Guard Me: A Mafia Romance (The Rossi Crime Family Book 4)

by J. L. Beck

  An eerie moment of silence falls over us, and my body starts to shake uncontrollably.

  “That bitch tried to run boss, we were just going to put her back in the cell.” The Luca man interrupts the silence.

  “And who opened the cell door for her?” The man holding me ask. His voice is deep and dark, and dread fills my veins at his words. He is not going to help me. He knows I’ve been here. Maybe he is the one that put me in that room. The one who kidnapped me. Sobs wreck my body at the disappointment. I’m never going to get out of here. I’m never going to be safe again.

  “Ivan… boss, we were just going to have a little fun… we weren’t going to hurt her...”

  “You don’t touch the merchandise, and by the looks of her fucking face, it seems like you did a whole lot of hurting her,” the man named Ivan growls.

  One single word stands out from his sentence: Merchandise? I know what the word means but I can’t comprehend what it means for me. They can’t possibly be selling me...or anyone for that matter, right? It’s illegal to sell humans, men, women, it doesn’t matter.

  As I listen in shock to their conversation I realize that I’m still holding on to the man who obviously has something to do with me being here. Why do I feel safe in his arms? I should push him away, fight him like I did the other two men. I should try and escape, but instead, I lean into him for comfort. I feel safe in his arms even though the rational part of my brain tells me I shouldn’t.

  I enjoy his big hands sprawled out over my back, and the warmth his body gives me and for a moment I can forget the throbbing in my face and the split in my lip. I can forget that I’ve been kidnapped, and held hostage against my will.

  “She tried escaping boss, we had to stop her. Maybe if she didn’t try and claw our fucking eyes out she wouldn’t look like she does,” The other man starts, but Luca cuts him off by clearing his throat as if he knows better than to disobey what the man holding me says.

  “It won’t happen again boss. We just wanted to have a little fun, clearly, we made a mistake. Well put her back in her cell, and lock it up.”

  My body stiffens at his words and my fingers imbed into Ivan’s shirt. Please say no. I silently say in my head like a prayer. If he gives me to them I’m going to run...I’m going to run as fast and hard as I can.

  “I’ll take her back myself and if I see you two around her cell again I’ll kill you both. We don’t touch the merchandise if you want to fuck something go to the whorehouse,” he warns them both.

  “Of course sir.” They both mumble and when I hear their feet pounding against the floor going in the opposite direction of where we’re standing I sigh. I cling to the man before me, my fingers refusing to let go of him.

  A whimper escapes my lips when he prys my fingers from his shirt and lifts me into the air, holding me like a groom holds his bride... like I weigh nothing at all, and I probably don’t considering his size. I briefly catch a glimpse of a large tattoo on the side of his neck before I lower my face so he can’t look at it.

  He cradles me to his chest like I’m a small child. His skin feels so warm against mine, and I want to sink deep inside him and stay there forever. I twist and burrow my face into his chest. I remember then that I’m completely naked, other than my panties. I’ve never been naked in front of a man before, and now I’ve been naked in front of three all in one night.

  “Please don’t put me back in that room.” I murmur into his shirt. He doesn’t respond or stops walking in the direction I just came from. He just continues walking as if he didn’t hear me at all and with every step he takes I lose a little more hope that I’m ever going get out of here.

  Chapter Two

  Ivan

  Her blue eyes pierced through my heart like a dull butterknife. I’m so fucking angry right now...more than angry actually and I don’t understand the emotions I’m feeling.

  I carry her small body back into the cell. With her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, she is holding on to me as if her life depends upon it. I glance down at her but her face is buried into my chest. She is crying, sobbing, her whole body shaking with the force of her tears, and I can’t get her stupid pleas out of my head. She’s stupid, so stupid. Without knowing who I am she begs me to help her like I’m some kind of fucking hero… she has no fucking idea how wrong she is. I’m just as bad as those assholes that bruised up her face and tried to have their way with her.

