Reckless: A Bad Boyz Anthology

by Anthology

  For all the time I’ve spent in this shit hole, alarm bells are ringing all over the place. Something’s not right. I need to see Deke, give him everything I’ve got, and see if we can pull of a raid by next Sunday. Whatever Gutierrez has planned is going to be nasty. I can feel it.

  Brandi

  EVERYTHING IS QUIET. Eerily so. The atmosphere around here has changed and not in a good way. With only four girls working, the rest of us have practically ceased to exist. The ones who work are gone all night and sleep during the day. The rest of us, well, we wait.

  None of us are being drugged. None of us are asked to entertain. It’s almost as if we’ve been forgotten. Which is impossible. The planning for the Super Bowl must be intensive. It’s the only way to explain why we’ve been left to ourselves for the past three days.

  I didn’t think it were possible, but the room we’re kept it smells even staler than before. The mouthwatering scent of fresh food the kitchens prepare doesn’t waft through the air. Expensive colognes and the smell of sex are nothing more than a faint reminder of the days prior. The acridness nonexistent. The lack of aromas makes it even more obvious that I haven’t seen Brixton since the day he snuck me into his room. Which isn’t to say he hasn’t been on my mind.

  I can recall everything about that day in stark clarity. The smell of his cologne mixed with soap and the sweet fragrance of laundry detergent on his sheets. The feel of his rough stubble scratching my sensitive breasts, and the lapping of his wet tongue against my nipples. The way his hand knew just how to move to bring me to the first orgasm I’ve ever had. And that orgasm. I blush whenever the sensation crosses my mind. Just the thought has me pressing my thighs together to hide the wetness between my legs. If there ever were a time to shy away from being naked, this is one of them. I don’t know what would happen if a handler were to find out that I’m actually aroused.

  If only there were a way to see him, but our door is locked. I’m not able to get a message out or a signal. I’m left wanting and waiting in the dark shadows of the basement, hoping that our encounters haven’t been a figment of my imagination.

  I was quick to trust and open up, and I have to believe he wasn’t toying with me.

  Someone stirs next to me on our mattress, so I roll to my side and drape my arm across her waist. It doesn’t matter who it is. We’ve all developed a sacred bond built upon our circumstances. Nobody is here out of choice. There isn’t a competition. Each of us wants freedom as much as the next but know it’ll never happen. We seek comfort in one another and solidarity in our situations.

  The girl next to me begins trembling, so I tuck her closer into me. My head rests atop hers, and in the uneasy silence, I can just make out her sniffles. She’s crying and it breaks my heart.

  “Shh. Are you all right?”

  She violently shakes her head no, and the intensity of her sobs increase. Her hand finds mine, and she squeezes tightly. I finally realize it’s Chloe.

  I hug her tighter, but it only increases her sobs until she lets out a loud wail.

  “Hey, Chloe, shh. What’s going on?”

  She sucks in noisy breath of air. “Todd hurt me,” she pants through her cries.

  “What? Come on, Chlo, you’ve got to show me.”

  “I can’t.”

  I scramble to my knees and roll her carefully to her back. She releases a painful moan. The other girls have started to wake and shift around one another to see what we’re doing. “Show me.”

  Finding her hand through the dark, I move both of our hands to her stomach so that hers rests on top of mine. “Here?”

  “No,” she cries.

  The only thing I can see is outlines of bodies. My eyes have adjusted from being in the dark so long, but that doesn’t mean I can make out much detail. I shake the hand beneath hers. “Where?” I ask again.

  It feels as if nobody is breathing, and the silence stretches on. Then out of nowhere, Chloe begins to shift our hands lower, stopping on the top of her thigh. “Down here,” she whispers.

  “Did you pull a muscle? I can give you a massage-ˮ

  “No!” she shouts. “No, he hurt me down there,” she emphasizes.

  My hand jumps from her skin as though electrocuted and a cool sticky sensation tickles my palm. What the...?

  “Chloe, did you have an accident?”

