Deception and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  “I grew up in this life. My daddy was always on missions just like these boys. That’s how I eventually met my husband, Jeremy—or Jay, as most of the guys knew him. I’ve lived like this my whole life, so it’s what’s comfortable to me. After Jeremy died, I dedicated my life to taking care of his men, his team. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.”

  “So, Jeremy was like the leader here?”

  “It’s a bit tough to explain. There’s technically no ‘leader’ as you put it, but there’s always someone of a higher power that these boys must report to. Jeremy, he created this space as a cover, worked years to put a team together, and over the years as we’ve lost men—great men—we’ve also gained new ones.”

  “All this…it’s just so hard to take in.” Clenching my eyes shut, I blow out a deep breath. Mera comes to my side, and wraps a tentative, yet soothing arm around me. “I know it is, this isn’t a life you were ready for. And I’m truly sorry you’ve been dragged into this.”

  We work in silence after that, both of us not having much else to say.

  At dinner, everyone praises me on my pumpkin loaf bread, and I accept with a smile and a nod of my head. Garrett nudges me in my side with a crooked grin on his face.

  “Well, look at that. She still has it.”

  I nudge him back with a playful grin on my face. Spending time with Mera prepping for dinner helped ease a bit of the weight that’s been hanging over my shoulders. I feel lighter than I have in days. I don’t want to view myself as a prisoner anymore—I’m safe here with Garrett and that’s all that matters. That’s what I need to remember.

  Even with those thoughts in my head, I still can’t help but shift uncomfortably in my chair around the guys. Especially Creed and Jose. Jose comes from a ruthless cartel family, and Creed’s background, albeit vague, still sends a chill down my spine. I watch the way the guys interact with each other, and it’s strange—to say the least—to watch them converse so easily together. Each of them have different stories, different backgrounds, but they all act as if they’re friends, and none of that really matters to them. It’s…weird.

  “Best bloody bread in my life, love. Glad you’re here,” Finlay says as he stands from the opposite side of the table, snapping me out of my musings. With a wink that always brings a smile to my face, he nods to everyone else in the room before leaving.

  “He gets on my ‘bloody’ nerves,” Garrett grumbles beside me, making me laugh.

  “Why? He’s been nothing but nice.”

  “Yeah, exactly,” Garrett says with an edge in his tone, “a little too nice if you ask me. Not to mention I can’t stand the fucking accent.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” I chuckle. “I think the accent is pretty cool. It’s different. Sophisticated, even.”

  Garrett rolls his eyes while shoving another piece of pumpkin bread in his mouth. “Please. Sophisticated my ass. He’s an arse,” he says trying to copy Finlay’s accent. Cupping a hand over my mouth I sputter with laughter. Gar rolls his eyes playfully.

  “Whenever you’re done laughing over there, I’d like to show you something.”

  Sucking in my bottom lip, I do my best to prevent myself from laughing anymore. Inhaling a calming breath, I turn to Garrett with a mock serious face. “Okay, no more laughing. Show me.”

  After dropping our plates in the sink and rinsing them, I follow Garrett down the hall. He stops in front of a closed door and turns to me with a tentative look on his face. Pushing open the door, he steps aside letting me wander in and my breath catches.

  Oh, my God.

  My feet move of their own accord as I take everything in. My eyes widen at the shelves filled with books, and the cute little round sofa hidden in the corner of the room with a beautiful view of the nursing home grounds. All lush green trees and colorful flower beds.

  “I had some books ordered for you that I knew you would like. You know, that romance shit.”

  I stifle a laugh as I look at one of the shelves filled with my favorite authors: V.C. Andrews, Nora Roberts, Danielle Steel.

  Without realizing it, I pull out one of my favorite books by V.C. Andrews, Pearl in the Mist, and smile while running my finger over the frayed cover reverently.

  “I don’t want you to feel trapped here, Sophia. I know all the books in the world won’t keep you sane, but hopefully this will work until we figure something out.”

  Biting back my tears, I grip onto my brother’s arm and squeeze, trying to find words to express my gratitude.

