by Nicole Snow
“You said you'd help with the domestic bullshit.” I turned back to her. “You gonna put down the bottle long enough to nurse her tomorrow? I can't do that shit myself.”
Izzy took another long pull, sat the whiskey down, and looked at it sadly. “Sure. I told you I would. We've both been waiting for this day...waiting to get him back. It's finally here, isn't it?”
I raised an eyebrow. Izzy sounded surprised. Didn't even think she was capable of that after bitching and moaning and putting the heat on me for so long.
Not that I didn't deserve it. I needed to do the dirty work here. I deserved a thousand twists of the knife for what I'd done – just wished I didn't have this bitch along for the ride.
“Get some fucking sleep,” I growled. “We'll start with her in the morning. Not too fast. The bastard I buried put some nasty cuts on her back and we're gonna need to let 'em heal up. If Miguel sees those lashes, he'll think she's ruined goods.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “Another delay? Why not! Jesus, Evan, every day there is too much for him...you know that?”
Fuck. I wanted to walk over, jerk her up, and spit right in her face.
Yes, bitch, I fucking know! I'm the one who put him there! I'm the guy who knows EXACTLY what kind of shit that animal is capable of!
And he's got my son. My poor, helpless, innocent son...
“Watch your fucking tongue.” I walked over and snatched up the whiskey. She made a little sound as I stepped to the nearby sink and began to empty it in the metal basin.
“You bring another bottle in here, I'll find out about it. Need your ass sober for the shit that's coming, Izzy. I'm not gonna let you piss all over me while you fart off your own duty.”
“Whatever. Just do right by Jenny and Ty. You promised me you would, Evan. No matter how hard it gets.”
“I promised myself. Didn't have a damned thing to do with you.”
I was so done with this. I turned, walked right past her, and headed downstairs, leaving her alone with the last of her precious poison gurgling down the drain.
We all drown our demons in something. If the smell of alcohol didn't make me sick since my life went to hell, I might've easily ended up like Izzy.
My escape? Running my ass ragged.
I spent the whole evening on the treadmill, pounding it until my legs screamed at me to stop. Then I lifted iron, more than anything I needed for a good workout. I forced every muscle into a frenzy, driving the energy out, leaving me an exhausted mess.
Ironic, really.
Killing fuck-heads for a living kept me ripped, but now I was in the best physical shape of my life, and it didn't mean shit. Playing strongman wouldn't get my son back.
This game was different from everything I'd known. It wasn't a matter of extracting Ty and making Miguel Borzia pay for what he'd done. If it were that easy, the bastard would already be six feet under. If there were even a glimmer of hope that fists and guns and muscles could fix my fucking problem without enslaving an innocent woman, I would've done it in a heartbeat.
But that bastard – that utter, conniving, despicable fucker – was too damned cautious for his own good. Six years working with him as my boss showed me he'd built a goddamned fortress. He had the only villa on the border nobody fucked with, and if they were stupid enough to try, they wouldn't walk away from it alive.
I was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, when my phone kicked on. I already had a good idea who it was before I snatched it up and shoved it against my sweaty face.
Video call. Only one dickhead ever rang me with the camera request. Guess thinking about him too much brought out the devil himself.
“Good afternoon, Cole. I trust you're doing well?” This man...fuck, I'd never hear anyone speak perfect English with just a hint of a foreign accent again without wanting to break shit. Not after this.
I stared into his face, letting my nostrils flare. Bastard. He always looked so neat, so organized, leaning back in a luxury chair next to his pool that always seemed to go on forever.
He was wearing white. What else?
The monster presented himself to the world in pure ivory, a terrible camouflage for his dark heart. He wore the same immaculate cream suite whenever I met him in the flesh, and always when he did conference calls too.
“Miguel. What do you want?”
He leaned in close to his phone. “Christ. You're not on something, are you? Because if you are, we can end this now. I told you – I'll make sure the boy doesn't suffer long. Not like her.”
Each word he spoke was like a dagger sinking deeper in my heart. The urge to hurl my shitty phone against the wall and blast it into smithereens was overwhelming. Only his threats held me back, saved me from getting reckless and condemning my boy to his death.
“I'm fine. Really. I'll piss in a bottle and send you the sample if you want proof. I'm not interested in your fucking products.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Large, polished, white teeth rippled in the blue night lights installed around his pool and gardens.
“No need to do that, Cole. This arrangement will keep you from doing anything stupid.” The smile melted, leaving me looking into a cold, dead face. “We've made our mistakes, you and I. Only difference is I've sorted things out like a man. What about you? Have you fulfilled my request?”
Only an asshole like you calls a demand written in blood a request.
“I have...a prospect.” Damn it, I wasn't sure what else to call her.
Couldn't bring myself to call Cassie a piece of meat or even a whore. Definitely not a fucking companion – his word for the women he enslaved.
“It's going to take a little time to train her like you want...but I've got a good feeling about this girl. You'll like her.”
“Text me the pictures.”
I swallowed. “Not so simple. She pitched a fit on the way in and hurt herself. Nothing serious. You told me you wanted a fighter...”
“Indeed.” His face wasn't betraying anything now.
