Revenge

by Laurelin Paige

  I retrieved my mobile from my jacket pocket and set it in an empty container. It wasn’t secured the way belongings were at The Open Door in the States, but I imagined the trust level at these things was already high. Guests in attendance were confident that others weren’t going to turn them in for illegal activity. Stolen devices seemed a trivial concern under the circumstances.

  No one realized that all of these items would be confiscated before the night was over.

  Leroy had warned me about that prior, so the mobile I checked in was a dummy. Mine was tucked safely in the glove box of my BMW.

  “Spread your arms, please,” the guard said next then waved a wand metal detector across my body. When nothing set it off, I was allowed past the entry. All of this before even giving anyone my name.

  Two men in tuxes greeted me as soon as I stepped into the hall. One asked for my ID and then scanned a copy with his mobile when I handed it over.

  “He’s on the list,” the other confirmed before making eye contact with me. “Follow me, Mr. Fasbender.”

  He led me down the hall, stopping when the walls opened up to a game room on our left. “The bar is self-serve,” he said. “You can make yourself a drink and mingle with the others in the billiards room. We won’t escort anyone into the ballroom until everyone has arrived.”

  I nodded and stepped over the threshold, scanning my surroundings. Immediately, I spotted Leroy, gathered with a trio of men by the liquor. Across the room from him, I saw another man I knew, Jeffrey Varga, one of the owners of Mills and Varga, the pathetic little network that had briefly employed my daughter.

  Thank God I’d rescued her from that establishment. I’d thought Jeffrey was smarmy because of his pathetic business practices. I never would have guessed his wretchedness extended to his sexual behavior as well.

  He lifted his glass when he saw me, and I forced myself to return a smile. He likely wasn’t the only prominent man I would encounter this evening. It gave me a strange sort of high realizing I would be the downfall of these nasty predators.

  At that thought, my smile turned genuine.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” A portly man, old enough to be my father, extended a clammy hand in my direction. “Garrick Till. This is my house. You haven’t been here before. May I ask who vouched for you?”

  I wasn’t sure whose name to give. Camilla’s? Leroy’s? And while the answer would be just as baffling if I’d come as a true guest, not knowing made my pulse speed up.

  Before I could form a response, a hand clapped at my back. “Leave him alone, Garrick,” a male voice said beside me. “I vouch for him. He’s family.”

  “Ron,” I said, somehow managing to keep the tightness from my voice. “I’m glad to know you consider me family, as we’ve had so little time to get acquainted.” My skin crawled under the flat of his palm, and it took everything in me not to shudder.

  “Nonsense. What else would you be? Though, if I’d known we shared the same interests, I would have made it a priority to get to know you sooner. I’m surprised our paths hadn’t crossed before Exceso.”

  “My interests aren’t quite so narrow in focus,” I said. “All sorts of taboo catch my attention. This particular arena hasn’t been one I’ve been able to delve into before now, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re in for a real treat, I’ll tell you. Hope you brought your checkbook.” He dropped his hand and nudged Garrick. “Edward Fasbender. Owns Accelecom, and guess who he married. Celia.”

  Garrick’s brows rose. “Your Celia?”

  No, not his fucking Celia. Possessiveness boiled up inside me like lava.

  “Yes, my Celia,” Ron said with a disgusting chuckle. “I think you remember her fondly.”

  Garrick’s eyes sparked. “That I do. Tightest virgin I’ve ever had around my fingers, that one. I’m sure you don’t mind me telling you that. We’re all accustomed to sharing here.”

  My vision went red. Garrick Till had to be one of the five who had bought my wife when Ron had auctioned her off to the highest bidders, and I wanted him dead. Fuck the mission for the evening. I was three seconds from lacerating his carotid artery with my fingernail.

  Fortunately, an almost imperceptible jab at my side stopped me before I attacked. “Ed Fasbender,” Leroy said, a warning in his tone only I would be able to detect. “I thought I saw you come in.”

