by Nicole Snow
She looked up at me slowly. I'd insulted the hell out of her, but still the anger wasn't there. Shit, she really was beaten. Had I actually drummed it into her thick fucking head?
“Yeah. You're the boss. Just as long as he comes home safe, I don't give a damn.”
“He will if we do our part.” She shivered when I let her go, taking a step back. “Start by going upstairs and getting some damned rest. It's gonna be a long hard day tomorrow.”
“Evan!” She called out to me as I was walking away, well down the hall, heading for the disaster zone in the kitchen I needed to finish cleaning.
I ignored her. Izzy was cooperating, and it was enough. I needed her to fucking listen. I didn't need a shred of her sympathy.
If I stared at her big, sad puppy eyes a second longer, it would've been too much. Whenever she looked at me like that, she had Jenny's eyes, and there was no way I was gonna let myself remember them.
Not until I had our son, and I'd finally given my wife a proper burial. Until then, I didn't deserve shit.
The girl was asleep. She only stirred slightly as I came in and let the door slam behind me.
Shit. Least she'd crawled into bed sometime during the night and stopped slamming herself against the door.
She was scuttling backwards when I grabbed her. Fuck, she was a mess, all tears and rancid stress crusted beneath her eyes and all over her cheeks.
“No! Please! Please don't hurt me...”
“Let's go. It's time for breakfast.” I yanked her up, steadying her when she fell against my chest. “The only hurting you're gonna do is if you don't eat and keep sleeping on fucking wood. Come on.”
Mentioning food relaxed her. She didn't fight as I pulled her outside and marched her down the hall, toward the dining room.
Cassie tensed up a second time when she saw Izzy sitting there. I forced her along, knocking my knees gently against her legs. The chair came out with a pull, and I sat her down, a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes waiting.
“Juice? It's fresh squeezed,” Izzy cooed.
The girl didn't say anything. I sat down. She just stared at the two of us, wondering what insane torture we had ready for her today.
It wasn't an unreasonable question. I would've wondered the same damned thing in her position, especially when she didn't know about Miguel, the man who had us all by the nuts.
We ate in silence. Izzy kept it together just like I'd asked. She didn't mention the day's plans until near the end, after I made sure Cassie cleaned her plate.
“We're scrubbing the floors and bathrooms today,” she said. “Or rather, you're doing it while Evan and I watch you. I promise, it won't be a repeat of yesterday. I'm sorry about that. He'll keep me in line this time.”
The woman looked at me and I nodded. I felt Cassie kick one of the wooden legs beneath the table, but nothing else. No real resistance.
Good. You don't know it now, babe, but you're making this easier on everybody. Let's fucking keep it that way.
The morning went smoothly. I walked the house, always double checking the locks on the doors and windows. Cameras too.
There was a shitload to track since we'd reinforced the house to prepare for our guest. Izzy hummed to herself while the girl worked. Her sad, slow melodies drifted down the hall, nipping at my ears.
Didn't like that shit one bit. It made me think about my son, brought back sickening memories of the way Jenny and Aunt Izzy used to sing him to sleep.
By evening, I couldn't take it. No matter how many floors I put between me and them, Izzy's melodies followed, cancerous lullabies stabbing me right in the fucking chest. I had to shut her up.
Cassie was on her last job by the time I got up there, giving the master bathroom attached to my room a good scrubbing. The girl looked like hell.
Rather, she should've looked that way with her chestnut hair all tangled around her soft round face and dripping sweat. But there was a certain beauty in her sheen, and I stood in the entrance unseen, my frustration with the sing-song bullshit fading. Izzy had fallen silent and sat on the counter, gently kicking her legs, filing her nails.
Fuck! I couldn't take my eyes off the girl, couldn't un-see the beauty in her shape, her hips bowed out as she bent over, showing the plump kinda ass I loved.
What would it be like to crawl up behind her, rip that skirt off, and mount her like a buck in rut? I'd hold her down and drag my tongue up her throat. I'd roll her perky tits in my hands, teasing the young pink nips I'd seen beneath her bra on that rainy goddamned day.
