by L. C White
“Right, get up,” I order, opening the garage door.
“I can’t fuckin walk,” he wails.
“You won’t be able to breathe if you don’t get your ass out of here in the next five seconds.”
He huffs and puffs, using my tool cabinet to pull himself up. I march up to him and pat down his jacket pockets to take out his cell phone.
“I need to call a cab,” he utters through the pain, dragging his bloody leg behind him.
“Walk.” I hit him in the back several times with the gun, to help him on his way.
As soon as he’s out on the street, I slam my hand on the button to shut the door.
This isn’t how I envisioned things panning out. I thought I could ride life’s wave and settle into civilian life with ease. I never expected a more personal mission turning up. One that could kill me. But I can’t leave Amber in Trent’s hands, knowing I’m the reason she’s there. Maybe I should have made my move all those years ago. Took her in my arms, to run away with her like forbidden lovers. But I chose the easy route, and now she’s paying for it.
Chapter Seven
Amber
All day I’ve been in bed. My soft downy fresh duvet has been my security. I’ve drifted to sleep on and off, each time waking with a start, my sore butt tingling as the sound of Trent’s belt hitting my skin, resounds throughout my body. He hasn’t come back to the house in two days. He’s staying at his home in the real world. His penthouse, situated slap-bang in the middle of the city. A place I’ve never been. And for once, I’m glad to have had time away from him.
The summer breeze blows through the sheer white nets at the window, and I hear the birds tweeting outside. I curl up onto my side, drawing my knees up into my chest, feeling the sting as my skin stretches.
I thought I could deal with it; the punishment that was given. I can forgive and forget. Trent had to do it, I keep telling myself. But it was so aggressive and harsh, it’s stained me inside. I’m a kid all over again. My mom ignoring everything that goes on around her, and I’m alone with Peter, hiding in my room. She never cared; only about herself. It was a turning point for me. Peter’s rotten breath on my skin, his hand around my throat as he tried to kiss me. I fought and ran to take my chances out on the streets. That’s when I began experimenting, and became hooked. It was the only escape I had. The one thing I could control. The one thing I could rely on. I lived in hostels and on the streets, even had a few part time jobs on and off. But my next fix was always more important than a roof over my head, or money in my pocket. My next fix became just as much the love of my life as Dwayne was.
Remember, it was Trent who saved me.
I have to forgive him.
I disobeyed, and I paid.
I hear the bedroom door brushing over the thick cream carpet. It will be Jenny, trying to get me to eat something. But I can’t. The only thing I’m able to ingest are the lines I cut on my dressing table. They numb me just enough to relax for a little while.
My eyes close and I tuck the duvet a little tighter around my head, listening as she tidies up the mugs and pots on my dressing table.
Jenny has taken care of this house before I became a resident here. She’s in her mid-forties, and has a mothering look about her. Short and slightly plump. The kind of lady that would probably give great comforting hugs. She doesn’t talk much. She will ask if there is anything I need. Cook food for me and clean my clothes. Offer me a kind smile every day. I don’t know anything about her. It’s one of Trent’s rules. She is staff, and she is not to be anything more. She will go to each wing of the house and do her duty, devotedly.
“Friday, I’m going to have to change your bed sheets soon,” her gentle voice has a ring of worry to it, I’ve never heard before.
“Okay Jenny,” I utter into my soft pillow.
“Mr. Moore will be attending your room tonight.” My body crunches up a little, like it did when I first arrived here. “He’s going to want you washed and clothed, Friday. He’s requested you in the dining room at eight p.m.”
Again I utter, “Okay Jenny.”
The mattress near my elbow sinks a little, and the duvet is pulled off my head. I squint and blink, my eyes irritated by the sunlight. I’m bemused to see Jenny perched on my bed.
“I’ve been here long enough to know how this works. You will be fine. You just need to gage his trust again. Show him that you want to be here, even if you don’t.”
I exhale a long breath, shuffling up to sit on my tender butt. “I do want to be here.”
“You’ve been given doubt by the outside world,” she says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Trent can see that, even though you can’t.”
I now have so many questions whizzing around my head. Questions I’m not supposed to know, such as: how is it she came to work in this unconventional house? Why is she okay with what goes on here? Has she herself been caught up in the BDSM world?
“Trent takes things very personally, and you just have to know how to work him.” She presses her lips into a timid smile as she stands up from the bed.
My frowning eyes follow her as she lifts a tray up from my dressing table, and heads toward the open door. She stops, her chest swells, and she peers over her shoulder.
“Don’t ever indicate how much you care for another,” her tone is warning. “Here, your care belongs to Trent.”
She disappears out onto the hall, closing the door behind her.
***
Thoughts of Dwayne spiral through my mind as I step out of the shower, wrapping the fluffy thick towel around my wet body. It was Jenny’s last words of advice that put them there. Do I still care for Dwayne… love him even? I did once. God, I loved him down to the core of my heart. But he did something much worse than what Trent did to me in the dark room. He took my heart away and destroyed me. I thought he would always be there. I had visions of running away with him. Living in some secluded cabin in the wilderness, sat before a roaring fire with his arms around my body, protecting me. But the only thing he protected in the end, was himself.