  “That’s right, you two already know each other,” Ron said. “Camilla introduce you?”

  I shook my head, remembering our story. We’d decided beforehand it would be easiest to keep details straight if they were close to the truth. “I’m the one who introduced my sister to Leroy. Met him on Exceso. When was that, ‘Roy? Eight years ago now?”

  Leroy pretended to think about it. “Sounds about right.”

  “He had the best damn collection of porn I’d ever seen at the time, and it’s only gotten better since.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Ron said excitedly. “Mine isn’t quite as extensive, but I encourage you to check it out.” He pointed at a bunch of photo albums strewn across the farthest billiard table. “That wife of yours used to be a good little model. Hope she’s still rewarding you with what I taught her.”

  I was going to be ill. Not only was he a bloody sick bastard, but he was proud of it. If I could ensure he got raped in prison, it still wouldn’t be what he deserved.

  “Has he seen our star of the night yet?” Garrick was an equally despicable monster.

  “Ah, let me show you.” The rule banning recording equipment obviously didn’t extend to Ron who pulled a mobile phone from inside his tux jacket. After a few taps, he tilted the screen toward us. “Aster. She’s as much of a flower as her name. Absolutely stunning girl.”

  The picture had three figures dressed for a night out—Ron, a dark-haired woman around the age of forty, and a young girl, the mirror image of the woman, who couldn’t be more than twelve.

  I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as anger flushed through my body. What horrors had that girl already been through at his hands? Did the mother have any idea what he was doing? How the fuck did she allow Ron to be alone with her daughter?

  Leroy, trained to be better at this than I was, had the appropriate response. “Nice. The mother a friend of yours?”

  “I’ve been seeing her casually,” Ron said. “She’s good enough at the role play, but, obviously the highlight of dating her is Aster.”

  “Lucky asshole,” Leroy said conjovially. “Mother isn’t going to be a problem tonight, is she?”

  “Definitely not. Roofied her up about an hour ago. She’ll be out until morning.”

  Again, Ron sounded like he was boasting. He fit right in with some of the depraved men I’d met on Exceso, but none had ever been so revolting. I knew it was because of Celia, that I cared more because I loved her and knew what he’d done to her. That knowledge made me disgusted with myself as well. After this, I vowed, when I was sure all the men here had thoroughly paid for these crimes, I’d be sure to invest in going after more of the evil fucktards that I dealt with. That was a promise.

  Garrick flicked his wrist to look at his watch. “‘Bout time to start, Ron.”

  Ron looked at the time on his mobile before tucking it away. “I’ll go up and get her ready. Meanwhile, men, I hope you get some time with my albums. Oh, and Edward, there are some women of the night waiting in the ballroom, all of them paid to do whatever you’re up for, no matter how taboo. Be sure to know that anything you do with them, as everything that happens here, will stay confidential.”

  He winked, alluding to the secrets he expected I was keeping from my wife, then merrily left the room. Garrick wandered on as well, needing to refill his drink.

  I exchanged a glance with Leroy. Were we monsters for letting any of this happen at all? The police had emphasized the need to catch Ron and Garrick in the act, meaning we needed to not only let Aster be presented before signaling the raid, but we also had to let her be violated. Could I really
do that? How much could I stand? Could the collection of porn be enough to nail Ron right now? Hell only knew what would be found on the guests’ mobiles.

  My gaze shifted toward the albums.

  “Ten year max,” Leroy whispered, reading my mind. “Not nearly enough. I’m going to go check them out, see what we have.” He paused, and I knew we were both thinking about the pictures that he’d see, the ones that were very possibly of Celia. “Don’t look at them, okay? You know enough. This doesn’t need to haunt you too.”

  If it happened to Celia, I wanted it to haunt me too. She was certainly haunted. It wasn’t fair that she had to endure that alone.

  But she wouldn’t want me seeing that like this, surrounded by men who got aroused by her young image. If there were indeed pics of her, she’d find out when the images were sorted and documented in the future. I couldn’t protect her from that, but I could protect her from the crude things that were said by those viewing them if I wasn’t there to hear them myself.

