Lace Underground: The Complete Trilogy

by Oliver, Tess

  I place the bottle on the opposite side of me, deciding to hide the temptation. I rest my arm back on the bench and give her the smile that used to work real fast in high school. "Anything you can tell me would help. I won't tell anyone. I don't even know anyone on this side of town. I sure hate to lose that picture."

  Her eyes round and she sits up, but with a slight sway. "Wait a minute. You don't need to find her. I've got her stuff still sitting in my tent. I invited her to bunk with me until she got her own tent. Turns out she wasn't around long enough to need one. She's probably living like a princess now in the Lace—" Her hand claps over her mouth. "I can't tell you." She jumps up a little too fast from the bench. I grab hold of her hand to keep her from falling over.

  She smiles down at my fingers wrapped around her hand. A sly smiles turns up her lips. "You want to come into my tent and look through her stuff for the wallet?"

  She's steadier on her feet, so I release my hold. "Why don't you look through it and let me know what you find."

  Her smile twists down in disappointment. "Figures. Some girls have all the luck. Guess Tawny really has a lot of it. She even got chosen. No one ever gets chosen." She says as she heads to her tent. She returns with an uneven walk, the kind that would never pass the drunk driving test. She's carrying an old tattered army green backpack that I immediately recognize as one Ten has used on stakeouts. She would fill it with trail mix or potato chips, depending on whether she was in the mood to eat healthy or, as she liked to say, eat whatever the hell she felt like. I hadn't seen it in a long time. The sight of it thumps against my chest. She is fine, I remind myself. If anyone can handle herself in a bad situation, it's Ten. She thinks so fast on her feet, sometimes it's impossible to predict what her next move will be. She's fine. She has to be.

  "I feel a little guilty going through her stuff," Yoli says. Her words are as slow and uneven as her footsteps. She pulls out some underwear and laughs. "Guess she doesn't need these where she's at."

  The comment makes my muscles go rigid. "No? How's that?" I'm hoping the tequila has loosened her tongue some more.

  Yoli pulls her lips in and shakes her head as if telling herself, don't do it, Yoli. Don't tell him. She pulls out a pack of birth control pills. "Oh boy. She's going to regret not taking these with her the night of the party."

  "Party? Sounds good. Where's it at?" I say, without pause, hoping she'll keep spilling.

  She bites her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself but it's not enough. She drops the backpack on the bench next to me.

  I try and decide if I'm just losing my fucking mind with missing Ten or if I'm actually catching the scent of her shampoo coming off the ratty old backpack. I stop myself from picking the bag up and pressing it to my face.

  It seems I have sweet tipsy Yoli ready to tell me everything she knows. She scoots closer and glances around but no one else in the park is interested in our conversation. Even Becky has disappeared inside her own shelter for the night.

  "I'm not supposed to say anything." Her thin fingers wrap around my forearm. "Please, you can't tell anyone or I'll never be invited back." She sits back and gets temporarily distracted by the blanket of stars in the hazy night sky above. "And I can't lose that. Sometimes I think it's the only thing that keeps me from sinking into despair. The food." She turns her head, and it seems some of those night stars have landed in her big, innocent eyes. There is no way this girl should be out here alone, but I know for many of the younger ones, the streets are a step above life at home or foster care. It's tragic and makes me want to spit fucking nails, but I learned early on in my time on the force that most things are out of my control.

  "They serve good food at this party?" I ask. "Nice. What else? What do you have to do to get on the invite list?"

  She laughs. "Well, as pretty as you are, you have to be female. And it's mostly those of us who are under thirty. I'm not sure how the list gets made, but once you're on it, you do everything to stay on it. This week they gave us new soap. It smells like roses." She lifts her pale hand to my nose. "See."

  I take a whiff. "Hmm, you do smell as sweet as you look. So, the red-haired girl, Tawny, she got on the list?"

  "Right away but I knew she would. She's got that thing, you know?"