***
I’ve chosen a teal green dress to wear for Trent. It’s not often he want’s dinner with me, only on the rare occasion when he wants our relationship to appear normal. To the other girls the dining room will be out of bounds. The heavy cream damask drapes will be closed. The table will be set for two, and there will be flowers and candles in the center. I’m dreading it, sitting in silence as he watches me eat. I don’t want to eat or talk. I just want to crawl back beneath my duvet.
Jenny opens the double white doors out into the large dining room. I sweep my fingers through my hair, doing everything to avoid looking to the door of the dark room. But I’m there again, chained to the rack. I can still smell it, and taste my salty tears. Trent is going to be able to see it in me, the growing hatred for what he did.
Trent stares at me as I make my way to the chair he’s pulled out. I brush down the sides of my dress and perch on the edge of the cream suede.
“Your maid tells me you’ve not eaten,” he says, adjusting his gray tie as he sits down on the seat opposite me.
I look by the flickering flame of the candle, and smile weakly as Jenny enters holding a tray.
“I’ve just been feeling a little off.”
“Well tonight, you eat Friday.”
Jenny sets a bowl of tomato and basil soup, with crispy croutons before me. My gut bubbles as the aroma drifts up my nostrils. But I still don’t want it.
“Dig in.” He waves a napkin out onto his lap.
I fiddle with my silver spoon, stirring the fresh basil into the soup. I become hypnotized, watching the basil spread and sink.
“Friday,” Trent barks, making me jump.
I feel like there’s a rope around my neck, getting tighter by the second. Even if I were to try and eat the soup, it would only make me gag.
“Do you want me to feed you?” he questions in an angry manner.
I shake my head, lifting a ti
ny amount of soup to my mouth. I sip up the small amount and gulp it down, hard.
“Good girl,” he praises me.
After only four small spoonful’s, I give up and toy with my spoon, to appear I’m enjoying it.
“I have decided Friday.” My eyes peer up to see him wiping his lips with his napkin. “To allow you out with me once a week. A Saturday I was thinking, for lunch.”
I can’t help but frown. I don’t understand why he wants to take me out after what happened at the military ball. I’m more than reluctant about the idea. Another slip up on my part, then I’ll be back in the dark room.
“Well, do you not have anything to say?” He’s pissed at me, I can tell. His right eye is narrower than the left, and he’s holding in a breath.
I strain to curl my lips into a tiny grin to please him, and whisper, “Yes, that…”
My final words are interrupted by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He thrusts out his chest and fingers inside his gray jacket, to take out his cell phone. I’m shocked he has left it on. Usually when he comes here, he turns it off and leaves it in a drawer by the front door. There is no technology in this house. No internet access. No cell or landline phones. We are cut off from the technological world.
He looks down at the screen as he stands up, pushing out his chair. He strolls around the table, bends to kiss the top of my head, and makes his way out of the doors, leaving me alone.
My ears pick up his stifled words. I shouldn’t be listening, but I am because I could have sworn he’s just mentioned Dwayne’s name. I’ve never been curious the whole time I’ve been here. But now my heart is pounding, my head is spinning with worry, and the urge to know exactly what he’s saying is so strong, I find myself quietly rushing to the door.
“Two days and I’ve had no contact,” Trent’s muffled voice says, as I linger in a position I can quickly jump back into my chair: halfway from the table; halfway from the doors. “I want to know where the goddamn body is.” I lift my hand to my mouth to stop a terrified gasp escaping. “There’s been no sign of Dwayne Schofield, and my man has disappeared. Check it all out, and report back. You just better hope the job has been done.” He goes silent so I swiftly sit back down at the table.
My cheeks feel so hot, and I’m trying not to cry. If he thinks I’ve been listening, then god knows what he’ll do to me.
As he moves around the table with his back to me, I take in a huge breath, and decide it would be best all round, if I ate the soup. He needs to see me cooperating. He needs to see that I have no knowledge of what I’ve just heard.
“Oh, you’ve decided you like the soup after all.”
“Yes,” I say, stirring the soup around in a circle, smiling.
“Good.” Instead of sitting back down, he extends his hand out to me. “Friday, I’m going to take you to bed. No ropes tonight.” I lift my hand and he takes it. “After the dark room, I see it only right that you enjoy yourself tonight.” I stand and he guides me to the door.
Everything is changing. First he declares he wants to take me out. Now he insists I enjoy being pleasured tonight with no constraints. Is it guilt that eats him? Or something worse? I don’t want to sleep with Trent Moore. All I want to know is if Dwayne is alive out there. And to get rid of Trent, so I can try and figure a way to find out, I have to allow him to climb on top of me.
I’m realizing that Dwayne is like family to me. Trent was right to be concerned about ties to the past. I’m okay here. I’ll stay with Trent, and allow him to use my body. And I’ll gladly take the perfect cocaine he gives me. But I feel like I can only do that, with the knowledge Dwayne is okay.
