by B. B. Hamel
And then one night they came for him.
I heard them on the stairs, and I knew. There had been whispers in the neighborhood that my father was doing something stupid, but I didn’t believe them.
When I heard him pleading for his life, I believed, and so I ran into the closet and hid myself.
Soon, the begging stopped, but the men didn’t go away. I heard them moving through the house, and finally I heard my door swing open.
Fear lanced through me, fear and defiance. Finally I was going to be free one way or another. Maybe I’d be dead, but at least I’d be with my mother.
My father would be far away, rotting in hell.
Then he swung open the closet door and I saw him for the first time. Tall and broad, muscular, handsome, covered in tattoos. Even though he held a gun pointed at my skull, I couldn’t help but stare at his body, at the intense expression on his face.
I never expected him to put the gun down. I never asked for it.
But the feeling of his lips next to my ear, telling me what I needed to do, well, it sent shivers down my spine. I hated myself for it, but I wanted him to drag me half naked from the house. I wanted him to take me up into his apartment.
I didn’t want him to throw me into the closet.
“Stay here,” he said, shutting the door.
“Wait!” I said. “You can’t just leave me in here.”
“I can and I will. Stay quiet. I’ll be back soon.”
“Hey!” I yelled as he moved away. I tried the knob but it was locked. I pounded hard on the door. “You asshole, come back!”
I heard his apartment door open and then close.
This was the second time I’d been locked inside a closet.
I collapsed down onto the ground and pressed my back against the wall. I couldn’t do anything about this. I wasn’t going to break the door down and I knew it, as much as I wanted to.
I had to just wait.
I didn’t understand why he was letting me live. The other man, the one with the crooked, creepy smile, had said something that made my skin crawl. You have some fun with her.
Maybe he was going to come home and rape me, over and over again. Then when he was finished, he was going to kill me.
I wished he’d killed me back in my home. I’d gone through enough, been owned and abused by one man for long enough. I couldn’t take it again, not again, not after I was so close.
My father was dead, that bastard. But instead of being free to finally live my life, I was trapped in another man’s closet.
A deadly man. A mysterious man, handsome, tall, and dangerous. I was afraid of him, but also strangely drawn toward him.
I didn’t know what he wanted, but as I sat in that closet, I couldn’t help but picture the worst.
No matter what though, no man was going to own me again. Not ever. I wasn’t going to just roll over and let this bastard take me however he wanted.
I resolved myself to fighting, even if that cost me my life.
3
Brooks
I parked my car in the alley behind the deli. I sat there behind the wheel for a second, getting myself together.
What the fuck was I doing? No doubt Abram had already told Dante, our boss, what had happened. This was a fucking mess beyond my wildest dreams.
But I wasn’t going to kill the girl. I’d gone through all this shit just to keep her alive, put myself in danger, and I wasn’t going to just turn around and murder her. I had to figure out another way.
I got out of the car and pushed in through the deli’s back door. I’d been working out of this building for a long time. It was where I first got my start, back when Gian owned it. When Gian got promoted, Dante took his place, and so the deli passed into his hands.
Abram and Dante were sitting at a folding table next to a television playing static. The place was empty otherwise, since most fucking people were asleep at this ungodly hour.
“There he is,” Dante said, looking over at me. “Come on, have a drink.”
Dante was shorter than me, heavier, and older. His hair was thinning, and he wore the gaudiest fucking gold jewelry I’d ever seen. The man was basically an Italian stereotype. The only reason I listened to him at all was because he’d been in the mob for a long time, and he knew what he was doing.
“How’s the girl?” Abram asked, grinning.
I sat down at the table and Dante slid me a bottle. I poured myself a drink of whisky. Dante smirked at me but really just looked tired as hell.
“Fine,” I said. “Locked her in the closet.”
Dante laughed loudly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t think you had it in you, kid.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked him.
He exchanged looks with Abram. Clearly they’d been fucking talking about this already.
“Well, you got a reputation.”
“Spit it out, Dante. It’s fucking late and I’m tired.”
“Yeah, Dante. Brooks here wants to get home and break in that new pussy he got,” Abram said, grinning at me.
I suppressed a shudder. I could only imagine what these two men thought I was going to do with the girl once I got home. The sick fucks had both taken women this way in the past; I was sure of it.
And I was sure they had raped and killed those poor fucking girls once they were through with them.
“Well, you don’t hurt girls,” Dante said. “Lots of guys have talked about it. You refuse to kill wives and daughters. Pisses people off, you know.”
I shrugged. “So killing women leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Seems odd. You go from protecting them to stealing one for fun.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t protect them,” I said. “I do my fucking job.”
He held up his hands. “No arguments from me, kid. You’ve been one of the best guys we got.”
“So what are you saying here, exactly?”
“He just thinks it’s odd, is all,” Abram said.
I glared at Abram. “You talk for him now?”
