“Whoa, dear one, is this the guy who laid all those suck marks on you and sent you the roses?”
Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He grabbed her hand as she was walking out the door. “I share with you.”
“Yes, you do. And most of it falls under the classification of too much information.”
On the drive to the waterfront, Alex thought about her nights with Baine and Antonio. Unlike Baine, Antonio called her the next evening to tell her he was thinking about her. There were also flowers waiting for her at work this morning.
The roses, a dozen perfect blood-red blooms, were still giving Lyle a fit. His nose for intrigue, along with his curiosity, had him foaming at the mouth, which was all made worse by Alex refusing to share.
She turned down First Avenue and cruised along the strip of bars and nightclubs. The sign for the Blue Oyster Bar was blue neon and small, but she spotted it and parked on the other side of the street. This was a strange neighborhood…part dockside businesses and part clubs, restaurants and bars. Seattle’s famous underground city was right below the streets about two blocks away.
She grabbed her satchel and an umbrella. It was raining again and, although it was still early, it was dark outside. Night came quickly in Seattle on rainy days. Baine told her not to mess with Rukovskya, and yet here she was, meeting him in a bar down by the waterfront in the dark. It felt stupid and risky, but what was she supposed to do? She had to get him to sign the contracts. It was part of her job.
As she entered the bar, Rukovskya immediately came forward to greet her. He took her coat and hung it by the door.
“My dear Miss St. John, you look ravishing.”
“I do?” Alex patted her hair. Her neat bun had lost a few strands but was still intact. She wore tinted glasses and a pantsuit with very little makeup.
“I assure you, you look lovely.”
Alex allowed him to escort her to a small table at the back of the lounge. A stage was being set up for the night’s performance right next to them, the noise loud and distracting. Rukovskya appeared not to notice.
Anxious to conclude her business and get out of there, Alex immediately pulled the contracts out of her satchel. “I just need your signature, and we’ll get started with the campaign on Monday.”
“Why are you rushing? Sit. Have a drink and relax. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”
The last thing Alex wanted to do was sit in this bar and talk to the Russian. When she really examined his tattoos, the ones she could see looked just like Viggo’s in Eastern Promises. He had intricate crosses tattooed on his fingers, and half of a strange star was visible in the open V of his shirt. The more she looked at him, with his shaven skull and disfiguring scar, the more she felt like leaping to her feet and running.
A glass of cranberry juice and vodka appeared at the table for her. Rukovskya’s drink was a clear substance in a shot glass. It must be straight vodka. He held up his glass and she reluctantly lifted hers.
“Here’s to a wonderful and long relationship,” he said. They touched glasses, and he swallowed his shot in one gulp. She sipped hers.
He pulled a small pair of reading glasses out of his dark-blue jacket pocket and perched them on his fleshy nose. “Enjoy while I read this material.”
She sipped the drink and examined the interior of the bar. There were few patrons at this hour. The décor was early maritime. The place was decorated with anchors on the walls, photos of ships and a heavy rope draped through fishnet. In one corner, an enormous anchor sat next to an old diving suit. The place smelled of mildew, damp wallpaper and spilled beer. The floor under her feet was simple board planking. When she tapped her foot, it sounded hollow.
Rukovskya signed the papers with a flourish and handed them to her. Finally!
“I hate to run, but I have to get these back to the office before seven.”
He stood and bowed low. “Certainly. Is long drive?”
“Not too long.”
“There will be lots of evening traffic.”
Alex allowed herself to relax and smile. After all, they’d finished the paperwork and she hadn’t been abducted or raped. Maybe this guy wasn’t as dangerous as Baine had said he was. “Yes, you’re right. I better use the bathroom before I leave.”
Cranberry juice always ran right through her.
“Right in the corner by the diving suit.”
Alex ran to the restroom. Once she’d started thinking about it, she realized she had to go badly.
The women’s restroom was fitted with three stalls. She dived into the first one and locked the swinging door. Relief was instantaneous. While she was perched over the seat, she heard someone come in. She peeked under the stall and saw a pair of black boots laced all the way to a skinny pair of knees. She was just buttoning her pants when she heard a loud noise and the stall door flew open.