  It's hard not to smile as Yoli speaks. She seems undaunted by her dire situation. I have friends who have everything, good jobs, nice places to live, money for dining and vacations and they are never as happy as the girl sitting next to me on the graffiti covered park bench.

  "I don't know. What do you mean?"

  She knuckles my shoulder. "Yes you do know. It's the reason Becky gets so grouchy whenever anyone talks about Tawny. It's the reason you chased her down to this crummy park." She winks. "But the picture story was a nice touch."

  It seems Yoli is not nearly as naive as I first thought.

  I nod. "You caught me. I was hoping to find her because, well, like you said, because she's got that thing."

  "Yep and that's why she got chosen. I should have seen it coming. I wasn't at all surprised when we climbed back into the van and Tawny was gone. Becky was so mad I thought she'd chew all her nails down to stubs. She gnaws on them when she's upset."

  "So getting chosen is a good thing?" I ask, more than slightly confused by the whole damn conversation. Yoli likes to talk but she also leaves big gaps between details.

  "Of course." She bites her lip again in thought. "At least that's what I've heard. No one really knows for sure because once a girl is chosen, she's never seen or heard from again. It's like everyone saying there's some beautiful place called heaven waiting for you after you die, but no one knows for sure because no one comes back to confirm." Her naturally sunny expression darkens. "Except this one girl . . ." She waves her hand to stop herself. "Shit, I shouldn't have drank that tequila. It's like a truth serum," she giggles. "Anyhow," she sighs and gives me a pretty look of pity. "I'm afraid you're probably wasting your time. I don't think we'll ever see Tawny around here again. She's gone."

  She's just a teenage street kid, but her words make my throat tighten into a ball. There's no fucking way Ten is gone for good because I'm going after her. And if something has happened to her, I plan to tear the whole fucking precinct apart with my bare hands, starting with Clark.

  Yoli sidles closer to me. "But if you're looking for a new girl—" Her small hand lands on my thigh. I pick it up gently and kiss the back of it. Then I take a twenty out of my pocket and hand it to her. The money seems to instantly erase any of the sting of me turning down her offer.

  "Oh wow. I'm going to start planning how to spend this just as soon as the tequila leaves my head." She laughs. "Who am I kidding? It'll be food."

  "Hey, so where are these parties?" I ask. "I know I'm not invited. I was just wondering who is putting them on? Is there a fee? Do you have to give something in return?" The last question has been stuck in my craw because I don't really want to hear the answer.

  "I wouldn't be able to tell you where it takes place because we go in a van and you can't see out. They just drive us to this big empty warehouse. It seems like we're inside the van for about an hour each way. There's no fee and we don't have to do anything but have a good time. And that we do. Then they pile us back in the windowless van and drop us back on the street corner. Unless you're chosen, like Tawny."

  "So you don't know where you're taken once you're chosen?"

  She carefully folds the twenty like it's made of fine silk. "No. The only thing I've ever heard is that it's underground. The Lace Underground, that's what some of the girls call it. Sorry I can't tell you how to get there, and I don't think GPS can find underground locations," she says with a laugh.

  "True." It seems I've drained her of everything crucial. "Thanks for hanging out with me."

  "Aww, are you leaving already?" she asks.

  "'Fraid so." I stop and look back at her. She's still smiling at the money. "Hey, Yoli, have you tried to call home? Maybe you can go back some da
y?"

  "Sure," she says confidently. "Just as soon as my creepy stepfather drops dead."

  I nod. "Take care, beautiful." I hike back the three blocks to my motorcycle. My head is spinning with information. An icy knot forms in my gut. How the hell am I going to find Ten when she's literally underground?

  25

  Kane

  I pace the room like a caged animal, back and forth but finding no way out. There is no room big enough to release the pent up energy. There is no shower icy enough to cool the heat from my veins. I yank my shirt off and drop it onto the bed. It was a mistake. She was a mistake. There was only one way to fix it.

  A tentative knock at the door jars me from my obsessed thoughts. "Yes?" I bark.

  The door opens slowly. Blake sticks his face into the room but doesn't dare step inside. He senses the tension pulsing from every muscle in my body.