  Now that everyone is awake, her sobs break free. “No!” she wails. “It’s b-b-blood!”

  I feel like a cinderblock has settled in my gut. A fury I’ve never felt before simmers through me. The ability to think reasonably vanishes. I fly off the bed with a speed I didn’t know I possessed and race up the stairs. Two, three at a time, hell I don’t know. Without slowing down, I hit the door with a thud and bang my fists against it.

  “Open up,” I scream. “Open this fucking door!”

  The heavy wooden door flies open, and I stumble through. Warm, rough palms grip my bare arms and catch me before I hit the floor.

  “Brandi?” My heart sighs in relief at the sound of his voice, but quickly resumes it’s rapid rhythm.

  Because we aren’t alone.

  “What the fuck, bitch?” asks Todd. “Get back where you belong.”

  “That’s enough.” More company. Mr. G.

  Through this entire exchange, I can feel Brixon’s weighted stare, but I don’t dare acknowledge him. I can’t do anything that would give away our connection. I wish he’d release me. His positioning might look a little too intimate.

  “You’re bleeding,” he growls and snatches my right hand. “Are you hurt?” he asks quieter.

  “It’s not my blood,” I spit angrily.

  Without warning, G’s sharp knuckles connect with the side of my face, the pain spreads through my temple and my skin blazes. I drop to a heap on the cold hardwood.

  “Remember your fucking place, whore.”

  Lifting myself to my elbow, I raise my head in defiance but keep my eyes averted. “I’m sorry, Sir.” I attempt to sound contrite. “But one of the girls is hurt and needs help because Todd fucked her so hard she’s bleeding and can’t walk.”

  Two pairs of eyes pin Todd on the spot. His face blanches. “The bitch is lying.”

  “Well I’m a patient man,” Mr. G. says calmly. “Let’s go find out for ourselves.”

  He stalks off without another word. Todd chases behind him, while Brixton and I linger back.

  His eyes look defeated and cups my cheek. Then he lifts me bodily from the floor, brings my hand to his face, inspecting the blood. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I shift from foot to foot, contemplating my response. “Besides not seeing you? Yeah, I’m okay.”

  Brixton’s face softens. “We’ll have to rectify that, won’t we?”

  “Please.”

  If only we could turn that into a given. I don’t know how we’re going to be able to sneak around much longer. I can only break the rules so much before I end up with a bullet in my skull.

  His large palm settles on the back of my neck, his touch warm and soothing. To anyone else, it would look like he’s forcing me to walk, but his grip feels like a caress. I’m desperate for a connection. Any connection.

  When we enter the room, the scene is how I left it. Except now that Mr. G. has entered the basement, the girls have lined up on the far side of the mattress with their heads down.

  All but Chloe.

  The poor girl is writhing in pain on the mattress, a mask of terror on her pale face. Mr. G. lays his palm on her thigh and she flinches, filling the room with an ear-splitting scream.

  Nobody moves. Nobody even breathes.

  Mr. G whips out a pistol and points it at Todd’s head. “You dare touch my property?” he seethes.

  The hairs on my arms stand up, and my skin prickles with fear.

  Brixton’s hand tightens on my neck. A warning?

  In the darkness of the room, I reach behind me until my hand bumps into his stomach. His other hand finds mine, and he laces our fing
ers together tightly.

  “I told you, boss, the bitch is lyin’.” Todd cowers as Mr. G shakes the gun in his face.

  “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I’m fuckin’ blind?”

  “No!” Todd’s voice shakes.

  “I’m down a worker now because of you.”

  He recoils, looking like he’s about to piss his pants. “I just wanted a little taste.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  The gun goes off.

  The girls scream and grab each other, and I press my back against Brixton’s chest at the same time he hauls me closer.

  Todd’s brain matter splatters across the room. He’s dead.

  We’ve all heard stories about the ruthlessness of Mr. G. Girls turning up dead for breaking the rules or just not making enough of a profit. None of us has actually witnessed it before.