A thin woman with a long nose, short black hair, dark eyes and thin lips shoved Alex back on the seat and covered her mouth with one hand. Alex fought, squirming and scratching at the hand over her mouth. The woman pounded twice on the wall behind the toilet with her free hand, and the wall opened.
Terror filled Alex. Her heart pounded like a thousand trapped wings inside her chest. The woman grunted something in Russian and a furry orange hand grabbed her from behind. Suddenly she was staring at the hideous grinning head of the Garfield plushie, Hank Mew Mew.
“Take her,” the woman said in English.
“My pleasure.” Mew Mew laughed as he dragged her through the door behind the toilet and into a dark tunnel going straight down.
Mew Mew wrapped Alex in his arms and smothered her in orange fur. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Behind them, Alex saw the woman shut the door.
The tunnel was only a few feet long. It ended, and Hank began climbing down a steep set of stairs. They rapidly descended twenty feet. When the stairs ended, they opened into a long dark corridor. This tunnel was old and lined with filthy red bricks, its floor consisting of packed dirt. Moisture collected on the tunnel ceiling and dripped into puddles on the floor. It smelled of ancient urine, mildew and wet earth.
Hank slogged along as Alex tried to escape his grip, squirming and kicking him over and over again while she screamed for help. He stopped, put her down for a second, smacked her so hard her head spun, and then threw her back over his shoulder.
“You better behave or you’ll get much worse than a few slaps.”
Tears ran down Alex’s face and dripped to the floor. Her jaw ached and her head felt swollen and filled with blood from hanging upside down. Tiny light bulbs spaced about thirty feet apart emitted flickering light and filled the tunnel with a weak, yellow glow. Shadows loomed at every turn.
Hank emerged from the tunnel, took Alex into an open room approximately twenty feet square, and dropped her in a chair next to a beat-up table. Against one brick wall, a huge metal cage was filled with naked women. Bile rose in Alex’s throat, and she heaved up her cranberry juice and vodka. It splattered all over Hank Mew Mew’s big furry cat feet.
Hank grabbed her and pulled her hard against his fuzzy body. “I’m gonna yiff your ass now. No big blonde gorilla to stop me down here.”
He tore off her pants and her jacket and shirt. She screamed and tried to cover herself.
“Hank,” the Russian woman spoke with a heavy accent. “She is one of Maksim’s special requests. Do not bruise her.”
“What I plan to do won’t bruise a thing.”
The woman shrugged.
Hank laughed and Alex screamed. “Scream all you want, you little bitch. Hank Mew Mew’s still gonna get his. Ain’t no one gonna stop me now.”
Hank pushed Alex over the table and pressed her face to the wood. She felt him pulling her panties down. “Please, no, I’ll be nice, I swear.”
“Shut up,” Hank snarled.
He began rubbing his furry body all over her naked rear, grunting an
d groaning. He grabbed her between her legs and stuck a furry finger inside her sex. Sobbing, she screamed.
Mew Mew was suddenly snatched from behind and thrown off her. “Mina, I told you this one is a special request.”
Alex recognized Rukovskya’s voice. She never thought she’d be glad to see him. He yanked her off the table and onto her feet. Clad only in her bra, she felt vulnerable and terribly frightened. She covered her crotch with one hand and the tops of her breasts with the other.
Rukovskya pushed her hands aside and tore off her bra. “You won’t need this.”
He tossed her last piece of clothing to the hard-packed floor. “Mina, put her in the cage with the others.”
Alex flew at Rukovskya and slapped his face. “You lured me here. You’re nothing but a filthy criminal. Baine was right. God, I’m so stupid.”
Rukovskya grabbed her by the throat. “Someone warned you about me? Who?”
Choking, Alex flailed her arms and legs, trying to grab Rukovskya’s hands and tear them off her neck. “Stop, please, I can’t breathe,” she croaked.
