27011 (Welcome to Whitlock, book 3)

by A. A. Dark

  “I agree. The faster we can try to find a way out, the better.”

  “That might be a little hard. I overhead part of a conversation. It was with a man they call the high leader and someone I assume was a guard. I couldn’t see them. Anyway, it didn’t sound good. The high leader was angry, and yet worried. They were talking really quiet, but whatever is happening is causing the leader to leave no stone unturned. He even talked about tearing down walls. Something about secret passages. I’m half tempted to try to find one of those. Maybe it’ll lead us out.”

  “Secret passages? You’re kidding me.”

  “I’m not, but finding an entrance isn’t going to be easy. I don’t even know where to begin. The dangerous part is, the high leader seemed to know. That’s playing with fire.”

  I paused, turning to face him. “You could be right. If they’re focusing on that aspect, we should probably avoid it.”

  “We’re not safe anywhere. I don’t like not having a plan. I feel like a rat in a maze. Nothing is for sure, and every turn could be our last.”

  “Did you hear anything else?”

  “No. I wish I would have.”

  “Me too.” I frowned, letting it all process. “Something is bugging me about the entire situation.”

  “What?” Growing quiet, Nineteen dug around in the bag, gazing up as he did.

  “If they’re searching floors one through three, why are guards still patrolling these halls? We’re on the fourth floor, yet here they are. Why aren’t they checking the rooms while they walk through? And our escape to begin with. None of it is right. Something is off.”

  “Dumb luck is my best guess on the escape. I’m not questioning that part. As for the guards, after what you did to the last one you encountered, maybe they’re playing it safe and staying in large numbers.”

  “But they have guns.”

  A look crossed Nineteen’s face that I couldn’t read.

  “Hell if I know. They sell us, right? Maybe they don’t want to lose out on any money.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anything happen while I was out?”

  “Just two men talking. I think the guard called him Fourteen. He was a scout.”

  “Fourteen?” He was sitting straighter, more interested as he peered at me.

  “That’s right. Talking about a Master and how he got a guard to watch over his slave. Fourteen didn’t sound too happy about that. Says the slave gave him a smug look and he was going to make her pay.”

  “Hmmm.” A nod was all Nineteen gave as he pulled out a bag of candy. “Want one?”

  “No thanks. I want to get out of here. I want to find a new place to stay.”

  Crinkling had me almost cringing as Nineteen shook his head. “It’s way too risky to try to leave right now. If we’re seen roaming the halls while a shitload of guards are doing searches, we’re in big trouble.”

  “But you went down there. People saw you. And the guards aren’t searching up here. They’re doing exactly what you said, roaming the halls.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s not that simple. Think about it. These men know each other. And even if they don’t, there are men standing guard at the entrances at almost every turn. They’re not walking around doing their own thing. They’re working. They’ll wonder why we’re not working too.”

  Talking anymore was pointless. The more excuses I was given, the angrier I became. How could Nineteen sit back and eat candy with an expression that mirrored a man who was more confident than he should have been? We were slaves—prisoners. And we were on the run. For the first time since I’d bonded with him, I wasn’t so sure putting my trust into this stranger was the best option. He appeared to care, but the truth was, everyone had their own agenda. What was his?

  Chapter 19

  Scout 19

  Questions. More questions. My only saving grace from more was the simple fact that I’d said we should rest, and Aamir actually obeyed. What was I going to do about all these sudden inquiries? And not just about our plan, or which way we’d be going, but about me. My life. My family and upbringing. I liked to think of myself as a semi-patient person, but with every question came more defensiveness. My role was slipping, and with it, my walls were lifting to keep him out. This was business. Aamir was not my friend. And he wasn’t even really Aamir. He was Eleven. A slave. Perhaps it would have been better if I started forcing his identity on him. It’s not like we were really getting free from Whitlock.

