Love, Lies, & Crime: Anthology

by Kimberly Blalock

  I’ve been kidding myself into believing that this will all turn out for the best, that I will walk out of here and resume the life I left behind. The reality of the situation is that probably won’t happen. No matter how much I try to convince myself that Walker can keep me safe, at the end of the day I know the only person I can rely on is myself.

  I have to fight. Even if it’s the last thing I do. I would rather fight and die then go willingly and be subjected to whatever Cochran has in store for me. I have no idea how or what I can do, but I know that when the time comes, I have to try.

  Cochran will be here tomorrow. Walker told me two days ago. He tries to act like he’s got everything under control, but I can tell he’s worried. We both are.

  He’s been scarce since Jones’ visit to my room. I don’t know if he’s trying to distance himself from me or if he has business outside of the house. All I know is that the last twenty-four hours without his company have been complete torture, especially knowing what is coming.

  I jump slightly when the door opens, immediately relaxing when Walker steps inside, a large plate of spaghetti in his hand. He gives me a reassuring smile before turning, flipping the lock in place.

  “Ginger made spaghetti,” he says, referring to the older woman who lives here, who takes care of all the cooking and cleaning.

  I haven’t asked if she chooses to be here or if she’s also a prisoner in this house. All I know is that according to Walker most of the girls they keep here are lucky if they get scraps. Thanks to Ginger slipping Walker extras of whatever she makes, I haven’t suffered too much in the food department.

  Walker crosses the room and hands me the plate before taking a seat next to me on the bed.

  “How are you feeling?” He waits while I chew and swallow my first bite before speaking.

  “Nervous,” I admit, forcing down another bite of the pasta despite the fact that my appetite is next to none. I know I need to eat, having no real clue when my next meal might be.

  “Me too,” he admits, meeting my gaze with soft eyes.

  “What time did you say Cochran is arriving?” I ask, setting the plate on the nightstand next to the bed. I’ll eat more later. Right now I just can’t stomach anymore.

  “Sometime after six. I don’t have an exact time.” He rubs his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger.

  “Hey.” I reach for his hand, pulling it into my lap. “Everything is going to be okay.” I don’t know why but reassuring him makes me feel a tiny bit better even though deep down I don’t believe one word of my statement.

  “I know.” He gives me a weak smile, reaching out to grasp my chin before leaning forward to lay a gentle kiss to my lips. “I can’t stay.” He pulls back, his face full of apology.

  I let out a shaky breath before leaning into him, allowing him to wrap his arm around my shoulder and pull me into his muscular frame.

  “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” He tries to reassure me just as I was him only moments ago.

  He drops a kiss to the top of my head, tightening his grip on me.

  “It has to be,” he speaks into my hair, gently rocking me back and forth.

  We sit like that for what feels like minutes but is likely only a few seconds before he finally releases his hold on me and pushes to his feet.

  “Remember what I told you. Whatever happens just keep your head down and do whatever they tell you. I will get you out, Chloe. I will.” He leans forward, dropping another soft kiss to my forehead. “I promise.”

  “I know you will.” I hit him with the most reassuring smile I can muster when he pulls back and looks down at me.

  He gives me one last long look before spinning on his heel and heading toward the door. He doesn’t glance back as he disappears into the hallway, the lock of the door sounding just moments later.

  Finding sleep is impossible. I toss and turn all night, unable to quiet my mind or calm my nerves. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is Walker’s face, the emotion he tried to hide for my sake. It’s odd; having a man as strong and powerful as Walker visibly show his fear. I don’t know what he’s risking in his attempt to free me from this place, but I have a feeling it has to do with something much larger than me.

  I lay in bed for most of the day, having no real idea of what time it actually is. I try to catch bits of sleep, but every time I manage to doze off something wakes me. Footsteps, a door closing, distant voices. Every single small thing sends my heart hammering inside of my chest.

