Intimate Fear

by D. C. Stone

  Dwayne tightened his grip around her waist and used his other arm to wrap a band around Charlie’s neck until the three of them were sandwiched together. Trent went with the action, falling close behind, clearly realizing how the situation could seriously deteriorate if Brooke got free.

  “You will stay right here,” Dwayne growled.

  “But it’s Jaxon,” she snapped.

  “Exactly, Luke’s got it.”

  “No, Luke doesn’t have it,” she mocked. “I don’t know what the heck he’s doing, but he definitely does not have my daughter’s best interest at heart. Look at him.”

  “Yes,” Charlie said, wrapping her arms around Dwayne’s neck. She pressed closer to Brooke, but her eyes were intent on the scene in the corner. “Look at him. I know Luke. I grew up with him, and I understand he has secrets. But look at him, and look closely.”

  Dwayne did what Charlie ordered. Jaxon and Luke were exchanging words and when Jaxon tossed his head back and laughed at something Luke said, then reached out to shake his hand, Dwayne knew.

  They were in.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Luke didn’t like this.

  Not.

  One.

  Fucking.

  Bit.

  He’d been trained to work on his own in some of the most dangerous situations possible. The duties of a US Marshal demanded it. Hell, working undercover as much as they did, you never knew what types of crimes you’d come upon.

  But this.

  Pretending to be into this underage shit. Like a mere child could handle a man, even one like him. He couldn’t imagine a child, some seventeen-year-old girl, trying to take on his six-foot-one, two hundred and twenty pound frame. Just the thought of it tore his stomach to shreds.

  Of course looking the way he looked, there was no doubt why he’d be chosen to come to a back room separate from the club. And wasn’t it just his luck that he was here? Yeah. Right. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

  Really, he needed to be there for his family, the only he’d ever known. Losing his own mother so young, for reasons out of both of their control, he’d been shoved into a life where everyone he knew was a stranger. No family for him to fall back on, no friends to take him in. He’d been a scared four-year-old little boy thrust into the state’s care.

  He would never have enough gratitude toward the Gonzalezes for taking a chance on him and giving him a possibility to survive. If this small act was one way he could repay his family, so be it. He’d fake his way as far as he needed to. Do anything it took to help repay his debt.

  The stocky guy he’d been following pushed open a door and motioned him inside. He stepped through the frame and shoved his hands inside his pockets. A king-size bed sat in the middle of the floor, a deep red silk spread covering the mattress, inviting carnal thoughts unneeded. For whoever came back to one of these rooms sure as shit wasn’t looking to talk.

  Sheer burgundy-and-black curtains fell around the bed and the walls were painted black. The low-lamped lighting gave enough to see, yet kept it dark enough to keep one from looking too closely. The room felt dirty, and the thoughts of those who’d be invited back here were guaranteed to be even dirtier.

  “She’ll be here in a few minutes. Get comfortable,” the dude who introduced himself as Jax, said.

  Luke glanced over his shoulder and fought to keep the sneer inside. “Remember what I asked for.”

  Jax nodded, waving a hand. “No worries, my friend. We’ll take good care of you. This little treat I’ve tested personally. You’ll like her, no doubt.”

  The door shut.

  God, he wanted to puke. He stepped forward, kept his face neutral in the instance that the room had surveillance. No doubt it did. What was a little privacy invasion on top of human sex trafficking?

  Fuck.

  He crossed the room and sat on the bed, clasped his hands between his knees and dropped his head. All he needed was a few minutes. He had to get into the character for this. They were depending on him. And he wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow a child to continue in this place knowing what he did now.

  The shit he had to push on those two teenagers out front was bad enough. But he had to do it, had to do this for his family. For Hailey’s safety, and for his older brother and his woman.

  A whisper of movement behind him.

  His head jerked up and his upper body spun around. Now he knew why the lighting was set as it was, why the walls were black, why the damnable sheer curtains were up.

