Purgatory

by Hayley Smyth

  I thanked my friend and set about working, distributing expensive champagne, locating that fake smile for the guests, allowing men to grope me as I squeezed past their tables. Ten or so minutes had gone by when the doors opened, a flurry of noise as several men walked in.

  My heart stuttered, stopped then restarted when I noticed Jax deep in conversation with an older man. You didn't need to be a detective to realize that he was speaking to his father. Archibald Murdoch was extremely handsome in his navy suit that was identical to Jax's, his dark hair peppered with silver, dark eyes, strong jaw, towering presence. He was accompanied by two other men, all of whom looked thoroughly out of place here tonight. I could see the tension in his broad shoulders, his son beside him mirroring that same expression.

  Jax looked positively dangerous. He hadn't noticed me, and so I watched as he helped his father locate his table, all the while speaking in hushed tones to one another. His suit bulged with the vest beneath it, the gun hung against his back as he continued to talk, and then he looked up into the crowd, spotting me. Dark eyes were penetrating me, and my face flushed farther.

  His mouth was open, an indescribable look on his features as he gazed at me. It was just a split second, but his father noticed something had distracted him, and the senior Murdoch twisted in his chair to see what was so interesting.

  The older man raised a glass towards me and gave me a kind, warm smile. He looked sad, too, but I caught the grin as he turned back into his chair.

  “Ella, please, may you join me on stage?” A loud voice, amplified by a microphone, made me jump, and when my eyes found Vladimir's, I realized that I'd been caught staring. I had was so lost in dark eyes that I hadn't noticed the room quieten down. All eyes were on me now, as if they knew I'd had it, and with shaking legs and a dead weight in the pit of my stomach, I somehow managed to ascend the stairs and join my husband. Hot, sticky breath scratched against my neck as Vladimir spoke into my ear. All eyes were on us now, and he kept the microphone down so only I could hear him, his smile never wavered.

  “This is your only warning, Ella, do not embarrass me again.” He raised his fingers to dig his nails into the flesh of my neck. To the untrained eye, it most likely looked like a sweet gesture between a man and his wife. Vladimir, the master puppeteer, and me, the dutiful puppet.

  Jax had left the room now, and I couldn't see Marie, my nerves swirled around my throat like a violent tornado, and yet I found the smile, the smile that said I was happy to be here, that meant my husband and I were so glad everyone could make it.

  Vladimir waited for the room to settle before he spoke. Archibald Murdoch tried to catch my attention, but I kept my gaze focused on the back of the room where, if I stared hard enough, the edges of my vision would turn black, blurring the many faces here tonight.

  “Good evening, everybody. Thank you all so much for being here tonight, it's good to see some old faces back, as well.” Vladimir gestured towards Archibald, who, in turn, raised his glass towards the man next to me, although he didn't look pleased.

  “For those of you who are new here tonight, welcome. I am honored to be standing here, where my father stood for many years before his death. He was just another immigrant, his parents were immigrants, too, and through hard work, determination, and perhaps a little luck, they built something I am extremely grateful for. They came from nothing, their name unknown, and yet, here we are, and here I am celebrating my father's legacy with you amazing people. So to that, I say cheers!”

  The crowd broke out into a unison of toasts. The bubbling sickness in the lowest part of my stomach grew fiercer as my hands joined in with the claps. Sweat formed on my forehead, and I could feel a delicate gleam of it appearing on the small of my back as Vladimir's hand pulled me into his side, those horrid fingers digging into my flesh.

  “And so, without further ado, and with the help of my lovely wife, I introduce to you our first girl this evening. Anastasia is a true beauty; she weighs ninety-eight pounds, and her price starts at two-hundred thousand.”

  There were shouts and cheers, excited voices, and checkbooks were pulled from pockets without hesitation. Movement from the side of the stage caught my attention, and I turned to see the first girl. Jax behind her, holding her with a gentle grasp, looking as sick as I felt.