He grabbed her naked behind and pulled her body tight against his. Then he took one nipple in his fingers and twisted. “Who warned you?”
“A guy I dated. His name is Baine.”
“What’s his last name?”
“Tenbrook. He’s a U.S. Marshal.”
Rukovskya dropped her. She fell to the floor, clutching her aching breast. Mina picked her up. The Russian woman pushed Alex’s hands away and ran greedy fingers over her naked breasts, squeezing, caressing and rubbing the nipples against the flat of her hand. She pinched the sore nipple hard, ran her hand quickly down Alex’s stomach and cupped her sex. Alex winced but said nothing. She was rapidly learning that it paid to keep your mouth closed.
Hank Mew Mew had his dick out of the suit through a hole and was jerking off. Alex turned away, nauseated at the sight of him.
When Rukovskya noticed what the plushie was doing, he burst out laughing. “Pulling that pathetic pecker of yours, plushie? Get one of the other women out of the pen. This one and the tall blonde are the only ones off limits.”
Hank left his organ sticking out of the suit as he walked to the cage and opened the door. Alex was close enough to see the women as they huddled against each other on the far side. Hank walked in, grabbed a dark-haired woman by the arm and dragged her screaming out of the cage. He threw her in Alex’s place over the table and stabbed her from behind with his erect penis while he mashed her head against the wood.
Alex looked away. She couldn’t stand to see the woman’s terrified eyes. She felt like it was her fault the woman was taking her place.
Mina shoved her into the pen. She fell awkwardly with her legs open. The Russian’s eyes were hot as she stared at Alex’s inadvertent display. Quick as she could, she gathered herself and huddled close to the other women.
This whole experience seemed like a terrible nightmare. She heard Hank grunting, the woman screaming and crying, and the table banging rhythmically against the floor. When Mew Mew was finished, he dragged the poor woman to the pen and tossed her inside. She lay on the floor whimpering. Alex went to her and tried to put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay,” Alex whispered.
The woman brushed off Alex’s comfort. “Yeah, for you, bitch. I had to take your frigging place.” Then the woman wrapped her arms around her midsection, bent over and burst into racking sobs.
Chapter 6
“I’m so worried about her,” Lyle said to Colby, his current significant other, over the office phone. “She’s not back, and it’s almost ten. What should I do?”
“Lyle, she’s a grown woman. Maybe she went to see some friends or just went home and blew you off.”
“Colby, she would never do that. Alex is the soul of consideration. She treats me as an equal, even though technically I work for her.”
“Well don’t get your panties in a wad. Isn’t there someone you can call?”
Lyle held the card Alex had given him in his hand and stared at it. “Yes, she told me to call a cop named Baine.” Lyle shivered. “Even his name gives me the creeps.”
“Call him and then call me back.”
Lyle hung up and dialed Baine’s number. A gruff voice answered after half a ring.
“Baine here.”
“Hi, uh, Mr. Tenbrook, I have a little problem, and I was hoping you could help me or tell me what I should do.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh,” Lyle tittered. Hysteria was closing in. “My bad, I’m Lyle Morales, Alexandra St. John’s personal assistant.”
“Is something wrong with Alex?”
“That’s it, Mr. Tenbrook. She went to a meeting down on First Avenue with that Russian, Rukovskya. She was supposed to close the deal on an advertising package for Seabright Coffee. I’m still waiting at the office. She said she’d be back before seven.”
“Did you try her cell phone?”
“Of course, I’ve been ringing it every five minutes. She doesn’t answer.”
“Where on First was she supposed to meet this guy?”
“At his bar, the Blue Oyster.”
“Thanks Lyle, you did the right thing. I’ll head over there and check out the place right now. What’s she driving?”
“A silver Toyota Maxima.”
“Stop worrying, Lyle; you’ve done all you can.”
Lyle called Colby back. “I did it. I called him.”
“Do you know this person?”
“I never met him.”
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
“I don’t know, Colby, Alex told me to call him if anything went wrong. What should I do?”