I'd fuck it all out of us. Everything. Hate and lust, light and dark, wild and fuckin' free...
The flesh spoke better than any words I knew. If I was there, slamming my naked hips against her ass, we'd work it out in sweat and rhythm. We'd do it, no matter how twisted and cruel and complicated all this shit was between us.
For the first time in ages, my cock twitched. It filled and stretched taught against my fly. Lightning went flying up my stomach.
Fucking shit. Get a grip, asshole. You're supposed to mold her mind and flesh. Not gawk at it like a goddamned teenager pining at a prom date.
Easier said than done. Much, much fucking easier. Watching her shapely hips bob as she ran the brush over the tile kept my dial tuned to sex and wouldn't let go. I kept seeing her like that on all fours without the brush and without any fucking clothes. Sweatier, screaming my name, swaying her little hips into me as I thrust to the hilt again and again and again.
I pinched my eyes shut. It had been too long, and sex was on the furthest back burner since all this shit began.
The demon thoughts pissed me off for another reason: we were barely getting started, and now I had something else to worry about.
It was my job to break this fucking girl. Borzia wouldn't stop riding my ass about the photos and prepping his new slave. Hell, maybe he'd want her filmed, a full on showing of the naked, shivering virgin he meant to ravish in ways that would've landed any normal person in a psych-ward.
Those kind of ruthless desires were the last goddamned thing I needed. I had to put this shit behind me and get on with it. I angrily knocked on the wooden frame around the doorway, and both women looked up.
“We were just finishing,” Izzy said. “She's done well today. No complaints or fuss.”
“That's what I want to hear.” I stepped inside.
The bathroom hadn't looked so good since I fired my old cleaner. I'd put her on indefinite leave with a parting stipend as soon as the shit with my family went down. Wasn't long after that when Izzy moved in, and I couldn't stand to have another living person so close to the living, breathing time bomb I'd become.
I pointed to the cleaning supplies. “Let's get this shit put away and start dinner. Izzy, let her rest. We don't have to start her in the kitchen today.”
My sister in law nodded. She slid off the counter and stepped past me, retreating deeper into the house to get cooking. I expected the bitch in her to rise up any time, but it hadn't happened yet.
Wouldn't wait forever. It was only a matter of time with her staying sober for more than twenty-four hours.
Whatever. As long as she threw her shit at me when withdrawal set in, and not the girl.
Cassie stood, gathering up the steam cleaner and the brush on the floor.
“Evan.” My name echoed on her sweet lips. “Will you tell me one thing?”
Only if it doesn't make you pitch another fucking fit, I thought. We've done too well today to watch your pretty ass get all worked up again.
“Try me,” I growled, knowing I probably wasn't going to like the question.
“Why do you want to make me your slave?” She chewed her lip, eyeing my anxiously. “You and Izzy...you both seem so normal. I thought you were until she lost it.”
I lost it. I fucking laughed, filling the bathroom with my harsh amusement, leaning on the smooth wall to get my senses back.
“You just answered your own question, babe. If you think w
e're normal, then you don't have a fucking clue what normal is. Normal men don't beat an asshole father to death and haul his daughter home.” The question was really preposterous, and I stepped closer to her, the frustration in my gut choking the humor. “Normal guys don't team up with their sisters in law and lock down their own frigging house like a penitentiary. And normal men certainly don't take advantage of girls from screwed up places, Cassie, just like we're doing to you.”
I was on top of her now, and she wilted like a flower that had soaked in too much sun beneath me. I backed off, turning away. My little speech was upsetting her. Enough said.
“That doesn't explain anything. I know what this is,” she said. “What I want to know is, why?”
The truth clutched at my gut, and I debated letting it out.
“We're not making you our slave. Don't need one of those. For you, this is training.” I watched her blink, taking in the news, more furious questions dancing in her eyes. “Soon as I'm satisfied with your progress, you're going off to another man. My job is to make sure you can handle him. Your job's to serve us as well as you'll serve your new master. Doesn't get any simpler than that.”
