by Kelsie Rae
“And what’s that?” he asks, attempting to hide his interest with a bored tone.
“I think you seem like a relatively good guy, despite your current occupation choice, which is why I want to ask you something else. You didn’t answer me the first time, and I think it’s because you were afraid I’d have a breakdown if you told me the truth. But I think that’s what’s been driving me crazy. The unknown. So, here it goes.” I take a deep breath. “What’s going to happen to me, Dex? I’m going to assume your boss is biding his time until he figures out what to do with me. Am I right? Has he made any final decisions about my future? I want to know what the possibilities are. I want to mentally prep for any of the possible outcomes that I’m going to have to deal with. Do you think you can help me do that?”
His shoulders deflate right before my eyes, and it doesn’t exactly give me warm and fuzzies.
“Tell me,” I push, a fresh wave of anxiety pulsing through me. My hands toy with the long white sleeves of the shirt Dex gave me the first night I showed up here. I fist the fabric and pray he’ll give me some insight that I desperately need. “Please.”
“Little Bird, you seem like you’re in a pretty good mood, all things considered, and I really don’t want to mess with your day.”
“And I get that,” I admit before crossing my arms to hide how badly I’m shaking. “But what I think you don’t understand is that the not knowing is what’s driving me insane. If you could just fill me in, then I think I’ll be better. I’ll be mentally prepared. It’ll help me,” I reiterate.
“Trust me, Little Bird. I don’t think you can mentally prepare for what you’re probably going to go through.” His face sours as if he doesn’t want to think about it, either.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling a sense of hesitation for the first time since our last conversation.
“It means that you’ve been dealt a shit hand. That’s what it means.”
“Yeah, but knowing your hand is better than betting blindly, right?” I counter.
With a narrowed gaze, a grudging Dex hesitantly agrees with my logic. “I suppose.”
“Then tell me. Please?” He’s close to caving. I can see it in his eyes.
After a few long seconds, he mutters, “Honestly?”
I smile. “Yeah. I think it’d be best if we were honest right about now.”
For once, I’m not hunched in my corner. I’m standing, stretching my long legs, and realizing how tall Dex really is. When I look him up and down, I notice he’s built like a freaking bear. All muscles and tattoos and dark, short hair. Even a blind woman would be able to feel the sexual pheromones he exudes when he’s in the room. I just can’t understand why he’s in this business when it’s easy to see that he could have any woman he wants. But I push those thoughts aside. I don’t have time to question his motives. Not when I’m so close to getting the answers I desperately need.
Dex clears his throat then takes a tentative step closer. “You’re either going to be purchased by a stranger and used as a maid or sex slave, or you’ll be used as a buy-in chip for a poker tournament my boss is putting on.”
My brows furrow, but I’m more confused than scared. “Huh?”
He laughs, staring at me. “Who are you, and what have you done to the terrified little girl from a few nights ago?”
I join in with a soft giggle, shocking the crap out of both of us. The sound is so foreign to my ears that I take a second to look around and see if the old me is in the room. Nope. Just tainted ol’ me.
“She’s still in here,” I admit quietly. “But last night helped me gain a little perspective. I think if there’s any chance of me surviving this, then I need to have the full picture. And I think you can explain it to me. Now, can you please explain to me what the buy-in means?”
With a sigh, Dex takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and I force myself to join him, though my movements are jerky and robotic. But if I’m wanting him to talk to me and tell me what he knows, then I need to show him I don’t think he’s as much of a monster as the rest of them. Sensing my hesitation, he leans away from me and leaves a few inches of space between our legs to keep our thighs from touching. I appreciate the sentiment. It further proves my theory. That he doesn’t want to use me like the men on the opposite side of that door. My eyes shoot to it before I force my attention back to the bear beside me.
Dex starts, “In order to enter the tournament, you need to put a woman on the line. If you win, you get to keep yours, along with collecting everyone else’s who participates in the tournament. If you lose, then you lose the girl you brought, along with any money you gambled away during the night.”
“I–I’m sorry,” I stutter, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. “Is it common for people to have women lying around that they can use for a poker tournament?”
He snorts at my half-joke then answers, “Not always. If you don’t, then you can purchase one before the event.”
“And where would you purchase one?”
“From someone like my boss.” Giving me the side-eye, I finally understand where he’s going with this.
“So…even if I’m not used by your boss personally, there’s a big chance that one of his friends”—I spit the word out, though it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth—“has the opportunity to buy me from him and use me to get into the tournament. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah. I think you pretty much summed it up.”
He has the decency to look apologetic, losing his indifference from the last time we talked. I appreciate the sincerity even if it doesn’t help my crappy situation. Another wave of anxiety runs through me, so I stand up and bounce on the balls of my bare feet, searching for a solution.
“I suppose there isn’t much of a chance that nice guys participate in this tournament, is there? Someone who wears shining armor and rides white horses?”
Shaking his head, he chuckles deep and low. “Don’t count on it. And even if there was one, the odds definitely wouldn’t be in his favor.”
