27011 (Welcome to Whitlock, book 3)

by A. A. Dark

“That could mean anything,” the other argued. “Maybe she’s into weird shit. That doesn’t make her a killer. She froze and couldn’t kill any more and they escaped.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t know. You can’t say that shit isn’t suspicious.”

  “Suspicious, yeah. Condemning, no way. Worst case scenario, the bitch was probably worried about breaking one of those expensive nails. You know how women are.”

  Both laughed, and I suppressed the anger that flared at their stupidity. The woman was a hell of a shot. Remorse? Fuck no. She didn’t have a drop of guilt over what she’d done. If anything, she probably enjoyed it.

  One of the guards yawned, and I eased my hand forward, hovering over the phone attached to his belt. It wasn’t the kind the scouts carried, but more of the older style, one-length, blocky cells. They resembled more of a walkie-talkie than phone, but definitely had more capabilities than the ones the scouts used.

  “Fuck, I’m hungry.”

  The scout dropped his weight against the wall for support, and I jerked my hand back. When he didn’t immediately rise, I let myself move back over the phone. Biting my lower lip, I grabbed the top, squeezing the clip. Breaths wouldn’t come. My pulse hammered so hard, my hand began to shake. Gently, I lifted, keeping the clip as open as I could. Just as I brought it up and disconnected it, the guard rocked to the side, facing away from me. Immediately, I drew the phone to my chest, racing as lightly as I could back to the dark. And I didn’t stop until I was running down the hall to our room. The moment I got inside, I shut the door, feeling my legs shake from the adrenaline. Even after all the scout missions, nothing had affected me as much as this. My Main Master’s orders were riding on me. I had no room for error. Not a single one.

  Illumination from the phone lit up my chest as I walked to the closet, turning the screen enough to catch a glimpse of Eleven curled in the corner. He was still out cold. Relief hit even more as I made my way to the edge of the mattress. Seconds went by as I searched through the different icons, finally making it into the settings. Rerouting the phone to use my number was easy enough. Whitlock phones were all linked and connected, and I needed to make sure this one didn’t ring if the guard tried to call it.

  Nineteen: Held up in an abandoned apartment. Any news from the Main Master?

  Mateo: Negative, Nineteen.

  My mouth parted in surprise.

  Nineteen: He’s told you nothing?

  Mateo: Not a thing. Wherever you are, stay until I get word. They’re pulling patrols, but I’ll try to get word out amongst the guard to stay out of the rooms. No promises.

  Nineteen: 10-4. I’m going to need supplies. The slave is asleep. Can you get someone up here to bring me some things?

  Mateo: I’ll see what I can do. Where can we meet you?

  Standing, I glanced out the windows and counted the floors.

  Nineteen: Fourth floor lobby.

  Mateo: Be there in fifteen.

  It hardly took any time to slip out of the room and make my way to the end of the hall. I stayed in the darkness until I saw a tall silhouette enter the room. Mateo stopped in the middle, and I headed out to meet him. He towered over me as I got closer, and immediately tossed two uniforms at my chest. They were standard wear by Whitlock guards: black cargo pants, black belt with a matching black t-shirt. He held two pair of boots in his other hand and placed them on the top of the pile I held.

  “Clothes is all you get. You want food or water, you’ll have to get it from City Center. There’s no way I could get away with bringing all that up here without it looking obvious. Dressed in those, you shouldn’t have a problem. Keep your head down regardless.”

  “When do you plan to write the Main Master? I can’t stay here long.”

  “No, you can’t. I can tell the guard whatever I want, but you know they take orders from the high leader. If he’s present, they will check every inch of those rooms.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “I’ve already written him, but he’s probably asleep. I’ll let you know when I hear back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You bet. Now, go, and keep quiet in there. Don’t head to City Center until after daybreak. It’ll be less likely anyone important will be paying attention then.”

  I nodded, walking backwards as he headed for the hall. The moment I made it through our door, I could feel the energy inside change. I barely ducked before a broken table leg whizzed by where my head had been.