  Still hearing the desperation in her voice, and seeing how scared she is while feeling her cling to me like I’m the only one that can save her. It gives me an ounce of hope, shows me that maybe there is some good left inside of me, when I though all of it has been snuffed out a long time ago. I saved her, protected her and that does something to me even I don’t want to acknowledge it.

  Typically I don’t deal with this part of the business. Mainly because I don’t like how they treat the women. It doesn’t get me off to see women sexually abused, or beat, so I try to ignore this part of the job, and leave my men to deal with this shit. I knew she was here, of course, I’d gotten her file thrown on my desk the second she was brought in to be processed, but I’d never seen her in besides the small picture of her drivers licence, not until now. Most of the women that were here never saw me, the man who made sure the entire operation went as smoothly as possible.

  I carry her back into cell five, the only cell with the door open. My molars grinding together when I see the ripped dress discarded the floor. I quickly scan the room getting even angrier when I see there isn’t even a blanket or sheet on the dirty mattress. I almost don’t want to put her back on it, but what else am I going to fucking do with her? I didn’t realize the women lived in such shitty condition, but I suppose offering them anything gives them false hope. Most of the men these women will be sold to will end up dead or worse. So, something as superficial as a blanket or pillow won’t matter anyway.

  I kneel down next to the mattress ready to lay her down on it when her shaking intensifies.

  “Please, don’t leave me here, please.” Her words cut through me like a knife.

  “I can’t help you,” I tell her with a stern voice, but I can’t bring myself to peel her from my body, or put her down on the mattress. Something about...it clings to me.

  “Can you stay with me… just for a little while?” I don’t dare look down at her… and I really shouldn't. I should put her down and walk out of that door without ever looking back but the way she clings to me has awakened a protective instinct inside me.

  An instinct I thought I’d lost long ago, one I shoved down so deep inside me that it would never see the light of day again… But I guess I was wrong. I hadn’t lost the feeling to care I just hadn’t had a reason too.

  I sit down on the mattress, resting my back against the cold wall, well continuing to hold her in my arms. With her almost naked body curled up, she cuddles into me as if she couldn't get close enough.

  “I’m so cold,” she whimpers. I tighten my arms around her and rub my hands up and down her cold skin trying to get her warmed up. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I need to find her something to wear and get her a blanket. There’s no way I can leave her in here naked like this. I sit there for a long time just holding her, attempting to warm her fragile body while she sobs into my chest. I don’t say anything to her. Mostly because there is nothing to say. There is nothing I can offer her that would change the outcome of her future. This is my job...to sell women...and she was brought here, plucked off the street. She might not have asked to be brought here, but she’s here now and I can’t just let her go.

  After a while, her sobs quiet down and eventually her crying ceases all together, but her grip on my shirt never eases up. Her breathing evens out and when her head rolls from my chest onto my arm and I see her eyes closed I know for sure she is out.

  I look down at her face, studying her features, taking in her natural beauty. It’s no wonder the men selected her. With her long blonde hair framing her heart sh
aped face she looks like a sleeping angel in my arms. My eyes drift down to her split lip, there’s smeared blood across it, a small cut in the corner, and her swollen jaw is turning black and blue with bruising. Looking at her...at how fragile she is it pulls a memory from deep inside my head.

  An image of Mira appears in my mind. I try to shake it away but this situation is all too similar to hers. I’m holding a small frail body in my arms, her eyes are closed, blood covers her face just like it did Miras. And just like back then I can’t help her. I can’t save her. I can’t save anybody.

  “Stop Mira.” I yell. I hate having to play with my baby sister.

  She’s so annoying, all she ever does is follow me and Tyler around.

  “Ivan,” She whines, looking up at me with big blue eyes.

  “No Mira, go play by yourself.” I sneer, turning back to Tyler. We start walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the playground.