His comment makes me pause. “What do you mean?”
“Burlone is pretty much unbeatable. I’ve only seen it happen once, and even then, I’m not sure it wasn’t entirely a fluke. I’ve been around for a long time, and I can say with confidence that if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on Burlone. I’d be a fool if I didn’t.”
“So, if that does happen, and Burlone does win, does that mean I end up right back here? With you?” I swallow, surprised the question spilled out of me. Shifting my gaze to the floor, I try to ignore the way my face heats to a million degrees while I wait for his response.
When Dex stays silent, I peek over at him only to see his entire body filled with regret, and I know I’m not going to like the answer he tells me.
“I’m afraid not, Little Bird,” he admits. “If Burlone ends up winning you back, he’ll only turn you around for more profit.”
I was right. That’s a crappy answer, and it leaves me floundering. I never thought I’d admit this to myself, but I just want to go back to my life before this. My life that might not have been rainbows and butterflies, but it was mine, and even though it felt like a prison at the time, I had a hell of a lot more freedom than I do now.
Dex gets up to leave, but I stop him. “Can I ask you something else, Dex?”
“Yeah,” he answers gruffly. I can tell he doesn’t want to, but he’s man enough to hold my pointed stare.
“Have you ever purchased someone?”
If he says yes, it’ll kill me. Right now, his visits are the only thing giving me a shred of hope, and if I find out he’s nothing but scum like the rest of the assholes in this place, then I think it might break me. In fact, I know it will.
With a shake of his head, he whispers, “Never. I don’t think a person should ever be bought or sold. If you ever own someone, it’s because they’ve given themselves to you freely, and they own you too. It’s mutual. And it’s built on trust. What w
e do here?” He grits his teeth in distaste. “It’s slavery in its lowest form. Goodnight, Little Bird.”
He leaves the untouched water bottle on the mattress then closes the door behind him with a soft click, yet his words play through my head for the rest of the night.
Chapter Nine
Little Bird
With my head resting against the wall, I start to doze after another boring day in isolation, only to hear the hinges squeak.
My eyes pop open, my heart jumps in my throat, and adrenaline spikes in my veins.
Then I see Dex. The sight instantly calms me.
Tucking my knees to my chest, I stay huddled in my corner and fight the urge to greet him like I would a friend.
“Hey, Little Bird,” he calls after closing the heavy door behind him.
“Hi,” I squeak. My voice is rusty from lack of use. I only ever talk to him.
As if he can read my mind, he gently tosses me a new bottle of water, and I drink it up greedily. Wiping my mouth with the back of my wrist, I tell him, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
His hands tucked into his slacks, Dex rocks back and forth on his heels, and an awkward silence encompasses us. It’s weird. I haven’t felt like this around him since the night we met.
“What’s wrong?” I probe, my protective walls rising. Something doesn’t feel right.
I watch with trepidation as he clears his throat and looks toward the cold cement beneath his feet. “I’m going to need you to come with me, Little Bird.”
“Why?”
His mouth is in a thin, firm line before he swallows hard and gives me a sharp look. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please.” The slight break in his voice makes me scramble back to my huddled position.
No. No. No.
“What are you talking about, Dex? I need you to tell me what’s going on. Remember? We’ve talked about this. I’ll be able to handle crap better i-if I know what I’m getting into. Please.” Now it’s my turn to beg.
Cautiously, he steps around the bed then offers his hand to help me up. He’s never touched me before, and I hate how quickly I give in to letting him. When his giant palm nearly swallows mine whole, I can’t ignore the goosebumps that spread up my arms.
It’s just because I haven’t been touched in so long, I tell myself, wanting to roll my eyes at how pathetic I feel.
That’s what isolation does to you, though. It makes you crave human contact more than your next breath.
My legs are shaky by the time I finally make it to my feet, and Dex wraps his arm around my waist to keep me from falling back on my butt. “Careful there, Bambi. You okay?”
I nod, almost laughing at the normalcy of his teasing before remembering the ominous tone he used moments before.
Peeking up at him, I admit, “You’re kind of freaking me out, Dex. You’ve never taken me outside this room before, and I’m pretty sure it’s not to break me out of here.”
A dry, helpless laugh escapes him as he drops his head back and looks up at the ceiling while standing almost chest to chest with me.
“I wish.” Dex looks down at me and adds, “We’re taking pictures of all the girls today.”
“All the girls? As in…the ones from my first night here? How long has it been?”
“A week,” he grunts. “And the pictures are taken individually. You won’t be seeing any of those girls unless they attend the tournament.”
He hasn’t lost his cool demeanor, so I ask, “Why are you acting weird?” My brows are pinched in confusion because pictures don’t seem very terrible. “That doesn’t sound too painful, right?”
“I’m going to need the shirt back.”
“But—” Oh. “And I assume me politely declining your request would be a no-go, right?”
Dex looks like he’s about to puke. His skin has lost all its color as he takes slow, steady breaths. “Sorry, Little Bird. But I’m going to need you to cooperate, okay? Please.”