  Hailey—yeah, he recognized her—stood looking back at him on the other side of the linen. Her long hair sat in big tumbled curls around her shoulders, the color somewhere between the sand of the desert and the mountains of Arizona. Her body was clad in ivory, adorned in only a lacy bra and panties. Garters attached the cloth in the same color and disappeared beneath the ledge of the mattress. Her breasts almost tumbled out of material a size too small and entirely too provocative for a girl her age.

  None of that held his attention, though. With air stuck in his lungs, he watched her doe-brown eyes try to keep focus on him. She held his gaze as if a challenge, but it was glossy, hazy, not all there. She bit her bottom lip, trailed her fingers over the material separating them, and kept the hold on his gaze as she walked around the mattress.

  He couldn’t speak. He’d lost the ability to focus. She was Pandora, a wicked siren of temptation. In that moment, she wasn’t a teenager verging on being eighteen. She was downright one of the most beautiful women he’d seen.

  He shook his head. She was underage. She was here against her will.

  “Do you like what you see, mister?”

  Her voice rolled over his skin, little rose petals, all velvet and smooth and utterly too sensual.

  Keep it together, dude. She needs to offer her services. It won’t have to go too far. He hoped.

  He cleared his throat, then darted his gaze around the room, looking for those damn hidden cameras. “Um, yeah. What’s not to like?”

  She swayed as if some unspoken music played. Muted notes of something whispered through the air. Teasing, like the minx that stood before him. She’d moved around, and now that he took note, he found himself cocooned inside the sheer curtain, which wrapped around the entire circumference of the bed. The panels of burgundy and black had been sewn together to give the entire thing a majestic feel. No doubt enhancing the power of lust.

  Hailey stayed on the other side of the curtain, though, and continued to watch him. Her body grew bolder, swayed to the music and flourished in confidence as if a wave teased, cresting over its peak. Her breasts caught against the material and flowed with her. She never broke eye contact, their connection palpable. Just danced. For him.

  He was caught up in the arch of her back as she moved, the length of her neck when she stretched, the sway of her hips. Each movement was smooth, transitioned from one to the other as if designed together.

  A cold sweat broke out along his neck. How could he shiver when the room was so hot?

  “Show me,” she whispered.

  “Show you what, sweetheart?”

  “Show me,” she started and licked her lips. The pink gloss glistened under the muted light. “Show me what my body does to you. Tell me what my movements do for you.”

  Christ! His throat went dry and he tried to swallow several times to no avail. Come on, honey. Enough of the small talk. Get to it.

  “You’re uh…very sexy.” He winced. Way to be smooth, Luke.

  “Will you…?”

  He started at her unfinished question. “Will I what?” Something ugly festered in his stomach. Please, don’t. Please no, no, no.

  “Will you save me, mister?” She continued to hold his gaze and stepped closer. The sheer curtain plastered and caught on her curves, spread across her breasts, pulled taut between her legs. He didn’t know if that was the effect she looked for, but it damn well did its job. Blood rushed south and he fought against the reaction. Think of something, an
ything. Fat dudes eating hotdogs. New York City subway rats. Barney singing that annoying damn song.

  Her earlier question pierced through his attempt to control his reaction to her. He tore his gaze from her body and studied her eyes, imploring a silent question. Did she recognize him? Know who he was? “S-save you?” he croaked.

  She moved forward and nodded, stepped between his legs and he looked up, forced to hold her gaze by tipping his head back. “I want you to stay with me. Here. Just us.” She dipped and came closer. Her mouth brushed along his, the sheer curtain the only thing separating them. Her small palms cradled his head and pressed their mouths tighter, deepening the kiss. Having the netting between the absolute touch of their tongues annoyed, yet provided a coquettish sensation.

  Sweet Lord in heaven. I’m sorry.

  How could he not react to this? The situation broke his heart and sent a crack a mile wide through his chest. Here was this sweet girl, forced into a ring without a choice, drugged up beyond understanding anything going on around her.

