Denied

by Marissa Farrar

  “Sorry, but I have to do this. Please, take the car and go.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, Lily!”

  She didn’t have the time or emotional energy to worry about whatever misplaced responsibility he felt for her. She wasn’t his problem, never had been. It had been wrong of her to get him as involved in all of this as she had.

  “Fine, then, stay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you not to get involved.”

  With her gun held by her side, Lily ran toward the gate.

  Thirteen

  Though her every instinct told her to move quietly, she was sure Cigarette Hands would have heard the car pull up if he was here. She reached the gate and gave it a quick shake to see if it would open, the clanking of the metal horribly loud in the stillness. A big chain and padlock held the gate shut, but she knew there must be a way to get in.

  She ran around the perimeter, keeping her eyes peeled. Cameron followed close behind. Cigarette Hands must have a key to the padlock, or he wouldn’t be able to get his car in and out of the premises, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t another way in. These kinds of places were often sought out by underage kids wanting somewhere to drink or smoke in peace, and often homeless people would find places like this where they could hang out undisturbed by the cops. She suspected Cigarette Hands would have scared off anyone like that, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t found a way to get in.

  “There,” she said, noticing a part of the fence that had been cut. It had been pieced back together, but she bent down and pulled it open again, careful not to cut herself on any sharp bits. She got to her hands and knees and crawled through the gap, her gun still held in one hand. Cameron followed.

  She counted the big metal shipping containers. There were at least twenty in two separate rows.

  “You start that end,” she told Cameron. “I’ll go to the other end. I don’t think the traffickers are around, but call quietly to see if anyone is inside.”

  “Inside the containers?” he asked in a kind of disbelieving horror.

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s where they kept me and a number of other women. I don’t know if they’re even still using this location to traffic women, but I won’t leave here until I know there’s no one inside one of those things.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “You can still walk away,” she told him.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m with you on this.”

  “Remember, the women will be frightened, possibly too scared to even speak, so listen out for anything else, even put your hands against the sides and see if it feels warmer in places, or …” she hated saying this, “… if any of them smell bad.”

  He gave a brisk nod. “Got it.”

  They separated, Lily running to one end while Cameron took the other.

  She moved between the tall sides of the containers, pausing to place her hand against the warm metal, trying to get any sense if people were inside.

  “Hello?” she called softly, rapping lightly on the side with her knuckles. “Is anyone in there?”

  She paused to listen hard, hoping to catch the scuffle of feet moving, or the muffled sound of a sob, but none came. The women most likely wouldn’t call out for help, even if they knew someone was out here. They would have been warned against what would happen if they tried to get help. The women would either assume it was some kind of trick or would be terrified and frozen into silence.

  Lily wasn’t going to give up when she was so close.

  She moved to the next container, and repeated the process. She could hear Cameron at the other end of the port, calling out to people who might not even be there.

  “Hello,” she called again. “I’m here to help you. Isn’t anyone there?”

  Still nothing, and she moved out from between them to move on to the next row. She slipped between the sides, and realized the position she was in allowed her to see directly between two of the abandoned buildings beyond the chain link fence.

  Lily froze, her eyes widening.

  The black Lexus she’d thought had been following her was parked in the space between the two buildings. She was certain it was the same one. Her heart rate skyrocketed. As she turned to yell out a warning to Cameron, someone stepped into her peripheral vision. She swung around, the gun pointed, planning to shoot whoever it was, but they were too quick. A hand clamped over her mouth and something hit her forearm, sending pain shooting through her arm. Involuntarily, her fingers sprung open and the gun hit the concrete.

  She heard a male cry in the distance.

  Cameron!

  The hand moved and she opened her mouth to shout out to him again, but a ball of rags was shoved against her tongue, gagging her.

  Something—a bag or a hood—was placed over her head, blocking her view, and her arms were yanked behind her back. The cool metal circles of handcuffs clipped around her wrists.

  A male voice she didn’t recognize spoke. “You’re coming with me.”

  She gave a whine of terror.

  No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening again—it just couldn’t! She’d never survive the same thing twice. That she’d kept her sanity the first time had been nothing short of miraculous. The thought of Cigarette Hands touching her again made her want to shrivel up and die. She didn’t have Monster’s protection this time. He and his friend could do whatever he wanted to her. Lily realized her mistake. She should have given the gun to Cameron. She’d left him without protection, and she’d been too physically weak to do anything to protect herself. Regret filled her. She’d done everything wrong, and now Cameron would probably end up dead, and she’d end up in the life she’d only just avoided the first time around.

  She was dragged backward, between the shipping containers. Just as she felt the gust of wind from the ocean, and she knew she’d been pulled out into the open, she heard the muffled clang of a hand hitting against metal, and the frightened cry of a woman.

  Lily let out her own sob. She’d been right.

  The women were here.

  Fourteen

  The man dragged her across the abandoned port.

  Lily kicked and twisted in his grip, and screamed against the rag blocking her mouth. Sheer panic gripped her, but she was helpless in the man’s hold.