I could practically feel the evil fascination rippling behind the screen. Made me want to fucking puke.
“You'll have your pictures next week,” I continued. “Let me get her settled in and cleaned up. Get everybody on the right page. She's a very pretty girl, and a virgin too.”
He cocked his head. “You checked?”
“Course not. But where she comes from, there's no fucking way she's anything else. I picked her just for you.”
“I'm holding you to your promises, Cole. If she isn't what you claim she is when she gets here...we have ways to verify. Modern techniques. Not the medieval voodoo I can tell you're thinking about, though that would be much more fun.” His smile resurfaced as he paused. “For me.”
Bastard. I wanted to wipe it off his fucking face forever, and then keep going 'til he didn't have a jaw left on his skull.
“One week. That's all I ask. She'll be the prettiest thing you ever saw, Miguel. I promise.”
“I trust you, Cole. You've got the ultimate incentive to do your job right this time. You will not disappoint me again.”
I nodded. No, dammit, the bastard had me there. I wouldn't disappoint him for Ty's sake, though this job was going to darken what little soul I had left.
“You know I'm not concerned about a few scratches. Just as long as there's plenty room for a thousand more.” He held the phone further, and I watched his free hand twitch on the armrest, as if a lion were sharpening its claws. “I've never had a virgin before. Will she scream more when I get between her legs, or when I sink my teeth into her throat?”
I didn't say a damned thing. Fuck, I wished I hadn't exercised before the call because it was turning my lungs to clay, making it damned hard to breathe.
“What do you say, Cole? Think she'll still be afraid after you get through with her? I want her obedient, yes, but I hope she'll be receptive to my surprises. Whatever you do, don't take that away from me.”
“I know what to do, Miguel. It's
not like I haven't done this kinda shit for you before...”
“But never this. This job, you've only seen bits and pieces of from afar. It was never your specialty until we drove our new hard bargain.” He exhaled slowly, his cruel face tensing up. “I've waited a long time for this. Way too fucking long. I've been so patient, waiting for you to repay me in blood. Do you know my last companion was buried when you were still on payroll?”
Buried. Jesus Christ.
My heart dropped like an elevator. I lowered my head, imagining the fucker watching me and holding in his laughter. He enjoyed toying with me, especially after Jenny.
“I didn't know, Miguel. Next week. The dry spell will be over. Promise.” Silence passed for a full minute.
Then he brought the phone closer and looked at me with those pitch black eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for? Do your damned job and get me the girl, as quickly as you can. Don't waste a single second.”
The screen went blank, and the phone dinged to signal the call had ended. I dropped the fucking thing and turned to the wall, pushing my fists against the brick. The pressure kept me from heaving up my guts.
I'd seen his last companion, only a couple months before everything went to hell. She was sitting on his lap when I came to his office, a thin girl with a sleek silver dress that looked way too tight to be comfortable. He was getting angrier as he told me about the latest target, some old high level mule who'd turned traitor. She was taking the brunt of his rage.
I watched her move uncomfortably as he shoved her hip against his desk, crushed her between his hands and hard cherry wood. The companion started to whimper through the last few minutes of the meeting, and I was never so glad to get up and go.
“Senor Cole.” Miguel's voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Look.”
He never took his eyes off me as he jerked her into his arms, flipped up her skirt, and showed me the mess of ruined skin going up her thigh. He'd either burned it or chewed it up – I wasn't sure which – and then laughed when I spun and crashed through the big double doors.
If only this fucking psycho didn't pay so well, I would've forced myself to see the signs earlier. But it wasn't my business to ask, to wonder, to judge. It was my business to kill for him, and I did it at a distance, always thinking I was untouchable.
Six hellish months proved I wasn't. They proved I was the dumbest bastard in the whole wide world for staying in and letting him turn his monstrous rage on my family. Dumber still, I always thought it would be me if I fucked up, not anybody else.
I was wrong. Absolutely wrong. So wrong I couldn't ever afford to be wrong with this asshole again.
He wanted a new companion? Fine.
I was going to give him one to get my son back. Maybe I'd spend the rest of my life trying to wipe away the guilt, trying to forget the poor angel face sleeping in my guest room turned prison cell.
Didn't fucking matter. As long as Ty was safe, nothing else mattered.
Not even her.
III: Never What It Seems (Cassie)
Darkness. Pain. Darkness.
It kept coming, cyclic and fiery, the same as my tears. I woke up crying at least three times, brief conscious flashes of hell before I blacked out again.
Whatever numbed me earlier was gone. Now I'd been thrown to the hungry darkness, the savage pain my father had left me as a parting gift. It cut so deep I barely felt a thing when the stranger's strong hands were on me.
“You're gonna be okay, babe. Just take these.”
Groaning into his hand, I swallowed the pills he pushed onto my tongue, and then little sips of water he held to my mouth. No clue what they were. All I knew was that they made me feel better, returned me to the dreamless sleep were I didn't have to hurt.
Half a dozen times I woke, the last few burning up. The man was at my side each time, pressing a cold, damp washcloth to my face. It was cool and soothing.
God, it was wonderful to have some relief from the waking fire.