  “I’ll make myself a drink,” I said, deciding that was a better way to spend the next few minutes. Maybe the alcohol would burn away the rotten taste in my mouth.

  It was almost ten minutes later when Garrick gathered the guests together. There were twenty-six in all, twenty-four men who would be charged at least with indecency of a minor before the night was through. Some would be hit with more depending on how the rest of the evening played out.

  The thrill of that knowledge—along with the cognac—was the only thing propelling me out of the game room and into the room that was set up to look more like a pleasure den than a ballroom. Comfortable sofas and chaise lounges were scattered throughout the space, beautiful women perched on several. Baskets littered the room, filled with what looked like lube and condoms. A table hugged the back wall with a variety of pleasure toys laid out, including two child-size sex dolls. The lights were on, but dim, and in the middle of the entire room was a makeshift stage, circular with a red sex chair positioned front and center.

  The entire scene could have come out of a really good sex party, one that I would have been glad to attend, if it weren’t all focused around a prepubescent child.

  A fucking sex chair for an eleven-year-old. The girl wasn’t old enough to know they existed, let alone how they were used. I bit down to keep myself from vomiting and ended up tasting blood when I snagged my tongue.

  “Can I help you with something, sir?” A topless woman who looked too young to be legal wrapped her arm around my bicep. “We could find a cozy spot to sit. Up near the front, maybe?”

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be in here, casually flirting with a possibly unwilling sex worker so that no one would question my desire to be at the party. I needed a few minutes. Or thirty. Needed to get my head in the game.

  “You could help me find a WC,” I said. “I should freshen up before the evening gets more fun.”

  “Right this way, sir.” She led me to a bathroom set just outside the ballroom. “Come and find me when you’re back. I’d love to help with that fun you talked about.”

  She licked her red lips and batted her long lashes, an expert at both, making me wonder if she’d been superbly groomed or if she was a very skilled call girl. God, I hoped it was the latter.

  I also hoped she’d been paid well, and in advance, and if she was here voluntarily, I hoped she didn’t get in too much trouble for her part in the evening. Prostitution might be illegal, but in this pedophiliac environment, her profession felt as innocent as church.

  Not that churches were necessarily innocent these days. But that was a crusade for another day.

  Inside the bathroom, the door shut and locked behind me, I let out a long breath of tension. When my lungs were completely empty, I drew the next breath in with a measured inhale, counting each meditative in and out until I got to ten. I felt better when I got to the end, more focused. Centered. My reasons for being at this den of evil were sharply pinned in my mind. This was for my family, for the father I lost, for the life I could have known, for the sister who bore the brunt of the fallout.

  And this was for Celia, heart of my heart, the child that Ron ruined and the woman I loved so much I’d ruined her more. Tonight would be a victory in her name. I could practically taste it.

  As I returned to the ballroom, I gripped her name in my mind, holding it like a talisman. She was my motive and my drive and I could endure all of this and a hell of a lot more for her.

  The room had settled in my absence, electric anticipation charging the room as Ron made his way up to the stage, Aster at his side. She wore a button-down white satin nightgown, her chestnut hair braided to the side and resting over one shoulder. She clearly felt intimidated by the crowd, and the way she clung to Ron suggested she considered him her safety, as though she trusted that he would protect her from any harm.

  I had thought I understood his relationship with Celia, but until then, until I saw the way Aster looked at the predator at her side, I hadn’t really seen the whole picture. He hadn’t just violated her in unimaginable ways, he’d also fucked with her mind. He’d convinced her that exploitation was what love looked like. Fuck him for everything he’d done, but fuck him most of all for that.

  And fuck him for whatever he was planning to do to Aster.

  He introduced her to the crowd, interviewing her with questions that seemed almost innocent until viewed through a predator’s lense. Questions about what toys she liked to sleep with and what her favorite sweets were to lick.