  I pulled out the phone, checking the time. My heart jumped at the new message. And it wasn’t from Mateo, but my Main Master. Quickly, I glanced over, easing from the closet as the light snores continued.

  Sitting on the bed, I put my back to the cracked door and opened the alert.

  MM: Things have changed. You bag one.

  I blinked through shocked confusion. What was that supposed to mean? Wasn’t the purpose of this entire thing to protect the slave? To keep him alive until the auction? Now I didn’t have to?

  Nineteen: Bag one? A new slave?

  A few minutes went by before a message was returned.

  MM: Not a slave. You’ll need to earn your money. Can’t talk now. I’ll message later.

  My arms slowly lowered as I stared at the ground a few feet in front of me. Nothing was right about this mission. And I hated going into something I couldn’t predict the outcome to. A bad feeling etched in, and no matter what I did to push it away, it wouldn’t leave. Bag one. One person. So what of the slave? Was I still supposed to watch over him? Did I dump him back off at Slave Row and start a new mission?

  “You found a phone?”

  Eleven rushed around the bed as I clutched the cell tightly. It took sheer willpower to push my anger away and throw him a half-assed grin.

  “It’s impossible to unlock. I’ve been using it to tell the time. It’s almost dead anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “Because I can’t open it. It’s useless.”

  A hard look overcame his face as he turned to the window.

  “How much longer before we take off?”

  I stuffed the phone in my pocket as I stood. I didn’t care that light was still shining outside, or that the guards were most likely still searching the floors. This news had me anxious. I needed to move. To do something.

  “Now. We’ve waited long enough. We’ll just have to be careful.”

  “Let me slip on my boots.”

  Stuffing the trash from the store trip into the drawer of the bedside table, I scanned the room. I hadn’t heard anyone outside for a while. I was pretty sure I could get us to the far reaches of the fortress without incident, but once we hit the decline, we were going to run into the real apartments. The ones filled with Masters and slaves. Anyone could see us. And I knew a few Masters. If they tried to have a conversation, I was screwed.

  “Ready.”

  Apprehension mixed with anticipation as Eleven stared over at me. We were close to the same size, and I took him in for a few seconds. What would he do if my cover was exposed? Our situation could get bad fast. Especially since I couldn’t kill him as a means to an end. I wasn’t even sure I could if I wanted to. He was growing on me, and that wasn’t good either.

  “Stay close. If we run into anyone, stand tall. Be confident. You’re a guard.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. And if someone talks to us, go along with whatever I say. No matter what it is.”

  “Okay.”

  The eagerness was there. I let out a pent-up breath, cracked open the door, and peeked my head through. The hall was clear, and I took off in a light jog as I headed in the direction opposite from the path I usually took. Eleven stayed only steps behind, mimicking my movements as we crouched while we ran.

  The length of the hall was endless. We curved through the formation of the building and slowed as we approached the turn that would take us down to one of the main living quarters. As I hesitated, checking for guards, Eleven’s han
d came to rest on the center of my back. It had me looking over my shoulder and gesturing with my head that we were good to go.

  A good one hundred yards went by before we approached the first door. I slowed to a fast, determined walk, and dropped back enough for Eleven to be at my side.

  “Slow, but fast. We’re not in a hurry, but we have a purpose. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah.”

  Screams came from the second door, and Eleven’s head shot over. When we hit the fourth door, laughter poured free, as did pleas from a woman. There was more than one man. Two?

  “Master!”

  “I said down!”

  “Jesus,” Eleven breathed out. “This isn’t—”

  “Our concern,” I said, glancing over and cutting him off. “Keep walking. Ignore it.”

  “Ignore it? You’re kidding. You can’t be that cold.”

  “Do you want out of here or not?”

  He grew quiet, but I didn’t have time to continue. Barclane and another Master were approaching, and he was staring right at me. My pulse jumped, but I didn’t change my pace.

  “Remember, follow my lead,” I breathed out. “No matter what.”

