by B. B. Hamel
“Like what?”
I smiled at her. “Does it matter? How about you tell me what you do instead.”
“I’m a waitress,” she said quickly, and I suddenly knew she was lying.
But why would she lie about that? Maybe she was ashamed of her job, or maybe she didn’t want me to know what she did. There was a red flag waving in my mind, but I shook my head and ignored it.
Like a fucking moron.
I finished my drink instead. “And how’s working for tips going for you?”
“It’s okay, I guess,” she said. “I’m more interested in this mystery job of yours, though.”
“Of course you are. I’m sure you’re very interested in what I do.”
“I am, but I get the feeling you’re not talking about work anymore.”
“I’m talking about a kind of work.”
“I’d rather talk about something else.”
I laughed and motioned the waiter for another drink.
“You don’t have to pretend like you’re here for some other reason,” I said. “You want to finish what we started. We both know it.”
“Maybe I was just interested in getting dinner with you.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you’re interested in feeling my lips against your neck again. You’re interested in how wet I can make that pussy before I slide myself between your legs.”
She went to respond, but the waiter came over with my drink. I sipped it and smiled at the blush in her cheeks as he walked away.
“I’m not here for that,” she said.
“You’re lying a lot tonight. But I guess I don’t care. You won’t lie when you beg me for more.”
“How about we eat first? Then maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Lucky has nothing to do with it,” I said.
We opened our menus and started scanning the food. I wasn’t interested in anything but her tight little pussy, but that was fine. I could play her game if this was what she needed. We both knew what we were doing here, but if she needed to pretend like we were on a real date, well, that was fine with me. I had nothing else to do, and plus, I liked watching her and riling her up.
“So, do you go to that bar often?” she asked me.
“You already picked me up; no need to use stupid lines.”
She laughed. “I’m honestly curious.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I heard some things about that bar.”
“Like what?”
“Rough people go there.”
“Rough people,” I said, smiling at her. “What do you think that means?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you do.”
“Am I a rough man?”
“Probably,” she said, shrugging.
“You’re probably right. You were looking for that kind of man when you went in there, though.”
“I was,” she admitted. “What about you? Do you work with men like that?”
I frowned, not liking where this was going. She clearly was trying to ask if I was mafia, but she had to know that was a stupid question. Real mafia men didn’t go around telling people about their fucking connections. And people who knew the mafia knew not to ask about that sort of shit.
This was the second red flag of the night.
“I might,” I said, “but it’s better if you don’t ask questions.”
“Why’s that? I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“You don’t want to know me, girl. You wouldn’t like what you found out.”
“Try me. What’s so bad about you?”
“You should be careful.”
“Are you a bad man, Rafa?”
I smirked and leaned forward. “You know I am. And that’s why you’re dripping wet right now, hoping I’ll suggest we skip dinner.”
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“I am too, but I don’t want this shit. I want my tongue on that pussy of yours, and I want to hear you moaning my name.”
She blushed again, and I could tell I was getting to her. “Are you always this direct?”
“I am. I don’t fuck around.”
“What do you want from me then? You just want to finish what we started and that’s it?”
I shrugged. “That’s mostly up to you. Is that something you want? I get you off again and again for one night only?”
“You’re pretty confident.”
“I’ve had practice.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Every girl says that,” I said softly, leaning toward her and staring into her pretty eyes. “But once I have you sliding along my thick cock, I suspect you’ll think differently.”
She bit her lip, and in that moment I knew I had her. I knew that if I stood up and left, she’d follow me willingly. She’d do whatever I wanted her to do, and that was exactly how I wanted her.
Begging for it and dripping wet.
As I picked up my drink to let the moment stretch on, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Annoyed, I silenced it.
But it started buzzing again a second later.
“Excuse me,” I said, taking it out. I stood up and walked toward the bathrooms, answering it.
“What?” I said.
“It’s Vince.”
I paused. “What’s up?”
“You need to get to the address I’m about to send you right now.”
“Why?”
“Ernesto’s boys caught someone. I want one of my guys in on this before shit gets out of hand.”
I grunted. Vince was my boss in the mob, one of the highest-ranking guys in the whole organization. He was on the opposite side of Ernesto, another high-ranking boss.
“Fine,” I said. “What am I getting into?”
“They caught a Spider.”
I paused. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“Not kidding. Get your ass over there and find out what’s happening.”
“Got it.” I hung up the phone. A second later, an address appeared in my texts.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I walked back to the table. Jessica looked up at me expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I have to go.”
“Really?” She frowned.
“It’s work.”
“The restaurant business has weird hours.”
“Yes, it does,” I said. “Come on. I’m calling you a cab.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll get an Uber. You go.”