  The girl wore a white dress, made to show her slight body off without her being naked, through the material you could see the swell of her breasts, the small patch of hair between her legs, the bones of her hips and ribs. On her face, she wore just enough makeup to enhance her natural beauty and to cover any evidence of how hollow her cheeks were, how black the bags under her eyes were. Her black hair styled into a high, tight bun, so each man got a good look at her face.

  Vladimir pushed me forwards, urging me to take the girl from Jax and settle her into the wooden chair in the center of the stage. The lump in my throat grew ten times bigger, and as my hand touched her skin, all the feelings I'd been trying to ignore came to the surface. They came in the form of threatening tears, choking sobs, and another hole pierced in my heart.

  “I'm so sorry,” Jax mouthed to me so only I could see.

  I wish he hadn't said a word. Seeing the sadness on his face almost paralyzed me. But I was needed. And so with heavy limbs and an even heavier heart, I walked the girl to the stage, where she would be sold to God knows who, and on to a life one could ever imagine.

  Without a word, the girl sat in the chair, Jozef appeared from nowhere and crouched down to cuff the girls' wrists and ankles, before standing and moving back to his place at the side.

  I couldn't breathe. The entire room wobbled and spun, and my stomach churned, the sweat poured from me, and then I saw him. At the back of the room. A glass in his hand raised towards me, and a wicked grin on his face. I'd almost forgotten Marco existed. But there he was. Watching on with great interest, and that was all I could take.

  “You've got half an hour to pull yourself together, Ella,” Vladimir hissed into my ear. “I will not let you fucking ruin this night for me anymore. I'll deal with you later. Now, go!” He ushered me off the stage, and I didn't wait to answer him, with the hem of my dress in my hands I ran. I ran away from the girl in the chair, the husband, the man who betrayed me, the friend I was so lucky to have.

  Jax.

  There were so many faces here tonight. After just fifteen minutes of welcoming guests to The Mansion, their features had blurred into one another, only the length of hair telling me who was male and who was female. The number of women here had surprised me. I didn't want to judge, but I'd assumed that women, those born with the gift to bear children, wouldn't want a damn thing to do with the selling of children.

  How wrong I'd been. It seems the fairer species could also house an unspeakable evil.

  Benny and I were on the door, checking names and keeping an eye on the front of the property. Instructed that, should anyone seem even remotely suspicious, we were to shoot first, ask questions later. Thankfully, everyone was behaving so far. I'd preferably have avoided getting blood on my hands.

  The auction was well underway by now, I had seated my father and his men, seeing them all had left a gaping hole inside of me and I found myself fucking homesick, and then I saw her. Beautiful and broke, and goddamn delicious. And then her husband had called her name, and once again the fear she oozed returned, and I had to leave.

  The grounds were hustling with bodies now, and in the distance, when a hand smacked me on the back. I winced, hard, nearly shattering all my teeth as my wounds screamed.

  I knew who it was before I'd even seen his face.

  “Jax,” he grinned.

  I turned to face Marco. Fuck Vlad for keeping him around. “The hell do you want?” I shook my head and cast my gaze towards the gardens once more, wholly aware that Benny was watching with great interest.

  He moved before us lighting up a cigarette and regarded me. “What's with the hostility, man?”

  I ignored him, biting my tongue
and repeating over and over inside my head that he wasn't worth a second of my time.

  Marco flicked his smoke, sending ash to the floor, which landed on the toe of my boot. “Anyone would think he hadn't had his tongue down the boss' wife's throat.”

  My body moved, but Benny was quicker, his enormous hand gripped my upper shoulder, and he moved in front of me.

  “Jax, don't, mate.” Benny looked at Marco, who's smug grin was well and truly back and plastered on his face.

  I pulled my arm free and stifled a growl. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but what I do know is that you should get the hell out of my goddamn face before I destroy yours.”

  He chuckled, taking deep drags of his cigarettes in between. “Amy looks good, too, by the way. She nearly has a face again.”

  Without thinking, only moving and working by the rage this cunt created in me, I gripped my gun and smacked the butt of it into the side of his face.

