by Vivian Wood
She was still exhausted when she woke up from her fitful, nightmare-ridden attempt at sleep. She stayed on her bed for a long time after waking up, trying to map out some sort of future for herself.
She wasn’t going to be able to finish high school, that much she knew. She knew nothing about getting a job, and had no meaningful skills that came to mind immediately. So in short, she was going nowhere. She had nothing and no one. She wouldn’t even be able to stay on in the crappy apartment for long if she wanted to avoid the foster care system...
A noise from outside her bedroom startled her hours later. Her heart dropped to her stomach and tears sprung to her eyes. She thought about trying to hide, but that would have been useless.
Surely social services will find me eventually, she thought.
Foolishly, she hadn’t even tried to run. The door to her bedroom swung open, and a bulky man stepped through it. He held an unlit cigarette between his teeth. She saw his beady eyes from across the room.
He didn’t look like a childcatcher, as she’d come to think of the social workers who would surely be collecting her soon. Dread spread through her body. He openly raked his eyes across every inch of her. His appraisal made her feel naked, even though she was wearing baggy sweatpants and a large hoodie.
She could taste bile at the back of her throat when his watery eyes made their way back up her body. They lingered here and there, as though trying to see through her clothes. Anxiety unfurled in her nauseated stomach. She suddenly wished that he was in fact a social worker.
“You Doll?” he grumbled in a thickly accented voice.
She felt petrified, unable to move a muscle. She watched helplessly as he stomped farther into the room. A large hand reached to yank the cigarette from his mouth as he moved closer to her.
She could smell him now. He smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol and sweat, mixed with something sweet and stale at the same time. It nearly gagged her.
“Are you Doll?” he asked again, gravelly voice low and terrifying.
She nodded slowly. Maybe he was just there to collect something from her parents. Or maybe he didn’t know that they were dead yet, she tried to convince herself.
Little did she know in that moment that he was there to collect something from her parents.
Her.
A sharp tug on her arm pulled her out of her dark thoughts. Dimitri’s grasp tightened on her wrist, causing her heart to stammer and stop.
This is it, he’s selling me to that sheikh for sure. It was all she could do not to vomit on him right there at the thought.
It was perfectly within his rights, of course. Now that she’d walked away from Igor, and from everything that had been keeping her safe. The rights she’d had no choice but to give him at the tender age of sixteen.
She crashed against his side, resigned to her fate. She cast her eyes down... only to catch Walker’s fists clench. She looked up, surprised, and saw the veins in his neck bulge.
“Let her go, right now,” his suddenly commanding voice demanded through gritted teeth.
“She’s mine, you American asshole. You might not understand why, but she belongs to me,” Dimitri hissed.
Walker surveyed him for a moment, cocking his head at Dimitri.
“You don’t care about her,” he said contemplatively. “What’s she worth to you?”
He’d put things together remarkably quickly, she thought. She gaped at his confident posture, his narrowed eyes, and the set of his jaw.
“Unless you can tell me right now, fuck off and don’t ever let me see your cowardly ass again.”
Dimitri looked mildly surprised as he spat at Walker.
“That’s not how it works, my friend. You don’t just demand release.”
“I’m not your fucking friend,” Walker said in a low, surprisingly calm voice. He was still commanding and in control. “But you leave her out of it. As of right now, she’s nothing to you. Understand?”
Dimitri took a swing at him. His strong hands had reached up as fast as lightning, catching the other man. He gripped Dimitri’s collar, his steely eyes fixed unyieldingly on the Russian man’s face.
“You ready to walk away? Or are we doing this now?” Walker's glare broke away from Dimitri’s to flash to a police car parked nearby.
Dimitri followed Walker’s eyes and tugged at his hands. He rasped, “You take the whore... for now... but she’s still ours. And we keep what is ours. We find what is ours.”
Walker’s eyes darkened. She could see the muscles in his biceps clenching, but he said nothing as he eyed the police car. He stepped away from Dimitri, placed a palm on her lower back. He smirked as he led her away from the Russian thug.
The Russians will be back though, she reminded herself as she walked off with Walker. And I’ll be the one to pay for that little showdown.
A tremor of fear ran down her spine.
She’d just incurred what Dimitri would surely label as more debt. The bottomless pool of bullshit debt that gave the Russians the power to control her life. They had the right to do with her as they damn well pleased.
She tried to shut it down until she could get away from Walker. She needed to get her backpack and just be alone, but they had walked only about two blocks before she melted down.
She’d been doing an okay job walking, silently trembling next to him. But the thought of her inevitable future finally overwhelmed her as she sank to her knees.
Instead of asking her why, Walker took one look at her quaking form and folded her into his arms once more. He carried her the last few yards to the hotel.
Once he had her tucked on the uncomfortable couch, he pulled a sweet soda from the minibar. He opened it and handed it to her.
“Drink up,” he insisted as he sank into the couch with her.
“You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to. I just want you to know you’re going to be safe. Guys like that...” He trailed off. “Let’s just say I’ve had a run-in or two with his type.”