Fuck it, she'd find out sooner or later. I couldn't hold off her other training forever, and then everything would be there, clear as day.
“Another man?” The words hissed out her mouth like she didn't understand the meaning. “Who?”
“That's not your fucking problem. You'll know when the time comes. Right now, I'm gonna make sure you put your stuff away and feed your face. That's what we've got to worry about, and I only take this shit one step at a time.” I reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair lined with sweat away from her cheek. “Trust me, baby girl. Thinking about the future's enough to drive a person absolutely fucking bonkers. You do things the way I want, and focus on the now, you'll be fine.”
I'd given her plenty truth for one evening. It was time for the lie, the false promise that damned my soul to the darkest pits of hell.
Fine isn't kneeling for that depraved asshole. You're only gonna be fine with him if he lets you breathe another day.
Fuck, the truth hurts. So do the lies.
“Let's move. Not gonna ask you again.” I had to get her moving and shut down my guilty thoughts.
She followed behind me, slow and weighted down with a thousand thoughts storming through her head. I didn't care, just as long as she obeyed.
She was only beginning to get it. What she'd never know was that we were all fucked, bound to sacrifice ourselves to a world that never gave a single shit about right and wrong, and never would.
Cassie was a slave, but so was I. Ty was the only one in this who still had a chance, and I'd do whatever the hell it took to make sure he kept it.
Dinner was easy. So was escorting her back to her bedroom and listening to the door lock, and then the days that followed. Maybe the blowout fight with Izzy and the way I'd laid down the law knocked something loose in her head.
She was taking it, accepting her fucked up fate.
It was just as well. Deep in my heart, I was disappointed she didn't fight. Then again, it wasn't like we'd dragged her away from a cushy life lush with possibilities.
The girl was already ground to a nub by the freaks I'd dragged her away from. Out of one hell and into another.
Still, the way she quietly followed Izzy around and did her chores like a fucking zombie disturbed the shit out of me. How was I supposed to break someone who was already in pieces?
This time, Cassie was helping with the laundry. Izzy was on her while I hit the gym for the third time that day. I nearly broke the treadmill running, filling my legs with such fire it crept up my brain, burning away the fucked up mission I'd signed on to.
My phone chirped, laying on the chair in the corner. I slid off the treadmill reluctantly. Talking to the motherfucker I hated like death was never easy.
I waited until my lungs worked and I could form coherent sentences. The last thing I was gonna give Borzia and his boys was the satisfaction of seeing me weak and breathless. Not like the delay mattered – the bastard knew perfectly well I was around. He kept on dialing, patiently waiting for me to pick up.
“Mister Cole.” His face appeared on screen when I finally flicked the button. “You haven't sent along my photos. I need to know if I'm going to like this girl, and time is running short.”
“You'll have them later this week. I told you.” I stopped just short of a growl.
Slowly, he tilted his head, and he began to stand. The camera shifted. Of course, the asshole was hanging out by the pool like he always did, a gaggle of bodyguards and servants nearby.
Wait. There was someone else behind him, a smaller figure I noticed when he shifted his weight, totally deliberate.
“You'll send pictures and video tonight, Cole. I don't care if you need to drug this puta or if she's got a few little imperfections. Strip her. Tie her up. Bare her to me. The tits and pussy and ass that belong to me are all that matter. I want to see what I'm going to destroy...”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I practically heard the timer dinging in my head, end bells sad and deafening as a grandfather clock. The time to play nice and leave Cassie doing harmless work was over. Making her clean grit and keep things pure was easy, too easy, on everybody.
Now, the hard shit was coming. Her whole fucking world was about to turn to filth and dirt, and I was the asshole destined to push her into the swamp.
“Cole? Do we have an understanding?” Miguel's face tightened, cruel as the ancient patrician he resembled in his cold splendor. “Because if we don't, I'd love the chance to cancel this agreement. If you've forgotten who you work for, let me remind you...”
