“Whatcha need, darlin’? You applyin’ for a job?” he greets me with a grin.
“I… I… I’m here to see Casey,” I stammer stupidly.
“Can’t let ya in that easy.”
Oh, my God! He wouldn’t dare expect sexual favors from me to get in, right? Last time I came in the back door. I should have done that this time, too. I was such a mess the guy at the back door didn’t even question me especially with Casey with me. I should have just called her to come escort me inside.
My fear must show when the man lets out a hearty laugh letting me know he was joking with me. “Go on in. Don’t know if she’ll have clothes on or not. If that’s your thing, it’s hot. Have a good time, sugar tits.”
Rather than bark back at him and his last remark, I walk through the door he holds open for me.
When I walk through to the back, the sight before me makes me halt in my tracks. What is the phrase? What has been seen cannot be unseen? That is exactly how I feel right now. Everywhere I look, women are in some stage of undress. Some are taking off their clothes, while others are taking off their stage costumes to put their clothes on. All of them make me feel insecure about my own body. Not to mention, the state of the room sends my OCD into high gear.
There is stuff everywhere. Clothes on the floor and vanity chairs. Bags and purses on the floors against the walls instead of hanging on the hooks or lockers provided to them. I watch as one woman throws a stiletto at another woman, which causes a catfight. It is pure pandemonium. How the heck does my best friend work in this every day? It would drive me nuts to be back here, even if I did have the guts to strip naked on a stage in front of strange men.
I scan the women, bending my head this way and that to look around those who are standing up in front of others and those who are sitting at the vanities, putting on their make-up.
I am still searching for Casey in the dressing rooms when I hear his voice. I shiver and my veins run cold. Is that why they call him Ice? Does he have this effect on everyone? Even with our newfound truce, I am far from comfortable with him.
I am barely keeping myself together when Ice is suddenly standing in front of me.
“Morgan, are you okay?” The tone in his voice is laced with compassion, care, understanding, and kindness. There is not one trace of the broody, anger-enriched, aggravated tones of the past.
Using my hands, I cover my face to hide the tears that are threatening to fall as I stand there silently. When his two strong arms embrace me, pulling me into his solid chest, I lose it completely. All the emotions I have tried and failed to contain spill out on his black leather vest. His hands softly rub my back in an attempt to soothe while I continue to sob helplessly in his arms.
Who knew the one person I would never want to comfort me is also the very person who brings me a little peace through all of my pain?
Chapter
11
Ice
Sometimes, the world in which I live in blackens my soul. The lines get blurred between good and bad. It is survival of the fittest, smartest, and bravest. Daily, I am tested. The world in which I exist is one that requires intelligence, experience, associations, and balls of fucking steel.
The meeting with Sandoval was successful in furthering our connection to him. Lazaro Sandoval, the sick fuck, required one of us to fuck two of the women in front of him after paying for them. Thankfully, Coal only takes pussy he pays for, and initially, didn’t mind taking one for the team by trying out the merchandise, so to speak. I can tell his willingness waned when he realized just how out of it the women were. It was obvious in their sloppy interactions and slurred come ons to us that they were high as a kite on something.
For Coal, fucking them, paid for or not, became difficult. He doesn’t want to be left with any doubt of their consent. Needless to say, when he finished, he disappeared on us for a while. If we were not in the middle of a job, I would be worried he is somewhere drinking himself to death in order to deal with his demons; however, my VP is a soldier in every way. Therefore, I know he will not drown himself with alcohol just in case he is needed for the job on short notice. Other than that, I don’t have a clue as to where he is. I won’t look for him, either. A man should be able to find peace when he needs to.
These aren’t high class hookers we are dealing with. According to Coal, the women are definitely drugged to the point of dependency. Their captors more than likely deny them whatever it is they have hooked them on until they are begging for their next hit and forced to sell themselves in order to get it. We have them at the clubhouse detoxing. It is an ugly situation that seems to get darker and deeper by the minute.
“Ice,” I answer as my phone rings.
“Got something you need to see, now,” Screech says with panic in his voice.
“Be there in ten,” I bark back into the phone before disconnecting.
Sending a quick message out to Hammer, Coal, and Skid, I take off to meet everyone at the clubhouse.
Screech has a room here dedicated to his IT equipment. The room is on the small side and extremely cool. He says keeping the temperature down is the best way to ensure his equipment doesn’t get overheated. The lights in the room are quite a bit dimmer than my main office. Screech said something about it being better for his eyesight since he sits in front of computer monitors all day. I don’t do technology, so if that is what the man needs to do what I need him to do, whatever.
What I do know is that the mysterious atmosphere of low lighting combined with wall to wall gadgets and equipment makes me think of Alfred and Batman down in the bat cave. If I ever told Screech that, the nerdy little bastard would probably bust a nut in comic book glee and buy himself a batman costume. Hence, why I haven’t told him that I secretly call this the bat cave.
“Sit down, fellas. You have to watch this,” Screech instructs.
“What are we watching exactly?” I ask.