I narrowed my eyes and sighed. I hated to fucking get pulled away like this. The only thing I really wanted was to sit back down and finally close this deal, but I knew I couldn’t.
We’d never gotten a live Spider before. They always managed to get away or to kill themselves before we could take them. The Spiders were fucking insane fanatics, and they terrified a lot of the guys.
Not me, though. I understood what they were about. They wanted to destroy one thing, and one thing alone. Human trafficking was their enemy, and I couldn’t really blame them.
“Good luck at work,” she said.
I walked over to her and bent down. Instead of kissing her cheek, I pressed my lips against her ear.
“Think about me tonight when you get home. I know you’ll be frustrated. Think about me when you slip your fingers deep inside that pussy. Think about what I can make your body feel.”
I stood up and she blinked up at me. I smirked and then turned and left without another word.
Fucking shit. My cock was hard as hell as I called a fucking cab. I wanted to get back in there and taste this girl, but I had a job to do.
The cab came, and I gave the guy the address. It was in the old warehouse district, and I already knew which place it would be. It was an abandoned building the mob sometimes took people to, people they needed to question very intensely.
Nobody the mob brought there ever left alive.
5
Cassidy
He just disappeared, just like that.
After all that flirting and buildup, he had to leave for work. That drove me absolutely insane, but I wasn’t going to let it show. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. He’d love that I really was frustrated, and he’d never forget about it.
Instead, I finished my glass of wine and sighed. I had no clue what the hell I was doing with a guy who clearly worked for the mob. I had tried to get him to talk about it, but I was sure he had seen right through that. I’d been a little clumsy about it, and Rafa was clearly not an idiot.
More than that, I didn’t know what he wanted from me. He said he just wanted to sleep with me, but he’d taken me out to dinner first. If this was just some booty call, I didn’t know why he brought me to such an impressive place.
He talked dirty, but he also seemed completely engaged with me, like I was the only important person in the world. It was almost flattering, and it really drew me toward him.
When I was done, I ordered an Uber on my phone. I flagged the waiter to pay, but apparently the bill had already been covered.
Rafa was an impressive man, as much as I hated to admit it.
I got into the Uber and it sped me back home. Once in my apartment, I got into my comfy clothes and sat down on the couch to spend the night watching crappy TV and thinking about my stupid decisions.
Dasha was one of those stupid decisions. I shouldn’t have let her go, but I’d thought she had told me enough to get me started.
As it turned out, she hadn’t told me anything. There was no information on the Spiders anywhere. I’d figured I had just missed it in all my research, but as I started going over everything again, I realized that there simply was nothing about them.
Nothing online, nothing in print, just nothing. It was like they didn’t exist.
And yet she had said they were doing some serious work to save women in the city. If they really were attacking whorehouses and saving sex slaves, how had I not heard about it?
It had been so stupid not to press her. But Dasha seemed intense and scary, like she really was the warrior she said she was. I had no real reason to doubt her other than the fact that it seemed totally crazy for that to be the truth.
I sat there watching television for the whole night, idly scanning the internet for any information on the Spiders, already knowing I wouldn’t find any. The night slipped by, and before I knew it, the clock said it was midnight.
I stood up, yawning, and got ready for bed. I had another long day of digging into the research tomorrow, and hopefully I’d find something. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and then got into bed.
And then started to think about Rafa.
Just like he had said I would, as soon as I got into bed, I began to imagine his face and his eyes staring into mine. He was so damn intense and strong in a way that I’d never seen before. I couldn’t really put my finger on it, but as soon as he got near me, I felt it jolting down my spine. I wanted to give myself to him, even though I knew that was totally insane.
He was still a stranger. He had dodged my questions about his job and basically wanted to keep talking about how he’d undress me. He was smart and he was slippery, but he was also handsome and a really good kisser.
I couldn’t help but slip my hands underneath my panties as I began to picture what could have been tonight.
I knew I would have let him do whatever he wanted with me. He would have slipped his fingers between my legs and found me soaking wet. No doubt he would have made some comment that would drive me crazy, make me mad and embarrassed, but he’d be too busy slowly rubbing my clit. My anger would only heighten the pleasure as that dirty bastard would kiss my neck.
I let out a soft moan as I began to rub my own clit. I realized that I hadn’t gotten off in almost a month, since I was too busy with the damn story. I let out a little gasp as I began to work myself, and my fantasy about Rafa deepened.
He’d bite my lip and spin me around, slowly pulling my panties down my legs. He’d slap my ass and whisper in my ear. He’d make me beg before finally pressing his thick cock between my legs.
Oh fuck, and it would feel perfect; I already knew it. He’d fuck me like a savage, his cock deep inside me as he slapped my ass and grunted dirty things into my ear. I would work my hips, sliding up and down his thick shaft, taking his cock like I couldn’t live without it.