  It seems like hours have passed before I finally here the click of the lock and the door squeaks open. I try to contain my disappointment when a tall, thin woman enters the room. Deep down I was hoping it was Walker.

  “Miss Deltorro, I presume?” She gives me a quick once over, her blue eyes judgingly taking in my appearance.

  I can only imagine what I look like. I’m wrapped in the large robe Walker gave me on that first night. My still damp hair is knotted on top of my head, and I haven’t had a lick of makeup on my face in days.

  “Yes,” I finally find my voice, watching as the lengthy blonde crosses the room. She deposits a garment and two small tote bags onto the bed next to me before finding my face again.

  “I’m Helen. I’m here to make you presentable for Mr. Cochran,” she informs me, for the first time actually meeting my gaze. “Well don’t just sit there, come on,” she snips, tucking the smallest of the three bags under her arm.

  She spins without another word, her bun so tight that when she whips toward the bathroom it barely moves at all.

  I scramble out of the bed, stumbling the moment my feet find the floor. Taking a deep breath, I put on the bravest face I can muster before entering into the bathroom behind her.

  “Sit,” she instructs, not looking in my direction as she dumps the contents of the small bag onto the bathroom counter. Various pieces of makeup topple out, some rolling into the sink.

  I watch her movements, the way she carries herself. If I had to guess I would say she’s done this several times before. She treats me more like a headache than an actual person.

  I slowly lower the toilet seat and sit down, laying my hands into my lap. Obey. That’s what Walker told me. Just obey. Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention back to the woman as she stops in front of me. She tilts my face upward, a foundation pad in her hand.

  I immediately notice that she is much older than I originally suspected. Small wrinkles line her tired eyes and forehead. She grimaces when she catches my eyes on her face, and I instantly look away, not wanting to do anything to upset her.

  Within thirty minutes she has my face painted with more makeup than I would ever apply on my own. My long brown hair is curled and pinned back so that my face is on full display, and my body is clad in a skin tight black dress that makes me look like I belong on a street corner somewhere. I guess that’s the point.

  I hardly recognize my reflection in the mirror as I catch a glimpse of myself when exiting the bathroom.

  After forcing me into a pair of heels I can barely stand upright in, Helen leads me from the room, her hand locked around my forearm. I blink rapidly the moment we step into the hallway, the light filtering in through a nearby window the first glimpse of sunlight I have had in days.

  I want to run toward it and soak it in, but Helen jerks me in the opposite direction, leading me down the long corridor that opens up to the wide staircase. The same staircase I remember Johnson bringing me up that first day.

  It seems like a lifetime has passed since then.

  My heart rate picks up speed with each step we take downward. Each click of my heel against the staircase leads me one step closer. One step closer to either my freedom or my death. Either way I’m not sure if I’m ready for the outcome.

  I take a shaky inhale when we reach the bottom of the stairs where the floor opens up into the foyer. Helen wastes no time steering me to the left before coming to a stop just inside the doorway of the form
al living area.

  There are at least a handful of people in the room, I can tell by the voices and the different pairs of feet I am able to identify by keeping my eyes focused on the ground. Of course I have no idea who any of them are, but something tells me that doesn’t matter.

  The only person that matters is the one who steps directly in front of me and tilts my head upward.

  The moment his black eyes touch mine a shiver runs through my entire body. I tighten my stance in an effort to control the way my limbs suddenly tremble.

  “Miss Deltorro,” yhe man rasps.

  His hot breath dances across my face, the overwhelming smell of alcohol forcing its way into my nostrils.

  “She’s everything you said she would be, Jones,” he tisks in approval, running a hand through his thinning black hair before taking my chin roughly. He clasps it tightly between his long, skinny fingers, forcing my face in different directions as he inspects me.

  He’s a lanky man. Skinnier than I would have expected, and stands about six inches taller than me. I do everything I can not to meet his gaze, fearful that if I do, I might crumble directly to the ground. With him this close, I can see the stubble of black hair that is poking through his too tanned skin. I focus on that, on counting the tiny pieces. Doing everything I can to avoid the way his eyes burn my flesh.