  “Thank you, Gar,” I whisper with a watery gaze. His shoulders ease up in relief as he pulls me in for a hug.

  “I’m heading out for a bit. I’m meeting someone, but I’ll be back later,” he says, pulling away from me. My entire body tenses. I look up, searching my brother’s face.

  “You’re leaving here? Like going outside?”

  “Yes, I have a…meeting,” he says, averting his eyes away from me. My grip on V.C. Andrews tightens. Inhaling a calming breath, I force myself to nod my head. It’s not like I can force him to stay here with me.

  “Okay.”

  Once he’s out of the room, I run my hand over the spines of each book, a small smile tipping the corners of my lips. Most of the books are frayed and a bit dusty, telling me they’re used and maybe even a little frayed, but at least it’s something I can keep myself busy with. If I can’t be outside to get some fresh air, I’ll just enjoy the stories and the new worlds I can immerse myself in.

  After losing myself in the book I’ve read at least five times, I force myself to set it down with only a few chapters left to read. The sun has already gone down, and I still don’t think Garrett’s made it back home yet. Standing, I stretch my arms over my head before going in search of my brother.

  The living room is empty, the only noise coming from that of the kitchen. I hesitantly pop my head inside, seeing a handful of Gar’s friends seated on the barstools eating my bread.

  “I hope you weren’t coming in here to get anymore of this kick ass bread you made because it’s all gone,” Ricky says with bread crumbs falling into his beard.

  I smile. “No, I wasn’t. I came to see if my brother was in here.”

  “Where is Cova by the way? I’m surprised he’s not with you,” Jose says, brushing back his shoulder length curly brown hair.

  “He said he had a meeting, and that he would be back. But that was already a few hours ago, I’m starting to worry.”

  The men around the table share knowing looks all the while laughing under their breaths. I frown at them.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “His ‘meeting’ is with a woman, love. We all have our needs,” Finlay says through his laughter prompting me to glare at him, then the rest of them. Not bothering with a response, I turn on my heels, heading out of the kitchen, feeling more confused than ever. If Garrett went out to see a woman, why wouldn’t he just tell me?

  “Aw, c’mon, love. We didn’t mean to run you off. Why don’t you stay?”

  I halt, just over the threshold of the kitchen. Over my shoulder, I shoot Finlay a look. Still irritated by him and all the other men in the room for making me feel foolish and naïve.

  Blowing out an exasperated puff of air, I stomp back toward the guys and sit down on one of the empty bar stools surrounding the counter.

  “Glad you decided to stay, Mariposa. It’s not every day we’re graced with the presence of a woman, and quite frankly, I’m tired of seeing these asshole’s faces,” Jose says as he tosses a handful of chili roasted peanuts in his mouth.

  “Fuck you, pretty boy,” Ricky grumbles from beside him, nudging Jose in his ribs. Jose laughs it off, spewing something in Spanish to Ricky, who obviously doesn’t understand a word he’s saying.

  “So, how do you guys like it here?”

  I cringe in embarrassment when I see the looks of amusement plastered across their faces. Finlay chuckles, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently.

  “You really ar
e a sweet little bird, aren’t you? God, no wonder Garrett hovers over you every day.”

  “At least he’s guarding his sister, pendejo,” Jose mutters irritably.

  “Really? He must have some skills if he can watch over her all the way from diner girl’s bedroom,” Finlay quips.

  His words make me more irritated with my brother and that fact that he’s keeping things from me. I don’t expect to know everything, but something like this? That’s something I would’ve liked to know.

  With a frustrated sigh, I push away from the counter without so much as a word to the guys. I don’t bother looking back, checking for their reactions. I’m no longer in the mood for mindless chatter, I just want to be left alone. With tired, led filled legs, I climb the stairs toward my room. A heavy hand suddenly lands on my shoulder, causing me to gasp and whirl around with my pulse hammering in my throat. Creed lifts his hand in the air, waiting for me to calm down before he slowly backs away.

  “Don’t listen to them. They talk out of their asses.” He nods his head back toward the kitchen where the guys are.

  My brows pull down. “You heard that?”