  He fisted his hands on his thighs, forcing himself to remain still while she kissed the daylights out of him. Conscious of the cameras perhaps trained on them, on the soft music playing through the room, and of the feel of her silken lips teasing his through the soft material, he silently called himself every type of bastard.

  She moved closer. On instinct, he reached out for her legs. Bare skin brushed under his palms and she jumped at the same time he tensed. He broke his mouth away and glanced down. The sheet had risen to her waist and she was stepping through.

  No, no, no.

  No one heard him, though, and she pushed through the material—stood glorious, gaze expectant on his.

  “I’m not really sure how I feel about this.”

  She cocked her head to the side, studied him and trailed her fingers along his cheek. “Do you dream?” she asked.

  The question took him by surprise, nothing new in the few moments he’d been here.

  “What?”

  “What do you dream about, mister?”

  He shook his head and held her gaze. “I don’t.” She didn’t say anything and he really needed her to talk, needed her to offer her services. To get things going, he tried, but stupidly asked the wrong damn question. “What do you dream about?”

  “You.” No hesitation in her answer.

  He groaned and moved his head, rested it against her bare stomach, and squeezed his eyes shut. She cradled him to her body as if he was the one that needed to be comforted, as if at twenty-five years old he needed to be protected. If only, sweetheart.

  “Dance with me, please,” she whispered.

  Her soft request sounded like a plea and he was unable to deny her anything. She had set a spell on him and he was bewitched. He rose from the bed and took her small waist in his hands, intending to keep space between them. She plastered her body to his before he could think, then pressed her mouth against his and kissed him.

  He crushed his hand in her hair and wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her closer. She tasted of sugar, plums, and sweet temptation.

  He had to get control of this situation before things got out of hand.

  “Do you dare to come closer, mister?” Her sweet breath whispered over his mouth.

  Through the fog, her words registered. “Call me Luke. What if I said I do?”

  “This isn’t something you can take, Luke. It’s something I’m going to give.”

  Morbid images floated through his head. He had to stop this, had to get through to her. And he had to do it without alerting anyone else.

  “I’m so enchanted. Sugar, you have no clue.”

  She kissed him again before he could continue. The cold, dark despair that had accompanied him since being a child began to melt a little. He palmed her face, as she had done his earlier, and pulled her back. Pressing chaste kisses over her face, he prayed for strength, for courage…for the chance to get them out of here.

  “It’s funny,” he began between kisses, “it seems like you’re saving me, instead of me rescuing you.”

  “What?” she squeaked, just a little semblance of control peeking through. Hell, she was going to blow this.

  “How much?” He buried his head in her neck. Speaking louder, he asked again, “How much?”

  Wrapped around him, and he around her, their two bodies were lost in the middle of some ugly operation. Yet, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but inside her arms. Fucking hell!

  “How much?” he snapped, this time whipping his head up and glaring at her.

  She blinked, drew her head back a bit, and glanced up to a dark corner. Yep, cameras were in the room. “Um, five hundred dollars.”

  He swallowed, forcing the bile down his throat. “What do I get for five hundred? That’s quite the check, honey.”

  Her delicate nose wrinkled. “Anything—anything you want.”

  Bingo.

  He pulled out his phone, sent one waiting text, and removed himself from her arms. “Ms. Mason, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

  “What?” Panicked features swelled past the drug-induced haze. “What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t bother with the handcuffs. “Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law.”

  She sputtered. “What are you doing? They’ll hear you! I need it now. Please, keep your voice down.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but he pressed on. “You have the right to an attorney during interrogation. If you cannot afford—”

  The door to the room burst open and two beefy guys entered.

  Hell…any moment, guys. He waited for the sound of his brothers crashing through the walls. For the sounds of shouting from the local police. Anything. All he got were the heart-wrenching sobs from Hailey. She stepped between him and the two new arrivals, fleetingly taking him by surprise. Cursing, he grabbed her hand and tried to pull her behind him.