  “Fuck, Aamir. It’s me.”

  Wild eyes were barely visible in the darkness.

  “You scared the shit out of me. Where did you go? Where did you get all that?”

  Voices in the distance had me grabbing his arm and pulling him back to the closet. Deep breaths came from us both. Had Mateo stirred suspicion? Did they know where we were?

  “Put these on. I was looking for food and water when I came across a room full of old uniforms. We won’t stand out as much, but we have to be quiet. They’re searching for us, and they’re close.”

  “Shit.” The clothes and boots were pulled from my arms, and I listened to the voices grow louder as I got dressed too. There were some bangs here and there, but surprisingly, they passed without coming inside.

  “What do we do? Where do we go now?”

  “I don’t know. I think we need to stay in place for a while. Let them drop their guard so we can make it out without too much of a fight. Plus, we need a plan.”

  “Right. I’m sorry. I just want to get the hell out of here.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I said, lowly. “I know what you mean. I want out too.”

  “This doesn’t seem real. None of this does. I mean…I killed a man. Yeah, he was a guard here, but he was still a person.”

  I opened the door, allowing the smallest amount of light to break through. Eleven’s face was drawn in and I could see his dilemma. The first kill was the one you always remembered. For some, it was the hardest to stomach. But something told me the slave would kill again before this was over. Maybe even a lot.

  “Slave Row was really no different than the White Room. It’s the color. The walls. It does things to some. It messes with their minds. That’s probably what it was.”

  “Maybe.” He grew quiet, pausing. “I don’t feel bad about taking that man’s life. I know I should, but I don’t, and that’s what’s bothering me. I don’t fear murder. A part of me almost seems to need it. Ever since I was taken, since my twin Layla and I were taken, killing has been the only thing on my mind. I thought it was because of the protectiveness in me, and maybe it is, but I failed to keep her safe. Maybe I missed opportunities of killing someone that could have freed us. I keep going over everything, but it’s pointless. I failed her, and I lost her. I have to get out and make this right.”

  “Maybe you will. We got this far.”

  Eleven grew quiet, eventually lowering to sit against the wall. I joined him, putting my attention on the random patrols that came and went. Hours passed, and our stomachs growling were the only sounds between us. He didn’t feel the need to talk, and I wasn’t naturally much of a talker to begin with. More time, and I let myself doze off and on. The snores came from next to me once again, and I let it take me under even more. Vivid colors appeared—shades of blue, black, with hints of white. A room. My grandfather’s room here at Whitlock. As far as I knew, it was still empty. And would remain so until our lineage ended. After all, it was bought and paid for. I considered moving into it at times, but would have been a laughing stock for who I was. I wasn’t him. I didn’t have money like everyone assumed he’d had. But I would soon. At least enough to get set up in there. If I could finish out this mission for the Main Master, I’d be established with not just a dream job at Bram Whitlock’s side, but at my rightful, respected place amongst the Masters’ apartments. I could even be a Master if I wanted. Mistress Jane popped into my head, and I held to the vision, basking in her curves and red lips. That was a possibility. Me a M
aster; her a Mistress. I liked that.

  “I haven’t heard anyone for a while. Is there a bathroom here?”

  Colors melted, and I groaned as I became aware of the bright light breaking through the crack in the door.

  “I think I came across one last night. Opposite side of the room.”

  Eleven stood and I waited until his footsteps grew farther away before I took out the phone and checked the time. It was almost nine. I’d slept so much longer than I’d thought. No messages came up, so I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. Standing brought the throb back between my chest, and I placed my palm against it as I headed into the room. It was smaller than the standard apartment for the Masters. It looked more like a hotel room versus the living area and kitchens they had now.

  “Fuck, I’m starving. Do we have a plan?”

  I stopped at the mirror, lifting my shirt to see the lash across my chest. It hadn’t bled anywhere near as much as Eleven’s had, but both our wounds had stopped bleeding hours before. I turned, heading to the window, not turning back to look at Eleven as he closed in behind me. For being early in the day, the only ones below seemed to be a handful of slaves. The Masters were either away dealing with their real lives or still sleeping.

