ESCORT: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Zoey Parker

  I’d let my guard down, and they’d taken my girl. Well, that was one mistake they wouldn’t get to make twice. I was gonna exterminate every last one of those sons of bitches.

  Without saying a word to the terrified hotel clerk, I pivoted on my heel and stalked out to my bike. The roar of the engine kicking to life took some of the edge off my nerves, but I was still all kinds of keyed up. The adrenaline pumping through my veins cleared my head. I had only one thought on my mind: punish them.

  I thundered down the road, hungry for blood. New Orleans was only an hour or so away. Selena’s father was about to find one hell of a surprise on his front step.

  The time flew by as I rode. The rumble of the highway on my bones felt good and natural, like this was where I was supposed to be. Soon, the city skyline came poking over the horizon, and before I knew it, I was weaving down streets in a tree-lined neighborhood, with massive estates looming on either side.

  This was some rich motherfucker territory. On any other day, I would’ve been licking my lips, thinking about all the money lurking behind every gate, just waiting to be put to a better use. But not today. I had a mission.

  I scanned the house numbers as I passed until – bingo, there it was. I idled up to the gate and pressed the button on the intercom. Some house servant answered.

  “Hello? Please state your name and business.”

  I spat, “Tell that motherfucker that if he wants to see his daughter alive again, he better open up the goddamn gate and let me in.”

  The servant didn’t bother to answer. I heard the phone clatter to the floor and panicked footsteps receding. The gate swung open on silent hinges. I picked my foot off the pavement and peeled through.

  I parked my bike on the circular driveway in front of the mansion. A peacock waddled by in front of me, looking haughty as hell.

  “Peacocks, good Lord,” I muttered to myself. I could already tell that this bastard was gonna be a real piece of work.

  A squat, sweaty little man came prancing down the steps. This must be the servant. “Please, sir, come in right away,” he urged, waving for me to follow him. I chuckled. I didn’t think I’d ever been called ‘sir’ in my life.

  I went up the staircase and into the house. The front room was massive, dotted with crystal chandeliers and expensive-looking art hung all over the walls. I whistled. “Some digs you got here, compadre,” I said to the servant. He looked too nervous around me to be capable of much conversation. I sighed and pulled a cigarette out of the pack, raising it to my lips. “Got a light?”

  “There is no smoking in the residence, sir,” he stuttered.

  “Never mind,” I told him, fishing a lighter out of my jacket pocket. “Got my own.” I lit the cigarette, dragged, and exhaled towards the high ceilings. I’d thought about blowing it in his face, just to teach this prick to lighten up, but then thought better of it. I was a gentleman, after all.

  “Can I take your coat?” the man asked nervously. He was sweating like a pig. I just looked at him and kept smoking without saying a word. He withdrew his hand and didn’t say anything to me again.

  I heard footsteps stomping down the staircase to my right. I looked up to see a stout old man with a grizzly three-day beard barreling his way downstairs. His face was screwed up like he’d been sniffing at a pile of shit his whole life, and he had beady eyes that looked meaner than a fight dog’s. I hated him already.

  “This is Selena’s father,” said the servant, trying to restore some sense of etiquette to the situation. “Mr. Baudelaire, this is… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Ember.”

  “This is Ember,” he finished. He glanced back and forth at both of us. Seeing no response, he turned and left the room.

  The old man eyed me up and down. “You’re the man they sent to bring my daughter back to me?” he asked.

  “The boys weren’t exactly falling all over themselves to play babysitter for a thousand-mile road trip,” I drawled, continuing to smoke my cigarette.

  “And I can see they sent the worst of you. You had one job. How did you manage to fuck that up?”

  “She ran away.”

  “Ran away? Why wouldn’t she want to be brought back home safely, to her father?”

  I didn’t like his tone one bit. “From what I hear, you ain’t exactly Father of the Year, amigo.”

  “How dare you insult me in my own home!”

  I shrugged. “No skin off my back. I’ll just leave. Have fun getting her back.” I turned and started to let myself out.

  “Don’t move, you greasy bastard,” he barked.

  “Listen, buddy,” I said, spinning back towards him. The asshole was stocky, but I was a full foot taller than him and every inch as wide. I loomed over him, stretching up towards the ceiling and letting the smoke from my cigarette fall around his head like a funeral wreath. “Let’s square up a few things real quick. I don’t owe you shit. I can walk out of here right now and never think about you again. Wouldn’t bother me one bit. You, on the other hand, have a daughter being held by some real screwy bastards. If you care about getting her back, then you definitely don’t want me walking out that door.” I eased back on my heels to let the words sink in.

  At first, I thought he was gonna hit me. His fists were seizing up like he was getting ready to swing. I honestly wished he would’ve. It woulda been a real pleasure to beat the piss out of a controlling scumbag like this.

  But then, like he’d reached a decision, the red blotches left his face and he took a deep breath. His hands fell loose by his sides. That’s right, motherfucker, I thought to myself. Shut up and listen to me.