  Bile rises up from my stomach, and I sputter. I hated Todd nearly as much as I hate Mr. G. The way he looked at us made my skin crawl. I knew he wasn’t safe. But I didn’t need to witness his death.

  “Holt!” he barks. “Get the girl and call the fucking doc. Take her with you.” He nods his head to me.

  I want to sigh in relief. Chloe’s been through enough, and I don’t want her to be alone. Which also means I can be in Brixton’s presence a little longer.

  Before releasing my hand, he squeezes it once more, then goes to pick up Chloe. Tears spring to my eyes at the gentleness he uses when lifting her from the mattress. She only squeaks a little.

  His large strides eat up the floor as he makes his way to the stairs. I follow rigidly with Mr. G. at my back. We leave the other girls trembling in the basement with Todd’s dead body.

  I don’t know how much longer I can hang on in this place. Every day it gets harder and harder to hold onto hope.

  Holt

  “YOU NEED TO go back to the basement,” I argue for the fifth time.

  Chloe was given a dose of antibiotics and left to rest, hopefully without being violated. I think if anyone had the idea, they’d think twice now that Todd’s dead. Good riddance. The fucker deserved what he got.

  Gutierrez stayed long enough to hear how long Chloe was out of commission, then made his exit about twenty minutes ago. After the doc left, Brandi and I stepped into the hallway on the second floor, which is where we are arguing now.

  “I need to see you,” she persists. “I’m not trying to sound pathetic, or weak, or needy, but it’s been days, Brixton. I’m alone and scared. We need a plan to get out of here, and we can’t do that while I’m locked downstairs.”

  She has a point. Time is ticking faster the closer we get to the Super Bowl, and I need her to keep herself safe. But this shit is risky. If we were to get caught, it’d be both of our lives.

  “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  Her arms fold across her chest. “I’m not a child. Lord knows I’ve seen more evil in my life than most grown adults. I don’t need you protecting me.”

  The urge to reach out and touch her is overwhelming. My expression softens. “It’s my duty to protect you.”

  “Then protect my heart by spending an hour with me.”

  “How can I say no to that?”

  Scanning the area to make sure we’re alone, I step forward until our toes meet. My hand slides to the back of her neck, underneath her short brown hair, and I thread my fingers through the strands. Our foreheads touch.

  Her small, warm palms press into my chest, sliding up and over my shoulders, and she rests one on each side of my neck. Her thumb strokes my pulse point, making my heart thump harder.

  With a lump in my throat, I close the gap between our lips. It’s only for a second, but the connection feels like I’ve had it my entire life. “I’m going to get you out, even if I die trying,” I murmur against her mouth.

  Her hands on my neck jerk and pull me towards her. She crashes our lips together again. “Don’t you dare say that,” she pulls away to whisper before pressing our mouths together again. “Don’t you fucking say that.”

  We kiss again. Slowly, but heated, our mouths trying to convey what we can’t risk expressing in the open. When she presses her naked breasts tightly against my chest, my hand convulses on her neck.

  “Come on. Quickly.” I tug her down the hallway, unlock my room, and drag her inside.

  I throw the door to and stalk her towards the bed. Her hips sway in an alluring way that keep my eyes drawn downward. This woman is undoing me without even trying, and I need to be inside of her.

  “We don’t have much time,” I murmur in a gravelly voice.

  When she doesn’t respond, I look up in question. Her face is a mixture of lust and apprehension.

  “I want to make you feel good.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” I tease.

  She rings her hands together nervously. “I want you to call me Molly.”

  My heart sticks in my throat.

  “Just in here,” she rushes on. “Just this once.”

  I hook her around the back with my arm, dragging her body into mine. With the other hand, I reach forward to snag a rogue lock of hair. I wrap the thick lock around my index finger, committing it’s softness to memory. Then, I tuck it behind her ear.

  “I need you, Molly,” I whisper reverently.

  “Then I’m all yours.”

  Everything about this moment slows. Time, our movements, our breaths. When Molly begins undoing the buttons of my shirt, I still her hands. Instead, I move them to my pants. “Here,” I command.