The camera tilted. No, my eyes weren't wrong before.
I saw my son standing between two huge, brutish men in suits, leatherneck ex-guerrillas from Colombia, the same fucks I'd worked with while I was on his payroll. Ty was by the pool, innocently watching the water.
All Miguel had to do was snap his fingers. My heart knocked my ribs like a goddamned wrecking ball as I imagined the monsters next to him shoving him deep under water, destroying the last treasure I had in this world, the last shred of life and innocence I sworn to uphold.
“No,” I growled. “No, no, no, no...no! You'll get your fucking pictures! I'm not feeding you shit. You know I'm not!”
Miguel's face filled the screen again. The nasty smile was all in his eyes. The desperation I'd let slip was pure music to his devil ears.
“I trust you'll deliver.” The enthusiasm in his voice was almost convincing. “You never know, Cole. If you get it to me quick, maybe I'll let you say hello to my little guest. The kiddo's just fine. For now.”
He winked, and then the screen went dead.
I tucked the phone into my pocket, hiding it before I hammered the fucking thing into the ground. I had a job to do, and I couldn't let myself think about Ty, never about the constant, merciless danger he was in.
If I gave myself a single second to freeze up and think about that shit, I was cooked. I headed for the laundry room.
Izzy was lazily watching Cassie fold laundry and place it into several baskets, neat and proper. I walked straight past and grabbed my co-tormenter by the wrist.
“Ow! Evan, what the fuck?”
When we were around the corner, in the hall outside, I pushed her against the wall. She moved slow, blinking at the brighter lights outside, her eyes full of pain. Getting sober after getting plowed like her must've been a bitch.
Too bad I couldn't spare any mercy. She stopped struggling when she saw the deadly serious twinkle in my eyes.
“Bring me the outfit you picked out when she goes to bed tonight. Not the dresses. The other shit.”
Her eyes went wide. “Jesus. He really asked for it...he wants to see her like that?”
Fuck. I hadn't expected the strange sadness in her eyes, the incredible remorse at what was coming.
“You knew it was
only a matter of time. I'll make it swift and painless as I can. You just make sure you get me that fucking outfit. I'll do it myself. Can't risk you going soft over this.”
She turned away from me, as if my touch was too hot, too revolting. So fucking what. I needed this done, and I needed it now.
“Cut the laundry short. Get her some food and then let me know when she's back in her room. I'll be in the garage.”
“You're not coming to dinner tonight?” She sounded relieved.
“No point. It isn't gonna help her. Nothing will.”
I left her slumped against the wall. Damn, I would've killed to have the unpredictable, drunken bitch back.
This new Izzy with the puppy dog eyes and killing guilt was pure horseshit. I didn't know how the hell to handle it.
Well, fuck her. If she was letting regret eat her from the inside out over slapping the girl around and making her do some chores, she didn't have a single fucking clue.
She didn't have one tenth the churning, hateful fire exploding in my heart. She didn't have to complete Cassie's transformation, her real transformation to slave. I was the asshole cursed to turning her into a total piece of meat.
And after tonight, there was no going back.
Outside, while I waited for the cue, I cleaned my guns. It had been weeks since I cracked open the safe, disassembling the beauties I'd used on more jobs than I could count.
It was such a total fucking shame the steel angels in my hands had become demons. Story of my life, my new life, this ghostly life I'd inherited since I was stupid enough to work for the cartel.
I stroked my magnum and clicked the parts into place. This gun saved my life plenty of times, and ended many others. Now, it was a useless hunk of cold metal, an old friend who didn't fit my existence anymore.
I wasn't the proud hit man anymore. Still trying to figure out what the fuck I'd become.
When they first took my family, I'd cradled the gun a hundred times, wracking my brains for ways I could break in and shoot every last fucker who'd stolen all that mattered.
It was impossible. I should know, because I'd consulted on Miguel's security in between mopping the floor with his enemies. I helped create the fucking fortress that imprisoned the ones I loved.