  "Sir, you wanted to see me?" he asks quietly.

  "Yes, the new girl. Get her dressed and take her back to the streets."

  Blake finds the courage to step into the room. "Sir, was it something I did wrong? I could—"

  "No," I say sharply. "It's nothing you did. Just get her out. Give her some money if she needs it. But get her out."

  "Right. I'll get her dressed to leave." He backs out and closes the door.

  My pacing starts again. I've taken care of the problem just like that. Pack her up and send the girl on her way. Distractions lead to mistakes and mistakes lead to the end of everything. I don't need a dangerous distraction. Ever. No matter how much I want her. She will only lead to my downfall.

  I pace to the other side of the room and stare down at the bottle of whiskey on my dresser. I pour myself a glass and drop it back like its water. I pour another glass. A good night of inebriated sleep and she will be gone from my head and the underground complex for good. That thought pierces me like a shard of glass. Gone for good.

  I spin around and fly out of the room. Everything in my head tells me to turn back. This is a mistake. I march back to my bedroom door and stand there, looking at it as if I can melt it with my angry stare. I turn on my heels and head back to the women's corridor.

  I hesitate in front of her door but only for a second. My mind games are over. The dark, self-destructive side of me has won. I pull the entry card from my pocket and flash it in front of the key pad. I push the door open. There's no more hesitation or second thought.

  She is standing naked in the center of the room, dazed and confused and visibly shaken as Blake hands her a pair of jeans. Blake looks at me as if the devil himself has entered the room. And the girl . . . the girl is fucking perfection. Nothing can stop me. Nothing.

  Blake opens his mouth to speak but I shake my head.

  "Get out now," I demand.

  The woman, my Sweet Sin, blinks at me, stunned and speechless. There is as much fear as there is desire in her big brown eyes. The mixed expression only makes me want her more. I hear the door close. I march toward her, unable to think about anything but having her.

  I take hold of her arms. She is naked and trembling as I pull her to me. Her lips, those lips. Fucking hell, those lips. My mouth covers hers. I'm close to devouring her as I lift her off the ground. Her arms circle my neck as I carry her to the wall and press her up against it. She mewls and moans softly against my mouth as I continue to kiss her. I shove my pants down, freeing the cock that has been hard since I first saw her standing in the shower room at the warehouse. She tightens her long, sleek thighs around me and whimpers softly as I thrust into her already tender cunt. There is no space between us. Our flesh has sealed together as one hot mass. I pump into her again and again, wanting nothing more than to stay right there buried inside of her for eternity. She is mine.

  It seems I am a monster like him after all.

  26

  Angie

  The thin line between illusion and reality has officially been erased. I can hardly remember the woman who walked into the room just days before. I have not been outside the walls of the bedroom, but it's a prison I relish. My only human contact has been Blake and Kane. Attaching the human label to Kane seems lacking, understated.

  As Blake gently brushes my hair, I stare at my refection in the mirror trying to find any piece of Angie Tennyson. But she is gone. I should be sad about it, but I'm not. The undercover assignment, my life before, are just smoky memories. I have one sole purpose now.

  The nectar warms me from the inside as it flows through me, plunging me into the blissful state of mind where none of the ugly stuff in the world exists and living is about pleasure. Happiness centers around being taken to the height of ecstasy again and again. Something that Kane has mastered. He has mastered me.

  It seems I've been here for years, but it has only been days. Living underground takes away any sense of time. I wake, sleep and breathe around the moments when he is with me. I can't remember a time when his strong hands hadn't touched me, when I wasn't firmly in his grasp being taken in every way. Always ending with me trembling from physical and emotional exhaustion.

  Blake finishes with my hair. The red strands look like copper under the overhead lights. It's not a natural life. I should crave the sunlight and the fresh air, but there is only one thing I crave. Only one thing I need to survive.

  "Darlin', I sure wish you'd eat more. You're losing too much weight. Mr. Freestone has asked me about it."

