tells me.

  “Alone?”

  “No,” he returns, sitting up, looking down and admiring his handiwork.

  The blood oozing on his skin has slowed and I find out I was right. The letter M is front and center. It looks as though he cut through scar tissue to get to it again.

  “She’s still with Anna?”

  “Yes, now fuckin’ get your face out of my sight before I cut it off,” he seethes, starting over on his artwork.

  “You’re a crazy fuck, you know that?”

  He laughs, and the drying blood on his stomach cracks slightly. “Been called worse, motherfucker. You’ll soon see how fuckin’ crazy I am.”

  I don’t bother to ask how, and I don’t want to know. I’d rather it be a surprise ‘cause fuck him.

  Closing the door behind me, I head into the club, leaving him out to sulk in his hatred for the human race.

  Before leaving for the night, I need to check if Casey is in fact with Anna, so I make my way back to her building by using another outside door.

  Once I’m near Casey’s room, I see her door is open and I hear Anna telling her goodnight. I don’t go in, only because I don’t want to bother her, but I do wait in the hall so I can talk to Anna.

  Leaning against the wall, I look up. The vision of Hangar among all those decaying skulls is fitting. Only he belongs on the shelf, taking up the space next to them.

  “Max?” Anna calls, closing Casey’s door.

  “Hey,” I answer. “I came to check on her. She was gone when I brought dinner.”

  Anna looks down but walks to me slowly. “She’s okay.”

  Raising my hand to lift her chin, she moves back a step.

  “Let me see your face,” I demand.

  “It’s nothing,” she answers, lifting her hands to cover the mark.

  “Who did this?”

  Her lip is cut and her eye is swollen, red, and angry.

  “It’s fine. Did you need anything else?”

  Answers would be nice, but I won’t get them here. “Can we walk? I’ll take you back to the clubhouse.”

  I don’t know where Anna sleeps. I’ve only seen her in the kitchen.

  “No, I’m okay. I’ve got to clean up from dinner.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  She nods and starts moving one foot in front of another in sync with mine.

  “Dee Dee,” I say the first thing that comes to mind. “How would she get a key to Casey?”

  “Not just Casey,” she says. “She’s been known to get in with the other girls, but it’s just Casey she goes to see every so often.”

  “How?”

  “She’s her mother. Hoss gave her that key when Viktor said Casey was to be moved.”

  New information.

  “Where was Casey before she was brought in here?”

  Careful to answer, Anna drops her voice. “She was staying with Dee Dee, but as she got older . . .” She stops mid-sentence and looks down again.

  “Casey got older, and?”

  “I need to get back.”

  Turning to stand in front of
her, I grab Anna’s arms in my hands. “I need you to tell me why Casey’s here. Why can’t she be around the others? What’s the band on her ankle mean?”

  Anna’s eyes shine, but her face is hard. She won’t tell me anything, I know this. She’s nervous or scared.

  “Okay, Anna. I understand.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “I need to get back.”

  Anna walks in front of me to go. I watch her head toward the kitchen and don’t move until she’s out of sight.

  Every day is more fucked-up than the one before. I don’t understand anything about this fucking place.

  “Fuck,” I hiss to myself before heading out to leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I haven’t heard from anyone at Creed since leaving the keys on Hoss’s desk Sunday night, but I haven’t stopped thinking about all I’ve seen there since this shit started. Especially the scene with Hangar. The guy is a ticking time bomb and worse, I don’t think Hoss realizes it.

  I need a meet with Koslov, and I need it soon.

  When Low called last night and explained Koslov’s involvement, it became evident he’s the maestro holding the strings and he positions the puppets where he means them to be at any given moment. Intel gathered from Low’s sources says Koslov works solely in the sex slave business.

  When he got into bed with Creed, it was for one specific reason—expansion.

  Las Vegas is a gold mine of opportunity for criminals, lowlifes, and even business-minded people and politicians who dabble in paid services.

  Koslov doesn’t only sell these women to high rollers. He lends them out to those who can’t afford to keep them, as well.

  Low also mentioned Anna specifically. Anna’s been with Viktor since she was fifteen. Sources say she’s roughly thirty by now, which is a lot of time to be chained to one ‘owner’. For whatever reason, it appears he’s been good to her. This explains why she’s here when he isn’t. Her loyalty serves him as an insider. Hoss is leery in her presence, so far as even warning me of her. If she’s who reports back to Viktor, he protects her during her captivity.