“Boys,” Dante said. “Look, Brooks, you want this broad? Have her. You know it’s a perk of the job. Just take care of it when you’re finished.”
“I will,” I said, looking back at Dante.
“Okay then. How’d the hit go otherwise?”
“Guy’s dead,” Abram said. “Nobody saw us come in or out.”
Dante looked at me. “Brooks?”
“What he said. Went clean.”
He nodded. “Good shit, boys. Another job well done.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out two envelopes. He tossed them onto the table in front of us. I grabbed mine and glanced inside: fresh, crisp hundred dollar bills.
“A little extra this time,” he said. “Because of the war, the big bosses want to keep us grunts happy. They’re spreading it around a bit more than usual.”
“Can’t complain,” Abram said.
“Thank Gian for me,” I said.
Dante stood up and we followed. He nodded at the two of us. “Well, it’s fucking late and I’m not as young as I used to be, so get the fuck out.”
Abram laughed. “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Brooks, enjoy the girl,” he said. “Give it to her good for me, will you?”
I tried not to fucking punch the sick fuck in the nose. Instead, I just grunted something and turned away, heading out.
“Brooks, hang back. Good night, Abram.”
Abram nodded and then disappeared through the door. I crossed my arms, money in my hand, and faced Dante. I wondered briefly if I could outdraw him. Probably could, though I bet it wouldn’t come to that. I could kill him easily enough with my bare hands if I had to.
“I need something from you,” Dante said.
“What’s that?”
“Got a security job. Gian requested you specifically. Pays double than normal.”
“Okay. Can’t exactly turn that down.”
Dante frowned. “One thing, though maybe it’s not
a big deal now that you’ve taken yourself a girl. You’ll be protecting a shipment of whores, girls from back home who need a job here.”
I clenched my jaw. “Selling girls?”
“You know we are. Have been for a long time. But lately we’ve been having issues. You’ve heard of the new gang in town?”
I nodded. Everyone had heard of new mysterious group that had seemed to show up overnight a year or two back. They only ever attacked the mobs. Italian or Latino or Russian, it didn’t matter. They wore all black, black masks, and they all had spiders tattooed on their hands.
Nobody knew much about them. We’d never caught any alive. But they seemed to love killing and stealing from the mobs, and they seemed to do that exclusively.
“Sure,” I said. “The Spiders.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve been targeting our girls. We need some extra muscle. Normally I know you don’t got the stomach for this sort of shit, but maybe I was wrong about that.”
Fucking shit, he was right. Normally I would have turned this job down, said no outright. I never worked on the girl jobs, never wanted to get involved in fucking human trafficking. Even if Gian asked for me specifically, I just didn’t work those fucking jobs. And because I was so good at what I did, I got away with it.
But now I couldn’t exactly turn away from it. I couldn’t afford to look suspicious now that I’d taken a girl.
“Yeah. Okay, boss,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
He stepped closer to me, a dark look crossing his face. “You have to kill that girl, Brooks,” he said. “You know what happens if you don’t?”
“You don’t have to explain it to me.”
“Say it.”
“If I don’t kill the girl, you’ll send two guys just like me to kill us both.”
“Exactly. You’re a damn good soldier, and you’ve gotten a lot of leeway because of that. Don’t fuck up now.”
“I don’t fucking plan on it,” I said, angry.
“Good.” He turned and moved away. “Show up here tomorrow night around ten.”
“See you then.”
I turned and left, not able to stomach another second in there.
I knew there were going to be problems, lots of problems. But Dante seemed suspicious already, all because Abram was a clueless fuck that had to go running his mouth.
And now I was stuck working security for one of the vilest things the mob did. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the stomach for it, since my job was to kill people for a living. I’d just seen too many women abused in my life, left behind and destroyed, and that was the only thing I truly despised.
I slept around, sure. I got my fair share of fucking pussy. But I didn’t beat them, kill them, or rape them. Now though, to save the life of the girl in the closet, I was going to have to put myself in the position to potentially hurt more women.
And I couldn’t get out of it, not with Dante so suspicious.
I got back into my car and started the engine. At the very least, I was going to keep this girl back home alive if it was the last thing I did.
I drove off, not sure what I was going to do from here.
4
Emma
I was in that closet for an hour before I finally heard the apartment door open. I slowly stood up, weakness, exhaustion, and anger all warring inside me.
I heard footsteps come toward me. “You awake?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. I just got myself ready.
“Hey,” he said, “listen to me. Are you awake?”
My whole body felt tensed.
“Shit,” he said, and I heard him unlock the door.
He opened it up, and I threw myself at him.
It was like running right into a brick wall. He grabbed my wrists, holding them back as I tried to punch and kick him.
“Fuck, girl,” he grunted, pushing me over toward a couch. “Stop it, god damn it.”
“Fuck you,” I yelled and kept struggling.