  Finally, he turned and pointed for me to follow him into the next room.

  I was glad he hadn’t called my bluff. I had a lot on the line here, every bit as much as he did. I was in deep with this girl. I knew it already, even though I kept shoving the thought to the back of my head. The thought of her getting hurt made my stomach churn. There was no turning back now.

  I settled into a chair in front of a broad desk. Selena’s father took a seat on the other side, pressing his head into his hands. He didn’t look at me as he said, “Tell me what’s happened.”

  I gave him the sequence of events: how I’d picked her up in Mexico, paid off the cartel, brought her over the border, then woken up to her gone, followed by the message from the Lost Souls. I left out the rough sex, even though part of me wanted to let this bastard know that his daughter and I had fucked until the cows came home. But I figured I’d let it slide for now. One thing at a time.

  “The guys who took her are from a club called the Lost Souls. They run a fair amount of business up around here. Mostly drugs, some weapons or hookers on occasion. Whatever they can get their hands onto, more or less, which in this case happens to be your daughter.”

  He sighed and shook his head, like he thought he could just wish the whole damn situation away.

  “You ain’t Dorothy,” I told him. “Clicking your heels together and saying ‘There’s no place like home’ ain’t gonna fix a damn thing.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Exactly what they told you to do. We meet them, bring enough money to buy your daughter back, and then we split before they get any other stupid ideas.”

  He looked at me for the first time since we’d sat down. I couldn’t read anything in those bulldog’s eyes of his. “Just give them what they want? That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  He stood, pushing his fists into the desk. “I am supposed to pay these cocksuckers my hard-earned money?”

  “That’s more or less the idea. Shit, I didn’t think it was that complicated.”

  He slapped a hand hard on the wood. “I will not give them a single goddamn cent!” he thundered.

  This motherfucker was insane. Spit was flying from his mouth, his jowls flopped with every word, and the rage boiling in his eyes was on a whole different level.

  I didn’t understan
d his anger. Why couldn’t he listen to reason? This was the easiest way to get things done. If we paid them off, they’d slink back to whatever shithole they came from and let this psychotic son of a bitch go back to counting the coins in his vault, or whatever the fuck it was that rich bastards like this did with their free time. He could lock his daughter back up in the dungeon he’d constructed for her and it would be back to business as usual.

  There weren’t any appealing alternatives that I could see. A counterstrike was completely out of the question. It was impossible to attack the Lost Souls directly. They’d be holed up in some backwater bayou, and they’d spot us coming from a mile away. If we agreed to the rendezvous and tried to pull some tricky shit there, like an ambush, then they’d just pick us apart. I had no doubt they’d bring plenty of firepower to make sure things went smoothly. Worst case scenario, Selena would get killed in the crossfire, and there was no way in hell I was gonna let that happen.

  Mr. Baudelaire had fallen back into his chair, seething with his nostrils flared like a bull in the ring. He leaned forward and jabbed a finger in my direction. “Do you understand? Not. A. Goddamn. Cent. I will not do business with scum like these, these…” He waved a hand around.

  “Lost Souls,” I finished.

  “These animals,” he countered.

  Suddenly, a snaky voice slithered from behind me. “There is another way,” it hissed.

  I spun around in my chair. I’d thought the room was empty except for the two of us, but now that I looked, I saw a thin little man reclined in the far corner, draped in shadows. As I watched, he rose to his feet and paced towards where I sat.

  The sun coming in through the window reflected off his bald head. He inspired instant hatred. I’d never disliked someone on first sight as much as I despised this slimy shit. His eyes were slitted and calculating, his mouth drawn tight, and he licked his lips between every word.

  I turned back to Selena’s dad. “Who’s this charming piece of shit?” I asked.

  “I am Pincer,” the bald man said.

  “Your parents must’ve not liked you very much.”

  “I never knew them,” he replied, spinning to stand by Mr. Baudelaire’s side.

  “Well, then, I rest my case.”

  “You are very glib for a man who has failed at performing one very simple task.”

  “You’re very short for… actually, I got nothing. You’re just short.”

  Pincer’s smile did not look friendly. “Enough, both of you,” ordered Mr. Baudelaire. “Pincer, finish what you were saying.”

  Pincer tented his fingers and licked his lips before continuing, “As I was saying, there is another way. We arrange a group of our men in the woods around the drop-off point. We exchange the money, as per the request, and extract Selena. As soon as she is in our possession, we collapse in on the enemy from all angles, annihilating them utterly.”

  “That’s gonna be a fucking bloodbath if you go through with it,” I interrupted. “You’re gonna be shooting from every side. You’re just as likely to gun down your own men as you are any of the Lost Souls. Fuck it, you’re just as likely to gun down your own goddamn daughter!”

