She leaned her head into his hand, feeling the warmth seeping into her. They slid back down in the bed, pulling the covers up. He wrapped his arms around her and threw one leg over her thigh, enveloping her in his warmth and protection.
“Love you, baby. We’ll take care of the boys tomorrow. Trust me.”
Pressing her face into his chest, she nodded. “Love you too, BJ.” Then she allowed sleep to overtake her once again.
Chapter 15
The next day, Matt and Shane met them at the Safe Haven House. Suzanne filled them in on what she knew about the dog that the boys had brought into the clinic. They promised to check to see what happened to the report that Annie had made to Animal Control. She took the boys to the den area while BJ, Matt, and Shane talked to Pamela.
After being satisfied that she was pressing charges against her husband and with the information that she gave them, Matt and Shane left. They were opening up an investigation on Joe and his possible involvement in dog fighting. BJ walked into the living area with Pamela.
“Dwayne, let’s go outside and talk for a bit,” he said.
Suzanne nodded to Dwayne and smiled at Pamela. After the two had left the room, Suzanne turned to her and said, “Don’t worry. I think Dwayne just needs some man time. And there’s no one better to give it to him than Brad.”
Blushing, Pamela looked at Chuckie for a moment but his attention was riveted to the TV. She nodded as she spoke softly, “Joe started out that way. He was a good husband. A good father. But lately…he’s gotten so messed up in something. Then he got grouchy, then mean, then needing our food money.” Looking back down at Chuckie, she said, “I can take a lot. But I’m not taking a man hitting on me or hitting on the boys.”
“What will you do?” Suzanne asked, leaning over to place her hand on Pamela’s arm. “What can I do to help?”
Sighing, Pamela’s reply came hesitantly. “Well, they’ve got real good help here at Safe Haven. We can stay here for a month if needed, but I’ve got my money and a bit saved that Joe didn’t know about. They’ll help me find an apartment. I’ve still got my job, which pays decently. I just need to make sure the kids are in school and safe after school.”
Suzanne quickly said, “The boys can keep coming over to the clinic after school and I’ll bring them here when you’re off of work.”
“That’s sweet, but the Haven has an agreement with the local Boys Club for after school care. I’ll have them do that.”
“Well, if you ever need me, just call. You know, Brad and I are visiting our parents in Fairfield for Thanksgiving next week. My parents throw a huge meal for anyone and everyone. How about if we pick you all up and take you? The boys’ll love it.”
Smiling the first smile of the day, Pamela agreed. “I think I’ll take you up on that. It’d be real good for the boys to be around good people then.”
Coming back in from the front porch, BJ’s arm slung loosely around Dwayne’s shoulder as he and Suzanne exchanged looks, both assuring each other that everything was fine. She kissed the boys goodbye and hugged Pamela.
BJ pulled her in close to his body as they walked back out to his SUV.
“Honey, I invited them to our family’s Thanksgiving next week,” she said.
Leaning his tall frame over to kiss the top of her head as he pulled her tighter and he said, “Baby, you’re the best.”
* * *
“I can’t believe what a terrible story that is,” Sherrie said, her face filled with concern. She and Suzanne had met for coffee several days after Pamela and the boys had escaped.
“It is horrible, isn’t’ it? Suzanne agreed. “We’re taking them to our family for Thanksgiving so at least the boys will have a good feast.”
Sherrie, not able to look Suzanne in the eyes, played with her pastry and barely sipped her coffee.
“Are you all right?” Suzanne asked. “You look…well, I guess our topic of conversation wasn’t very uplifting was it?”
“I just…well, it’s just eye-opening to think of all of the lives affected by gambling. Or fighting. Or any illegal things that go on. I guess I didn’t really think about all of that until you told me about those kids.”
“It just makes me so mad. My boyfriend was explaining how those fights work. Dogs are tortured, starved, and forced to fight. Small town gamblers make and lose money, but the big-wheels of the business make tons of money. It’s just awful. And if I could find anyone involved in that mess I would…I would…well, I don’t know what I’d do. But I’d sure as hell try to stop them!” she said emphatically.
