Warrant
S.L. Schiefer
Warrant
S.L. Schiefer
Published by S.L. Schiefer
Copyright ©2015 S.L. Schiefer
First Edition, e-book—published 2015
Cover Design by Cover to Cover Designs
Photography by Photo Studio Miami
ISBN:
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All Rights Reserved Worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The use of locations and products throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way been seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
S.L Schiefer
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @SLSchiefer
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Slschiefer
Website: https://authorslschiefer.wordpress.com
Table of Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Playlist
Note from the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
This is my fourth book. That seems so surreal to say. If you would have asked me a year ago if I would be writing books, I would have told you that you were crazy. My partner in crime, Katrina Alba, started a blog on March 2, 2014. I was so excited when authors would ask us to share things for them or trust us with an ARC of their book. Now, I’m the author asking blogs/readers to help.
It takes a huge support team to write a book. None of this would have happened had my husband not understood how much this meant to me. He helped make it possible for me to have time to myself to finish what I started. I love you, Ryan.
The crazy bitch squad: Kat, Jen, SG, Norma, Ginger, Cheka, and Donna. No one in their right mind would look at us after the crazy conversations we have and still be able to call us sane. I love you, girls!
Ashley Turner! I’m sorry you have to put up with me!!!! LOL
Sue!! You’ve been with me from the beginning of Warrant, listening to me bitch about things and helping me work out scenes in my head. You never once questioned anything that I’ve told you. You just go with the flow!!!
Michelle Dare: God, I love you! You’ve become an amazing friend! I know that you’ll never read Warrant because of the content (it’s okay, I won’t disown you) but you’ve helped me with so much!!!
My beta readers: You guys rock!!!
As I’m sure all of you noticed, I have a cover model on the front of this. I searched long and hard for a model that would be the perfect Enzo. When I came across Erik’s page I knew instantly he was perfect. Erik: You have been nothing short of amazing since I first approached you. I can never tell you have incredibly thankful I am that I found you! Many GREAT things are coming your way in 2015!! <3<3
JORGE!!!! I have a photog!!!! That was so crazy to say in the beginning. I am so thankful for you. You were so eager to help me. My cover wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for you taking the picture in the first place. You do amazing work! I cannot wait to see what we can come up with next!! Hugs!!
To anyone I may have missed: I’m tired as I write this, so I’m super sorry. But I appreciate every single reader who will potentially pick Warrant up and read it. If you guys didn’t read, I wouldn’t be able to do what I love to do. Every blog share, every reader share, every single thing YOU ALL do, I appreciate!! Love you all!!!
Playlist
“Anaconda”—Nicki Minaj
“Animals”—Maroon 5
“Bang Bang”—Jessie J
“Black Widow”—Iggy Azalea
“Burnin’ Up”—Jessie J
“Demons”—Imagine Dragons
“I’m Not the Only One”—Sam Smith
“Psychosocial”—Slipknot
“Uptown Funk”—Mark Ronson
“What Was It Like?”—Bobaflex
“Falling Away From Me”—Korn
“Freak On A Leash”—Korn
Note from the Author
Warrant is not your typical love story. There are many lines that are crossed in this book. If you’re squeamish, or hate taboo of any sort: please don’t read this book. My heroine goes through a lot of horrific events.
This book is about a prostitute. REMEMBER THAT. Not everything that happens in real life is pretty, and not every story is pretty. I wanted to tell a story that crossed those lines and make you see something from a different light.
I’m very well aware that you all might hate me or curse me while reading … that’s okay. Read at your own risk. This is a dark erotica/taboo romance.
Love,
S.L. Schiefer
Chapter 1
Devon
When I was younger, I remember my mom being in and out of the house a lot. She typically left me home alone, even when I was too young to fend for myself.
At the time, I didn’t know what she was doing. Leaving the house any time of day, almost at the drop of a dime. She would get a phone call, drop everything, and then proceed to run around our tiny little apartment like a crazy person. Wouldn’t even say ’bye to me; she would just leave. I guess, looking back, now it all makes sense. When you’re little, you want to see the best in everyone, even if all signs point to them not being good people.