She wiped at her eyes. She studied his face carefully as she considered his words. He wore a concerned expression, not the pitying one she’d been expecting. His eyebrows were knit together, his jaw set and his shoulders tight, eyes clouded with worry.
Unexpectedly, it was like a dam burst inside her. The walls around her closely guarded secrets came tumbling down. She was used to fending for herself, protecting herself.
It had been, well, forever since she’d had someone to talk to, someone who worried about her. Yet here she was, confessing her deepest secrets, her darkest fears, to a perfect stranger. A stranger who was somehow worried about her, who wanted her to be safe.
He kept silent as she shared her story. His only reaction was to raise an eyebrow here and there. She didn't miss him clenching and unclenching his fists as fury filled his eyes.
She kept waiting for the pity, but it never came.
Not when she told him about her abusive drug addict parents.
Not when she told him that her mother had killed her father, and then overdosed on the same night.
Not when she told him that she’d been the one to discover both parents’ bodies when she was only sixteen years old.
Not when she told him that she’d been alone with the bodies for hours. That was when a neighbor had found her and phoned the police.
Not when she explained how she’d met Dimitri just hours after returning from the coroner’s office. How he had demanded that she pack her bags and come with him. Her parents owed him money and apparently had used her as collateral. They'd told him that she was a pretty young thing, someone who would make him a killing working in his clubs until their debt had been repaid.
She didn't even see pity when she told him that she owed Dimitri even more money for putting her through high school. Meanwhile, she'd worked in the clubs at night. Dimitri kept threatening that he was going to sell her off because she was too much of a burden. Then Igor had taken a liking to her and taken her under h
is protection.
The protection she now no longer had.
Dimitri had made it crystal clear that if she fucked it up, as she now had, he was done with her. He was going to sell her off to a sheikh with a penchant for redheads.
Walker drew in a sharp breath at this little tidbit, but he still hadn’t interrupted her.
By the time she was done, she felt numb. She collapsed back into the couch. She pressed the heels of her hands to eyes, wishing the uncomfortable couch would swallow her. Maybe it would never spit her out again.
She barely felt the cushions of the couch shift before strong arms surrounded her, pulling her close against his hard body. His hands started stroking her back and her hair, and she melted into his arms.
She shouldn’t have. She knew that giving in -- even momentarily -- would just make her long for having someone to lean on. She would want him to comfort her and make her feel safe for a long time after he was nothing but a memory that wouldn’t protect her. Still, she couldn’t help herself.
She allowed him to hold her, allowed him to stroke her hair. More dangerously, she allowed him to make her feel like everything was going to be okay.
It was this feeling that sent silent tears flowing from her eyes. The tears came harder and faster until sobs wracked her body and she could barely breathe. Because she knew, with every fiber of her being, everything was most certainly not going to be okay. Despite this fleeting moment of comfort, everything was going to be the complete opposite of okay and would never be okay again.
4
Walker held her for what seemed like hours as she cried, her tears soaking the front of his button-up shirt, but he didn’t mind. He was shocked to the core by her story. He was disgusted -- though not surprised -- that anyone could take advantage of such a young girl. That someone could force her into doing things no child should even know existed, never mind endure.
Even worse that now, in her twenties, she still had to live with the threat of being sold off as a sex slave. She was afraid every minute of every day, because some spineless perverted lowlife had her believing that she owed him something at sixteen. By now, she was trapped in a web of bullshit and manipulation.
Once she’d cried herself out, she’d muttered something about needing another shower. She fled into the bathroom. He could hear the shower running as he contemplated her words and her fate.
His mind wandered to his own situation. His brothers and his father weren’t going to stop pressuring him about getting a girl. They saw him settling down. But his fists clenched and his stomach rolled at the thought of replacing his fiancée with some random girl. To give his mother’s ring to such a person.
He thought about how good it had felt to protect Doll, to have someone to shield with his body again. He considered the fact that she’d trusted him with her story, but still hadn’t yet told him her real name.
An idea started to take shape in the back of his mind. A crazy idea, but possibly a way out of both their situations.
He needed a relationship that would take the pressure off of him. Something that would still allow him to mourn the death of his fiancée. To come to terms with the life he had lost on that fateful day.
Regardless of what anyone thought, regardless of the fact that it had been five years... he just wasn’t ready to just move on. Not ready to replace her, or to forgive himself.
What he needed was a fake relationship of sorts. Someone who would be his companion to the world... but didn’t expect anything romantic from him beyond what had to be done for the sake of keeping up appearances. Someone he could pretend to fall in love with and who would be willing to pretend to do the same.
The door to the bathroom opened. He moved toward it, expecting to see her dressed in the same clothes she had gone in wearing.
Only, she wasn’t. Wearing anything, that was. She wore nothing but the small hotel hand towel.
He did a double take as his eyes raked over her before he could stop himself. He took in her wet, tousled red hair. Her piercing eyes were fixed on his as she placed one long leg in front of the other, swaying her hips slightly. She gave him a coy look as she crossed the space that separated them.