  While I remove my shirt, she unbuckles my belt, unbuttons, and slowly pulls down the zipper. Since the girls aren’t allowed clothing, instead of undressing her, I run my hands over her smooth skin.

  When my clothes fall away, so do any remaining walls. Before I take another step forward, I need to tell Molly the truth. I trust her enough to know she wouldn’t betray me. Not with this.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Grabbing her by her hands, I lead her to sit on the bed. She perches on the edge, and I lower myself to the ground between her legs. My hands don’t let go of hers. I need the connection, because I don’t know how she’s going to take this. She could be angry or feel betrayed. I need her to see how much she’s captured me and saved me.

  “Before I go any further, I want you to know that you have brought a man back from the dead. Before you came here, I was a monster.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  I cover her mouth with both of our hands to stop her. She nods her head once.

  “I was,” I continue. “I used to have morals. I tried to hold onto the man I used to be, but living in this place fucked with my head. I believed the devil lived inside of me.

  “Until you. I tried so hard to stay away from you. The moment I laid eyes on you, I felt something. I just didn’t know what. And when I realized it was feelings for you, God help me, I tried to push you away. I tried to make you believe I was like the others. I wanted you to fear me,” I confess.

  Tears fill her eyes. “Brixton…”

  “And then I fucked everything up. You ended up with the most horrendous consequence because I fucked up. I sat by the side of the bed while you slept, watching over you, and vowed I would do everything in my power to save you.”

  My own eyes prickle with moister, and I close them. When I open them again, I finish. “My name isn’t Brixton Holt, and I’m an undercover detective with the FBI.”

  Shock transforms her face. “What?”

  The fact she hasn’t pulled away gives me the courage to continue. “Two years. I’ve been here for two fucking years living in this hell. I’m going to shut this bastard down, and you all will go free.”

  “How much longer? What more do you need?” she asks eagerly, and a new energy fills the room. Hope. And elation.

  “You aren’t mad?”

  She flies off the bed. “Of course not! How soon can you put a stop to this?”

  I rise from the floor and pull
her into my arms. My mouth touches the delicate curve of her neck. “Soon. I need the names of the men who supply his buyers. He keeps it in a folder locked in his desk.”

  “Oh, Brixton.” She throws her arms around my neck. “I just, thank you. Thank you.”

  I grab her shoulders and give her a shake. “We aren’t out of here yet. You need to stay out of sight. Lie low for a few days. This’ll be over soon.”

  Her hand finds mine, and she pulls me back to the bed. Turning us around, she pushes me until the backs of my knees make contact, and I sit down. Shocking the shit out of me, her slender legs part and straddle me; her tight ass nestled against my thighs. Her slender fingers cup my face, bringing our foreheads together.

  “I’m falling in love with you.” I confess my final truth.

  “I’m already there.”

  This has to be the most fucked up situation in the world, but here we are, two hearts who’ve seemed to wade through the shit storm to find each other.

  “I’m going to make love to you,” I kiss her chin. “I’m going to show you what it feels like to have a real man inside you.”

  Holding her around the small of her back, I stand up and flip us over so her back is to the bed. Planting a knee in the mattress, I slide our bodies to the middle. Her perky tits mold to my naked chest, and her hips cradle mine.

  “Are you nervous?”

  Her straight, white teeth sink into her full bottom lip. She nods her head while looking at me with entirely trustful eyes.

  Using my thumb, I tug her lip from her grip. “Don’t. It’s just you and me and respect in this room. Everything out that door ceases to exist the minute we hit this bed. I won’t rush you. And I won’t start until you’re begging me to. We’ll go slow.”

  She tugs my hair, pulling my mouth to hers, and I take that as her answer. Her kiss is tentative at first, but it quickly builds up steam. Her mouth devours mine with little bites and flicks of her tongue. Before long, her pelvis lifts off the bed to grind against mine.

  “Brixton. I need…Oh!” She moans when I shift my hips just right so the ridge of my cock rubs against her clit. “I want more.”