by Alexa Riley
It seemed like forever that we stayed like that: him watching me, his focus calculating, intimidating.
“You think I’d be interested in doing anything for you?”
I couldn’t deny that I was terrified for even asking this dangerous man for help. It was stupid, given the fact I was in this problem for this exact situation. “I hope you can.” I swallowed. “I mean, you’ve been watching me. You had me come here, into your office—”
He made this deep sound in his throat, cutting me off, making me even tenser, more frightened.
“What makes you think I can help you, that I would help you?” His face remained a stoic mask, a stone statue. “Maybe I want you here, watch you, called you into my office because I want to defile you.” The way he spoke, his voice, was like ice, so emotionless, so hard and unforgiving. I had no doubt he meant that.
I was on the verge of crying.
He eyed me for a long second. “You screamed of desperation, and honestly I’m a vulture wanting to feed off that.”
My entire body went rigid, frozen to the core.
“Because that would be a lie, a bold-faced fucking lie.”
His voice was so deep, so heavy, that I felt it weighing down on me, sucking me under like a current, making me hold on for dear life. I opened my mouth but closed it promptly. I didn’t know what to say, how to answer. I felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole. But this was no dream. This was reality. It was my reality.
“Tell me why I should do anything for you that doesn’t benefit me completely.”
“I don’t know,” I said. It was the only thing I could come up with in that moment. This man didn’t even have to say anything for me to be afraid of him.
His expression was stoic, his face a hard mask of indifference.
This was a mistake, a terrible, horrible mistake.
Although the truth was I’d known that deep down inside. The truth was I already had enough mistakes under my belt. What was one more?
“I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need.”
He made this sound in the back of his throat after I spoke, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
“You can give me whatever I want?” There was this hard edge to his voice as he looked at me. “And what exactly is it you think I want?” He moved his gaze up and down my body. I felt like he was undressing me right then, like he’d reached out and torn the clothes from me as if they were tissue paper. I clenched my hands into tight fists at my sides, but even that couldn’t help the shaking that consumed me.
“I don’t know,” I said again, feeling stupid. Show strength. “I don’t know anyone else that can handle my problem, that can get this asshole off my back.” I took a step closer, but a blast of frigid air that seemed to come from Cameron stopped me. “He’ll do unspeakable things to me.” God, I sounded pathetic. “I can offer you…me.”
Then maybe you should have been smarter. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to a motherfucker who uses people like toilet paper.
If Cameron cared, I could imagine he’d have said something like that. Hell, I’d said that to myself many times over. I hadn’t told him what my problem was in detail, didn’t know what this payment would entail, even if he did agree to help me. But I’d do anything. “I owe a very bad man money, even though I never spent a dime of it. I know they are following me.” I ran my hands over my thighs, a nervous habit I’d always had. “I know they’ll hurt me before I can do anything about it, make my life right…” Or as right, as normal as it could be for me. I shivered at the thought of what they could do to me.
“And you think I am the type of man that can come to an agreement with you, that I’d give a fuck what happened to you?” His voice was shrewd, his gaze glacial. “I don’t think you realize the type of man you’re standing in front of.” There was almost this touch of amusement in his voice. Almost.
A criminal?
A drug lord?
A killer?
He’s probably that and more. So much more.
“Tell me what type of man you are,” I whispered, not thinking he’d actually be honest. I thought the corner of his lips quirked up, but it was gone before I could really see if it was there.
“What type of man do you think I am? What type of man would you need to help you get out of your situation?”
Could he hear my heart? It was beating painfully hard. “I think you’re worse than them in a metal capacity, in the way you can outsmart anyone and anything.” I took a steadying breath. “I think you’re the type of man, the only type of man, who can help me.” He didn’t speak, but his gaze was unwavering. “And I hope you’ll help me because you want that bleakness I have in me, that emptiness.” That awarded me with a flicker of emotion over his face, but it was gone as soon as I saw it. “You want it because it matches yours.”
He stayed silent. That was the worst of all.
“Please,” I said, all but begging now, desperate. I’d already opened my mouth and asked him for help. There was no going back now. If he wouldn’t help me, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle.
I’m already in that situation.
Hell, I’d rather be dead than think of what those assholes would do to me. Cameron certainly seemed far worse, far scarier, than what I was currently dealing with, and he’d only said a handful of words to me, only stared at me, maybe gauging how “worth it” I was.
He chuckled then, but it wasn’t humorous, wasn’t filled with amusement. It was the laugh of a depraved man…of the very devil himself, perhaps.
“I’ve always liked the sound of begging.”
I bet he did.
I looked around his office. Aside from the television monitors behind him that showcased the entire club, and his desk and chair, there wasn’t anything else in the room. It was like a coffin, a large, cold and frightening coffin. It was a place for someone to rot in the ground, away from anything and everything.
It was dark, like his soul, no doubt.
I didn’t have anything of real value to offer—that was my problem, and how I’d gotten into this shit storm to begin with. But a man wanted one thing, and it was something I had, something I could give him in exchange for his help. Whether he’d accept it or not, deem it worthy of his time, was left to be determined.