“Well, darling, I know how much you think of Alex.”
“Oh, Colby, she gave me this job. She treats me like gold.”
“Then go check out the club yourself.”
Lyle waved one hand rapidly in front of his face. Tears trickled down his plump cheeks. He was overcome with fear for Alex and fear of going to First Ave. It was a scary place for homosexuals. Gay bashing had been reported from certain bars on that strip. But if he just drove down the street and looked for her car, what was the worst that could happen?
“I’ll do it. Then I’ll come straight home.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Lyle rushed out of the building and got into his Volkswagen Jetta. He loved the little car, even though it gave him constant headaches.
The streets were empty until he got close to First where the traffic picked up, forcing him to slow down. When he saw the Blue Oyster on his right, he began scanning for Alex’s silver car. He spotted it, moaned and burst into fresh tears.
Pulling out his Berry, he called Colby. “Her car’s here. What do I do?”
“Go inside, see if she’s there and if she’s not, leave and call that Baine guy back.”
Lyle parked, set the alarm and crossed the street. When he got to the closed door, he looked both ways down the thin strip of sidewalk. No one was coming. He ducked inside. The bar was big, and a band played smooth jazz in the back. I’ll just walk around the bar once, then leave.
Squaring his shoulders, Lyle ran one hand over his smooth hair and approached the bar. She wasn’t there. He walked around the band and saw an anchor and an old diving suit beside the lady’s room. He wanted to check in there but felt uncomfortable about barging in. He hovered outside the door for a second, smelled a strong wet-rug odor behind him and then someone pushed him into the restroom.
He tried to scream, but a furry arm smothered his face. “Shut up, faggot, or I’ll kill you.”
Lyle’s legs collapsed. He moaned and gagged on a mouthful of wet, fake fur. The huge stuffed animal held him upright. He was dragged through the lady’s room, into a stall, through a door and down a steep flight of stairs. When they reached the bottom, the fur-ball dragging him forced him to stand up and pushed him down a long tunnel.
“Walk, queer.”
Sobbing, hunched over holding his stomach, Lyle wobbled down the tunnel.
“We caught us a queer,” Lyle heard the fur-ball say to someone on a two-way phone.
“Good, that completes the order. I’ll get this group together, and we can move them to the ship. What’s he look like?”
“He’s young, Latino, dark eyes, brown hair with blonde streaks.”
“Is he fat?”
“He’s a little round in the rear, no belly.”
“He sounds perfect. I have an order for one just like that.”
Tears rushed down Lyle’s face, and he knew he was about to throw up. They reached the large room with the cage against one wall. When Lyle saw it was filled with naked women, he bent over and vomited.
The hideous furry creature behind him grabbed his silk Armani shirt and tore it off. His undershirt, trousers, shoes and thong followed.
“I can’t believe a man would wear this,” the fur-ball said, holding up the thong.
Lyle hunched over, covering his privates. Fur-ball dragged him by one arm to the cage, opened the door and slung him inside.
As soon as the fur creature had turned away, Alex grabbed Lyle and hugged him hard. “What are you doing here?” she whispered in his ear.
Lyle gasped out his story between sobs. “When you didn’t come back, I had to do something. I was just checking to see if your car was here, and then I went inside and that horrible creature that smells just like wet feet grabbed me and dragged me here.”
“Oh Lyle, I’m so sorry. These people are bad, mafia bad. It’s all my fault you’re here. We are so fucked.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the idiot who set up the appointment. Oh, Alex, what’re we gonna do?”
“I don’t know. We’re in deep shit, that’s for sure. Did you call Baine?”
Lyle nodded.
“He’s our only hope.”
* * * *
Baine snapped his cell phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He’d been sitting at his usual table in the Backstreet watching the clientele, but it looked like he’d been sitting in the wrong bar all these nights.
He paid his tab and shrugged his leather jacket on. Antonio noticed him getting ready to leave. “You are finished with your not-so-secret surveillance for the evening?”
The Secret, the Shifter and the Sex- Slave Shanghai Page 4
