by Anthology
Nothing about last night was for his own personal gain. I have to believe that.
With that last thought on my mind, I fall into a restless sleep.
***
“Brandi.”
They’re touching me. The hands grab and pinch and hit. The mouths taste what isn’t theirs to take.
“No more,” I whimper. I’ve had enough. I’m barely hanging on from last night. I can’t go through it again.
“Brandi, stop.”
I thrash. Every movement hurts. I can’t escape.
“Damnit. Wake up!”
Holt. “Holt?” I call aloud.
Firm hands carefully grip my cheeks. “Wake up, dove.”
Wake up…
My eyes crack open enough to register the dim light infiltrating the sheer curtains. The sun must be shining brightly today. I open them a bit more, and the pressure against my cheeks tilts my head up. I’m startled to find him so close. Holt’s silver eyes peer down at me with a softness I’ve never noticed before.
“You good?” he asks. The way he speaks sends my heart racing.
I nod.
Abruptly, he releases my face and steps back. “Good. I’m glad to see you got some more rest and didn’t run away.”
I think he’s teasing me, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know him well enough, but something about him says he isn’t the type of man to tease.
“I brought you something to eat. Some dry toast and ginger ale. I, uh, wasn’t too sure how you’d be feeling this morning.” His voice is think with remorse.
Brixton Holt might not be the type of man to tease, but his regret is unmistakable.
“Brixton,” I begin, but he cuts me off with a harsh laugh.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. Don’t call me that. I don’t deserve to hear you call me that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes it is!”
I jump at the harshness of his tone.
“I got you into that goddamned situation, and there was no way for me to get you out. It’s entirely my fucking fault.”
“You couldn’t have known-ˮ
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he laughs bitterly. “I should have known. I should have known exactly what G would do to you when I opened my fucking mouth.”
It pains me to see him so upset with himself. “It was a matter of time until it was my turn. I know I’m not getting out of here. I’d rather it happened like it did last night, with you there to help me through it. It could have gone a hundred different ways, all of them worse than I endured.”
Brixton falls to his knees beside the bed and pulls my hand into both of his. “I will do everything in my power to get you out of here. I’m going to set you free.”
I tug my hand from his. “Don’t risk yourself. It’s not worth it. Even if you save me, there are others here who need help.”
He scrubs his forehead with his left hand, seemingly at war with himself. I wish I knew what he was hiding.
“This conversation is over,” he says abruptly. “You need to eat.”
He jumps up to retrieve the tray he had lain at the end of the bed, and he sets it on my lap.
Just the small pressure of the tray causes me to wince, and of course, Brixton doesn’t miss it.
“You’re hurting,” he states.
“I’m okay,” I lie.
“The fuck you are.”
Brixton storms into the ensuite bathroom, only to return a moment later. “Take these. Painkillers.”
I’m not going to argue with that. I pluck the small pills from his hand, pop them into my mouth, and wash them down with a sip of the ginger ale. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We sit in quiet while I take down the toast. My stomach pitches, but we’re underfed downstairs. I’m not going to pass up a perfectly good piece of food. I just pray it stays put in my stomach.
After I finish, Brixton takes the tray and places it on the bedside table.
“What can I do for you?” he asks.
Sudden nerves attack me. I don’t want him to turn down my request, but I’m curious. “Will you lay down with me?”
He seems to have frozen. His eyelids close, and he exhales slowly before opening them again. Then he nods.
I sink down into the plush mattress, rolling to my left side and holding still as he climbs in. I don’t want to scare him off. There’s a newfound comfort I draw from him, and I want to hang onto it for as long as I can.
The bed dips with his weight. He shifts restlessly for a few moments before settling on his back. A peaceful silence fills the room, and I begin to feel sleepy.
“It’s because of the dreams,” I supply to the quiet. “Having you near might keep them away.” My eyes close against the dim light of the room, and my breathing begins to slow.
Brixton shifts, his heat pressing against my naked back, and his arm snakes gently around my waist. I can feel the warm breath from his mouth at my ear. “Sleep, dove. I’ll be right here,” he murmurs.
With his voice in my mind, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Holt
TWO WEEKS HAVE passed since the night Brandi was subjected to that fucking game, and I’m finding myself in a big clusterfuck of confusion. That was the first and only time she’s fallen asleep in my arms, and I relive that moment every time I close my eyes.
I’m losing my mind. My chest burns with the knowledge that she’s prostituted out several times a week, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. I’m nearly busting out of my skin at the need to see her, to make sure she’s all right, and to take her all to myself.
I think Gutierrez has kept me intentionally busy, although, I don’t have proof of it. I just feel like I’m under scrutiny. The bastard may have said he can still trust me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping one eye on me at all times.
But I’ve had enough. I’ve kept my distance from Brandi, only checking up on her when the other girls are around as to remain inconspicuous.
I need her. And I’m going to find a way to have her.