I bit my lip, working my pussy, imagining Rafa’s body against mine. I knew this was what he really wanted me to do, but I couldn’t help myself. It was almost as if because he had commanded me to do it, I couldn’t help but follow through.
Just then, there was a loud knock. For a second, I thought it was just my own mind and my own fantasy. But no; it happened again. I stopped working myself, listening.
It happened again. Someone was knocking at my door.
I sat up, glancing at the clock. It was twelve thirty at night. I had no clue who could possibly be at my door, but I was suddenly nervous.
I got dressed again and got out of bed, frustrated all over again. I walked to the door as the knocking started getting more insistent.
“Okay, okay,” I called out. I made sure the chain was set before I cracked the door opened.
Standing there, illuminated by the hallway’s light, was Rafa.
He looked serious. There was no grin on his face.
“Hey there, Cassidy,” he said.
How the hell did he know my real name?
I wanted to slam the door in his face and run, but this door wouldn’t stop him. I didn’t think anything could stop this man if he wanted something.
“Going to let me in, Cassidy, or are we doing this the hard way?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I was so fucking screwed.
6
Rafa
A Few Hours Earlier
The warehouse was pretty fucking bleak as I walked around the outer edge. I couldn’t hear a thing from the inside, though I knew it was probably packed with wise guys. I stopped outside the side door and knocked a quick pattern.
It opened a crack.
“Who’s that?”
“It’s fucking Rafa. Open up.”
The door moved open a bit more. The guy looking at me was Ryan something or other, one of Ernesto’s boys.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Vince isn’t around.”
“I know. He sent me. Open the fuck up.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ernesto didn’t say anything about this.”
I stepped up to him, annoyed. “You’re going to move now, or I’m going to beat your ass. Then when you bitch and cry about it to your boss, I’ll beat your ass again. Move.”
He stared me down for half a second and then stepped aside.
I strode past him and into the abandoned building. The door shut behind me.
Up ahead, the hallway ended at a T-junction. I turned right and kept going. I could hear voices bouncing off the old metal walls as I got closer and closer to the action.
I pushed open a door at the end of the hall and stepped into a wide and deep room. It was lit with only a single bright spotlight dangling from the ceiling.
Sitting under that light was a pretty girl strapped to a chair. Standing around were a bunch of wise guys, men I recognized. Leaning against the back wall was Ernesto.
I ignored the girl. I walked over to him, and he nodded as I approached.
“I was wondering when you’d show.”
“Vince sent me.”
“No shit.”
“Is that her?”
He nodded. “That’s her.”
“She talk yet?”
“Not a fucking word.”
“How hard have you worked her?”
“Not hard. Giving her a little break now before Lonnie goes back to work.”
I shuddered but kept it off my face. Lonnie was the mafia’s torturer, more or less. He was a brutal fucking guy but looked like any other middle-aged dad. I glanced around the room and spotted him standing next to a little tab
le where he had his instruments arrayed in neat lines. He was balding, pale, and thin, and he wore a long sleeve T-shirt tucked into khaki shorts and boat shoes. He looked like he just came from the fucking golf course.
I looked back to Ernesto. “What’s next?”
“Like I said, Lonnie gets to work. She’ll break eventually.”
Just then, Lonnie walked back over to the girl. The whole room went silent and somber, and I forced myself not to look away. That would be weakness, and everyone else would take note of it.
But I didn’t want to fucking watch this. Nobody wanted to watch it. Still, the least we could do was at least watch what we were doing to this poor fucking girl. She was my enemy, but I didn’t wish Lonnie on anybody, not fucking ever.
He started with a pair of pliers. He asked her a simple question, waited for her to answer, and then yanked out one of her fingernails. The woman screamed and struggled, but she didn’t say a single word.
That went on for both hands. Every single nail was torn off. Blood was dripping down the chair, and her face was drawn, pained, but she didn’t speak.
I was impressed. Not many people lasted that long. Lonnie was unflappable, though. He simply gave her a short rest before returning to work.
The mood in the room was grim. These were violent criminals, men who were used to killing and fighting, but watching this was something else. Lonnie returned to her with a contraption that looked like pliers, but each side was a razor sharp blade, like a cigar cutter.
He slid her pinky finger into the tool.
“What is your name?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
He cut off her finger at the first knuckle.
She screamed, and he waited patiently for her to finish. He slid the contraption onto her next knuckle.
“What is your name?” he asked again.
Again, no response.
Again, he cut off her finger to the next knuckle.
I clenched my jaw.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Dasha,” the girl said, sobbing. “My name is Dasha.”
“Good. It’s nice to meet you, Dasha.”