The Leverager

by C. L Masonite

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PLAYLIST

  Copyright © 2017 C.L Masonite

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer for the purposes of quoting brief passages. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or businesses or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created by the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Cover Model Joshua Underwood

  Photography by Wander Aguiar Photography

  Cover Design by CT Cover Creations

  Formatting by Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

  Proofreading by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC

  Älska mig när jag minst förtjänar det, eftersom det är då jag verkligen behöver det

  —Swedish Proverb

  English translation: Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it.

  ONE . . . TWO . . . THREE . . . I count in my mind.

  I’m awake but I feel rootless—bodiless, like I’m a feather floating through the air, at the mercy of the wind. All I can do is lie in wait and count the seconds away.

  Four . . . Five . . . Six . . . I breathe, unable to shake the feeling that something is not right. But I’m safe in here alone with no one to touch me. If I stop counting, then I’ll wake up and I don’t want to face whatever is waiting for me on the outside.

  Seven . . . Eight . . . Nine . . .

  “You need to wake up,” a disembodied voice whispers.

  No, No, NO!

  Ten . . . Eleven . . . T—Twelve . . . I continue to count obstinately.

  “WAKE UP!” The voice yells with an urgency I can no longer ignore. I can’t save myself if it may mean sacrificing someone else. I take a deep breath and drop the walls of my mind, one by one, flinching as I allow myself to regain consciousness.

  Slowly my senses awaken, my hearing the first to return. Met by silence broken merely by the piercing shriek of cicadas, I pause, on high alert, waiting for the voice to speak. I open my mouth to speak but close it quickly; maybe if I speak I’d give myself away.

  My eyes open next, and my vision is filled with red. My heart stops as I realize that the red substance is none other than my own blood. For one selfish second, I hope I’m wrong but the guilty thought vanishes as I attempt to lift a hand to swipe at the slick liquid obstructing my sight.

  But nothing happens. I feel no flicker of tendon or muscle responding to the synapses in my brain.

  “Oh God, oh God,” I cry, unable to prevent the lament from passing through my lips. My breath halts, waiting to hear the sound of footsteps revealing my location, but there’s nothing or no one around.

  And here I am on the cold, hard ground trapped in my own damn body, unable to feel a damn thing!

  Why can’t I move? Am I paralyzed? What’s wrong with me? The horrifying questions cut through the shock, making me fear the worst. Horror rises in me, and I know that if I don’t get ahold of my mind that I’ll lose whatever chance I have of getting past this—of getting out of whatever this is alive.

  Th—thirteen . . . F—fourteen . . . F—fifteen . . . I count. Maybe if I count the seconds away, I’ll be one second closer to regaining motion, or to someone discovering me.

  Sixteen . . . Seventeen . . . Eighteen . . .

  I STARED OUT into the night sky, smirking as I acknowledged that its velvety blackness was as equally and mercilessly black as my soul. For all of my sins, I would never get through the Pearly Gates to the Kingdom of Heaven. That left me with two options: lead a miserable life attempting to naïvely and relentlessly atone for my misgivings or lead a dangerously selfish, life razing hell. The second option was endlessly tempting, but I had a responsibility to right the wrongs of my past.

  Every day that I failed was another day that an innocent suffered. If I had to break hearts, bones, or be it, take a life, I would. My open hands shook, belying my calm. I closed my eyes, needing to regain control. A knock sounded on the door and as I turned to face it, I stepped to the side of the window ensuring that my back would not be unprotected.

  “Come in,” I ordered.

  Mikhail entered, with the perpetual scorn on his face, his ire a flickering force field that would make any rational man recoil in fear. Luckily, or rather stupidly, rational was not a word that one would use to describe me.

  “What took you so long?” I questioned, my voice cutting like a whipcord through the silence.

  “I—I didn’t know we had a meeting tonight!” the client stuttered behind Mikhail.

  “He wasn’t where we thought he’d be,” Sevastyn replied, pushing the client inside the room with such force that he almost fell.

  “That’s disappointing, I had higher expectations of you both,” I admonished.

  “We didn’t get the location incorrect, we just didn’t account for him being in his hidden red room of pain,” Mikhail clarified.

  “Technically speaking it was robin egg blue,” Sevastyn corrected.

  “No, it’s royal blue, I’m certain of it, I chose the color myself,” the client protested.

  “Was there a royal crown in there, too?” I asked with false interest.

  “Sadly, no,” Sevastyn responded with disappointment.

  “Royal blue is a classic color that never goes out of style,” the client postured with passion.

  “I prefer the color red instead,” I mused aloud, enjoying the way the client’s eyes grew round with fear. “Blood red to be exact…would you like me to show you exactly what I mean?”

  “Please, allow me and before you mention it, yes, I’ve secured the perimeter and there’s not a soul in sight. Not that you’ve made it difficult for me, an abandoned warehouse located in the middle of nowhere isn’t fraught with peril,” Jarek commented sarcastically as he walked in.

