by Kelsie Rae
Little Bird
Advantage Play Series-Book Three
Kelsie Rae
Copyright © 2020 Kelsie Rae
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. The reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Cover Art by Sly Fox Cover Designs
Editing by My Brother’s Editor
Proofreading by Stephanie Taylor
February 2020 Edition
Published in the United States of America
Contents
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
Dear Reader
Also By Kelsie Rae
About the Author
Chapter One
Little Bird
Two weeks earlier
I don’t know how I got here. Not really. I remember walking down the street before a strange set of arms wrapped around my waist, and the burning prick of a needle pressed into my neck. After that? Darkness.
That is until I woke up in an office surrounded by naked women who were just as beaten—just as bloodied—as me. When I saw Burlone behind the desk, my pulse spiked, and my breathing grew shallow before I remembered the importance of not letting them see. I can’t let them see the real me or my real emotions. No. I need to be numb.
Fifteen minutes later, I was dragged into an empty room with a twin-sized bed in the center of it. Then I was left alone in nothing but a black bra and matching bikini cut underwear, which is where I find myself now. Looking around the space, I notice a pair of handcuffs attached to the metal bed frame and struggle to pull my eyes away from the promise they hold.
I never thought I’d find myself here. Although, now that I think about it, I’m not sure anyone really does. Still, my entire life has been spent in a different kind of prison to keep me from a fate like this. My eyes fill with tears when I realize they were right. My father. My brother. Everyone. A girl like me will never be safe. She’ll never be normal. She’ll never be anything at all.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I hold it for ten seconds then release it through my mouth. But on the next inhale, the lingering scent of pee that clings to the stained mattress burns my nostrils, making me cough.
I’m in so much freaking trouble.
Panicking, I force my eyes closed and squeeze them shut as tight as I possibly can.
I’m screwed. I’m so screwed. I’m so freaking screwed.
The mantra continues over and over again before I drive my fingernails into the palm of my hand in hopes that the bite of pain will ground me. With another deep breath, I dig deep and search for the courage to look around the rest of the room. Opening my eyes, I do another quick scan of my prison. Other than the bed and a medium-sized Home Depot bucket tucked in the corner, it’s empty. The walls are made of cinder blocks, the floors are nothing but a slab of cement, and there aren’t any windows. As soon as I come to that realization, I feel the walls pressing in from all sides.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Chapter Two
Dex
“Hey, man. Burlone wants to see you in his office,” Sei greets me with a shit-eating grin as I step inside the lobby of Sin.
“Why? I’ve already clocked out. I need some sleep.”
“Don’t be a pussy, Dex. It’s not like your job last night was that rough.” He’s talking about my orders to kick the shit out of an innocent girl for beating my boss in a game of poker. My hands close into tight fists, and the bruised knuckles burn at the memory. I’ve never hit a girl before earlier tonight. And I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt lower than when I landed that first punch, either. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I release a sigh then drop my head back to look toward the blood-colored ceiling of the Allegretti-owned casino, Sin.
I took my time coming back here after I left the girl passed out on her apartment floor with a swollen face and a cold reminder that no one messes with the Allegretti family. No one. And especially not a girl who publicly humiliated the boss on national television before skipping off into the distance with a cashier’s check in her back pocket that Burlone Allegretti had never planned on losing.
My gaze shoots down to my front pocket, where the flimsy piece of paper is neatly folded for safekeeping. I shouldn’t have come back here. I should’ve kept walking around the empty streets, wondering how different my life could’ve been if my father had accepted me as his own. But as the sun began to creep up over the horizon, I found myself in front of Sin with the expectation of collapsing onto my bed and sleeping for a solid ten hours. Unfortunately for me, Sei got to me first.
“I said I’m done for the night,” I grit out in hopes of escaping to my room.
Reaching out, an amused Sei grabs my bicep, stopping me in my tracks. “Do whatever the hell you want, but don’t say I didn’t relay the message.” A cigarette in hand, Sei places it between his lips before letting go of me as his other hand searches for a lighter in his pocket.
“Later, Sei,” I mumble, turning toward the elevators.
He doesn’t bother to answer.
Hustling through the lobby of the casino, I adjust my suit and press the ‘up’ button. When it arrives, I hover my finger over the floor that will lead me to my suite on the top floor.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath before hitting the one that leads to Burlone, instead.