  “Yes. She’ll do just fine.” He finally releases my chin and turns toward Jones who I catch a small glimpse of as he approaches.

  I lower my head back down, turning my gaze to the floor as he steps up next to Cochran.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased.” I can hear the relief in his voice.

  Jones is nervous, which means Cochran holds a lot more power over him than I originally thought.

  “Take her to the car,” Cochran orders. Seconds later I feel two different sets of hands close down around my biceps, and I am forced from the room.

  It’s hard for me to keep the pace in these heels, and I stumble several times as I’m led toward the back of the house, an area I have never been in before. I chance a peek upward, my heart plummeting when I realize the man to my right is none other than Walker.

  I pin wide eyes on him, but he doesn’t look my direction. Instead, he keeps his eyes focused forward and his grip tight. I fight off the emotion that seems to thicken in my throat.

  I thought he was supposed to save me, and yet it seems he is the one hand delivering me to Cochran. Defeat washes over me and suddenly everything becomes crystal clear. His job was to teach me how to please a man and to break me. He had already accomplished the first task. This must be the second part of his plan.

  Fill my head with false hope and promises of a future I thought I’d lost, only to rip it away last second. Tears fill my eyes, several falling down my cheeks when I blink, still not taking my eyes off of the stranger next to me. The stranger I thought was my angel. Turns out he was just the devil. The devil I willingly crawled into bed with. The devil I begged to take me, to teach me. The devil I found myself falling in love with.

  I am such a silly stupid girl. I should have seen through his act. I should have known a man as good and kind as Walker pretended to be would never work for a man like Jones or Cochran. If anything, he’s worse than any of them.

  I take a deep breath in the moment we step outside, knowing it’s likely one of the last breaths of fresh air I will ever take. The thought causes my heart to pick up speed and my stomach to twist violently. If I had eaten anything in the last several hours, I’m convinced it would be making an appearance right now.

  My legs start to tremble violently, and I no longer walk willingly next to the two men. If they want to take me, I’m sure as hell not going to make it easy on them.

  Lifting my foot, I bring it down hard, successfully landing the sharp heel directly into the top of the man’s shoe to my left. He howls in pain and immediately lets go of my arm. The moment it’s free I swing, aiming directly for Walker’s face.

  He catches my hand effortlessly and spins me around, pinning my backside to his front.

  “Why?” The word barely escapes my mouth on a broken sob.

  “Please stop.” His words don’t sound like those of his company. They are desperate, a plea.

  Instantly, I stop fighting, relaxing into his tight grip on my torso. I see the panic flash in his eyes just seconds before a voice sounds from my right.

  “Fucking bitch.” I see the man’s hand, who’s foot I smashed, come directly toward me, but before I can even brace for the pain, Walker spins me out of its path. “What the fuck?” he roars.

  “She’s Cochran’s. Let him punish her.” Walker warns.

  I don’t look in the man’s direction, but based on the fact that his hand closes down on my arm and he doesn’t try to hurt me again, I can only assume he agrees. Walker steps out from behind me, once again securing my right arm in his massive grip as the two men proceed to lead me toward what I can now see is a black town car parked at the very back of a heavily wooded lot.

  The door to the car opens and I can hear someone step out, the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet clear as day considering there is still blacktop under my feet.

  “Cochran had one more piece of business to take care of.” I hear Walker speak to the man as we approach. “You are to keep her in the car. She’s Cochran’s,” he says in a way of warning.

  I don’t look up to see the man’s reaction. Instead, I allow Walker to lead me toward the open door. It’s only seconds before the back of my bare legs comes in contact with the cool leather of the back seat.

  “Stay,” I hear Walker’s whispered warning just seconds before the door closes and silence engulfs me.