“Your fever's gone down. It'll break soon. Just a minor infection. You'll be right in no time flat. It's my fucking job to get you well and I'm not gonna screw it up.”
I sucked in a deep breath as he laid me down. He fed me something. I could only remember vague flashes of mushy, tasteless porridge and chalky vitamins following the painkillers down my throat.
“Your job?” My head was spinning, but I could still think through the fog. “Why? Who are you? Are you a doctor?”
So many unanswered questions. Hardly the time or place to ask them. I was losing consciousness again as I looked up at him.
“I'm your whole world now. That's all you need to know,” he said softly. “Long as you're with me, you're gonna be all right. Promise. And believe me, I don't make promises lightly.”
Merciful blackness came, blinding the confusion and nagging questions he igniting in my brain. I slept and slept, safe from the pain and my father's angry ghost and this strange man.
Strange, beautiful man. I thought Ryan was amazing when I sinned during sermon, but the skinny boy had nothing on this stranger.
A few times, I swore I saw him shirtless, watching me from the shadows. His body was stamped with dark sharp blades and violence, evil stamped on his beautiful skin and rolling muscles.
You're sick. You're hallucinating, I told myself. Rest and get your head straight, just like he says.
I had to. I couldn't believe I'd exchanged one devil for another.
“Can you stand? Let me help.” He wasn't asking.
The man pulled me off the bed and propped my side against the wall, careful to avoid touching the tender scars on my shoulders. I winced, but I was feeling stronger and better.
“I think so. It's...difficult. Hurts. But I'll manage.” I said the last sentence a little more happily, amazed that my knees didn't cave and knock me to the wooden floor.
“Good. Now how 'bout some dinner? It's been a few days since you had any real food. The nutrient shit I've been giving you doesn't count.”
I nodded, smoothing my hands down my dress. It was smooth, dry, not the matted, filthy mess I expected.
Wait a minute...
My eyes bulged so hard the throbbing headache came back when I realized I was wearing something different. No, this dress wasn't white and plain, not like the ones we had at home – the only dresses women were permitted in Beacon Grove. He'd changed me into something black and barely modest, cut too low at both ends.
It hit me. I remembered the way Daddy shredded it, and how the blood stained my skin, pooling around my underwear. The dress was torn to shreds. Long gone.
“Hey, Mister!”
He turned. “The name's Evan. I'm not your fucking gray haired neighbor.”
“Evan...where're my clothes? Did you do this?” I flushed, weirdly anxious to imagine this man with dark eyes and rough hands roaming my naked body while I was out.
“I got the dress, yeah. It was my sister-in-law who changed you. I had her clean you up and get you into it. Had to keep your cuts sterile and dressed.”
That made sense. I nodded slowly, still feeling the unusual fabric. It was much softer than anything I was used to. The dress was more like the ones in pictures of movie stars and rich politicians I'd seen in my father's old magazines.
Relics, he called them, a shortening of the Prophet's own impure relics. Now, I was wearing one, corruption clinging to my skin. The old me would've shaken and tried to tear it off.
But only if I was going to get caught.
I'd figured out a long time ago these things weren't sins like the Prophet said. I pulled at the skirt's hem, running it between my fingers, standing like a dummy.
“You coming, or what?” Evan had the big door leading outside the room propped open, standing in the frame. Waiting.
“Sorry!” I ran after him, wondering if he'd give me some shoes later on.
Would I get to wear heels? Maybe the crazy, stilted things Daddy cursed while he secretly looked at them with lust?
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I'd seen those pictures too. Heather and I both had, sneaking through his things on the rare occasions when we were alone. I saw the slim journals he hid beneath his bed, packed with women wearing high heels and hardly anything else, things that no pure man in Beacon Grove was supposed to enjoy.
My stomach growled, making me walk faster. Some real food would be nice, especially if anybody in this household could actually cook. We'd been eating out of cans for as long as I remembered, junky crap the congregation pulled in through outside donations.
I didn't know much about the great beyond outside our town, but it wasn't hard to tell we were getting the stuff no one else wanted.
My heart jumped into my throat as soon as we entered the dining room.
A jaw-dropping spread unlike anything I'd ever seen was laid out. Steaming ham, potatoes, and salads I couldn't start to identify all beckoned on a long table beneath a fancy looking chandelier.
Jesus, forget the food. I'd never been in a home like this. Period.
“Sit,” Evan commanded, pulling aside a chair for me.
He took the head spot, while I carefully moved into my place across from a woman with a sour, pale face. She looked at me knowingly. I realized she was the mysterious caretaker he'd mentioned. Despite at least eight more chairs positioned at the table, there was no one else.
“I'm glad you're finally up.” She stuffed a fork full of meat into her lips, without so much as a smile. Something about her tone said she wasn't concerned about me either. “Isabella.”
I looked at her, not understanding. Evan took the empty plate beneath me and began loading it with food, a little of everything, then sliding it in front of me when it was full.
“Forgive her bad manners. She's going through a stressful fucking time. If you hadn't guessed, that's her name. But you can call her Izzy, same as I do. Dig in.”
Izzy shot an angry look at both of us. “Oh? I thought this was supposed to be formal? Controlled?”