It’s the way he says please that makes me comply. I don’t know why, but he looks closer to crumbling than me right now, and I can’t let the big, strong man in front of me break on my behalf. So, I do the only thing there is to do. With shaky hands, I slowly start unbuttoning the dress shirt he had thrown at me the first night we met.
When my knuckles brush against his chest, I recognize how close we’re standing and nearly choke on the oxygen as it gets lodged in my throat from surprise. I flinch but don’t step back and am surprised when he doesn’t either.
I feel like we’re in a sick game of chicken as I reveal a little more of my skin, inch by inch, while my captor hovers less than a foot away and watches my every move. When the front is fully opened, revealing my cleavage, stomach, and every inch of my legs, I ask with a trembling voice, “Can I keep my bra and underwear on?”
“Yeah.” The word is spoken low and almost sounds animalistic with its harsh rumble. But somehow, it fails to penetrate the tension building between us.
Running on pure adrenaline, I nod, sliding my arms out of the sleeves and handing him the dirty fabric. I haven’t showered in days, and I know I stink. My hair is a snarly mess hanging down my back, but I’ve never felt more desirable. And the hesitant want churning in my lower stomach is what scares me the most.
It’s not normal. So not normal.
Dex clears his throat before reaching into his suit jacket and retrieving a set of handcuffs that are similar to the ones chained to the bed frame.
“I’m going to need you to put these on, Little Bird,” he orders.
“What?”
With a sigh, he grabs the back of his neck before explaining, “I like you, but I’m not a good guy, remember? What you’re going to have to go through for the next thirty minutes might be a little rough. I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, but you need to listen to everything I say.”
“I will.” The implicit trust is deafening.
“I’m going to seem cold to you out there.” He lifts his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the door. “I’m going to be harsh. I’m not going to be the guy you’ve seen every time I come into your room, but it’s for your own protection. It’s for both of ours.” He laughs before sobering. “Understand?”
Releasing a slow breath, I lift my arms and offer my wrists to him, but I don’t say a word.
The cold metal is biting as he locks the cuffs around my forearms, making sure to leave them loose, which only proves to me how warped his views are of himself. Dex is a good guy. He just does crappy things and doesn’t know how to stop.
After securing the handcuffs, he gives them a gentle tug through the center chain that connects my shackles before guiding me through the door and down the hallway.
I don’t really remember the last time I was here. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was still drugged because the memories are insanely fuzzy, but the foreboding unknown mixed with overwhelming anxiety is a familiar concoction that I wish I weren’t so accustomed to.
Muffled noises that sound almost like sobbing are coming from a couple of the doors, but I can’t quite put my finger on what the sounds are. I’m not sure I want to figure it out, anyway. My head snaps to my left when I hear the distinct sound of a blood-curdling scream that makes my stomach knot. I thought I had it bad, but I know that whatever is going on behind that door is something that nightmares are made of. Dex tugs me a little farther down the hall, and I’m grateful for the reprieve from the screams.
I take a closer step to Dex and almost trip on his heels in search of protection when I place the rhythmic thumping coming from behind another door on my left. The acidic taste of bile floods my mouth, and it takes everything inside of me to swallow it back down instead of spewing the bottle of water I drank a few minutes ago all across the hallway floor.
I never thought I’d feel this way, but I want to go back to my room. Now.
There are a few men scattered throughout the hall leering at me as my fingers graze the back of Dex’s
white button-up shirt. I can almost read their minds, and I hate it. It feels like they’re painting me with an oily brush, leaving a film against my skin I can’t get rid of.
Sensing my unease, Dex mutters under his breath, “Keep walking, Little Bird. Let’s get this over with.”
He opens the door at the end of the hall and gently shoves me inside with a look of indifference that’s so unlike him, it makes me queasy.
The room is similar to mine, with the exception of two tripods set up in the center of the space. One holds a digital camera; the other appears to be a webcam with a little red light that’s blinking away.
With a look over my shoulder, my terrified gaze searches for Dex, who’s the only form of comfort I have in this place. I find him lazily leaning against the doorway, looking at his phone without a care in the world.
“Umm…Dex?” I whisper as my eyes dart around the room.
“The photographer will be here in a second. Be a good little girl and stay quiet, yeah?”
My eyes widen in surprise. Wow. He wasn’t kidding about acting like a jerk. At least he warned me, or I’d be even more terrified right now. Doesn’t stop me from glaring at him, though.
“Jackass,” I curse under my breath.
After rubbing the palms of my hands against my arms the best that I can while being handcuffed, I pull them into my chest in an attempt to contain my body heat. I feel frozen to the bone from Dex’s cold response, along with the draft in the air. It’d help if I had some freaking clothes on. But, no. The chauvinistic pigs haven’t deemed me worthy of any.
When the door opens to reveal a strange man with long, greasy hair that smells like smoke, my spine turns into a steel rod, making me stand up straight when all I really want to do is cower.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little piece of fruit,” he compliments with a wicked grin.