  “You’re n–not supposed to hurt me, you’re supposed to help me,” the client whispered meekly, his head lowered in deference.

  “So you do have some backbone—good, because you’re going to need it. You said you needed my services, what do you need them for?” I queried as I strode toward him so we were face to face. It was easy to ask for someone else to do your dirty work for you, but I needed him to look me in the eyes, to see that whatever sin I committed for him was his, too. If he looked away then he wouldn’t have the guts to deal with the consequences of his actions, and I refused to allow my men to be placed into a situation where they could be compromised because of my misjudgment.

  The client’s head drew back and even though he trembled, he managed to look me in the eyes. That would do.

  “My sister’s gone off the deep end and gotten involved with the Valentijin mob as one of their newest recruits.” Immediately my eyes flashed to Mikhail who stood taller under my scrutiny. His brother was Nikolai Valentijin, and he led the Valentijin mob. Mikhail was a part of it once, it was in his blood, and if anything happened to Nikolai, then he’d be the next in line to take over. It was a responsibility he shunned, and since the day he had fought his w
ay out of it he’d been exiled by his own family. It was Nikolai’s word alone that prevented him from being hunted down and killed. They each allowed the other to coexist, providing that they never intruded in each other’s lives or worlds.

  “She wants out, but she’s too scared to leave. And everyone knows the only way you leave is if you’re dead. We all know that once you swear your allegiance, there’s no going back…you’re committed for life.” The client swallowed, his tone becoming high pitch, “Please, she’s only sixteen, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. I tried to stop her, I thought I’d convinced her to stay away from them but she was lured in by the danger. I tried to approach the cops about it but they turned me away saying it was useless. That’s why I’m here, you’re my last hope of getting her out alive,” the client pleaded. “I’ll do anything, anything you want,” he begged as he bent down and got on his knees reeking of desperation.

  My head shifted to the side, as I silently asked Mikhail if he’d be okay with taking this on. His coal black eyes flared and he nodded, then looked away, and I knew his mind was no longer alert and focused, he was caught up in his past. I wanted to punch something hard, he was hurting and it was all my fault.

  I felt the weight of Jarek and Sevastyn’s eyes on me, silently willing to support me in whatever decision I made. Feeling the burden on my shoulders, the power rolling through me, I decided to place my faith in Mikhail’s abilities.

  “Fine, consider it done, get up from the floor. And a little piece of advice, never ever leave yourself vulnerable to attack like that. Some people have the integrity not to kick a man while he is down but those people are the minority and not the majority,” I lectured.

  With reluctant relief, the client went to pick himself up but halted, “W–What, is that it?”

  “Yes,” I responded monosyllabically.

  “What do you want in return?” he asked, still cautiously elated.

  “I don’t require payment in blood, you know how it works. I’ll call you when I need something from you and you will bend over backwards to satisfy my demand. No matter the price, you will pay it, or the person you value the most—your sister—will be the one to pay. Do we have an understanding?”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll do anything you ask, when will you go for her?” the client asked as he stood back up to his full height, pushing out his chest.

  “Before the week is out,” Mikhail responded before I could.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the client sobbed.

  “I’ll make sure he gets back home in one piece,” Jarek thankfully stepped in. I could deal with blood and someone trying to kick my ass but nothing made me more uncomfortable than seeing a man—or anyone else, for that matter—cry. A person was owed the bare minimum respect of breaking apart without any witnesses, and within the privacy of an empty room.

  Once Jarek had left with the client, I turned my attention back to Mikhail. “Are you sure about this?”

  Mikhail slouched against the wall with lazy confidence, smirking. “I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to work for you. I may have left my past behind, but it doesn’t mean that I have forgotten all about it. I know all about the Valentijin mob’s operations, including where they take their latest recruits for training. I can get in and out without them even knowing I was there. Besides, you’re a man of your word, you’d rather die than go back on it and you’ve given it already.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. He didn’t get it, and I had to make sure he did. Mikhail’s eyes narrowed in warning, and Sevastyn stepped in between us, always the willing martyr.

  “Stand down, Sev, I don’t need to knock some sense into him when words are enough.”

  Stubbornly, Sevastyn remained in place. “Fine, stay there, I can communicate to Mikhail just as well over your shoulder. You’re right, Mikhail, making a promise means something to me, but you’re my broder, my brother, and you mean more to me. So, if you for one second change your mind, or get cold feet while on the job, you better damn well tell me, because you’re worth much more to me alive than dead. The same goes for you and Jarek, too,” I directed to Sevastyn.

  “God, you Swedes are too sentimental for my liking. I left my family so I didn’t have to deal with all this sappiness,” Mikhail groaned.

  “Mikhail . . .” I growled.

  “I got it, boss. And just so you know, the same goes for you, too.”