“Suzanne, you just need to stay out of it and let the police do their jobs,” Sherrie implored. “It sounds like these are people that you don’t need to be snooping around.”
Laughing, Suzanne said, “I’m not snooping. Honestly, BJ would have a fit if I were. But…,” she said, “if I come across anything, I’m going to do something about it. I mean anyone who knows about this stuff and doesn’t do anything, is just as guilty in my eyes!”
Sherrie sat still, her hands playing with her coffee cup. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. I guess you’re right.”
The two women parted company outside the coffee shop, Suzanne heading back to work and Sherrie pulling out her cell phone. “Charisse? We need to talk.”
* * *
The fog rolled off the river that night, creating a thick blanket of secrecy. The dogs coming into the old warehouse were muzzled, keeping the noise to a minimum. The cameras were in place over and around the pit.
Marcel and Charisse walked in the back door and seeing his head jerk, she moved to the upper platform. Her tight, short dress left nothing to the imagination as she ascended above the crowd.
Jorge approached Marcel, noticing Charisse’s bare pussy was visible from the platform. He knew that was a sign that Marcel was losing interest in her. When Marcel was infatuated, he protected his main pussy. In Charisse’s case that even extended to her request that none of his men harass her sister. If Charisse was falling out of favor, that would leave Sherrie vulnerable.
Keeping his face void of emotion, he moved to Marcel to see if there were any specific instructions.
“Anything new?” Marcel questioned, his sharp eyes glancing around.
“Everything’s on schedule. Got a larger crowd than the previous streamed fight. The girls were brought back,” indicating that Marcel’s stable of prostitutes would be working the crowd.
“Keep them out of the sight of the cameras,” he ordered. “The johns pay upfront and then they take the girls. Not having a gangbang videoed.
Nodding his agreement, he replied, “I’ll talk to the IT guy. Make sure Charles keeps the cameras on the dogs.”
Marcel turned briskly, walking up the steps past Charisse without a word and she quickly followed him. Entering the small office, he turned to her.
“You high?” he asked, unbuckling his belt. The scent of blood from the dogs always fueled his lust. He remembered the days before he took over the business, when he joined in the gangbangs. Looking at Charisse, he chose her for her class. But now, her need for coke was overpowering her class. And a man in his position didn’t need a cokehead for an escort. But her sister…she was unsullied by drugs. Jerking Charisse’s skirt up over her hips, he pushed her over the desk taking her roughly from behind. Pounding into her, he pulled her top down freeing her breasts. Giving them a squeeze he quickly came.
Pushing her forward on the desk as he pulled out, she lay still. A soft snore came from her lips. Marcel straightened his clothes, brushed off his immaculate jacket and walked out of the room. Seeing the two guards outside, he jerked his head toward her. “Boys, take a few minutes and enjoy yourself.”
The two large men glanced inside the door, seeing Charisse’s naked form passed out on the desk. With a grin, they entered the room closing the door behind them.
Jorge watched some of the fighting that night, checking to see which dogs were the most vicious. The money he wa
s earning on the side was feeding his off-shore, secure bank account. “Things are falling into place,” he said to himself as he walked out of the building and disappeared into the fog.
* * *
Sherrie, her blonde hair pulled back with a simple clip and dressed elegantly in winter-cream pants with a sky-blue sweater, waited at the restaurant for fifteen minutes before pulling out her cell phone to call her sister. Just then Charisse walked in. Sky high heels. An expensive dress. Her hair and makeup immaculate. And sunglasses that she did not take off.
Sherrie stood up to hug her sister before they settled down to eat. “Are you okay? Aren’t you going to take off your glasses?”
Charisse’s hand shook as she cautiously slid the glasses off of her face. Sherrie gasped as she saw the small bruise next to her sister’s eye.
“What happened? Did Marcel hit you?”
“No. He’d never do that,” Charisse protested. “I-”
“Don’t lie to me,” Sherrie quickly interjected.