  “There’s food down there. There has to be,” I said, covering my tracks. “I’ll go see. You stay up here.”

  “No way. I’m not letting you go alone.”

  I spun, throwing him a look. “I don’t have a sister on the outside who needs rescuing, you do. If anything happens, you can still try to make it out.”

  “We can wait for food.”

  “Don’t be absurd. We have to eat and drink or we’ll get too weak. I’ll be fine.”

  Confliction registered, but he ultimately nodded.

  “I won’t be long. Stay in this room no matter what. If you hear anything, go to the closet.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Heading to the door, I opened it, then paused as I looked both ways. Clear. I pulled the door closed behind me and headed back toward the lobby. When I approached, I jolted to a stop at the sound of whispering voices. They continued, and I moved in closer to hear what they were saying.

  “My sources are not wrong. He knows nothing.”

  “You’re positive? Because if he suspects—”

  “You question my intelligence? I’m the fucking CIA director. I know everything that happens on the inside and out. Bram Whitlock believes what I tell him. As we speak, he’s going over my report on Everleigh Harper. I’ve got eyes out there that say she’s possibly held up on a yacht just off the island of Crete. Does he know that? No, he does not. He thinks she’s recovering in Sicily, and he’ll continue to believe so because I’ll leave him no choice. Everleigh Harper will not be found alive. She is a risk to Whitlock and everyone here, just like you said. Sending that scout after her was the smartest thing you’ve ever come up with, Barclane. Have you heard anything from him?”

  There was a pause, and I lowered as I waited.

  “Not since he came to see me a few days ago. I have plans to call him later and get a report. He had to clear it with Mateo and Bram, and he managed to do just that. I’m not even sure where they sent him. I didn’t ask for fear it would bring suspicion. But he’s waiting on my call. Thanks to you, now I can make it. A yacht off Crete. Sounds like a good place to die.”

  “You make sure your guy doesn’t screw this up. Mine are waiting in the wings, but it’s dangerous for me to send them in. Her people would attack, and we can’t risk it. We need this…Nineteen to take the blame for her murder. It’ll make more sense that way. No one would question a rogue scout directly from Whitlock. If we can capture the act on film as evidence, even better.”

  “Film? How would we do that?”

  “Body cams. My men have to wear them to account for their whereabouts on a mission. At least these missions. Main Master’s orders. He doesn’t trust them, and for good reason.”

  “Right. Well, Nineteen will do as I tell him.”

  “He better. I’m not letting some conniving cunt rule at our Main Master’s side. I saw her work over Master Harper. She’s dangerous.”

  “You have no idea,” Master Barclane growled. “It’ll be my pleasure to see her dead. And when it happens, we celebrate.”

  “Done.”

  The other Master nodded, and I kept still as they headed in different directions. My fists were so tightly clenched, I could barely force them open to grab my phone. Use me? Set me up? They had no idea who they were messing with. It was time I took matters into my own hands and contacted the one person who would make them regret the day they ever turned against him.

  Chapter 17

  Bram

  To rule was to regulate. I used to think my father had it figured out. But had he? It was true he’d thwarted attempts on his life, and yes, he’d taken out Masters for their disloyalty. But I couldn’t remember there being so much scheming during his reign.

  I tossed and turned, trying to ignore the latest news of betrayal and how each hour of the day and night dragged on into an endless obsession between work and following the plan Everleigh had laid out for me. I was meticulous with each detail, triple checking and viewing it from every angle so nothing could go wrong. Mixed in the middle between knowing someday she’d come to me to keeping a close eye on the Masters, I saw her in the way she last appeared before we had hung up. Happy eyes, that smile—a devilish, mischievous smirk on those pouty lips. The combination drove me wild. Her entire demeanor wrapped itself around me in a web I couldn’t escape. In one I didn’t want to. It lured in my Master: the real Bram Whitlock. She may have appeared to hold the cards now, but I knew ways to wash that look off her face and have her moaning and begging me instead. And I planned to make it happen. The tables had turned—they always did. Before it was over, Evereigh would be back to being my slave. Maybe not in the ways she once could have been, but I was the Master. Her true Master, and she knew that. She needed it.