The past two weeks weren’t only spent pining over someone I should be keeping my distance from. I’ve been busting my ass gathering the info I need to get out of this shit hole once and for all. After a meet yesterday, where I oversaw a new recruit making a deal with a new dope buyer, I sent him back to Gutierrez with his good news and met with my supervisor, Deke.
I can’t meet him often, or in public, with the fear of getting caught. We met at our usual spot in an abandoned underground garage near the 7th street deli. The previous owners were the hotel across the street, but when building inspectors said it was structurally unsound, it was put out of commission. The hotel hasn’t been able to afford the repairs with the way the economy has tanked, so it’s been empty for a couple years now.
Deke and I only meet every couple of months when I have something to pass off, and this was one of those times. After giving him what I had, he told me they only need three more names to be able to bust this place wide fucking open.
Three names.
I know exactly where to find them. The hard part is getting to them without blowing my cover.
After that, I need to make sure Brandi is out of here, or at least safe, before the raid. There’s no way I’ll risk her getting caught in the crossfire. If I know anything about Gutierrez, it’s that he won’t go down without taking others with him.
I just have to keep my eyes and ears open, because when the opportunity strikes, it might be the only chance for a long time. The sooner I can get us out of here, the better odds we have of coming out alive.
I walk from my bedroom to the kitchen in search of something to eat and to scope out the house for open information. When I enter the kitchen, I find G at the table with two others from the night of Brandi’s assault. They all look up as I stroll in.
“Holt! Just the man I wanted to see. Sit. Roberta, make him a sandwich and bring him a glass.”
Roberta doesn’t reply, but she busies herself with preparing his request.
I plant my ass at the open chair to his right. “What’s up, boss?”
“We’ve been busy as shit around here. Profits are up, and these girls are selling faster than I can find them. That’s the hard part about this business.”
I want to slit his fucking throat at the way he gloats about his ‘profits’.
“We have a big night coming up next week,” he continues. “The Super Bowl is next Sunday, and that means it’s show time for these bitches. They make four times the profits at the Super Bowl than any other event. Our ranch down in New Orleans was so busy; those girls couldn’t sit right for a week straight.” He laughs.
My throat burns with acid. “Right. So what do you need from me?”
Roberta sets down my food and walks away as if she hasn’t heard a thing.
“I need our prime hookers to rest up before the big game. I can’t send out meat that’s been used up and tired out the week before. These guys pay top dollar for a tight cunt. This week we’re only sending out four girls at night instead of the usual twelve. The other eight get a break. We’ll call it a mini vacation.”
“So who’s who?” I ask, nervous to hear the answer. Neither of these situations is a picnic, but working the Super Bowl is hell. Those men are rowdy, drunk, and usually away from their wives. They have nothing on their minds but young pussy and partying. G wasn’t lying. It’ll be worse than a game of Pony for all eight of those girls.
“The four I’m keeping out are Chloe, Clarissa, Dani, and Red. I need you to go down and let them know what’s happening. I don’t want to deal with little bitches today.”
That makes Brandi is one of the eight. Meaning, I have just over a week to get us out of here. I can’t put her through that hell again.
“Sure, G. I’ll get right on that,” I reply, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
“Good. Everything else is set. I’m hoping to snag a few new bitches from the event, too. It’s going to be a fun night.”
I’ve heard enough. “Call me if you need me. I’m going to tell the girls.”
“You’ve got the night off after that. These boys and I are going to scope out locations for next Sunday. Have a piece of ass, on me,” he jokes, knowing I don’t fuck the prostitutes.
I decide in a split second that I need to see Brandi now, and I know just how to take care of that.
My legs eat up the space in the hall, and I stop in the control room to let them know what’s up. Once again, Todd is working the computers and gives me a slimy grin when I enter. Where the fuck is Ron these days? I’m sick of this fucker.
“What’s new, man?”
I ignore his question. “I need to head downstairs to deliver some news from the boss.”
“Good news for them or good news for us?”
My fist closes around the collar of his shirt, lifting into the air until his toes are scrabbling for purchase. “It’s never good news for you, fucker. Just do your fucking job.”
He shuts his mouth, and I take that as my answer. It feels good to take my aggression out on someone.
My eyes adjust as I descend. I hit the landing and find the girls lounging about, several of them asleep. When they see me, however, the room goes wired.
“Mr. Holt,” one of them greets while jumping to her feet. Her head stays down, not making eye contact, just as we’ve taught them. The others begin to line up. All twelve of our working prostitutes stand before me like perfect little angels with their heads bowed. It’s disgusting how easily they bent to G’s will. Every time I step into this room, I’m reminded why I need to hurry the fuck up. I’m losing my grip on Brixton Holt.
An air of intimidation follows me like a shadow as I walk slowly down the line, taking extra care to scrutinize each girl before moving on to the next. This is all part of the act I’ve played so well for two years. Not much longer until this will all be over, and I can lose the fucking charade.
After I make it to the end, I turn back, repeating the process until I reach the middle. Until I reach Brandi. I can’t help myself. I’m drawn to her.