Charisse sighed. “I don’t know how I got it. I…um…was with Marcel and…”
Sherrie just looked at her in concern. Reaching across the table, she put her hand over Charisse’s hand giving it a squeeze.
“I must have taken a nap and when I woke up, I had this. I know it wasn’t him, but…um…don’t know exactly what happened.”
The women were quiet a moment, each in their own thoughts. They ordered food and spent a few minutes making small talk while waiting for their meals.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Charisse asked.
Sherrie haltingly began to tell her about Suzanne and the boys that had gotten caught up in the aftermath of the dog fights. “Charisse, it’s been you and me for a long time looking out for each other. I took a job at the Club Edge and I’ve done some work for Jorge that wasn’t illegal but I knew it wasn’t on the up and up. I did it because he told me that it would make things better for you. I know you’ve made your choices for your life and while they aren’t the decisions I would have wanted you to make, I’ve done what I could to make things better for you. I know you’ve done the same for me.”
Nodding, Charisse looked into her sister’s eyes. “You were the smart one.” Seeing Sherrie start to protest, she put up her hand. “No, I know. You were always the smart one. The one going to college. I never had anything going for me except my looks. I learned a long time ago how to use it to my advantage.”
Before Sherrie could reply, Charisse continued, “I like my life. I get to live in a mansion now. I get clothes and spa treatments and live a life I never could before.”
“But at what cost? I know you’re still using drugs. I worked to get you off after high school, but once you got in with Marcel, you’ve been high almost every time I see you. And you didn’t start off in a mansion. Remember? You started off in his stable with a different john every night.”
Pursing her lips, Charisse hissed, “I know. And I’m not going back to that life. I’ve got it good and I’m gonna keep it good. I’ve been protecting you, you know. I begged Marcel to extend his protection over you. And he has. He had his eye on you from the first time he saw your virginal ass. You owe me, Sherrie. You can’t screw this up for me.”
“Do you hear yourself? I’ve just told you of kids who are getting hurt by this. I’ve stayed quiet because Jorge told me that my assistance in keeping track of some things in the neighborhood would keep things easier on you.”
Charisse looked down at her plate, tight lines around her mouth. Sherrie perused her sister, seeing her in a different light for the first time. Her eyes were slightly glassy. She could see that Charisse’s complexion underneath her makeup was pale and pasty. The evidence of drugs in her system was still visible.
“I’m quitting Club Edge. I’m handing in my notice tonight. And sis? I’m not doing any more snooping for Jorge. I love you, but I can’t keep this life trying to protect you. I finish my paralegal degree next month and have been afraid to look for jobs because of you, Jorge, Marcel…all this shit that has spilled from your life to mine. But having a friend sticking her neck out to help some kids…I can’t turn my back on that.”
“But you can turn your back on me?” Charisse bit out. Huffing, she said, “Sis, I have no choice. This is how I earn my living. But if you snitch on any of this, I could lose. I’d be out on the street.” She looked pathetic as she beseeched, “You can’t do that to me.”
Sherrie’s hand shook as she pushed her plate back. “You have to make the decision to get clean. I can’t do that for you. You have to make the decision to face the consequences of a lifestyle of selling your body to the highest bidder. I can’t do that either.” Softening her quivering voice, she said, “I’ll always love you. But I can’t be a part of your life. Not even on the edges like I have been.”
She stood, walked over to her sister and kissed the top of her head. Then she turned and walked out of the building, taking a deep breath of the cool fall air.
Charisse left the table and walked over to the bar. Signaling to the bartender, she ordered a martini. The first of several for the day.
* * *
Jorge drove down the long, narrow, dirt road toward the run-down barn. Ever alert, he scanned the area but heard nothing. Pulling his car next to the barn, he stiffened as a man came out of a small house nearby with a shotgun in his hand. Eyeing him angrily, he got out of the car.
“Oh sorry, Mr. Fernandez. I wasn’t sure it was you.” The man lowered his gun and laughed nervously. “Can’t be too sure, you know?”