Chapter Eight
Dwayne
The longest period of time I have gone without sleep, was four days. It was a part of special ops training, to see if we would crack under sleep deprivation. It’s a form of torture used on terror suspects. For me now, it’s been three, but I’m handling it. I won’t sleep until I get Amber out of that house.
I’ve been staying at James Scott’s apartment in the city, knowing full well I can’t go back to Safe Hands, or my own house. Until Trent Moore has a bullet in his brain, I’m in hiding.
Already I’ve done three late night/early morning surveillance runs to 495 Willow Heights. And I’ve gathered as much information on the building as I can. One of the guys who I’ve vetted to work for me at Safe Hands Security, now has a new assignment. To follow Trent’s every move, and report any findings of concern to me ASAP. So far it’s been useless information about his business in the city. But there was one dubious meeting with a man on the underground, not a city slicker, but a city rat, and I’m still awaiting for more details on that.
The house Amber is in, is set out of the way. There’s a drive that’s around half a mile in length, which leads up to the house. You cannot enter without calling through the intercom at the main gate. However, there is a secluded route to the back of the house. It’s a steep hilly trek, but it doesn’t seem as guarded as the front. There are cameras placed on each corner of the house to spot intruders, but I have found a blind spot in the vast backyard; an area guards go for a smoke. There are two guards on duty during the day, and two at night. Mainly they stroll around in their black suits, take deliveries, or they’re sitting on their lazy ass’s, reading the newspaper. And there’s a petite, slightly overweight woman, who enters the building every day at six a.m., and leaves at eleven p.m. This is the woman I’m going to break.
It’s now zero-five-thirty-hundred-hours. I’m sitting in wait in a black van, one hundred meters from the house. The van does look like some government agency vehicle, with its tinted windows, but I’ve got it covered. Each house on Willow Heights has received a flyer, indicating ISO Technology, will be doing routine work around the area, which may cause short power outages. It’s all bullshit. It’s a cover for me, created by James who thinks I’m crazy for doing this, and that I need all the help I can get.
I pull a gray wool mask down over my face. Any second, the woman I’m waiting for is going to stroll passed this van. My eyes watch the second hand tick on my wristwatch, and like clockwork she appears in the reflection of the wing mirror. As she gets nearer, my fingers wrap around the door handle.
Her feet reach the back wheel. I push the button on the automatic side door, and leap out to grab her. She discharges a growl, but I manage to cover her mouth with my hand before it turns into a scream. Clenching my jaw, I drag her struggling overweight body inside, and hit the button so the door slides shut.
I arch over grunting, with my elbow around her neck, and my hand over her mouth.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I bark. “I want five minutes of your time, then you can go.” She cools for a second, but then starts to fight against me again. “Or I could just shoot you. Now calm down.” She lulls, breathing heavy into my hand. “I need you to get a message to a girl staying in that house.” Like she knows who I’m talking about, her breathing stops momentarily. “You know who?”
She nods a yielding yes, so keeping my arm locked around her neck, I slowly slide my hand away from her mouth so she can talk.
“Friday,” she replies. “You’re seriously screwed if you so much as sniff the same air as her.”
“Friday?” My brow scrunches up against the wool of the mask.
“Yes, that is what she is known by in that house.” She hisses, trying to pull my arm away, until I tighten my hold. “You honestly think you can save her?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“As you are already aware, Trent is gunning for you. Just for a simple thing like knowing her in the past. Besides, what makes you think she wants to leave? None of the girls in that house want to leave. In comparison with a life out on the streets, that house is a safe haven for them. They’re pampered like royalty, and given everything they need.”
“Drugs?”
“If they like,” she utters, thrashing around again.
“And that’s okay with you?” I squeeze he
r tighter to make her still.
“No,” she yaps. “I love those girls like my own daughters. Trent looks after them. And I do my damn best to make sure each of them is safe.”
“Yeah, with a smack in the face. What else does he do to her?”
“Oh, it’s not just Trent Moore. You really have a death wish to even consider trying to play the hero.”
“Her name is Amber. And I will get her away from Trent. Even if it fuckin kills me.”
“Look.” She pulls on my forearm. “Can you let me go? I’m not going anywhere, and I won’t blab because that will only come back on Friday.”
I blow out, reluctantly loosening my hold so she can turn to look at me.
“Amber,” I correct her.
“Amber.” She sighs out, rubbing her throat. “And the other girls see Trent as some kind of god.”
“And what about you?”
“He’s troubled.”
I smirk beneath the mask. “Why work for him?”
“To make sure he doesn’t go too far. To watch over the girls. I have my reasons,” she says in a scornful tone.
“I need to see her,” I state resolutely.
“And how do you think that will work out. Trent has guards. The girls are only allowed out under supervision.”
“Then you supervise her,” I order. “Bring her out the back by the trashcans at midnight.”
She sniggers at me. “You are real determined to get everyone killed aren’t you? If you care, you should drive away and not look back. She’s made her bed with Trent. Let her lie in it.”
“Then give her that choice.”
She shakes her head disappointedly. “Okay,” she says in a long breath. “I can get you ten minutes. And that’s only because I have a soft spot for Friday, and don’t want any trouble here. Once you’ve done saying what you have to say. You disappear for good.”