  “I want to come with.” She demands, her tiny feet sounding behind me. I whirl around, and she stops dead in her tracks.

  “No. You’re too little.” I boom over her, watching tears glisten in her eyes. I clench my fists at my sides. I feel bad for hurting her feelings but I don’t always want to play with her, sometimes I just want to play with my friends.

  “You’re so mean Ivan. The worst.” She pouts, turning around, bouncing the giant purple ball in her hands. It bounces away from her and toward the street.

  My heart pounds inside my chest…

  I squeeze my lids shut for a short time, trying to catch my breath as the memory washes through me. Once I’ve calmed myself a bit I get up, still holding her in my arms, and very gently lay her down onto the mattress so she won’t wake up. She immediately curls up into a tight ball on the mattress, her tiny hands tucked under her angelic face. I look down at her naked form knowing that I can’t leave her here like this. It’s an irrational thought knowing what she will be sold, but while she is here the least I can do is give her some type of modesty and make sure she doesn't freeze to death. So I pull off my black long sleeve thermal t-shirt and cover her small body with it like its a blanket.

  When I straighten I take another look around the empty room. How long has she been here? I can’t fucking remember but I know the auction is not for another three weeks.

  I exhale a ragged breath, scrubbing a frustrated hand down my face. I shake my head in anger, I can’t worry about this shit. There is nothing I can do to change the outcome of this for her. I just need to go have a drink and forget this whole shit show ever happened.

  I take a few steps towards the door and glance into the tiny bathroom. It’s fucking filthy and there is no soap or a towel… not even fucking toilet paper? How the fuck can she be expected to remain sanitary when they don’t even give her the necessities needed to do so.

  Fuck, what am I thinking? She isn’t being treated like a human because she isn’t going to be seen as one here. I’ve never considered thinking of the women brought here because I never saw them. I never paid an ounce of attention to them because I didn't want to.

  But now that I have I’m appalled. My blood boils at the thoughts and I have to stop myself from slamming the door shut behind me when I leave the cell. I want to find someone to punch and yell at but I really have no one to blame other than myself, and that makes this ten times worse. Guilt is a bitch and it’s hitting as hard as it never has before.

  The men working for me just follow my orders, they don’t come up with this shit on their own and if I don’t order them to do something then they aren’t going to fucking do it, so this is on me.

  I walk from the first floor, and up the stairs to the second floor, my feet pounding across concrete. When I reach the door to my room I unlock it, and twist the knob, walking inside. I slam the door closed behind me, and walk into the bathroom connected off the bedroom. I shouldn’t be feeling shit for this woman...and still I can’t get the image of her without a single fucking thing out of my head. There are other women here all on that same floor, experiencing the same things she is, so why the fuck don’t I care about them too?

  Because they aren’t her.

  Holding her in my arms, feeling her cling to me, reminded me of the one person in my life that I failed to save, failed to protect. I grit my teeth, grabbing onto the sink that’s barely fastened to the wall. Things were easier before she escaped and ran right into my arms like I was the hero in this twisted fucking story.

  But I’m not the hero. I can’t save her...I can’t even save myself. I force air into my lungs, and swallow down all the emotions swirling out of control inside of me. This is my job. The only life I’ve ever known and some tiny, fragile fucking woman isn’t going to ruin it for me.

  I lift my eyes to the mirror, looking at my reflection I see the man I’m meant to be.

  The hardened criminal, the killer, the fucked up asshole.

  I was born to do this. It’s in my blood.

  Chapter Three

  Violet

  I blink my eyes open, feeling a little warmer than I have in a long time. My jaw throbs and I fight back tears at the pain. When I shift against the mattress I feel an unknown fabric rubbing against my naked skin. I gaze down at my body, which is now covered with a large black shirt. I look around the room expecting… hoping the owner of that shirt would still be here, but I’m met with nothing more than disappointment when I realize the room is completely empty as always.