  I hung at the back of the room, near the wall, unable to force myself in closer. I was antsy, my eyes drifting repeatedly to my watch, not looking at the time, but at the button that would bring this whole circus to a close. Reminding myself over and over that the charges against these arseholes needed to stick, that whatever would happen to this girl, it would have been a whole hell of a lot worse if Leroy and I weren’t there.

  After what seemed like a year, after Ron paraded Aster through the crowd then back to the stage, he finally got to what he called the “good stuff.” “Aster, sweet flower, come hop up on this seat so all my friends can see how beautiful you are. We’re going to show them the most beautiful parts of you, the parts that are our special secret, remember? These are my bestest friends, so it’s okay if we share with them.”

  I tensed, my breath no longer moving evenly through my lungs. I wanted to look away, but my eyes were locked on the child’s, part of me willing her to fight him off, part of me hoping she would cooperate so that we could hurry up to the part where she was rescued.

  Apparently groomed well enough beforehand, Aster got up on the sex chair, putting a foot in each stirrup, her legs barely long enough to reach. The position would open her up, expose her innocent private parts to the men once she was undressed.

  And there was no way Ron wasn’t going to undress her.

  When my hand reached toward the watch, Leroy caught my eye. With one sharp shake of his head, he warned me it was too soon.

  Fuck. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand it for Aster, and I couldn’t stand it for Celia. The two wrapped themselves as one in my head, though they looked nothing alike. Each thing Ron said to this girl, I heard the imaginary child voice of my wife in response. Each errant caress, each overly fond stroke of her skin, I saw the stain his touch had left on Celia, invisible bruises that could be seen decades later.

  Ron stood in front of Aster and began unbuttoning her gown, coaxing Aster too quietly for me to hear in the back. When he was finished, he pushed the nightie off her shoulders and stood aside to reveal the girl’s undeveloped chest and white cotton panties.

  I stared at the side of Leroy’s head, willing him to push the button. It was supposed to be his call, and I trusted him, but after his years in this line of work, he was immune to this shit. He could tolerate it longer than I could. For too long, in my opinion, considering Aster was almost naked.

  Leroy didn’t flinch, didn’t make a move to even check the time.
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  “Aster, I’m going to share a secret with my friends tonight, and then they’re going to share a secret with you,” Ron said. “Would you like that? Do you like our secrets?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice too small and high pitched to be thought sexy.

  Yet, as I looked around the room, several men were already reaching for their cocks.

  “I knew you would enjoy this, my sweet girl. First, let me give you a hint about the secret they’re going to share with you. Remember that feeling I told you about the other day? The one that takes hold of your body with a rush and makes you feel so so good, the best you’ve ever felt? Remember how I told you I sometimes have that feeling about you when I’m touching myself and you said you wanted me to show you that feeling too one day?”

  The girl’s cheeks went red as she gave a single nod. I could feel my own face going red with anger, hot and potent and ready to destroy.

  “That’s not how you respond to me, young lady,” he said, his tone suddenly sharp as he flicked the skin on the inside of her thigh.

  She flinched at the pain then corrected herself. “Yes, sir. I remember.”

  “That’s a good girl,” he purred. “You’re about to get your reward.”

  He turned again to speak to the crowd. “Gentlemen, Aster has never experienced an orgasm. Never been stroked by a grown man’s hand. Never been tasted.” He let his words sink in, the declaration causing an excited stir in the room. “Who here would like to be the first to show her the ecstasy of pleasure?”

  Hands raised, voices shouted out starting bids.

  And I pressed the button on the watch.

  It had to be enough, with the testimony of myself and Leroy and the girl, and there was no way I could let any of those men touch her like that. No way in hell. I’d do whatever I had to in order to keep their dirty paws off of her.

  Anxiously, I tapped my foot as the bids increased, willing the police to hurry up and bust in. I’d been warned it would take them a few minutes to approach, but I hadn’t realized the minutes would crawl by at an excruciatingly slow speed.