I’m not in the mood for this.
With a knock on the office door, I wait for Burlone’s invitation.
“Get the fuck in here.”
Twisting the handle, I step inside.
“Sei said you wanted to see me?”
“Yeah. Take a seat.”
I grab the closest chair I can find and sit my ass down then wait for him to get to the point. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back and hold his stare.
“You’re awfully pissy this morning.”
“Long night,” I grunt.
His lips tilt up in amusement before he rests his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers, brushing his index fingers against the dimple on his chin. “Aw, yes. Sometimes I forget how much you hate hitting women. Interesting that you don’t mind working for me. Ironically, that’s why I called you in here.�
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With a slow swallow, I probe, “And why’s that? No offense, Burlone, but like I’ve said, I had a long night and want to go to bed. Is that a problem?”
I know I’m pushing my luck by the way his amusement vanishes and is replaced with barely contained frustration. “Wanna try that again, Dex? Maybe with a little more respect this time?”
Respect? I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it. I’ve never respected the guy, but I do respect the power he wields.
My jaw is clenched as I search for the self-preservation to give a shit. It takes me a few seconds to find it. Releasing a sigh, I try again. “You’re right, Boss. I’m sorry I’m being short. I haven’t slept in almost”—I lift my wrist to check the time on my watch—“thirty-two hours, and I’m a little tired. Won’t happen again.”
Burlone’s nod of approval sets me at ease. “Good. Since you’re tired, I’ll get straight to the point. I have a new job for you. One that will likely not involve punching anything for the next two weeks, so you should consider it a vacation. All you have to do is keep an eye on some fruit. That’s it.”
Fruit is a slang term we use for the women he’s selling. The women his men have collected who are kept in tiny rooms in the basement while Burlone either sets up a buyer or uses them for their bodies like a punching bag with holes. On occasion, he’s asked someone to watch over a particularly valued piece of fruit until he can get her transported. His men have no self-discipline and have never been good at following orders, so it’s always a risk to leave them alone with the fruit for long periods of time. However, I’ve always kept a wide berth from the human trafficking aspect, and I don’t like the feeling of being dragged in with Burlone’s request.
“That’s never been my job before,” I grit out.
He waves me off. “Yes, well, I’ve never had such a variety of fruit before and don’t want it to spoil before the tournament.”
My brows pinch, my head tilting in confusion before asking, “What tournament?”
I barely survived this one.
With a wicked grin, a satisfied Burlone sits back in his chair and explains, “You’ve been with me for a long time, Dex. But I think you were a kid when I started hosting these tournaments. Ones where we gamble with things other than money. And in two weeks, I’ve decided to hold another one.”
“Which is why you need me to make sure the fruit doesn’t spoil before then.” I shake my head as my blood starts to boil. “You and I had an agreement, Boss. I’d be your muscle. I’d kick the shit out of anyone you asked me to without asking questions. I’d collect any debt that was owed to you. Those were my requirements when I requested and accepted the job.”
He scoffs. “You were ten when I found you on the streets, Dex. Hell, I practically raised you, and you were begging to work for me by the time you turned sixteen. Don’t pretend you’re a martyr. Don’t act like you shouldn’t be worshipping me like a god for saving you. I understand you’re a little skittish because of your whore of a mother and the things you saw as a kid, but I think it’s about time you grow the hell up. I need you to take care of a few girls. Make sure they’re fed. Make sure my men keep their hands to themselves. And make sure they’re where they need to be when I need them to be there. That’s it. Understand?”
Everything inside of me is begging to reach for the gun tucked into the waist of my slacks and pull the trigger. But I don’t.
Taking a deep breath, I dig my fingers into the armrests on my chair and ask, “That’s it?”
He narrows his eyes. “Yeah. That’s it. Now, get the hell out of my office.”
Chapter Three
Little Bird
Huddled in the corner, I’ve been dozing in and out of consciousness for the past few hours when a soft knock breaks the eerie silence encompassing the room.
I don’t make a sound. I don’t move a muscle. And I pray to any gods who might be listening that I can somehow find a way to melt into the rough cinder blocks behind me, letting me disappear.
The jingling of keys makes me cower further, burrowing into the corner until the skin along my back is raw.