“After the meeting, you had me track everyone. It took me a little longer than usual, but I was able to hack into the feeds coming and going from one Leodanis Gutierrez. He is Sandoval’s right hand man and has more access than the rest of Sandoval’s crew. I still haven’t broken through on Sandoval’s phone, but I got enough from Gutierrez to lock in on a live feed. They have the location scrambled; I’m still trying to get an exact location on where the video is being made. At first, I thought it was on a delay, but upon further study, it is indeed a live feed. What you are about to see is unlike anything we have dealt with before.”
“Cut the shit and turn it on,” Coal clips out. This whole situation has him going back down a dark path.
At the press of a button, the screen comes to life. The grainy images aren’t easily discerned, but what we can see is bad enough I grab the arms of my chair in pure rage.
Cages.
Upon cages.
Dog kennels basically line the large room, each one housing a different girl. They are spaced far enough apart that each girl cannot pass items between themselves. Each young woman is chained, as if in prison, hands and ankles together. They are connected to a chain that attaches to a collar that firmly holds a hood over their heads. There is a hole cut out for their mouth, leaving them enough room to eat, spit, or puke; yet, otherwise, rendering the women unable to see what is going on around them.
Some of them must have given trouble of some sort as they have a ball gag strapped across their mouths, and their hands have been moved behind their backs. The lethargy is evident in the body language of each of these girls, making me wonder if they are not being fed, if they have given up, or worse, if they are drugged like the two women we bought from Sandoval. The evidence of their bodily functions is visible on the blankets laid over the cement flooring inside the cages. They are naked, collared, chained, gagged, and helpless to escape the disgust in which they are trapped.
My questions are soon answered when one girls begins to shift in her cage. Her lips move as if she is calling out. Having no audio, we can’t tell
what she is saying, making each of us feel more helpless.
A large man in a suit comes over to her cage. We watch as he pulls out a vile and needle and injects the girl with an unknown substance.
“Fuck!” I roar out my frustration as the girl immediately succumbs to the drug overtaking her system.
“Using the tattoos of some of the girls, I have been able to identify two of them. The camera is stationary, so my visibility inside the facility is currently limited.” Screech points to a blinking light in the corner of the computer monitor. “There are more cameras in the room. I have to hack into their feeds, and then we may be able to match up more girls. This shit takes time, but I’ll get in.”
“We don’t have fuckin’ time. They don’t have time. We need to know where they are as of yesterday!” Hammer states the obvious.
Staring at the gritty images in front of me, for the first time in my life, I am worried about failing. Because, if I do, these women will be thrust into the depths of an unescapable hell I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.
Morgan
The walls are closing in. At least, that is what it feels like as I look around my condo. Feeling overwhelmed at the loss of my sister, the panic creeps up more. Is she ever going to come back? Although I know I can’t lose hope, it is hard to hold on with each passing day. At this point, I can’t help wondering if she is even still alive.
Needing to do something, anything, to feel productive, I head out to search more. Maybe she stupidly went to the docks. Teenage years are hard. Add the pressure from my parents, maybe she tried drugs and got ahold of something bad.
Looking around, a shiver of unease goes through me. These are not the nice or newer docks of Bayfront Park. No, these are the old, abandoned ones that are no longer being used to receive ships or merchandise. Everything about this area is rundown… and scary.
I have to be careful about where I step because the old, gray, crumbling bricks beneath my feet could cause me to trip and fall. Graffiti covers the abandoned buildings. Every window in these dark and forbidding buildings are either so dirty you can’t see through them or broken. The jagged glass feels like a warning of just how dangerous being here is for me.
This area is a known spot for junkies and homeless people. I hope like hell Madyson is not here. Part of me really doesn’t think she would come here, simply because she wouldn’t want to be surrounded by some place that is so… dirty. However, I have quickly run out of places to search for her, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
Lord knows, by now, I am way beyond being a desperate woman.
I am one step away from being a defeated woman.
“Excuse me,” I try to approach a woman with a shopping cart of odds and ends in her collection of life.
“I don’t know nothin’,” she replies before turning her cart and taking off.
Mentally, I try to keep coaching myself. I will not be deterred.
Finding a shirtless man crouched down against a wall with his head against his knees, I think he is a safe place to try again.
“Excuse me,” I begin. He doesn’t move. “Hello, sir,” I try again.
No response.
Tentatively, I reach out and touch his shoulder. He is cool to the touch. No response.
I grip his shoulder and shake slightly, “Mister.”
His body slumps over to the side, and it is only then I can see his face. The dried blood coming out of his nose and mouth are one clue to the lifelessness of the body I just touched. His eyes are rolled back into his sunken face. The meth blisters covering his cheeks do nothing to hide the scars from his long term drug use.
My body shakes in anxiety. Faintly, I hear the rumble of what I think to be a loud truck or motorcycle coming. My hands tremble as I stand here, immobile in shock.
“Sexy thing, you’re in the wrong part of town,” a gravelly voice says from behind me.
When I turn around, the dirtiest man I have ever seen stands before me. Staying stock still, I am at a loss for what to do.
“We’re gonna have a good time.” He licks his lips at me as if he is ready to devour his last supper.