He was strong, so damn strong, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be his fucking toy to play with. He wasn’t going to use me up and then throw me aside when he was done with me.
He dragged me over to the couch and then pressed me down onto it, pinning me down with his overwhelming size and strength. I kept struggling, trying to get away, but he just grinned at me and held me there.
Finally, I felt myself getting tired. I wanted to fight more, but it was no use. He was just too strong and could hold me down so easily.
“You done?” he asked as I slowly gave up.
“Fuck you,” I said, looking into his deep green eyes.
He couldn’t help but smirk at me. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, girl?”
“Never. You’ll never have me.”
He laughed. “Fine by me.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to force you into anything,” he said. “Do you understand me? I’m not here to do anything you don’t want.”
“Then why the fuck did you take me?”
He stared at me for a second, like he was seriously considering the question.
“If I let you go, are you going to come at me again?”
I frowned. “Probably.”
“Look, I don’t feel like doing this all night. How about this. We’ll talk, you won’t try to scratch out my fucking eyes, and if you don’t like what I have to say, then I’ll let you walk.”
I blinked at him. “You’ll let me leave?”
“You’re not going to want to, but I will.”
“Fine. Let me go and open that door.”
He moved back, releasing me.
“First, what’s your name?”
I sat up, rubbing my wrists. “Emma.”
“Emma, I’m Brooks.”
“Talk fast, Brooks. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a murderer and a kidnapper.”
He clenched his jaw. “Did you want to die back there?”
“No.”
“Okay. The only way for me to save you once my partner saw you was to bring you home like this.”
“Should I thank you?”
“Maybe,” he said, smirking, “but I’m guessing you won’t.”
“No, Brooks, I won’t. I’ve been around men like you my whole life. You only want one thing from me.”
He raised his eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“You want to take from me. Whether that’s money or my body or whatever, you want to take it.”
I watched his expressive eyes take me in slowly, raking down along my skin. I felt exposed sitting there in nothing but my panties and my T-shirt, but I wasn’t giving in.
“If I get you clothes, are you going to run?”
“Yes,” I said honestly.
“Thanks.” He grabbed me by the arms again and hauled me up off the couch after him. I struggled a bit, but that didn’t help. He pulled me after him and pushed me into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
I should have felt afraid in that moment. I’d never been with a man before, never actually had sex. I’d been sexual, kissed boys, touched them, but I’d never had sex. It just never felt right; I’d never found a guy who wanted to be with me for me, and not just to control me.
It was funny. All those years and my father was convinced that I was some whorish tramp, but that was so far from the truth. Now, standing in front of Brooks, I felt incredibly exposed and naïve, like I knew nothing.
This man was a killer. He had experience and knew how to do things I could only guess at. And I couldn’t stop fighting him like the idiot I was.
He opened a drawer and my heart started hammering. I didn’t know what it would feel like, if I should scream or try to run. I flinched as he pulled something from the dresser.
“Here,” he said, tossing it at me. It was a pair of black sweatpants and a gray hoodie. “It’ll be big, but it’s probably better than what you have on.”
I stared at the clothes and then back at him. “Thanks,” I said.
&n
bsp; “Don’t mention it.”
“You going to leave, or am I getting changed in front of you?”
He grinned. “I was hoping you’d just take off your clothes, but you can have some privacy.” He turned his back to me.
Was he flirting with me? I shook my head, totally unsure. This guy had kidnapped me, and now he was turning his back while I put on clothes.
I quickly yanked the sweatpants on, cinching the tie as tight as it would go. I pulled the sweatshirt on over my head.
“Okay,” I said.
He turned back at me and frowned. “I liked you better without the clothes on.”
“I bet you did.” I sat down on his bed and crossed my legs. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”
“In my line of work, we’re allowed to take home a little something extra from time to time. Usually it’s in the form of a woman. Men like me use her up and then kill her when they’re done with her.”
“Is that what you’re going to do to me?”
“No,” he said, “I’m not. But I’m supposed to. See, you can’t walk away from this apartment. If someone spots you, we’re both dead. Not only will my people come after you, but the Russians will want your head as well. They aren’t too happy about your dad double-dealing on them.”
“So let me leave town,” I said.
“That’s one solution, but do you know how many guys the Italians and the Russians have all over this country?”
I shook my head, genuinely ignorant. I’d never been outside Chicago, let alone in another state.
“A lot,” he said. “A lot more than you think. Besides, I need to present your dead body as proof to my boss that I killed you.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “it is. But I don’t hurt women. It’s just not my thing.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a killer and you don’t hurt women?”
“I’ll kill men whenever and however my bosses want me to, and I love to fuck a wet, willing pussy, but I don’t hurt them.”
I couldn’t help but shake my head. “Mister Hit Man with a conscience. How noble.”
He sighed. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m supposed to kill you soon, and I very much don’t want to do that. I also can’t let you leave, because that’ll only make things worse.”