  Marco roared as he hit the floor, the ember from his smoke had fallen and was now burning a hole in his white shirt, blood poured down the side of his head, trickling on to the white material and I stood over him, the red mist encompassing me.

  “Say what you want about me, but don't you ever mention her name to me again.”

  “Fucking hell, Jax,” Benny grumbled, crouching to press a handkerchief to Marco's wound. “Go take half an hour and calm yourself down. I'll hold the fort for a bit.” He didn't look at me, and I didn't argue.

  There was only one place I had in mind that had the potential to hold the respite I needed. I'd dealt with an array of men, some good, some bad, some indifferent, yet I'd always dealt with it in the way I was raised to: calm, collected, and with dignity. Murdoch men were never flustered, they never lost their temper until it was the only option, and somehow Marco had me abandoning all I'd ever put into practice. His words gnawed away at my insides, and no amount of telling myself he was looking for a rise made me feel better.

  A day in Purgatory felt like a damn week, and having my father and Graham here made the ache for home all the worse.

  The yard was quiet, the swimming pool unmoving, the New Mexican air stifling and claustrophobic as I lit up a cigarette.

  The noise of my lighter wasn't the only thing I heard, and there was a small gasping coming from the unintentional cove to the right. The building went in and came out, creating a small place, perfect for someone to hide. The noise grew louder the closer I stepped, and it then took a few seconds for me to realize what, or more like who was making it.

  My eyes met Ella's. Her slight frame was huddled on the floor, dress around her thighs and knees close to her chest. Her pale cheeks were flushed red, and I about died right then and there. She looked sensational. My fingers ached to touch her once more. Her presence caused a nuclear reaction inside of me, and I had to be close to her again.

  In silence, I flicked my cigarette to the ground before slumping down next to her. My hands dangled off my knees and brushed hers ever so slightly.

  “You okay, bird?” I said against the warm night air, our faces gazing forwards, not trusting to look at each other.

  She sniffled. “I just needed five minutes.”

  I nodded, understanding more than she knew. Being surrounded by people, it was suffocating.

  “Won't you be missed?” She asked. I felt her head turn my way, and I looked at her. Her blue eyes looked like the deepest part of the ocean in the dimmed light around us, beautiful pools I wanted to swim in and taste.

  I smiled. “Don't you worry about me, sweetheart.” Without thinking, my fingers brushed her long, red hair over her shoulders and from her face. I wanted to see every inch of her. And if I was honest, I wanted to bury myself inside of her and forget all the reasons why I was here. My muscles hurt. My brain was foggy, and I was dog fucking tired.

  Her skin peppered with tiny bumps, and she closed her eyes, the corners of her red lips turning up. She shivered as I moved my hands, tracing lines down her bare arms, and when I pulled her into my side, she didn't fight. She rested her head against my chest, and for just a moment, the world was quiet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ella.

  Jax was so warm. I could hear the gentle thump of his heart, and I could feel the safety of him as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, holding me. His pants gripped his thighs, and I watched as his free hand moved from his knee on to mine. The softest touch ignited the most devastating fire within me. There was a place locked away in my soul that had never been reached before, and yet he here was, knocking at the door, gently encouraging me to step from that dark and lonely room and to embrace what I had found in him. It was crazy. Beyond crazy. But I couldn't stop.

  Moving just so, I looked up into his beautiful face, and my breath hitched in my throat. He was already gazing at me, a look I was beginning to recognize across his features. His dark eyes darted from my mouth back to my eyes.

  Kiss me, I urged mentally. Let me forget where I am again, who I am.

  He didn't kiss me, though. With feather-light fingers, he kept his eyes on mine and stroked soft, curvy lines and shapes on my thigh, slowly working his way farther down. The air stuck to my skin as he nudged my knees apart, with each movement he paused for just a second, as though waiting for me to tell him no, like I should have, and yet I didn't. I let my legs fall shamelessly open, as far as my dress would allow, and my breaths came fast and sharp as I waited to see what he did next, where he touched next.

