Affliction

by Jenika Snow

  Would he scare Ricky, use his influence, whatever that might be, and make him leave me alone? Would he kill him?

  Although Ricky hadn’t bothered me, I felt someone watching. I swore a car followed me, that same dark SUV that I’d seen when I went to find Marshall. Maybe it was just my nerves, my paranoia slamming into me, claiming me, and dragging me under. But even if it was, I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t push it away or bury it, no matter how much I wanted to.

  You should just leave and take your chances.

  Yeah, that was easier said than done. I had no money—none that I dared to use, anyway. And even if I did leave, where would I go? Who would I run to? And I had a feeling Ricky would just find me.

  Because I hadn’t heard anything from Cameron either, I couldn’t guarantee that he’d still help me. Sure, he wanted my body as payment, but he’d given me no time frame. He also hadn’t touched me, hadn’t even tasted me. I assumed he’d want to do at least the later, a sampling of the good before he committed. But there had been nothing.

  But Cameron didn’t seem like the type of man to go against what he said.

  And that scares the shit out of me.

  I felt my eyelids grow heavy, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. I was exhausted, but my nerves were shot, the worry of life, of the situation I was in wearing me down so much I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning, and there was no life raft, no one who would pull me out of the deep end and save my life.

  I shifted, rolled over onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. The stain to the right of me was from a leak in the above apartment, the brown circle spread wide. I stared at it, tracing the edges of it with my gaze. The place was liable to cave on me at any moment, just snuff my life out as if it meant nothing.

  And maybe it didn’t. Maybe in the end it was just me trying to pretend I could survive.

  I exhaled, not wanting my thoughts to go down that dark path.

  I was Cameron’s. He’d help me, get me out of the situation with Ricky, but the cost, the payment I was giving to him would be so much more. It would suck me dry, corrupt my very soul. My mind was moving too fast, my thoughts too consuming.

  I felt myself relax further on the shitty bed I was on, the mattress probably having seen more ass, more disgust than I cared to think about.

  And then I heard a soft sound come from the living room. It was a click, this little tick of a noise that seemed so loud, so menacing.

  I sat up, reaching down beside the bed without taking my eyes off my bedroom door. It was cracked open, and the thought that maybe I should have shut it completely played through my mind. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. There was no lock on my bedroom door, and if someone wanted in, they’d just have to slam their shoulder into it for the weak old-ass wood to break open.

  I felt the handle of the bat slide along my hand, and I curled my fingers around it. Moving slowly, trying to be silent, I lifted the bat up. I pushed the blanket off me, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and when the mattress creaked, I grimaced. My heart seemed to still, my breathing stopped, and I stared at the door.

  I expected someone to come bursting in at that moment, but the silence stretched on. I wasn’t a fool to think I had imagined the sound, not in this apartment building, not in the situation I was in with Ricky.

  I shifted on the bed another inch, hearing that damn mattress creak again. I was frozen, my mouth tight, dry. And then the bedroom door swung open, someone kicking it in so hard it slammed against the wall, the doorknob crushing the plaster. I screamed out of instinct and fell to my knees. I had the baseball bat in my hand still, the wood feeling warm under in my hold. I scrambled to get up, because being in this submissive position wouldn’t be good for me, would only make me more of a victim than I’d already be.

  But someone grabbed hold of my hair and pulled me up. The bat was wrenched from my hold, and I saw scuffed-up boots in my vision. My head was yanked back, tears now in my eyes, the pain twisting me up.

  “Brad, no need to scuff up the merchandise.”

  The man tossed me to the center of the room, and I landed hard on my hands and knees. I tried to get up, but a hand on my shoulder kept me down. I turned and stared into the eyes of a man I’d hoped to never see again.

  Ricky.

  “I decided I’d get more bang for my buck if the payment was you.” He grinned, a depraved sight, a smile that told me what he’d use me for would ruin me, would break.

  But I’ll still be alive, suffering, wishing for death because my life will be nothing more than a vessel for another’s pleasure.