  “No! Don’t. He was just role-playing. Please!” she screamed, panicked.

  “Christ, get behind me.”

  He grabbed her around the waist, tried like hell—and failed—to ignore her curves pressing against him as he shoved her to his back.

  One of the guys reached for his waistband and Luke reacted, grabbing the Glock from his groin, then drew it on the first guy. He had one gun. They had two between them. He didn’t like the damn odds left and all the while, Hailey continued to clutch at his shirt.

  “Who are you?” the shorter guy thundered. He wore black pants and a black shirt, baldhead, and a murderous expression.

  “Name’s Luke. Would shake your hand and all, but unless you plan on lowering your weapon, I don’t think me drawing mine down is such a good idea.”

  The taller of the two sneered. He wore the same outfit—must be their uniform—and cursed in a language Luke didn’t understand. The only reason he knew it was a curse was the ugly sound it made coming from the guy’s mouth. He didn’t think it was a compliment.

  “Well, Luke,” Baldy spat his name. “Couldn’t help but to overhear something that’s alarming.”

  Luke smiled, his lips feeling rigid. “Invasion of privacy?” He tsked.

  The guy snarled. “I’m going to ask you again, who the fuck are you? Are you a cop?”

  Luke drew back, affronted. “A cop? Fuck no.”

  Baldy and Jolly Green both looked like they took a deep breath, but he wasn’t finished.

  “I’m a Deputy US Marshal. Do you realize how annoying it is when you fuckers use that term, or slang as it may be, on just about every law enforcement officer?”

  Their guns, which had lowered a few inches, took aim again. Luke tensed. One of these days, your mouth. Dude! He sighed.

  “Well, Deputy, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You realize that you’re outnumbered, no?”

  Luke shrugged, when he felt anything but at ease. Baldy narrowed his eyes.

  “You might as well give up,” Luke said. “Your club i
s going down.”

  Jolly Green scoffed. “In case you missed it, you’re a little alone. Are you stupid? Who’s going to follow through with this said ‘taking of the club?’”

  Luke grinned a slow smile, and both chumps’ eyes narrowed. “Just me.” He paused and continued, “And the FBI, SWAT, State PD, ATF, DEA. None of you are making it out of here. Alive, that is.”

  Jolly Green took a menacing step forward. Luke leveled the sights of his gun on him.

  “Please fuck with me. I’m really hoping you’ll take me up on the offer because I’m fucking itching to kick some ass. I’m giving you a fair warning, though, asshole, the second you get within two feet of me, so help me God, I’m going to snap your neck.”

  “And I’ll shoot you,” Baldy responded.

  “But then,” Luke seethed, “his neck will be snapped. So either way, I’ll win.”

  “But you’ll be dead.”

  “So will he. So it really doesn’t matter.” Crap, what would happen to Hailey, though?

  “You shouldn’t be a smart ass with a gun in your face,” Jolly Green inserted. “It could get you shot. Not a good idea.”

  “Yeah.” Luke shrugged. “I’m a smart ass, or so I’ve been told. It’s probably not a good idea, but you know what, I’ll take your stereotype and raise a big, fat, fuck you.”

  The sounds of shouting broke out down the hall and both Men in Black glanced over their shoulders. His brothers. Luke grinned wider. “Now, if you’d direct your attention, I’ll give you two hooker helpers some choices.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next day, Brooke sat in the hospital, staring at her daughter. Hailey looked too small in the big white bed. Her normally shiny red hair laid around her face like wiry strands begging for a dose of moisture, just another sign of the effects drugs had on a system. The life usually sitting in her cheeks also reflected a dull, drab complexion. It had been less than two weeks since she’d disappeared, yet she didn’t look like the rambunctious teenager Brooke knew her to be.

  This was someone else entirely.

  A stranger holding the real Hailey captive.