  My vision swam, and that feeling he elicited inside of me exploded to the upper layers of my skin, making every inch of me hyper-sensitive. When the tips of his fingers brushed against my panties, the feeling was unbearable. I collapsed into him, gasping quietly, my hands gripping his dark, unruly hair. Without meaning to, my hips began to move, and Jax pressed harder.

  His mouth was against my ear, a soft “Ohh,” all I could hear as he stroked up and down against the fabric, teasing that most alien pressure to bubble.

  “Jax, please,” I panted, but he was already moving again. With a swift tug to the side, he pulled my panties and exposed me to the New Mexican air, fingers seeking flesh. The wetness felt as though it came in waves as he expertly touched and rubbed me down there. I'd never felt anything like it.

  And then he stopped. His head dipped to close his mouth over mine, and with a hunger I'd never felt, his moth devoured me. His warm tongue sweeping through, I tried to keep up, but then I felt it. Something new. Something indescribable. His fingers inside of me. In and out, sweeping and pressing against the detonator to my pleasure.

  I slammed my eyes shut, panting his name over and over again, there was a crescendo building. An explosive, mind-bending crescendo, and I knew I couldn't control it.

  “Let me feel you, bird. Let me forever make you feel like this,” Jax growled into my ear.

  And that was all it took. Everything between my legs contracted and spasmed, and my nails clawed at the back of Jax's neck. I had to bury my face into his shirt to muffle the noises coming from me.

  “Ella,” came a distorted voice.

  I couldn't speak or move. Jax removed his fingers and rearranged my panties, and I could feel a smile against my cheek as he never let me go. My chest heaved and huffed; it as needy for oxygen as I was for this man.

  “Ella!” The voice came again. This time clearer. Much, much clearer.

  Jax pulled away and looked forward again into the eyes of a very angry Marnie.

  Tears blurred my vision. Oh, no.

  “Marine-” I whimpered.

  She held up a hand and tried to reign in her anger. “Your husband is looking for you, Ella,” she seethed.

  Jax sighed. “Be mad at me, not Ella, for Christ's sake.”

  Marnie shot her eyes at the man beside me, a look of incredulity on her face. “Oh, I'm fucking angry at you, too, don't you worry about that.” Marnie stormed forwards and grabbed my arm, not hard but firm enough for me to not argue. Before leaving, she addressed J
ax again. “I don't know if you've noticed, or you're just incapable of not thinking with your dick, but Ella doesn't live as a free woman. Her husband has fucking abused and hurt her for less than this, and you will get her killed. Back the fuck off, Murdoch, or I'll make sure you do. Got it?”

  “Marnie, please, I'm just as guilty.” I half-whispered half-shouted. “I wanted him, this, too.”

  Marnie straightened, helping me to my feet and gave a small, sad shake of her head. “Ella, you are far too naive, too vulnerable to know what you want or need from a man. Let alone a fucking Murdoch.”

  “She's smarter than you give her credit for,” Jax growled. It seemed he was growling a lot recently.

  I just wanted the earth to open up, to surrender to the darkness it would promise me. How could I have been so stupid? Take such a risk on tonight of all nights? I cried. Tears were streaming. Heart aching. Mind whirring.

  “I'm warning you, Jaxon. You don't get to waltz in here and get the one person I love killed. You just don't. So keep your fucking distance.”

  And with that, Marnie hurried me through The Mansion to her parlor, where I couldn't stop crying, and she spoke no more of what she saw.

  Silly, stupid, Ella.

  There was a weird kind of calm when the last few guests left, when the staff was hurrying from the building, when the last of the alcohol had been drunk, and tonight, that silence had been the worst I'd ever heard. Vladimir, Marnie, Jozef, and I sat at a table next to the stage. The men were in high spirits: drunk and stoned, but Marnie hasn't said a single word to me since ushering me away from Jaxon, and now she sat here swigging champagne from a bottle, actively avoiding my eye.

  That was okay. I was exhausted. I just wanted to sleep.

  My body was still riding through the clouds, thanks to Jax. My lips tingled, and I prayed that the scratch of his beard hadn't left a mark, and despite knowing just how stupid the entire night had been, I missed him so.