Before I could say anything, Cameron started drumming his fingers on the desk, his focus trained on me, as if I was intruding on his time, despite the fact that he’d invited me here. I shifted on my feet, feeling very vulnerable in this moment. I could see his mind working, and whatever he was thinking about couldn’t be good.
I took a step closer and saw something dark come into his eyes. I wasn’t wearing anything sexy, but I didn’t need to show off skin to get a guy’s attention. The way he skimmed my body with his gaze told me all I needed to know.
Yeah, all men wanted something, one thing, but I was pretty sure I had something a man like Cameron could appreciate…nothing to lose.
“Tell me your name.”
“Sofia Mikellson,” I supplied, my voice wavering despite my desperate internal struggle to stay calm.
“Sofia.” The way he said my name, the way it rolled off his tongue shouldn’t have made me tingle, shouldn’t have made my body tighten. He said it with this thick darkness in his voice that should have scared the shit out of me.
It did.
“Isn’t asking for help the reason you’re in this situation?”
It was like he’d read my mind, his words a hot poker right through me.
“Yes,” I whispered, not bothering to lie.
Or maybe I was trying to jump out of the frying pan, the heat turned up so that I’d burn until there was nothing left.
I could be a slave to his desires, a submissive to his dominance. I could be his personal victim. If it meant that I stayed alive in the end, so be it. I could be whoever, whatever he wanted.
It seemed like an eternity before he finally moved, before he finally spoke.
He
leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his expression suddenly intense. “You need my help, and the payment I want in return is your body…used in any way I see fit, for the duration of two weeks.” And then he smirked. It was dark and dangerous, and shouldn’t have made me feel anything other than self-loathing. “You’ll be mine, Sofia. Any. Way. I. See. Fit.”
I breathed in harshly. “Yes. Okay.”
And so it was. I’d just sold myself to the devil.
CHAPTER NINE
I FELT like a lifetime had passed since I’d spoken with Cameron, told him my troubles…asked him for help. But in reality it had only been a few days.
Hours, seconds, minutes, of me wondering what would happen, when it would take place. Would he scare Ricky, use his influence, whatever that might be, and make him leave me alone? Would he kill him?
I hadn’t heard anything from him regarding it, and although Ricky hadn’t bothered me, I felt someone watching. I swore a car followed me, that same dark SUV that I’d seen when I went to find Marshall. Maybe it was just my nerves, my paranoia slamming into me, claiming me, and dragging me under. But even if it was, I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t push it away or bury it, no matter how much I wanted to.
You should just leave and take your chances.
Yeah, that was easier said than done. I had no money—none that I dared to use, anyway. And even if I did leave, where would I go? Who would I run to? And I had a feeling Ricky would just find me. Because I hadn’t heard anything from Cameron either, I couldn’t guarantee that he’d still help me. But I didn’t think he forgot about the agreement.
I knew he didn’t.
Sure, he wanted my body as payment, but he’d given me no time frame, hadn’t even asked for details about what I was going through with Ricky. All he knew was the generic situation I’d explained.
But Cameron didn’t seem like the type of man to go against what he said.
And that scares the shit out of me.
I felt my eyelids grow heavy, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. I was exhausted, but my nerves were shot, the worry of life, of the situation I was in wearing me down so much I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning, and there was no life raft, no one who would pull me out of the deep end and save my life.
I shifted, rolled over onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. The stain to the right of me was from a leak in the above apartment, the brown circle spread wide. I stared at it, tracing the edges of it with my gaze. The place was liable to cave on me at any moment, just snuff my life out as if it meant nothing.
And maybe it didn’t. Maybe in the end it was just me trying to pretend I could survive.
I exhaled, not wanting my thoughts to go down that dark path.
I was Cameron’s. He’d help me, get me out of the situation with Ricky, but the cost, the payment I was giving to him would be so much more. It would suck me dry, corrupt my very soul. I closed my eyes, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come. My mind was moving too fast, my thoughts too consuming.
I felt myself relax further on the shitty bed I was on, the mattress probably having seen more ass, more disgust than I cared to think about.
And then I heard a soft sound come from the living room. It was a click, this little tick of a noise that seemed so loud, so menacing.
I sat up, reaching down beside the bed without taking my eyes off my bedroom door. It was cracked open, and the thought that maybe I should have shut it completely played through my mind. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. There was no lock on my bedroom door, and if someone wanted in, they’d just have to slam their shoulder into it for the weak old-ass door to break open.
I felt the handle of the bat slide along my hand, and I curled my fingers around it. Moving slowly, trying to be silent, I lifted the bat up. I pushed the blanket off me, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and when the mattress creaked, I grimaced. My heart seemed to still, my breathing stopped, and I stared at the door. I expected someone to come bursting in at that moment, but the silence stretched on. I wasn’t a fool to think I had imagined the sound, not in this apartment building, not in the situation I was in with Ricky.