His train of thought from before felt like it had crashed into a brick wall at the end of the tracks. When she raked a fingernail across his chest, still devouring him with her eyes, he made an indecipherable sound.
His concerns flew from his mind as he looked down her body. She trailed her hand over his chest, down toward his stomach, where her fingers danced over his abs.
He raised his gaze from her eyes to her full, pouting lips. But his eyes didn't stay there. They dropped further to her breasts, to the spot where the towel was knotted between them.
A single bead of moisture ran down her chest, right between her breasts.
He felt his cock stirring as he imagined how easy it would be to undo that knot. That would leave her completely naked, inches away from him.
His fingers itched to feel her soft skin against his body, but he kept his hands at his sides. He gave his head a little shake.
Not now, Roman.
“No, Doll. I can’t...”
His voice came out infinitely more confident than he was feeling. He tried to push the dirty thoughts from his mind.
“Why don’t you go put some clothes on, and we can talk?”
The gasp that escaped from her lips as he turned her down instantly made him question his resolve. His mind flooded with images of the things he wanted to do to her to make her gasp. To make her moan. To feel her body shudder against his.
The look in her eyes once a deep breath helped to clear his mind ripped it from the gutter in a heartbeat. The terror he saw there, the uncertainty, the helplessness... It made his stomach twist in a way that made him feel sick.
“I... uh... I’m... okay,” she stammered before making a beeline for the bathroom.
She emerged less than a minute later, fully clothed, her wet hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head.
“Have a seat.”
He gestured to the vacant spot on the couch, moving over to create some space between them. She bit her lip as she hesitated for a moment, eyes darting to the door as if she was contemplating making a run for it.
“Please sit down, Doll. There are some things that I’d like to talk to you about, if that’s okay with you?”
She gave a low sigh, fidgeting with her hands. She took small steps toward the couch and sat down at the end primly, her spine straight as an arrow. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she searched his eyes, a puzzled look on her face. She started toying with the edge of her shirt.
Eventually, she dropped her gaze. She seemed to train all her attention on the spot where her hands were bunching up the material.
He cleared his throat when it was clear that she wasn’t going to bolt and was willing to hear him out.
“You’re worth more than that, you know.”
She might not have said anything, but it was obvious enough. She was used to her body being the only thing that was worth anything, the only thing people wanted from her.
“Not that I wasn’t sorely tempted,” he confessed, trying to ease her near palpable embarrassment. “You’re beautiful and sexy and seductive as all hell. I’m not a fucking saint, but it wouldn’t have been right. I don’t see you as an object. I would never take advantage of you like that.”
She seemed frozen, so he tried again.
“You trusted me with your story, so I’d like to tell you some of mine. You okay with that?”
She gave a small nod, but kept her eyes averted and bit her lip.
“Before I start, do you have anywhere safe to go? Anywhere those guys can’t get to you?”
She frowned and shook her head.
“No, I don’t. I was going to...” Her voice was quiet, unsure. She trailed off as she briefly met his eyes, releasing a rattled breath.
“I thought that might be the case.” There was no judgment
in his voice, only simple resignation to the truth. “I think I may have a plan that could help both of us out with our current situations.”
Her left eyebrow raised in suspicion at his words. She made a low scoffing noise, but she let him continue without interruption.
“Thing is, I’m under a lot of pressure from my family at the moment to settle down. Get married. Make a bunch of Roman babies. Only, I don’t quite want the same thing right now. That doesn’t mean a thing, though. My father wouldn’t hear anything about it even if I was plannin’ on telling him.” He shrugged.
She listened carefully before speaking.
“With all due respect, Walker, what does any of that have to do with me? I need to go try and find someplace to sleep tonight, so if it’s all the same to you...”
“Well actually I was thinking, what if you came back with me? We could tell people that we met a while ago. That we wanted to see how things went before saying anything to anyone. We could pretend that we’ve fallen in love. You’d pretend to be my girl. Cook, clean, attend town functions, come to Sunday church socials with me. That sort of thing. It would help take the pressure off me, and you’d have somewhere safe to stay.”
He could see her turning the idea over in her mind, but she still looked suspicious.
“And why would you need me to pretend to be your girl?” She cast an eye over him again, then gestured toward him and the room they were in. “You’re gorg-- er-- not bad looking. You clearly have money. Why don’t you have a girl? Why don’t you do all that stuff they want for real?”
He shrugged as he answered her question.
“It’s complicated,” he said simply, not offering any more information.
“Where’s home? Would I be far away from here? From Dimitri and Igor and the others?”
He nodded. “Catahoula Creek. It’s far enough. It’s a small town, it never gets any attention.”
“What if I don’t like it? What if I wanted to come back? Would you bring me back?”
She started fidgeting with her hands again, clearly conflicted.
“I would never keep you there against your will, Doll. Ever. I’m not trying to buy you, or enslave you. I’m not trying to take advantage of you. If you come, it will be because you want to, because you choose to. If you want to leave, I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go myself. I swear it. Hell, I’ll help you apply for a passport and buy you a plane ticket to the other side of the world, if that’s what you want,” he assured her sincerely.