  I look up, my eyes barely getting a glimpse of the luxurious u-shaped stretch of the car before the interior light fades out and darkness surrounds me. I squint through the window, trying to find out what’s going on outside the car now, but the windows aren’t just tinted from the outside, they’re tinted from the inside as well. I am met by a black wall of nothing.

  Sliding to the opposite side of the car, I gently pull on the handle, knowing full well it will be locked but knowing I at least need to try. Walker’s plea reassured me that his intent was still to free me. He couldn’t fake the panicked desperation in his voice when he asked me stop fighting. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to bet my life on it either.

  I know I shouldn’t be disappointed to find the door locked with no means of unlocking it from my side of the car. What did I expect, for them to just put me in a car without making sure I stayed?

  Running my hands along the seams of the seat, I search desperately for something I can use as a weapon. Anything that can help me fight off Cochran or anyone else I may need to.

  I am halfway through my search when the back door opens and the interior lights once again come to life. I freeze mid-motion, immediately sinking back into the seat and dropping my head down so that the only thing I can see is two feet clad in black leather shoes that come to a rest just a few inches from me.

  Just as the door shuts I feel the engine come to life. It’s only seconds, a breath, a heartbeat, and then I feel his hand close down just above my knee.

  “You don’t need to be scared of me.” His voice is so raspy it almost sounds like he’s suffering from a mild case of laryngitis, though I’m guessing that’s how he always sounds. “As long as you’re a good girl, we will have a lot fun,” he promises, squeezing my leg tighter.

  My body sways as the car pulls from the lot.

  I am seconds away from trying to take Cochran on by myself, but that’s when I see them, another set of feet directly across the aisle from me. Of course he wouldn’t put himself alone back here with me. Defeat creeps its way into my stomach, and I find it impossible to calm the tremble that has worked its way into my hands.

  “Look at me,” he orders.

  I turn my eyes up to meet his face, still unable to look him directly in the eyes.

  “Such a beautiful thi
ng you are.” He runs a long finger down my cheek, and I struggle not to shudder under his touch.

  His hand drops away from my face and then immediately reappears above my knee again. This time his fingers trail the flesh upward until they meet the point where my legs are squeezed tightly together.

  “Open,” he rasps against my cheek as he leans in and smells me, taking a deep inhale.

  My legs immediately spread as I fight back the hard knot that has suddenly formed at the base of my throat.

  “That’s a good girl.” He slides his hand upward, groaning when his fingers meet the thin fabric of the panties Helen provided for me. “Oh yes…” he hisses, rubbing more forcefully.

  I bite my bottom lip so hard I swear I taste blood, turning my face as a tear manages to escape my eye.

  Every fiber inside of me wants to fight this, but something tells me that the harder I make this on him the more he will enjoy it.

  I hold my breath as he pushes the material of my panties to the side. His fingers barely graze my flesh when the vehicle slams to a stop, and his touch disappears instantly. The abruptness sends me tumbling to the side, and I immediately hunker down in the large floor board, not sure what is happening.

  Within seconds the back door swings open and voices flood in from every direction.

  “Hands up.”

  “Don’t move.”

  Several commands filter into my ears, and I blink rapidly into the bright light that seems to be shining in toward the vehicle. My mind can’t seem to process anything taking place around me. It all happens too quickly.

  One moment I’m watching the man across from Cochran pull his gun, the next two loud shots ring out through the car, the sound so intense my ears begin to buzz, and I find it difficult to push past the noise to hear anything else.

  The man slumps forward next to me, blood pooling from his chest and dripping down onto my legs. I watch in horror as the thick red liquid flows out of him like a bathroom facet being turned on full blast.

  I drop my head into my hands and push as far against the seat as I can, trying my best to distance myself from the man. There’s some kind of commotion outside the car, but my hearing is still fuzzy, and I’m too terrified to look up, afraid I may never be able to rid my eyes of the sight of the man who’s bleeding to death right in front of me.