I shifted on the bed another inch, hearing that damn mattress creak again. I was frozen, my mouth tight, dry. And then the bedroom door swung open, someone kicking it in so hard it slammed against the wall, the doorknob crushing the plaster. I screamed out of instinct and fell to my knees. I had the baseball bat in my hand still, the wood feeling warm under in my hold. I scrambled to get up, because being in this submissive position wouldn’t be good for me, would only make me more of a victim than I’d already be.
But someone grabbed hold of my hair and yanked me up. The bat was wrenched from my hold, and I saw scuffed-up boots in my vision. My head was cocked back, tears now in my eyes, the pain twisting me up.
“Brad, no need to scuff up the merchandise.”
The man tossed me to the center of the room, and I landed hard on my hands and knees. I tried to get up, but a hand on my shoulder kept me down. I turned and stared into the eyes of a man I’d hoped to never see again.
Ricky.
“I realize I’m early in collecting payment, but I decided I’d get more bang for my buck if the payment was you.” He grinned, a depraved sight, a smile that told me what he’d use me for would ruin me, would break me.
But I’ll still be alive, suffering, wishing for death because my life will be nothing more than a vessel for another’s pleasure.
“I need more time,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference, knowing the deal was for Cameron to handle this. But I grasped on to anything, something.
“Time isn’t what I’m good at giving, baby.” He took a step closer, and I held my breath, watching him. “And let’s be honest.” He cocked his head to the side. “You weren’t going to repay me. You couldn’t. The moment you came into my place of business you thought I’d let you off the hook.” He grinned again. “You knew”—he got down on his haunches.—“the moment that money touched your fingers that your body would be used in ways you never knew possible. Deep down there was no doubt that you’d be fucked so hard the only thing you’d know for certain was that you were crying.” He stood again, looked around my apartment, and tsked. “What a fucking shithole. I’ll be doing you a favor.”
My hands were shaking, my thoughts whirling as I tried to think of how to get out of this. I knew if I just accepted this, it would be over. I’d be over. When Ricky crouched in front of me and went to reach for my face, I curled my hand into a fist and lashed out. I slammed my knuckles into his face, and when he reeled back, I stood and darted for the door. But the guy he’d brought with him was on me before I reached the exit. He tossed me back, my head cracking back on the floor.
“You’re a spunky bitch, I’ll give you that,” Ricky said.
I pushed myself up as best I could, the pain in my skull pounding through my entire frame.
Ricky rubbed his jaw, the grin on his face telling me he liked that I’d hit him…that he’d get me back soon enough.
“I got some guys that will pay a lot of money for you to fight them.”
Chills raced up my spine.
He reached for me again, but just then the front door opened. There was no force behind it, no wood splintering forward, violence promised. No, someone who didn’t need a show, who didn’t need to let anyone know the menace they held, did this. I felt it as the cold air rushed into the apartment and the two men surrounding me turned.
And there stood Cameron with the man who I assumed was his muscle standing beside him.
Before anyone could move, Damien lifted his arm and fired off a shot that had the guy Ricky brought falling to the ground. The gunshot was quiet, the silencer making the violence almost seem gentle.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. If Cameron hadn’t shown up when he did—again—I knew I would have been hauled away and used for strange men’s sexual gratification.
But him being here at the ri
ght time couldn’t have been a coincidence. Had he been watching me? Had he been waiting until this moment to step up, to claim what I’d offered by ending my problem?
“How did you know?” I found myself saying, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut, but the words tumbled out of me on their own like they needed an escape, too.
He didn’t show any emotion as he stared at me. He didn’t answer. I was his property, so surely he’d keep an eye on me.
Either way I couldn’t feel anything but this bone-searing relief, because what Ricky had planned would have made death seem like a gift.
Damien moved close to Ricky, pressed the gun to his forehead, but didn’t pull the trigger. “On your knees,” was all he said.
I didn’t know if I expected Ricky to fight back, but it was clear he was at least smart enough—or maybe just too terrified—to know these men were not to be fucked with.
He went right to his knees.
Cameron walked over to Ricky, the air suddenly hot, the feeling of suffocating intense. Cameron gave a nod, and Damien sheathed his gun right before he started wailing on Ricky. Punch after punch landed on Ricky, his face becoming bloody, swollen, like freshly tenderized meat.
I gasped.
“That’s enough, Damien” Cameron said after what seemed like hours.
Although I had no doubt Cameron could hold his own, could gift anyone with his violence, he used Damien to extract that, to be his fists, his rage.
Damien hauled up Ricky so he was on his knees again, the man wobbling, clearly having a hard time keeping upright. The sounds that came from him were gurgled, wet…blood-filled.
I glanced between Cameron and Damien—his muscle. His killer. Damien looked stoic, aloof, like he didn’t give a shit what was happening. He had just beat the shit out of Ricky like this was an everyday occurrence.
You stupid girl. It is. These men are dangerous, far more dangerous than what you were up against. You’ll become ruined, broken, a shell of what you were or ever could be.
And I’d signed up for this, all but begged Cameron to help me. You agreed to do anything, everything.