  “Barely any time has passed.”

  “Time isn’t what I’m good at giving, baby.” He took a step closer, and I held my breath, watching him. “And let’s be honest.” He cocked his head to the side. “You weren’t going to repay me. You couldn’t.” He grinned again. “You knew”—he got down on his haunches.—“the moment that money touched your fingers that your body would be used in ways you never knew possible. Deep down, there was no doubt in that pretty little head that you’d be fucked so hard the only thing that was certain was that you were crying.” He stood again, looked around my apartment, and tsked. “What a fucking shithole. I’ll be doing you a favor.”

  My hands were shaking, my thoughts whirling as I tried to think of how to get out of this. I knew if I just accepted this, it would be over. I’d be over. When Ricky crouched in front of me and went to reach for my face, I curled my hand into a fist and lashed out.

  I slammed my knuckles into his face, and when he reeled back, I stood and darted for the door. But the guy he’d brought with him was on me before I reached the exit. He tossed me back, and when I landed, my head cracked on the floor, pain exploding in my body.

  “You’re a spunky bitch, I’ll give you that,” Ricky said.

  I pushed myself up as best I could, the agony in my skull pounding through my entire frame.

  Ricky rubbed his jaw, the grin on his face telling me he liked that I’d hit him…that he’d get me back soon enough.

  “I got some guys that will pay a lot of money for you to fight them.”

  Chills raced up my spine.

  He reached for me again, but just then the front door opened. There was no force behind it, no wood splintering forward, violence promised. No, someone who didn’t need a show, who didn’t need to let anyone know the menace they held, did this. I felt it as the cold air rushed into the apartment and the two men surrounding me turned.

  And there stood Cameron with the man who always seemed to be in his presence.

  Before anyone could move, Damien lifted his arm and fired off a shot that had the guy Ricky brought falling to the ground. The gunshot was almost quiet, the silencer making the violence seem gentle.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. If Cameron hadn’t shown up when he did—again—I knew I would have been hauled away and used for strange men’s sexual gratification.

  But him being here couldn’t have been a coincidence, right? Had he been watching me? Had he been waiting until the right time to step up, to claim what I’d offered by ending my problem?

  “How did you know?” I found myself saying, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut, but the words tumbled out of me on their own like they needed an escape, too.

  He didn’t show any emotion as he stared at me. He didn’t answer.

  Either way I couldn’t feel anything but this bone-searing relief, because surely what Ricky had planned would have made death seem like a gift.

  “Damien, handle that,” Cameron said to the man he’d come in with.

  Damien moved close to Ricky, pressed the gun to his forehead, but didn’t pull the trigger. “On your knees,” was all he said.

  I didn’t know if I expected Ricky to fight back, but it was clear he was at least smart enough—or maybe just too terrified—to know these men were not to be fucked with.

  He went right to his knees.

  Cameron walked over to Ri
cky, the air suddenly hot, the feeling of suffocating intense. Cameron gave a nod, and Damien sheathed his gun right before he started wailing on Ricky. Punch after punch landed on Ricky, his face becoming bloody, swollen, like freshly tenderized meat.

  I gasped.

  “That’s enough,” Cameron said after what seemed like hours.

  Although I had no doubt Cameron could hold his own, could gift anyone with his violence, he used Damien to extract that, to be his fists, his rage.

  Damien hauled up Ricky so he was on his knees again, the man wobbling, clearly having a hard time keeping upright. The sounds that came from him were gurgled, wet…blood-filled.

  I glanced between Cameron and Damien—his muscle. His killer. Damien looked stoic, aloof, like he didn’t give a shit what was happening. He had just beat the shit out of Ricky like this was an everyday occurrence.

  You stupid girl. It is. These men are dangerous, far more dangerous than what you were up against. You’ll become ruined, broken, a shell of what you were or ever could be.

  And I’d signed up for this, all but begged Cameron to help me. You agreed to do anything, everything.