With a squeak, the door opens slowly, cautiously, before a man appears through the gap. My mouth opens in shock when I think I recognize him before he steps out of the shadow, and I see his face more fully. It’s not him. The man in front of me looks like he’s in his late twenties––maybe early thirties if the years were rough on him. His hair is cropped short, and a white button-up shirt covers his massive biceps and chest. My terror spikes with the knowledge this man could crush me like an ant.
I watch as he scans the bed, his brows furrowing in confusion before searching the rest of the room and landing on my tiny frame huddled in the corner.
“Hey.” His tone is soft as he raises his hands in the air in an attempt to look harmless. Slowly, he takes a step forward, trying not to scare me.
It doesn’t work.
Pulling my arms across my almost-naked chest while hoping to cover the important bits that are currently on display, I scramble farther into the corner.
“Shh…,” he shushes, his feet stopping his pursuit. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A dry laugh escapes me, but it comes out more like a squeak.
“I promise,” he continues, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to take care of you and make sure no one touches you. Understand?”
Taking him in, he looks so sincere. If it were any other situation, I might believe him. But I’m not stupid. I’ve been kidnapped, am being held against my will, and am locked in a room with nothing but a dirty mattress that smells like pee and a few pairs of handcuffs. I mean, come on.
As he looks closer, his jaw clenches before his fingers start unbuttoning his shirt, disproving his comment from only thirty seconds ago.
I don’t bother begging him not to touch me. It’d only be a waste of breath. Instead, I just hold his stare as he slides the shirt from his muscular torso until he’s in nothing but a pair of slacks and a white undershirt. When the crisp fabric hits my face, I tug it away, then look up at him with confusion.
He surprises me by squatting down, then sitting on the cold cement a few feet away to give me plenty of space. I find myself frozen, unable to move a muscle.
“Put it on.” He lifts his chin to the shirt I’m clutching in my hands.
Again, I don’t move.
“This isn’t a trick,” he mutters. “I’ll even close my eyes if you want me to. It’s cold as hell in here, and I doubt you like being naked and vulnerable.”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I slowly unfold my body with the shirt still acting as a barrier between us. When we both realize I’m going to have to reveal my nearly bare body to him in order to wrap the shirt around me, he closes his eyes. “Five seconds. Don’t try anything stupid.”
Quickly, I slide my arms into the sleeves then attempt to button the front within the allotted time of privacy, but my fingers are numb from the cold, and I struggle to push each little button through the loop. Finally, my fumbling attempt is successful, and I look up to find him watching me.
“Time’s up,” he mutters.
I swallow, refusing to take in all the glorious olive skin within arm’s reach. This is probably some ploy to get into my pants without me fighting him. Show her a bit of kindness, and she’ll spread her legs with ease. I grit my teeth and bring my eyes back to his.
“I’m Dex,” he introduces himself.
The awkward silence is suffocating, but I don’t know what to say.
“What’s your name?” he probes.
With glassy eyes, I blink. “Are you serious right now?”
A puzzled expression is all I get in reply, forcing me to continue, “Were you not there for Burlone’s little speech? How he stripped us of our clothes then stripped us of our names, telling us we’re nothing but helpless little pieces of fruit, ripe for the picking.” I release a shaky breath.
“You’re not a piece of fruit.”
/> I scoff, wiping away a stray tear as it rolls down my cheek.
“You aren’t,” he insists. “If anything, I’d say you’re a little bird who was placed in a cage and is begging to be set free.”
“Then I guess that’s what you should call me. Little Bird. Because I don’t think I’ll ever be the same person I once was.”
With a nod, he stands to his full height, towering over me. “I think we finally found something we can both agree on, Little Bird.”
I don’t bother to look up at him. Instead, I stay focused on his loafers and dark slacks as he retreats to the door, closing it behind him.
Chapter Four
Dex
“So, how’s the fruit holding up?” Sei asks with a wicked grin. He’s lazily sitting back in his chair with another damn cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.
Images of each of them flash through my mind before stopping on Little Bird huddled in the corner. With a subtle shake of my head, I scatter the memories and reply, “As good as can be expected. Some of them are a little bruised, though. Aren’t you supposed to be a bit more careful with the merchandise?” I can’t help the bite that accompanies my question, followed by a dull headache in the back of my skull.