  “Affirmative,” Sevastyn added.

  “I CAN HEAR FOOTSTEPS. Quick—hide!” Katia urged with panic, jumping over my bed and slipping gracefully into her bed on the other side of the room despite her right arm being in a cast. She placed her head against her pillow and closed her eyes, feigning the sleep of the angelic.

  “You’re evil,” I whispered and quickly followed suit, ignoring the twinges of breathtaking pain. Although I was well into recovery, my spine had taken the brunt of my injuries and while I could do normal things like walk, the pain was only barely at a manageable level without painkillers. As much as I liked the idea of being pain free, I had to appear as if I was getting better if I was going to get out of here anytime soon.

  I closed my eyes tightly, hoping for the best, that the people walking toward our room were nurses and not doctors, or even worse, my parents.

  “Henry, have you given thought to our reconciliation? It would be in Emerson’s best interest for us to become a family again. She needs both of her parents right now.” My mother’s voice echoed inside the hall just outside our room.

  I cringed, wishing I could somehow stop myself from hearing their conversation. My mother had left us when I was five years old, and was now trying to come back into our lives using what had happened to me as leverage to do it. A microscopically small part of me wanted to let her back in, but a larger part of me hated her. I hated her for leaving me without explanation and I hated her even more for choosing to come back into my life when I was at my weakest.

  “Crap,” Katia swore, echoing my dark, inner thoughts.

  “Cressida, I made sure that when you left I got sole custody of Emerson for a reason, and that reason was to keep her away from you. You didn’t even contest the claim,” he scoffed in disbelief. The anger inside me grew so much that I began to shake with it. What? She hadn’t only abandoned me; she’d given up her legal right to me!

  “Em,” Katia urged.

  “No, I want to listen,” I protested.

  “The only reason that I am even allowing you to be around her with my limited supervision is because the psychologist recommended it. We aren’t getting back together—ever. I love Emerson to pieces but I gave you seven years of my life. I would say that I regret every single second of our marriage but there was one good thing that came out of it, and that was our child, sorry, I mean my child,” my dad continued on fiercely.

  Goosebumps developed along my upper arms as I absorbed the shocking knowledge that he was showing her more emotion than he had ever shown me since she had left us.

  My mother sighed and I listened closer, needing to hear her reply.

  “Look, Henry, I know I failed you both terribly, but I’m back. I have worked through my crazy issues and I’m not angry with you for kicking me out. You were right to. I’m sorry for the sick excuse for a wife and mother that I was. I broke our wedding vows first. I was selfish and self-centered, but I’ve changed. Please just give me a chance to show you both. I need to earn your forgiveness. Please, Henry, you can’t be as cruel and coldhearted as you appear.”

  “What Emerson and I need right now is for you to be here—silently,” he emphasized. “I don’t want you to give her false hope. I don’t trust you or your open promises. If you really mean what you say, then only time will tell. She deserves to have a mother like any other teenager. It’s too late for us, but maybe it isn’t too late for you two. I’m not giving you my blessing, I’m saying that I’ll be watching your every move and interaction with her.”

  “I did just fine without a m
other or father,” Katia commented drily.

  “Shhh!” I remonstrated.

  “Thank you, Henry,” she whispered graciously, making my stomach turn. The door clicked open and I closed my eyes again, this time to get rid of the red filling my vision.

  “Really, Emerson, are you pretending to be asleep again?” Dad chided gently at the foot of my bed.

  “Henry, I thought you said she was getting better,” Mother cried with concern. “I hoped she would be well enough to come home soon. Wait, what is she still doing sharing a room with Katia? She’s a bad influence. I thought I asked one of the nurses to separate them…maybe there was some miscommunication.”

  “Now, Cressie, that would be counterproductive to her health improving,” my dad stepped in diplomatically before I could (a lot less diplomatically).

  “Bitch,” Katia whispered beneath her breath. I coughed, putting my hand in front of my mouth to hide the laugh that was threatening to come out.

  “How dare you! Henry, surely you still can’t believe that Katia’s a good influence on Emerson!” My mother gasped in disbelief.

  “She’s been a good friend to me, she understands how I feel and she’s been here for me more than you have in my whole life,” I snapped back, sitting up slowly.

  “That’s going to change, honey, I promise,” she whispered solemnly. Her hand reached to touch mine and I flinched, moving out of her reach.

  “I can’t even touch my own daughter, we need to move her somewhere else, Henry. She clearly isn’t getting any better, it’s been three weeks,” she appealed to him.

  My body began to shake at how close I had been to being touched. I couldn’t remember what had happened to me. The doctors said I had a severe case of psychogenic amnesia. I could remember everything that happened before and after the event but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t place what had happened to me in between. I’d woken up in a hospital and when I was asked to take the morning after pill that was when I realized not only had I been physically assaulted, but I’d also been touched against my will.