“I was just leaving.” With my flight mode fully kicked in, I make a step to my right to move away, but the man steps in front of me and starts to close in on me. His stench assaults my nose, causing me to shut my eyes and step back, the exact opportunity he needs to reach out and grab my arm.
While panic sets in and I scream, a blur of black comes out of nowhere. The dirty man drops my arm as he is quickly brought to his knees. An elbow to the head knocks him out as my brain catches up slowly to who is saving me.
Ice.
His gorgeous brown eyes cut through me. There is a vulnerability I have never seen before in them.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” he questions in his typical asshole tone.
“Looking for my sister,” I croak out.
“Are you trying to get raped or killed?”
“Way to put it nicely. You don’t hold any punches, do you?”
“Never,” he states calmly as he reaches out a hand. “Come on.”
My hand trembles inside his, and he tugs me against him before releasing my hand to hold me against him. Wrapping my arms around him, I draw from his strength, finding comfort in his embrace.
“How did you find me? Why are you here?” I question snuggling into him feeling saved.
“I had a tracker put on your phone after your sister turned up missing. Got a call you were in a bad part of town, a part of town a girl like you should not be in, ever.”
Not knowing what to say to his sincere concern for me, I bring us back to what is going on around us. “Ice, I think the man against the wall is dead.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sure he is. We need to get you out of here.”
“Shouldn’t we call the cops?”
“Because they’ve been so helpful in looking for Madyson?” My addled brain registers that the sarcasm is not needed, but I don’t bother to point it out. I look up into his face to see him staring at me intently. “Let me handle this.”
“Okay,” I agree and start to pull away, still shaking slightly. Ice stops my retreat and pulls me into his arms, giving me a gentle squeeze. I am surprised by his actions. He might have comforted me when I showed up at his strip club and started bawling like a baby, but I sort of figured he only did it because he felt sorry for me. Now he is hugging me again and I do not know what to make of it.
“Stop shakin’ woman.”
I snort. “Only you would command a person to stop shaking.”
“It’s going to be okay, Morgan. I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but I promise it will be. I’ll handle it.”
I may not know much about Ice, but I believe he will handle the dead body and the now unconscious one I have just encountered.
I feel one of his hands move off of my back and then stroke over my hair once before he loosens his grip and steps away from me.
“Ride with me?”
“What?” My voice breaks.
“I’ll take you home. Ride with me.”
“On your motorcycle? What about my car?” My voice cracks with each sentence. I am drowning in emotion.
“I’ll get a guy to come get your car.”
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle.”
“I’ll be your first,” he says with a wink.
He is my first—my first asshole.
“Now is hardly the time to flirt, joke, or be a smartass,” I challenge him, letting my annoyance win over my instinct to be nice to everyone.
“I don’t flirt. I don’t joke. Telling me not to be a smartass is like telling you not to be cute. I am a smartass, jackass, and any other kind of ass there is.” He tips my chin up to force me to meet his gaze. “Ride with me. Let go for just a bit and clear your head.”
His plea is completely genuine. He truly wants to give me some peace in his own way. How do you turn a gesture like that down? The answer is, you don�
��t. I give him an uncertain nod.
Why does it suddenly feel like I have bitten off way more than I can metaphorically chew?
Chapter
12
Ice
Damn girl, how did you get in them jeans?
That is the only thought rolling around in my head as I watch Morgan’s hip sway with every step towards my bike. I want nothing more than to put my hand in the ass pocket of those jeans and squeeze that luscious ass.
What the hell is wrong with me? I seriously need to get laid. Morgan Powell is so far from my type of woman, but I can’t shake her from my thoughts.
When Screech had given me the strange location her phone was tracked to, my heart stopped beating for a moment. My first reaction was to wonder whether she had been taken. Finding her here, seeking out her sister, pulls at something inside me.
I promise you, Madyson will come home. I won’t fail. I won’t let Morgan down. Somehow, I will find a way to give her everything she wants.
Pausing and taking in my own thoughts, it hits me. There is definitely more to what I feel for Morgan. I don’t know how it happened or when, but she is drawing something out of me that I thought died the day Erin did.
As hard as this has been, she keeps pulling herself back together. She refuses to give up on her sister. Too bad the same can’t be said for her parents.
The courage she possesses to face down some of the worst parts of town shows the depth of her character. She touched a damn dead body. I am sure it hasn’t fully hit her yet, but it will. When it does, I have no doubt it will hurt, just as I know she will find a way to push it down and work through it.
I climb on my bike without giving another moment to my thoughts on Morgan. Kicking up the kickstand, I rock the bike up, popping the clutch with my foot and cranking the beast under me. When I turn my gaze to her, I see something longing in the depths of her beautiful green eyes.
“What?” I shout over the engine.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she shouts back uncertainly.
“What you’re doing is getting on the bike.” I extend my hand to her. Taking her shaking hand in mine, I tug her over to me and place her hand on my shoulder then nod my head down to the foot peg. She follows my thoughts and climbs on. Reaching behind me, I take both of her hands and wrap them firmly around my waist, pulling her against me. She is tense against me while her thighs squeeze mine, her head comes to rest on my shoulder, and her breath puffs on my neck in an erotic way that brings my cock to life.
Ice Page 9