  Eleven didn’t respond before Barclane’s hand rose and his finger came to point at me. Seconds went by as we got within feet of each other.

  “You have some explaining to do.”

  “Not right now I don’t, Master. We’re on business.” My eyes cut and hinted to the supposed guard at my side. Barclane glanced in Eleven’s direction, his brow creasing as he seemed to catch that something was off.

  “Perhaps not. Business, you say? What better business than providing your services to the people who employ you?” He gestured his head to a tall, older man wearing a suit at his side. There was a refined elegance to his appearance, but I saw past it. “Join us. The high leader tells me there are slaves missing. Being a member of the Whitlock board, I demand to know what’s going on.”

  “I would rather the high leader fill you in. I’m not qualified to—”

  “Just a few questions.”

  Tightly, my jaw clenched. “As you wish.”

  He gestured to the door he was standing by and the man pulled out a key, unlocking and opening it. Eleven’s chest rose and fell at a fast pace as he stole glances at me. He was on the verge of attacking. I could see the bloodlust in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kill these men. It was the same look I’d seen before with many of the guards and scouts at Whitlock.

  “Calm. Don’t do anything rash. This won’t take long.”

  My words were barely audible, but he nodded and took his position behind me as we entered the apartment. A white leather sofa rested over hardwood floors and glass tables decorated the space and dining room. The only thing that stood out was a tiny pink velvet chair. What sat in it had Eleven’s hand locking on my forearm with a strength that had me nearly groaning in pain. A girl with nearly-white long hair sat straight and poised. Pink bows rested on each side of her head, and her bangs stopped just short of her big, round eyes. Pale ivory covered her porcelain face and a heart was colored amid the center of her lips in soft pink. Where her cheekbones angled rested two pink circles, the same shade as the lipstick. White lace fluffed around her biceps and was tightly fitted over her flat chest. The length barely came to cover pale thighs. Black shoes shined from the reflective light and just above them was a pair of white shocks with the same sort of frilly lace she was adorned in.

  Movement was non-existent. She barely blinked while she stared ahead as still as the doll she was supposed to be. I doubted she spoke or walked anywhere. Her legs were thin, devoid of any muscle tone. Could she stand if she wanted to? Did he feed her to keep her alive, or did she feed herself? My questions were mirrored by Eleven’s horror-filled stare. But it wasn’t on the girl anymore. There were two more, just as still, sitting on the floor behind the sofa, leaning against the counter separating the kitchen. One was a brunette, while the other had dark ebony skin. Both had big eyes, frozen in terror. Their pale yellow and blue lace dresses were torn in locations, and old, dry blood stained the fragile fabric. Their skin, down to the gaping wound on one’s neck and the other’s breast, appeared to be wax. They were dead, and my guess, given the dullness of their clothing, it had been for quite some time.

  “Two prisoners, slaves now, thanks to the Main Master,” Barclane said, drawing my attention as I shook Eleven’s grip loose, “are on the run. Hiding somewhere within these walls. It’s inexcusable. Absurd they got loose from the White Room to begin with. You got a description of them?”

  “Two males.”

  When I didn’t continue, Barclane’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Eleven suspiciously. “Two males. And? Maybe elaborate.”

  “I can’t do that. We weren’t there or part of the search. We’re supposed to be on our way to Guard Quarters. We really can’t be late. Perhaps if you called on the high leader again, he can better explain.”

  “No. I want to hear what you know. Besides, he won’t mind. Not if you’re with me.” Barclane glanced at the other man who was now petting the crown of the girl’s head. “Tell me, Master King. You overlook the guard and scouting at Whitlock. Do the number of guards we have cover shifts if one or two happen to be late?”

  “Easily. Give me a minute and I’ll call so they’re aware of the situation.”

  “Excellent.”

  The man pulled out his phone while Barclane grabbed my bicep, pulling me to the far side of the room. Eleven’s face was tight with anger and concern. He was seconds away from reacting, but seemed to calm as I put my hand out to the side so he’d know it was okay.