  If I’m not mistaken, I swear I can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “I hear everything, Sophia.”

  The way he says my name leaves me with a weird sensation in my stomach. I open my mouth to say something, anything to get him to stick around, but he’s gone before I can even formulate a sentence and get any words out. I stare after his retreating form, trying like hell to understand why my heart is still frantically beating and why I have butterflies fluttering in my belly.

  Two Weeks Later

  I’VE BEEN STUCK IN THIS place for thirteen long days and there’s only so much reading a girl can do. I need sun, and not to mention some fresh air. I feel like I’m slowly withering away in here. I wouldn’t be surprised if I acquire a vitamin D deficiency from all this lack of sun.

  “Come on, Garrett. Please?” I beg with my hands clasped in front of my chest, as I walk alongside my brother down the hall. This morning he left for another “meeting” or whatever the hell it is he does outside of here. I paced the floor of my bedroom for a solid two hours, before I moved to his room where I did the same exact thing. I waited four hours for him to return, and when he did, I made sure I was the first person he ran into.

  “We’ve talked about this, it’s not safe for you to leave,” he says in that placating tone that I loathe.

  I roll my eyes. “But you leave almost every other day, what the hell?”

  “That’s different, I know how to protect myself, Sophia.”

  I bite my tongue at his response, trying to keep things civil. Inhaling a deep breath, I stop walking and turn to face him.

  “Can I at least get some fresh air? Just right here on the grounds?” I plead.

  “No.”

  Instead of the voice being my brother’s, its Creed’s.

  My stomach flips at the deep timbre of his voice, and my heart thumps wildly, with my blood roaring through my veins. I turn toward Creed only to notice he’s staring me down with an intense expression on his face.

  If looks could kill.

  “Why?” I somehow manage to ask, pushing past the thickness in my throat.

  “Because it isn’t safe Sophia, we’ve gone over this.” My brother pipes in from beside me and I’m half tempted to strike him in his throat. Instead, I turn toward him, settling for a glare.

  There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence where we all shift our glares on each other, until Creed turns to my brother with his signature domineering glare.

  “It’s time, Cova. We need answers.”

  Time for what?

  My brother’s lips thin, and I see the minuscule shake of his head. Turning my attention back to Creed, his arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are burning with frustration. There seems to be an entire conversation taking place between the two of them that I haven’t been made aware of.

  “What are you two going on about?” I say placing my hands on my hips, leveling them both with a look of impatience. Garrett growls something unintelligible under his breath before turning to me.

  “Can you tell us what you remember from the night you were taken?”

  His words are like a being doused in a bucket of cold water. A chill travels down my spine, and leaves every hair on my body standing to attention. I swallow past the tears, inhaling a deep equalizing breath to calm my frayed nerves.

  “I don’t remember a lot, but…but what I do remember I can tell you,” I say looking from my brother to Creed.

  We all settle into the office used for the team’s debriefing sessions in complete silence. The room is big enough to fit all the tall, wide men that stay in this place. There’s one long espresso wood table in the center of the room with chairs settled around. It all looks so simple and normal, like I’m standing in a conference room back at the law firm. I use this time to gather my thoughts and try to ignore the nasty memories this trip down memory lane will evoke.

  “Soph?”

  My brother’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts of impending doom. Turning to him, I find him staring at me with that sad look he has acquired ever since I’ve been back.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he says with an encouraging nod of his head. I shift my gaze away from Garrett to Creed who’s sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, waiting for me to start. Closing my eyes, I go back to the day that changed everything. My tattered heart begging me to leave it all in the past.

  “I had just gotten to my apartment, it was late, about half past ten.” I lick my dry lips, trying to gather my wits. “I had my hands full as I made my way toward the parking lot elevator. There was this guy, he was young, and I had never seen him before, but he offered to help me out—so I obliged.” Swallowing past the lump in my throat I push my tears down. “I was placing boxes on the floor one moment, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor and the back of my head was on fire, like someone bashed my skull in with a bat.” Reverently, I run my fingers over the back of my head remembering the throbbing pain.