Not saying a word, Jorge stalked toward the man, watching him step backward. Stopping within a few feet of him, he said in a low, calm voice, “Pull a gun on me again and it will be the last thing you remember.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Fernandez. I’m sorry, sir.” Trying to divert the attention away from himself, he pointed toward the barn. “You want to see ’em? Got my boy working on ’em right now.”
Without another word, Jorge turned and walked toward the barn followed by the quick steps of the other man who hustled around to open the door ahead of Jorge. The sounds of snarling and growling came from the interior, as well as the stench of blood and feces.
The exterior of the old barn was unassuming, camouflaging the activities on the inside. As Jorge looked around in approval, his anger toward the old man lessened. Several treadmills were in the corner, one with a running dog chained to it while a cage sat in front with two bait animals inside. The dog’s sides were heaving as its tongue lolled out to the side. His ribs were showing, indicating near starvation.
There were a couple of carcasses in the middle of a ring with several dogs chained to the edges of the pit, straining toward the food. A younger man near the pit area, a long pole with a stun gun taped to the end, was keeping his eyes on the dogs. Two other men let the dogs go at the same time and they both ran to the middle, snarling and snapping trying to get to the meat.
As the destruction continued, Jorge moved his practiced eye around to the other dogs chained to the perimeter. His gaze landed on the dog that he had sent here to be trained. Nodding toward that dog, he lifted his eyebrow in question to the old man.
“Oh yeah, Mr. Fernandez. He’s a good ’un. We’re workin’ with him and he’s got the instincts. You got a good eye, Mr. Fernandez. Yes sir. You know a good ’un when you see ’em.” The man continued to babble, but Jorge had already stopped listening. He could see it in the dog’s eyes. Hunger. Anger. The dog, with the right training and steroids, would become a contender.
Nodding his approval, he turned and walked out of the barn, his footsteps followed quickly by the old man. Approaching his car, he turned and handed the trainer an envelope. “No. One. Knows,” he stated, holding the man’s eyes.
His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously, the old man agreed quickly. “Oh, yes sir. No one knows it’s your dog. Just me. Not my son. No one.”
“Let me know when he’s ready.” As the old man was
still bobbing his head, Jorge climbed back into his car and drove away.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Jorge entered Marcel’s office, passing the accountant as he was leaving. Quickly assessing Marcel’s mood, he could tell that his boss was in good spirits. Closing the door behind him, he approached the desk.
Marcel smiled and pointed to a chair. “Good news, Jorge. Our accountant has been showing me our profits from the last two streamed fights.” Handing some papers to Jorge, he continued, “We are making more with the streaming than with any other fights combined.”
Jorge looked over the figures, quickly calculating what his profits would be. Nodding, he said, “And the security?”
“Still having Charles check into it. So far, they are able to mix up the signals so that it is untraceable.” Marcel eyed Jorge carefully. “You are doing very well for me. If you notice the second page, that is your bonus.”
Jorge flipped the papers over, surprised at the figure. He looked back up at Marcel saying, “You are very generous.”
Marcel’s smirk crept across his face. “Money can buy anything, Jorge. Even loyalty.”
Keeping his face void of emotion, he held his boss’ stare. “You doubt my loyalty?”
Throwing his head back in laughter, Marcel admitted, “No. Not you, Jorge. You are the only person I trust.” His laughter slowed and he added, “But I believe in rewarding that loyalty.”
Nodding, Jorge handed the spreadsheets back to Marcel. “Was there anything else you wanted today?”
Marcel turned his chair so that it faced the window and for a moment sat in silence. Jorge sat quietly, knowing his boss would speak when he was ready. Turning back toward him, Marcel said, “I think Charisse has outlived her usefulness to me.”
Saying nothing, Jorge continued to sit quietly. Marcel was known to have gone through many women, most staying for a very short time in the esteemed position of being his main escort. Charisse had lasted longer than most and Jorge had begun to assume that Marcel had feelings for the girl.
Love's Trusting (The Love's Series) Page 16