  “What the fuck are you still doing here? You didn’t answer my calls. You’re supposed to be out of the country.”

  “I’m undercover,” I ground out, quietly. “It’s deeper than scouting. I believe the Main Master has found his slave via information from another Master residing here. The only way I’ll know for sure is if I blend in amongst the guard. Main Master Whitlock doesn’t even know I’m still here.”

  “Be blunt. I’m not playing some guessing game with you. Who is this Master, and where did he say she was? And why the hell would posing as the guard help you pull this off?”

  I let his own conversation with the CIA director come back. “I don’t know who he is, only what I overhead. He said she may be off the island of Crete and he’s going to go there. He’s asking for two guards to accompany him on his journey to find out. I mean for us to be those two guards. Can we go now?”

  “Crete, you say?” He grew quiet, letting his stare drop to the ground before bringing it back up to Eleven. For a long moment, he studied him, narrowing his eyes as he did. I quickly cut in, trying to distract him.

  “I should be able to call after we leave tomorrow night. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Wait. Who is that? He’s young. Too young, and too…good looking.”

  “He’s just a guard. No one special.”

  “You lie. You’re both unarmed. You’re not even wearing duty belts. You’re the slaves they’re looking for, aren’t you? He is a slave. What were those numbers the high leader mentioned? Numbers.”

  Barclane paused at his nearly silent words, going rigid as his eyes widened. Faster, my heart raced.

  “You.” His hand rose, pointing to Eleven. “I know you.”

  Shifting, Eleven shook his head. “Not sure what you mean. I’m new here. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  I was left as Master Barclane headed forward. “We haven’t officially met, no, but I know all about you and your sister. Your twin. I’m Master Barclane. Have you heard of me?”

  Rapid blinking was followed by Eleven’s lips separating. My head shook, but Master King’s hand clamped on my shoulder just as fast. The strength behind the hold had self-preservation soaring. I knew the dangers we were in.

  “Barclane?”

  “That’s right. Think real hard. Has anyone ever mentioned my name to you?”


  Eleven’s breaths grew heavy as a battle played over his face. “You were going to help Mistress Harper. You…were going to get an apartment for me and Layla. You’re the Mistress’s friend.”

  “No!” I broke free, lunging toward them. There was a gun in my face so fast, instinct had me jerking to a stop, inches away from the man I had ratted out to the Main Master.

  “Is this part of your scheme? We’re working together, and I expect the entire truth. Is this how you plan to lure her out? With her slave as bait?”

  I found myself remaining silent as I nodded through the betrayal on Eleven’s face.

  “Nineteen …you’re working with this Master? But…I thought you were a…you said—”

  “Enough,” I snapped. “What did I tell you?”

  The gun lowered, and Barclane laughed as he threw King a quick glance. “She’ll take the bait. Great work, Nineteen. What do you need? You need out of here? I can get you a car ready and have you flown to Crete right now.”

  “Did you miss the part where I’m going with another Master? This is bigger than I can explain. It’s imperative we accompany him.”

  Suspicion had his jaw tightening. “Is that so? Because I would think if you were working for me, this other Master would be irrelevant. Especially if I could get you to her. Perhaps we’re still unclear on some things.” He paused, his lips twisting as he reached into his pocket to withdraw a small ring of keys. “I’m getting hungry. How about you and I go back to my place and grab a quick bite to eat? We can talk while we do. I’m sure Master King wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on our dear slave.”

  “We shouldn’t be talking in the first place. Especially in the apartments.”

  “Don’t be absurd. There’s nothing wrong with us sharing conversation over a quick little snack. Besides, I’ve gotten tired of being watched. I’ve taken care of it.”

  “I have nothing else to tell you.”

  “Nineteen?”

  There was a threat coming from Eleven—one I knew was going to be deadly to someone if I didn’t think of something fast.