  I looked at Damien’s hands, his knuckles busted up, Ricky’s blood covering them. His arms were crossed, his face a mask of pure violence. He was a man comfortable with death, with killing.

  Just like Cameron…the man who now owned my body.

  Cameron was collected, calm, but I could see the anger, the rage simmering right below the surface. He wore a suit, the dark fabric molded to his strong, hard body. The white shirt underneath the jacket had the first few buttons undone at the collar, his chest and neck tattoos a stark contrast to the light-colored material.

  My heart was thundering, and I felt like I could pass out.

  His dark hair was short, cropped close to his head, styled like he didn’t give a fuck. And I knew he didn’t, because a man like him cared only about what he could gain, what he could own. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was in this life, in hell, by caring about anyone but himself.

  Then I watched as Cameron produced his own gun, the dark violence swirling around him despite the composed aura he held. He cocked the gun, his gaze locked on me. No emotion, no fucks given as he stared at me.

  “He’s been hurting you,” Cameron said matter-of-factly. “He hurt you right now.” I couldn’t move, couldn’t even rise from the floor or say a word about this. I was a slave to my emotions…and I’d be a slave to Cameron once this was all said and done.

  I opened my mouth, maybe to say something, anything, but the words failed me, the air thickening. I was sweating, my hair sticking to the sides of my head, beads of perspiration dotting the valley between my breasts.

  “You want your trouble to go away?” Cameron asked.

  I was frozen, not even able to think coherently at the moment.

  “You want to be free of this pain, of this nightmare?”

  Still I couldn’t speak. I glanced at Ricky. He watched me, one eye swollen shut, blood covering his face. He didn’t seem strong now. He knew his number had been pulled and he’d be dead before the night was over. I knew that, too. I also didn’t give a shit. He deserved this. Ricky knew who and what he was up against, and he knew this was the end of the road for him.

  Maybe that makes me a monster, too, because I don’t care. I want him to suffer, to be afraid.

  “Sofia,” Cameron said my name softly, urging me in that deep, commanding voice of his.

  “Yes,” I whispered, my voice empty, just like my soul. I turned and faced the man who’d ridden in like the very devil himself. But then again, wasn’t I the match to this gasoline-saturated scene?

  “Say it. Ask me for it.” Cameron’s voice was eerily strong, collected.

  I looked at Ricky again, a man who would have done horrible things to me, trying to push my humanity down.

  “Ask me to take your problem away.” Cameron’s voice was low, a little seductive. I glanced at him again, feeling like I was lost at sea.

  Cameron was powerful and wanted to exert that, wanted me to be on my knees as he showed me what he could do—figuratively and literally—what he could solve. I was at his mercy, the same as Ricky. And a part of me knew that once I said the words, everything would change. I told Cameron what I wanted, that I wanted Ricky gone, dead, the life I once knew, albeit shitty, would become something else.

  I’d be the epitome of darkness, embracing it because I’d taken a life in my hands and extinguished it.

  “I want my problem to go away.” The words that came from me were cold, detached…just like my soul in that exact moment. I saw the way Cameron’s lip lifted, this sardonic, sadistic smirk coming into play. He would have killed Ricky without my prompt, without me begging. But here, now, making me ask, that was him showing me the control he had over me.

  It was the promise of what he’d show me once we were alone and I had to pay my dues.

  “Say it,” Cameron said again, harder this time.

  I swallowed, squeezed my hands into fists, and said the words that would change the very person I thought I was. “I want him dead.”

  It happened in slow motion, the world rewinding, the air being sucked out of the room. Cameron lifted his hand, his hold steady on the gun, his body seeming corded, tighter. Ricky begged, pleaded. He cried and shook uncontrollably. It didn’t matter, because his fate had already been sealed.

  He knew what it felt like for me, how his life was now in someone else’s hands. Good.

  And then the sound of the gun going off filled me, surrounded me. It was an echoing in my head, rocking me to my core, shaking everything inside of me. Warmth seeped over me, seemed to seep into me.