  A yawn came as I carried my glass of water into my bedroom and headed to the adjoining restroom. It was morning and I had yet to go to sleep. My eyes were heavy as I rushed through my shower routine in a daze. Our conversation repeated on a loop, but I didn’t hear her words or our plan. It was her face. That beautiful face that flashed multiple expressions of anticipation. It told me although she spoke of time, it might not be months or years before we saw each other again. It gave me hope. Something I probably shouldn’t have had, but I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was this obsessive love. Maybe I was fool.

  Pink darted out as she’d licked her lips. She’d done that a lot when I began teasing her as she’d teased me. Our eye contact through the video never wavered. Not for long. We were in tune. We were one. Again, the tongue. Her lips.

  Whether I moaned as I got out of the shower, I wasn’t sure. I dried off, then slipped on my pajama bottoms before climbing into bed. I took a big drink of water and lay back, closing my eyes. Everleigh met me in the darkness like I knew she would. My body tingled, and I felt giddy for the first time in as long as I could remember. She’d be back soon. I could feel it. Feel her. And then we’d be together again. Even if it wasn’t on the terms I wanted, I didn’t care. Hell…whatever she wanted, she could have. I needed her no matter what that meant. I needed…God, if I could only think. Her plan came back through and with it, a moment of clarity. She had wanted me to open Whitlock to her in two different ways, and I had. Was it a trap? A scheme I was overlooking because of my love for her? I wouldn’t think of that. My heart…it wouldn’t let it. Somewhere deep inside, I could feel the depth of how connected we were. Depth. Heavy. Yes, I was so heavy.

  Warmth poured from my skin and the tingling exploded under what I could have sworn were fingers trailing up my forearms. I did moan then. My cock hardened painfully and clicking pinched my wrists, pulling me out of my half-dream state. Snapping my eyes open, I couldn’t stop the almost painful beating of my heart. I tried t
o jerk my body at the internal alarms, but nothing moved but a twitch of my finger.

  “Shhh. Don’t worry. I didn’t give you much. Not nearly as much as you gave me in my drink.”

  “Ever…leigh?”

  The name slurred from my tongue felt so foreign, I almost wasn’t sure I had said it at all. Was I still dreaming? Was this real? She looked the same as she had on the phone. Well, minus the dark clothes and makeup she was now wearing. She looked like heaven amid the hell surrounding her.

  “You’re…here? This is r-real?”

  She laughed, biting her bottom lip as she pulled up the tight black dress to straddle me. Slowly, she lowered her chest to mine. We were inches apart. The smell of her perfume hit me hard, and I somehow found the strength to grind my cock against her lower stomach.

  “You have a special gift for me. I’ve come to collect. My slave is not safe here without me. I couldn’t very well take him and leave without giving you a present in return. You’ve done so much to keep him safe. That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, Master.” Fingers traced across my cheek, toward my mouth, and my body couldn’t stop from reacting on its own. She had drugged me. But, how?

  The water by my bed. Shit.

  The purr was cut off as her lips crushed into mine. The joining was so real and electrifying, my heels were digging into the mattress. I was doing everything I could to feel more of her. To get us closer.

  Everleigh’s tongue swept into my mouth and we both moaned. The moment I tasted her, I knew this was real. Memories barreled through—us together. Passion. Ecstasy. Love. She was in my bed, even if I knew it wasn’t going to be for very long.

  “I always loved when you slept. Your face is so peaceful. No hard lines or angry expressions. You’re beautiful, Bram Whitlock.”

  Again, she made it impossible to speak with her kiss. Not that I cared. I drank her in just as hard as I had hit the bottle of scotch since her escape. I wanted to be drunk off her. To know nothing but Everleigh in our moment.

  “Take.” Deep pants left me as I used my strength to move my arms. “Take these off. I want…to touch you. I have—”