  Her abductor paused and released his grip on one of her arms. She wanted to lunge away and run, but she wouldn’t get anywhere with her face covered and her hands cuffed. She heard the clunk of a car door opening, and then he shoved her from behind, pushing her onto what she assumed was a car seat. He grabbed at her legs and she kicked again. He gave a grunt of pain, and she took some satisfaction that she’d hurt him, if only a little. His fingers wrapped around her ankles and he shoved her fully onto the seat, and the door slammed shut behind her.

  The act of being put in a car confused her. Why didn’t they just open the front of one of the containers and throw her in with the other women they already kept in there? Where was the man taking her?

  Her kidnapper wasn’t Cigarette Hands or the weasel guy who had threatened to rape her. She’d recognize them instantly, she knew she would. This man was new to her, and there must be a second man for Cameron to have been taken out at the same time she’d been abducted.

  She lay cuffed on her side on the back seat as the car started up and drove away from the port. Silent tears leaked from her eyes, dampening the cloth bag over her head. Was Cameron dead? That she’d brought a good man into all of this and gotten him murdered wrenched her insides with pain. She should have stayed clear of him from the start. She was a poison. Bad things followed her. No wonder she and Monster had been such a great match. Their souls had been singing from the same hymn sheet, only the hymns had come from below the earth instead of above.

  She wondered what Monster was doing now. Was he getting on with his life in his huge house within his walled grounds? She hated him for that. He should have predicted she wouldn’t go back to her quiet little life. He might have told her he loved h
er, but by casting her off, he’d secured her fate as a sold woman.

  The car moved smoothly and almost silently. It was an expensive model, unlike the trunk of the vehicle she’d originally been transported in all those weeks ago. Where were they taking her? Did they already have a buyer lined up? Was that why they hadn’t put her in one of the shipping containers? So many questions ran through her mind, but she couldn’t answer any of them. All she could do was hope they’d keep her alive long enough for her to find out some of the answers.

  A couple of hours passed with her lying on the back seat of the car. The rag stuffed between her lips glued to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Her jaw ached from being forced into the same position for so long, like a nightmare trip to the dentist. Even if she wasn’t gagged, there would be no point in crying or screaming. No one would hear her. After a while, the volume of the traffic around her increased. Had she been brought back to the city? What did they want with her there?

  Finally, the car drew to a stop, and the engine died.

  Lily froze, every muscle tensed. Her breath was shallow and fast through her nostrils, and she tried to breathe more quietly so she could listen to the movements of the man who had taken her. Would he just leave her here?

  But then the door beside her head cracked open, making her jump, and hands grabbed her by the upper arms. The hands dragged her off the seat, and instinctively she pedaled and kicked with her feet, but it did no good. She was hauled out of the car and onto the ground. The temperature was warm, but she didn’t feel the sun baking down on her, so she figured she was under some kind of shelter. She hadn’t been gone long enough for night to have fallen yet, though it must be late afternoon by now. All around her rose the sounds of the city—cars, sirens, distant rap music. It was the background hum she’d heard most days of her life when she woke up.

  She was back in Los Angeles.

  The man pulled her to her feet, and to her surprise, he removed the bag from her head. Lily blinked in the suddenly bright sunlight, her eyes watering. But she was able to see enough to notice the man stuffing the bag into the back pocket of his pants. He wore a suit, and an expensive looking one at that. Whoever this guy was, he was certainly a couple of rungs higher on the people trafficking ladder than Cigarette Hands. He reached out to her and she reared back, but his finger hooked into the cloth in her mouth and dragged it out. She gave a hiss of pain as it felt like he’d just removed the inner layer of her mouth, but at least now she was able to move her jaw.

  With a moan of both pain and relief, she wiggled her chin around, trying to relax the muscles while simultaneously hoping her jaw didn’t lock. She snuck a look at the man. He had the appearance of a doorman, in his late twenties, she guessed, with a hard face, and muscles barely concealed beneath the expensive suit. He didn’t give her time to process him any further.

  Moving behind her, he grabbed her by the wrists, digging the metal of the cuffs into her skin. She tore her attention from him and quickly looked around her surroundings. They were at the back of a tall building—a hotel, she realized.

  “I have a gun,” he said, speaking low in her ear. “If we pass someone and you do or say anything that might get us noticed, I will shoot whoever it is you are asking for help, and then you will watch them die. Do you understand?”

  She nodded frantically. The last thing she wanted was for anyone else to die.

  “Who are you?” she dared to ask. “What do you want?”

  “You’ll find that out soon enough. Now walk nicely, and remember what I said.”

  He shoved her toward the back entrance, and pushed through a set of doors and into a stairwell. They moved as one, climbing each step in a single motion, up to the next floor, and then beyond that one and to the next.

  They passed a few people heading down, but she didn’t dare even make eye contact, the man’s threats still ringing in her ears and what felt like the metal barrel of a gun pressing into her back. The muscles in her thighs began to burn as they continued to climb, floor after floor. Her breathing became labored, and she was thankful she no longer had the cloth in her mouth—she’d have passed out by now if she had. The man’s breath gusted hot and heavy against her ear, and she took comfort that he was finding the steps hard work, too.