She keeps her head down, but I can see her thighs shift just slightly and her breathing turn shallow. Does it make me a sick bastard that that pleases me?
I lean in to inspect Clarissa on her right. My face mere centimeters from hers. Then, as part of my act, I turn my head to do the same to Brandi, relishing in her shiver. As inconspicuously as I can, I whisper in her ear. “Fight me.”
Her body tenses, and I quickly back away, praying she understands my meaning. With G leaving, I’m in charge. Which means if one of the girls’ mouths off, I can punish her how I see fit.
“Chloe, Clarissa, Dani, and Red,” I call out. The four girls keep their eyes averted, but I know I have their attention. “The four of you will be the only working girls for the rest of the week. The rest of you will be saving up your…energy…for the Super Bowl clients next Sunday.”
As they’ve been trained, nobody says a word in protest. I hold my breath in anticipation. C’mon, Brandi.
“What?” Brandi says, her voice only slightly raised.
“You got a problem with the rules?”
“I’m not working the Super Bowl. I want to trade.”
“Brandi,” Clarissa says in a harsh whisper. “Stop.”
“That’s enough!” I hold up my hand, and the room instantly quiets. I stalk forward until I’m right in Brandi’s face, and she cowers. “You want special treatment? You think you’re better than everybody else?”
“No-ˮ
I latch onto her forearm and drag her out of line. It has to be convincing, but I’m trying to not hurt her.
“No, please. I’m sorry!”
I lock eyes with her, hoping she understands this is all for show. Then I spin her by her forearm until her naked back presses against my chest. I cross our arms over her midriff.
“Too late. You want special treatment; you’re going to get it. The rest of you, get to bed. Chloe, Clarissa, Dani, and Red, I expect you ready to work by seven o’clock.”
I shove Brandi in front of me, forcing her towards the stairs. “You’re coming with me.”
Her body trembles visibly, and I feel disgusted in myself.
As soon as we round the stairs, I put my lips to her ear. “Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head no. I’m not entirely relieved.
“You know it was for show. I needed to see you,” I say just as quietly.
Her head nods almost imperceptibly.
“Good.”
I pull back and march her the rest of the way up the stairs. As we pass security, the door flies open.
“Where the hell you going with her?” Todd asks, as if he has one iota of pull in this place. Fuck, I thought I scared him off. This idiot has a death wish I’d be more than happy to grant.
“It’s none of your fucking business, but if it were, I’d say if you don’t know, you weren’t doing your fucking job.”
Todd’s face turns three shades of red. “Of course I did my job, you prick. Everyone knows nobody can touch the bitches except the boss.”
I move forward and shield Brandi with my body. “You don’t think after two years of being the number two around here, I don’t fucking know the rules?”
As quickly as it turned red, Todd’s face pales in my anger. My body is just vibrating with it. I want to get Brandi away from this and into a safe place as quick as possible. I feel like I’m exposing her by standing out in the damn hallway.
“No, I know you know the rules,” Todd stutters. “I was just checking. No offense, man. Just, be on your way.”
Without breaking eye contact with him, I back away, dragging Brandi with me. “Thought so. Get back to work, motherfucker.”
“Yes, sir.” Todd rushes back into the security room and slams the door. As soon as he’s gone, I turn around and usher Brandi up the stairs by her arm. I got Todd off my ass, but we ar
en’t in the clear yet. Not until we hit my room, where there isn’t any surveillance. Then I can have her all to myself.
Brandi
MY HEART IS pounding as Brixton drags me down the hall. When he told me to fight him, I wasn’t sure what he meant. Though, it became clear as he shared the news of what’s about to happen. He’s trying to get me alone, and after hearing about the upcoming Super Bowl, well, I’d like to be alone with him, too.
That news gutted me, knowing they’ll abuse me almost as badly as the night of Pony. I kept it together long enough for Brixton to get us out of there.
Now that we’re out, I’m almost excited to see where this is going to go.
We haven’t seen much of each other in the past couple weeks, but he’s been on my mind constantly. After we woke up from our nap two weeks ago, he brushed the hair from my face, and took extra care to check my wounds once more before walking me back down to the basement. There was a tenderness in his eyes that isn’t usually there, and I’ve been desperate to see it again.
It feels strange to have feelings for someone like Brixton Holt, but he isn’t like the others. Setting my thoughts to him has taken my mind off the other horrible things I’ve had to endure.
When I’m sent to work as a prostitute, picturing his strong, chiseled features and those platinum gray eyes almost makes getting fucked bearable. It gives me strength when my inner reservoir is running low, and seeing him in the flesh helps me to replenish it.
I believe he’s going to get us out of here alive. It’s the only hope I have left to cling to.
We reach his door, he makes quick work of the lock, throws it open before tugging me inside. He kicks the door closed with his foot. The next thing I know, my naked back presses up against the chilly wood, and Brixton’s long, hard body molds against mine.
His hand releases my forearm. The rush of blood makes my fingertips throb. He cages my head between both of his arms and brings his face in close.