  “Sit down.” Mr. Baudelaire’s voice was sharp. I didn’t even realize I’d risen to my feet, or that I was breathing heavily and shaking with rage. “You have lost all credibility by letting my daughter get away from you in the first place. I wouldn’t trust you to rescue a beignet from a goddamn café right now.” He turned to Pincer. “Gather your men. Stake out the park. I will send a message to the Lost Souls to communicate that we are accepting their extortion. Then, tonight, when we meet them, we will let them know that they will pay for what they have done.” His fist crushed a fragile sculpture that had been swinging on his desk.

  “You’re gonna get everyone killed,” I started to say, but he cut me off again.

  “Pincer, escort our friend here to the street. We will no longer be needing his services.”

  I looked up to see the business end of a gun staring at me straight in the eyes. Pincer’s grim smile flashed on the other end of it. “Time to go, my friend,” he said.

  I stared back and forth at them. No one budged. These motherfucking maniacs were about to send Selena straight to the slaughter. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if either of them were to swallow some lead, but not her. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I had to figure out a way to intervene. If I didn’t, the only girl who’d ever meant anything to me was going to drown in a pool of her own blood, all because her father was a lunatic who refused to listen to common sense.

  I stood up and stubbed out my cigarette on a pile of documents on his desk. The burning paper hissed and crackled.

  I had to try one more time to convince him to reconsider. “You already lost your daughter once by acting like an imbecile,” I said. “Don’t make the loss permanent.”

  His gaze was icy as he looked up at me. “Go home, Ember.”

  Fuck him. I was on my own.

  “I can see myself out.”

  Chapter 4: Into the Woods

  Selena

  Earlier That Morning

  I looked back at Ember where he lay asleep on the bed. His breath hummed quietly through his nostrils. My heart ached, but I didn’t have a choice. This was the only opportunity I had to get away.

  I couldn’t go home. Going back to Daddy, to imprisonment? I’d never escape again. He would double down on everything, have me followed everywhere, always under lock and key, always under his gaze. He was the judge and the jury and the warden, all rolled into one. Going back home meant staying there forever. I couldn’t submit myself to that.

  Getting away the first time had been borderline impossible. I thought back to the insane arrangements I’d made to break loose. The months of preparation, of planning every single detail: exactly when the guards at our house changed shifts, exactly when the buses left the station en route to New York. I’d been so careful to rehearse everything and make sure that there was no chance of failure.

  And when I’d first stepped into the night air, I thought I’d done it. I had my bag in my left hand, a one-way ticket to Berlin in my right. I had three thousand dollars tucked in my back pocket – enough to pay for the trip to New York, where I could board my flight and take off. If everything worked out, I would never be back here again.

  It had all felt so possible that night, so tangible. The silent, vibrating alarm that let me know when to move. Creeping out of my room, to the service elevator at the back of the house. Slipping between the security lights and over the wall of the rear garden. Reaching the street and breathing the air. So this was what freedom tasted like. The few seconds I stood there were glorious. It was the first time I’d ever done something truly for myself, and it felt more incredible than I ever could have imagined. I wasn’t sure whether I should dance or cry or just scream to let out all the years of frustration that living under Daddy’s thumb had brewed in me.

  That moment, of course, was when the hood dropped over my eyes and I was yanked into the van.

  Looking back on it now, I’d been so fucking stupid. Of course there were eyes on the house. I eavesdropped on Daddy’s business calls sometimes, and I knew very well that he’d been struggling with the cartels for a few months at least. How many times had I pressed my ear to the door and heard angry voices with Mexican accents, railing at him? How many times had I heard him roaring back at them, telling them to fuck themselves, that he would never submit to extortion or threats? Enough to know that things weren’t going well. And when things with Daddy’s business weren’t going well, violence tended to spring up.

  I wasn’t supposed to know any of this, of course, but I’d picked up enough details to understand that the cartels wanted something from Daddy that he wasn’t willing to give. Which meant, of course, that they would start looking for weaknesses. The fact that there had been people spying on the house, then, should have been no surprise to me. Here was a group of sinister, fucke
d-up people looking for leverage, and I walked right into their hands. They must’ve been giddy with excitement.

  I almost laughed, after the initial shock and fear had subsided. I really thought I was just going to stroll into the night and straight into my happily ever after? Such an idiot. There was no such thing as happily ever after. No such thing as escape.

  But now, right now, that man on the bed – he was the closest thing I’d felt to it since those brief moments in the street outside my home, when I thought I’d broken free. I couldn’t even articulate exactly what it was about him that made me feel this way.

  Was it the sex? That certainly was something I’d never felt before. I blushed thinking about how much I’d opened myself to him and all the words that had slipped out of my mouth while I rode him. None of my brief sexual experiences had come even close to what it felt like to be with Ember. I’d resigned myself to an unsatisfactory life of touching myself and dreaming of more. But with Ember, I’d broken through walls I didn’t even know I’d placed around myself. Every thrust was like breaking down another barrier. And when I’d come… I shivered at the memory as heat crawled up my legs.