  They finally reached the top floor, pushing through the fire door and out into the corridor. This was a high class hotel, with lush carpeting, expensive oil paintings with gilded frames hung on the walls, and corniced ceilings. If they were on the top floor, they must be going to one of the penthouse suites.

  What the hell? What sort of sex trafficker brought the women he abducted to a penthouse suite in a hotel?

  The man brought her to a halt in front of one of the dark wood doors. The number 8001 was embedded in gold and attached to the wall beside it.

  He released her with one hand and reached into his back pocket and pulled out the hood.

  Lily realized what he planned and shook her head in desperation. “Oh, no, please. Don’t put that back on me. I’ll be good, I promise!”

  Shaking his head, he put it back over her face and said, “Sorry, boss’s orders.”

  She was enclosed back into darkness.

  Boss? What boss?

  The door clicked open and a push against her back sent her stumbling forward. Hands grabbed her before she could fall, yanking her upright, but within a number of steps she was pulled down again, her backside hitting the hard wood of a chair seat. Before she could react, the handcuffs clicked open and then slammed shut again. She pulled on her arms and understood that she’d been cuffed to the wooden struts of the back of the chair.

  “Who are you?” she cried. “What the fuck do you want with me?”

  Only silence met her questions.

  But something else caught her attention, and her heart ran faster. She didn’t know if she should believe it, but every sense was on alert, her nostrils flaring, and her skin tingling.

  No, it couldn’t be. Surely not?

  It couldn’t be him.

  Monster (Present Day)

  Monster stared at her sitting in the chair, her hands bound behind her back, her head lowered, and his heart broke with longing and regret. He wanted nothing more than to kneel on the floor in front of her and place his head in her lap, and absorb the warmth and scent of her. Just be back in her presence and allow himself to love her again. He’d been forcing himself to continue as though she’d never entered his life, but the truth was his heart had ached with every second that passed without her. A small part of him wanted to make sure she was safe and then give it all up. What was the point in living if she wasn’t a part of his life? But he’d been raised to run his father’s business, cold-hearted and emotionless, and that was what he needed to do. He needed to find a way of taking himself back to the time before he met Lily, even though he wanted more than anything to spend the rest of his days curled up in bed with her, losing himself in her soft skin.

  But he couldn’t do anything to change that. If she was in his life, she was in danger. If she stayed here, she was in danger. If she wanted to stay alive, she needed to run and forget both he, and Lily Drayton, ever existed.

  Remaining silent, he nodded to the man he’d hired, Sean Hamilton, to do his thing. If things went smoothly—which they rarely did when Lily was involved—she would never even need to know he was here.

  The other man walked behind Lily’s chair. Monster could tell she heard him from the way her shoulder’s stiffened and her head jerked in the direction of his steps. Sean leaned down to speak threateningly in her ear. “If you want to survive, you need to leave Los Angeles.”

  Her whole body froze. She paused and then said, “Survive? What do you mean?”

  “You heard me. You need to leave L.A. and never look back.”

  “I can hardly leave when you’ve handcuffed me to a chair.”

  Though muffled, her tone was biting, and she sat with her back straight.

  A part of Monster wilted,
while the other part felt proud of her. Even with everything she’d been through—the initial kidnapping, the captivity he’d kept her in, him drugging her to send her back here, and now kidnapped again—she was still fighting. She was strong. It didn’t matter what he’d put her through, she refused to break.

  Sean’s eyes flicked up to his. Monster gave a slight nod to tell him to continue.

  “If you agree to the terms,” Sean said, “you’ll be allowed to go free.”

  Her voice came from beneath the hood. “What kind of terms?”

  “You need to leave Los Angeles and get as far away from the city as you can. You’ll be given a new name, with all the identification you need, a new place to live and enough money to get you started.”

  She lifted her chin and appeared to be staring in his direction, though he knew she couldn’t see anything. “Is that what the money was for, Monster? Sending me back to America wasn’t enough distance for you?”

  He jolted at her accusation. Did she somehow know he was there, or was she hazarding a guess? It wouldn’t be difficult for her to figure out he was at the root of what was happening to her. After all, who else would be offering to set her up in a new identity in a different city? He hesitated, unsure of how to react. Did he reply and admit he was there, or stay silent and have Sean make out like she was mistaken?

  She didn’t give him a chance to decide. “I can smell your aftershave, Monster. I know you’re there. After all the times I was in the same room as you when I was blindfolded, do you think I wouldn’t recognize it again the moment I was in the same situation?” She gave a small laugh. “Plus, who else would do this? You can’t expect me to think for a single moment that the traffickers start creating new identities for the women they sell on? Certainly not like this, anyway.”

  “Flower …” he said softly.

  To his horror, she let out a sob. Beneath the bag, she shook her head. “You can’t call me that, not anymore. You let me go. You sent me away, against my will. And now you do this!”