  Blood. Hot, viscous, life-sustaining fluid covered my face and chest. I was frozen in place, my body numb, the feeling of that liquid dripping from my chin, from the very ends of my hair and onto the floor, stunned as much as it disgusted and pleased me.

  I looked down, this humming in my ears, this vibration starting deep in my belly. I looked at Ricky, who now lay on the floor just a few feet from me, the bullet having gone right through the center of his forehead.

  Just like his friend.

  “Look at me, Sofia.”

  There was this buzzing in my head, this war drum in my chest.

  “Look at me,” Cameron said, harder this time, commanding me to obey.

  I slowly lifted my focus from Ricky and looked at Cameron. He wore a mask of indifference. He tucked his gun at the back of his waistband, held out his hand for me to take, but I felt like I was going to throw up, like I was spinning out of control.

  This is what you wanted, what you knew would happen.

  I stared at his hand, feeling tears running down my face—or maybe it was Ricky’s blood.

  “Take my hand,” he said, his voice even, nothing wavering from him. My throat was closing, my body feeling like it would shut down.

  And then I felt someone help me, strong hands under my arms, pulling me up as if I weighed nothing. The scent of Cameron filled me: dark, heady, and powerful. I tilted my head back and glanced at him. What did he see when he looked down at me? Did he see a broken girl who had nothing else to lose?

  And when he lifted his hand, I felt myself flinch. I didn’t think he’d hurt me, but after what had just happened, my body was on the defensive. I watched his jaw clench, wondering what emotion he was experiencing. Did a man like him even feel anything? Did he experience warmth, sadness, regret, or fear?

  No.

  No, a man like him only cared about power, about bringing fear in others.

  “Damien will have the bodies disposed of.”

  My mind was a whirl, my body on autopilot as Damien led the way. We walked down the stairs of my apartment building, and I turned back and looked at my door. I knew I’d never be here again. Even after the two weeks was up, I couldn’t go back. The money was still hidden, maybe forever, or maybe it would be gone, lost like I felt right now.

  “The m
oney. My things,” I found myself murmuring.

  “All your needs will be met.” Cameron’s voice was low, pitched only for my ears.

  Before I knew what was happening, I was outside, the air feeling colder than it should. And there, sitting right in front of me, was that dark SUV I’d been seeing around town, following me. I would have thought it was Ricky’s, but when Cameron opened the back door and ushered me in, that went right out the damn window.

  Once inside I stared at Cameron, not sure what to say, what to do. But before I could utter a word, he moved closer. Every part of me felt in shock, frozen to this seat.

  “You’ve been following me,” I said, my voice empty, my entire body, mind, and soul frozen.

  “Yes,” Cameron replied without remorse, without any shred of emotion at all.

  “Why?” He’d only seen me that first time in the alley. Did he feel sorry for me, or want to hurt me as Ricky had? But as that thought played through my mind, I knew that wasn’t the case. He could have done far worse than Ricky, could have denied helping me if he wanted to harm me.

  He stared at me with this indifferent expression on his face. “You…intrigue me.”

  I intrigued him? Like some kind of pet he saw in the window and just had to take home? That’s what I am to him now, his pet, his plaything. He’s known about me, been following me since before I went into his office, since before I begged him for help.

  I didn’t know what to make of that, if I should even put any stock into it at all. Did it really matter in the long run?

  He reached out and ran his thumb across my cheek, no doubt smudging the blood that covered me, painting my flesh with what my life was now. “You’ve never looked more beautiful to me than you do right now, with the reality of what you've gotten yourself into smeared across your face.” His voice was deep, commanding. He moved his thumb down to my mouth, painting my lips with the violence that surrounded us, with the blood of the man who would have destroyed me. “I’m going to open you up to my world, little girl.” He lowered his head so we were now breathing the same air. “I’m going to show you what it means to be owned by the very devil himself.”