  It's the first conversation about food that has caught my attention. I turn around on the chair. "Has he said something? Am I too skinny?" My frantic questions have only one purpose, and Blake knows that purpose.

  He walks over with a buttered toast and hands it to me. "Don't you worry, darlin'. You haven't lost his interest." His mouth drops in a frown. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I wish he would. I wish he would grow tired of you." The concern in his voice should send a wave of fear through me, but all I can think about is the despair of having Kane grow tired of me.

  I pull the long sleeves of the baby soft cotton t-shirt down past the leather cuffs to cover my hands. When he's not with me, my body shivers with cold, a chill that only he can relieve. The shirt is long enough to cover the tops of my thighs and the lacy thong panties, a new pair everyday because every other pair has been torn from my body.

  I take a nibble of the toast. It nearly lodges in my throat. I'm lightheaded from lack of food, but it's a struggle to eat. It's a side effect of the nectar. Blake says everyone reacts differently. The nectar has become my life's blood just like Kane has become my oxygen. I wake thinking about both. I fall into the strange hallucinatory sleep thinking about both. Losing either is impossible to consider.

  I walk across the room. The nectar makes the lush carpet beneath my bare feet feel like a sensual caress. I sit on the end of the bed between the two posts and pull my knees up against me to wait. "Was he nearly finished with his paperwork?" I ask, sounding like an impatient kid.

  Blake cleans up the vanity and picks up the plate of food. "I don't know. Are you sure you don't want any more of this food?"

  I shake my head and hug my knees tighter. I stare at the door as if that might help conjure him.

  "It could be awhile. Why don't you take a nap?"

  "No. I'll just wait."

  Blake stands and stares at me with the mostly full plate in his hand.

  "I'm fine. I don't need a nap. I need—" My throat tightens. The tears never seem to stop flowing. At the same time, I don't feel sad. I wipe at them with the back of my hand and then circle my arms around my knees again. "Please just go, Blake."

  "Yes," he says quietly. "I'm going. Should I put on some music?"

  My gaze is riveted to the door again. I vaguely hear the question. "Huh, yes sure. Something he likes. Pearl Jam or Guns 'N' Roses. Something he likes," I repeat.

  "It could be a few hours," Blake says. They aren't words I want to hear. I ignore him.

  The panel clicks open and music coasts into the room. I'm still staring at the door as Blake o
pens it and walks out.

  Minutes or hours pass. I have no way of knowing. My pulse seems to beat out days like the hands on a clock. I'm hollow inside and grow more and more desperate with each thump of my heart. When the door opens, I'm not sure if it's real or an illusion. His tall, muscular physique casts a menacing shadow on the wall, but I'm still not convinced he's real. My arms are numb from holding my legs against me. It seems I've been waiting for an eternity.

  Then his deep voice penetrates the music in the room.

  "My Sweet Sin, I have ached to have you in my arms all day."

  I drop my feet to the carpet and can barely feel my legs beneath me as I walk toward him. The tears are flowing as I collapse into his arms.

  He's a virtual stranger. Everything I know about him tells me he is not a person to crave. Yet I can't get enough of him. It's partly the nectar but it's just as much him. Together, they are a thoroughly addictive combination.

  "My Cinnamon Girl," he growls as he picks me up. Like a limp doll, I crumple against his chest. I feel as if gravity no longer affects me as he carries me across the room.

  Kane lowers my feet to the carpet at the corner of the bed. He yanks my arms up and sweeps the shirt off of my body. The constant shiver from the cold is gone with him in the room. I'm shivering for a different reason now. His blue eyes rarely show emotion, but a hint of raw lust sparks through as he takes hold of my face and pushes his hungry mouth over mine.

  As his kiss deepens, he reaches and loops his finger through first one and then the second loop on the wrist cuffs. He pulls his mouth away long enough to lift both of my arms above me with one quick motion. I hear the now familiar click of the rings connecting together. I'm bound to the bedpost with my wrists above my head. I'm in a daze as I think about him touching me, penetrating me, taking me.