  “Then there was a sharp prick in my neck. That guy…he was hovering over me, but I couldn’t get away from him, my body was so heavy, and it was like everything was happening in slow motion, and I couldn’t catch up—I felt disoriented. The last thing I remember is a sack being pulled over my face.”

  I can feel Garrett practically vibrating with anger beside me, so I try to put him at ease.

  “The guy, the one that took me, he’s dead now. When I woke up, I was in this room tied to a chair, filled with men, and there he was standing amongst them with this smug grin on his face, like he was immensely proud of himself.”

  “Can you describe those men?” Creed asks, leaning closer.

  “I want to know what happened to him first,” Garrett says, shooting Creed a glare.

  “He…he was shot in the head. I don’t remember all their names, but Abdul, he was the leader—the most frightening of them all. The moment he stepped in the room, it was like I felt the air shift. No one stood a chance against him.”

  A shiver of dread runs down my spine just thinking of him, and the men I was stuck with.

  Garrett wraps his arm around me, careful of my collar bone brace, and pulls me into his arms. But it doesn’t do anything to help. When I close my eyes, I’m still there with those monsters.

  “The men, Sophia, can you describe them?” Creed asks, with a hint of urgency in his tone. His thick muscles cord with tension and his eyes burn holes into me as he waits for me to speak.

  “They were Arabian, or some kind of Middle Eastern. I don’t know. They all had beards, except for two of them. One was Abdul and the other was his main man, his name was Zurhan. Abdul never went anywhere without him.”

  The muscle in Creed’s jaw jumps with tension and his eye twitches in anger. He runs his hand through his unruly hair, and calmly settles back in his seat.

  “Can you describe
the men that were in the mansion?”

  My stomach bottoms out, and acidic bile rises in my throat, threatening to expel at my feet. I suck in sharp, ragged breaths, trying to push past the fear and the memories that are now ingrained in my head.

  “T-they w-were…” I stutter violently, as the horrid memories take control of my psyche. Sucking in a lungful of air, I shake my head back and forth trying to clear my mind and focus on the descriptions of the men.

  “I don’t remember how many there were but…there were a lot. They were all upstairs to bid on…girls. One of them was named Alejandro, who was Latin. He kept speaking to me in Spanish, but I didn’t understand. There were two Russian men, but I only remember one of their names—Ivan. Then there was Zen, at least I think that’s what his name was. He was an Asian man. I-I can’t remember the rest of the names of the men.”

  My body trembles in fear just from uttering their names. It’s like saying Bloody Mary in front of the mirror in the dark repeatedly; it feels like I’m summoning them. I clasp my shaking hands together in my lap. Garrett settles his warm hand over mine and squeezes.

  “It’s okay, Soph. You’re okay.”

  I nod my head dumbly, even though I don’t believe him.

  Am I really safe?

  “T-the man who held me down and beat me…he was Russian. I could tell by the accent.” My eyes glaze over with tears as his face taunts me behind my closed lids. “He was evil personified. Abhorrent and vile.”

  Garrett growls under his breath. He squeezes my hand to the point of pain.

  “Can I go now?” Pleadingly, I shift my gaze between the two of them, hoping they have everything they need—for now at least.

  Creed nods his head and busies himself with paperwork at the table. Garrett stands with me, no doubt ready to walk me to my room, but I turn to him with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

  “It’s okay, Gar. You have work to do. I’m just gonna lay down for a bit.”

  Before he refutes me, I turn on my heel, hightailing it toward my room.

  Once inside, I slam the door, resting my back against the wood. Closing my eyes, I will the memories to leave, but they flash behind my closed lids in rapid succession. They bombard my haggard brain with a vengeance. I slide down the door until my butt hits the ground with a resounding thud. Resting my elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands, sucking in sharp, panicked breaths and let the tears fall. Pain tears through my chest, and it feels like every battle scar on my body is torn open, as I relive each memory. Each beating, each whipping. It’s all so fresh in my mind, I can feel their hands on me, leaving a bruising grip. I can smell the rancid scent of the mattress and their hot breath on my skin.