Mom has been gone for a week or so this time. I know something bad has happened, but what can you do? I know what Mom does; I know that if she ever dies nothing will be done. Her pimp has cops on his payroll, so everyone ignores him and his shit. I have given up hope of anyone ever finding her. At this point, I do not care. I am so used to being left for days on end that I learned very early to take care of myself.
I’m walking home after school, and a car comes speeding down the road, which is nothing new on this side of town. We live in the bad part of Columbus where there is always someone trying to get away from the illegal shit they just did or running from the cops. But today, this car screeches to a halt right next to me on the road. Two huge black guys get out and I just fucking know who they are and why they are here. So I take off running. What? If you knew who they were, you wouldn’t stick around either.
These guys were used to people running, so they are prepared. I don’t make it far in my attempt; they easily catch up to me and wrestle me to the ground. Even though I am screaming and kicking, no one comes to help me. Not in this neighborhood. No, every single person here turns their eyes to stuff like this. That way they “didn’t see what happened.” Fuckers. After duct taping my mouth shut and taping my hands behind my back, they yank me up before practically dragging me behind them. They wrench open the back door to their car and shove me inside. One of them slams the door shut, causing the car to shake with the force of it. They get in the front seat, slamming the doors behind them too.
I knew. I fucking knew this would happen. I stop struggling. Closing my eyes, breathing through my nose, I try to calm myself down. In one of my mom’s coherent moments, she told me that if anything ever happened to her that I needed to run. That if I didn’t run they would find me. Maybe I should have ran away a long time ago.
The one time I should have listened to my mom, and I didn’t. That’ll fucking teach me. I should have listened to my gut, but again, I didn’t.
We aren’t on the road for very long when I feel the car come to a stop. I hesitantly open my eyes, trying to figure out where I am. Trying to give myself any type of advantage at all. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, that’s for sure. The only thing I see is a dilapidated old motel. By the looks of it, it should have been shut down a long time ago.
The dingy brown paint looks as if it could have been white at one point. The sign is flashing the name Notel. Well, if that isn’t telling I don’t know what is. It reminds me of some place on a horror movie. And if I’m not careful I’ll end up in my own version of the movie Vacancy. At the mercy of some sick, twisted fuck.
The goons up front open their doors to get out, and I start struggling again. I’m not going anywhere quietly. One of them, the one that seems in charge, opens the back door and grabs my hair and pulls me out. There is a fine line where hair pulling is acceptable, and I’m going to say that using my hair to pull me out of the backseat of a fucking car is not one of them. Tears prick my eyes and I try to keep them from spilling over. If there’s one thing these pricks thrive on, it’s fear.
Stumbling, I barely get my feet right before he lets go of my hair with a shove. I flinch when he reaches for me again, not knowing what to expect. But he rips the duct tape off my mouth. Fucking hell! That shit hurts more than you think.
“C’mon. girl. Boss has shit to do. He ain’t got time for your fuckin’ around.” Grabbing my arm hard enough to bruise, he pulls me in the direction of what I assume is the office. Apparently he doesn’t trust me enough to take the tape of my wrists.
“Who the hell is your boss?” I seethe, which is probably not a good idea all things considered.
He laughs. “Backtalk him, girl, and you’ll find out exactly who Boss is.”
What the fuck? We continue our way to the office door, the gravel and dust from the parking lot leaving a dust trail behind us. When we reach the office door, my fear kicks up a notch. Goon number two opens the door and walks through. The one holding onto me starts trying to walk through the door, but I dig my feet into place.
“No, no, no, no.” I start shaking my head back and forth and try to push my weight back —anything to get free. Even though I know I won’t get free, I have to go down fighting, right? I manage to slip out of his grip on my arm, and I don’t waste any time. I quickly pull my leg back and let it fly, trying to connect with any part of his body that I can. Since he’s so much taller than me, I only reach his knee.
I feel like I kicked him with all of my strength. It should buy me a few seconds, at least I thought it would. All he does is grunt and smile. Creepy much?