  I suck in a ragged breath, the faint scent of cinnamon and whisky tickle my nostrils, which I quickly realize comes from the shirt covering me. I get up and shimmy the shirt off of me while trying to keep my boobs covered.

  Now that I know for a fact this mirror isn’t really a mirror and that someone might be watching me right now I am not going to give anyone a show. I turn my back to the door and slip the oversize shirt over my head. The soft fabric falls over my body swallowing me whole. The shirt is so long on me it fits me more like a dress then a t-shirt, coming to rest just below my knees.

  I sit there for a long time wrapped in Ivan’s shirt. It still smells like him and I can’t help but revel in his unique scent, it calms me, it makes me feel safe, and it reminds me of how he made me feel when he was holding me in his huge arms. He said that he couldn't help me but he doesn’t realize how much he already has.

  Not only did he save me from being raped by those two men but he also held me for I don’t even know how long. After being without any human contact for so many days, his gentle touch meant everything to me… not to mention the warmth he provided me with. Because of him I felt a little more human again. For the first time since I got here I smile. He even left me his shirt, he cared enough to leave him shirt, knowing how cold I was. If that’s not kindness then I don’t know what is.

  I pull my legs up to my chest and rest my head on my knees trying to relax when I hear someone unlocking the door. I’m instantly on high alert, staring at the door waiting to see who is going to come walking through it. Ivan told those guys not to come back, surly they would listen to him? They called him boss, so I’m assuming he’s the one in control of this entire thing.

  My heart jump starts at the next thought...or maybe it’s Ivan who is coming back?

  When I see the food door flap open and a tray being shoved through it I’m equally relieved and disappointed. It’s not Ivan, but it’s no one coming in here to try and hurt me either.

  I almost don’t get up, leaving the food sitting there when I take another look at the contents on the tray. It holds the normal paper plate and water bottle, but there is something else on it.

  I jump up and run to the door, my bare feet slapping against the cold concrete.

  Toilet paper. Fucking toilet paper. I never thought I could be so happy about such a ridiculous little thing as toilet paper… but I am. I’m so happy about it that I decide to actually eat a few bites of the sandwich. The inside of my mouth hurts like hell and my jaw is swollen but I manage to chew anyway. I twist the cap off
the clear bottle of water and wash down the dry pb and j pieces in my mouth. They land in my belly with a heavy thud.

  I eye the door knowing there is no way one of the men put that toilet paper on the tray. They wouldn’t care enough about such a small thing, after all I’m nothing but a piece of meat to be sold. I know for certain Ivan had to have done it. He was kind enough to leave his shirt for me, so there is no way it was anyone but him. Which leaves me wondering how he became the boss of this god forsaken place? He seems different than the other men here...or at least the ones I’ve met. He’s kinder, gentler, and that gives me hope where I’ve had none.

  ***

  Days bleed together and I completely lose track of time. I don’t know how many days I have been here, all I know is that with each passing day I hope for Ivan to return. He is the only person who has treated me like a human being since I arrived here and I crave human interaction, touch, sound.

  I’m so fucking lonely. I just want to see another person...they don’t even have to talk to me. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. My stomach is so empty it aches, throbs, but I can’t bring myself to eat anything.

  What’s the point anyway? It’s not going to change the outcome of what happens to me. Maybe if I don’t eat anything I’ll lose some weight...and maybe then I won’t appealing to anyone?

  Dinner or lunch whatever it is was served a few hours ago, telling me its either late afternoon or night time. My face still hurts, but not as badly as it did a few days ago. I look at my reflection in the mirror. An ugly array of purple, and green bruises mare my chin, jaw, and right cheek. The swelling has went down immensely, but I still don’t look like myself. My hair is a greasy mess on my head and my body has become sickly thin.

  With nothing else but my own mind, I spend every day asking myself the same questions over and over again. Why did I go to that stupid club? Is Ella looking for me? When am I going to get out of here and what's going to happen to me when I do?