“Girl, what the fuck are you doing? You aren’t getting away so stop trying.” He makes a grab for my arm again, but in my attempt to avoid his grasp again, I quickly turn in the gravel and lose my footing. With my hands still bound, I have no way of catching myself, so I fall head first into the stones. That’s how I meet my demise? I think I would rather be knocked around and lose consciousness by his hands than to fall because of my own stupidity.
“Ooooowwwwww,” I groan, trying to roll around to get myself up. The goon with me grabs the back of my arms and pulls up, causing more pain from the awkward angle of my arms. Once I’m face-to-face with him, I look him in the eyes, trying to show him with mine how I fucking feel about him.
“Just. Stop. This all will go so much easier if you just cooperate. At least your mom knew how to listen.” Shaking his head, he leads me in the direction of the office again.
As we walk through the door, my eyes dart around everywhere. The room has definitely seen better days. I can see layers of dust covering everything. I can even see the dust particles floating through the air from the disturbance of everyone being in here. The room smells musty and old. I can’t even imagine the last time this was actually used as an “office,” instead of a meeting room for all things illegal. Our trip takes me through the main room with the front desk to the back office where the manager would work.
The guy hauling me through here stops at the doorway and pushes me through. I turn around to glare at him but his back is to me, because he is now guarding the door. Alright, then. I slowly turn around to finally face who has disrupted my life.
The “boss” is sitting in an old leather chair with his feet propped up on the desk. His thick arms are crossed across his chest, and he has an amused look on his face. And his face … What do I even say? He’s alarmingly handsome. I wouldn’t ever imagine someone that looks like him and who is dressed like him would be in charge of a prostitution thing.
“Who are you?” I use my false bravado as armor, to protect myself.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Marcy’s infamous daughter. The very one who we were told to stay away from, on many occasions.” His voice is like liquid silk. That kind of voice should be used in the phone-sex world. I can imagine getting myself off to that voice.
“So, since I’m here, I think it’s safe to assume my mother is dead?” My voice, however, has gone flat. The fact that my thoughts took me in the direction they did in this situation has me ten different kinds of pissed off.
“You’re definitely smarter than your mom, that’s for sure. Since you know what has happened, how about we get to the part of why you’re here,” he says. He drops his feet off the desk before he stands and strides around to the front to lean against it. The minute his feet dropped, my ass backed all the way to the wall. Wanting as much distance between us as possible. “No need to fear me, yet. I’m not going to hurt you, unless, of course, you aren’t agreeable to my proposition.”
What th
e fuck is he on about? There is no “proposition” that this jackass can ever give me that I will I go along with.
“I’m not like my mom. I have no desire to be in this life like she was!” No longer able to keep my cool, my voice rises with each word.
“Oh, sweetheart, your mother didn’t want to be here either. But in order to keep you away from it, she sacrificed herself.” That news has me reeling. My mom willingly kept herself in this lifestyle to keep me out of it? What the actual fuck? “Ah, I see you didn’t know. Well, how about we go see dear ole mom. That way you can see her before we dispose of the body. Loose ends and all that, you understand.”
I’m in such a daze, all this time I thought she just didn’t care about me. And now I learn she did it for me? All this time I’ve resented her but it was all misplaced.
And in my daze, I forget what he just said. See my mom? No. Fucking. Way. I don’t want to see her dead and in whatever state they left her in. I walk in the opposite direction around the tiny room.
He laughs, a succulent sound, and I swear my knees go weak. I bet his looks, voice, and his threats are the only way he gets people to “work” for him. “Let’s not play this game, just walk with me like the adult I know you are.”
Jesus, I really have no way out of this. I’m sure he’ll take care of me as a loose end if I don’t go along with whatever he wants. I need to bide my time. He gestures for me to walk through the door into the reception area and then outside. I obediently walk beside him—I don’t really want to die today … What would you do? We come to a stop outside what I assume is a room. I can’t even bring myself to look him in the eye. All of my false cockiness deflated when he told me what my mom did.
“What I’m about to show you is … seriously out of protocol for this situation. This is not something I want to do, but I feel it is necessary to assure your cooperation.” He turns the doorknob and pushes the door open to show me my worst nightmare.
The smell hits me first. If you’ve ever smelled a rotting body then you’ll know exactly what I’m smelling. I don’t even have to see the body to have the urge to vomit.
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