I blinked my eyes furiously as I tried to adjust to the sunlight. If the sight of me could scare away a grown man, maybe I could live to see tomorrow after all.
No sooner did my eyes adjust to the light outside did I see two men approaching the truck. I scrambled back to wedge myself out of sight.
The first man stole my breath at first glance. He leaped up the short ramp into the truck with the agility of a cat, and his sharp eyes scanned the cargo as if hunting prey, but that was where the feline similarities ended.
He was incredibly tall and powerfully built. Muscles and tattoos covered his frame like a thick suit of armor. His white shirt contrasted with his dark ink and tanned skin. The front was completely unbuttoned as if he had just been lounging at the beach, showing off a sculpted chest and ab muscles that I could easily count from where I hid.
Just one look at this man and I knew he was powerful. Dangerous. He could kill me with a single punch if he chose to make it that easy. Men in this business seemed to enjoy torture and long, drawn-out deaths. Getting past him would be impossible but I had no intention of falling into his hands.
I turned the knife in my hands to point it at myself. The next thing I knew, his gun barrel was inches from my forehead.
Fuck, he saw me.
His eyes, which I could now see were a pale shade of brown, almost amber in color, focused on me like lasers. The eyes of a killer and a rapist too. All these men were. But his eyes seemed wiser, sharper than most of the dirty thugs I had the displeasure of knowing. They also held surprise, curiosity and a hint of amusement.
"Put the knife down," he ordered in a deep, commanding voice that sent tremors along my skin.
This man was definitely a boss. He was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.
But I was sick of obeying men.
Defiantly, I pressed the tip of the knife to my chest just over my heart.
His eyes widened just slightly. He underestimated me. He didn't think I would actually do it.
"I'm not gonna ask you again," he said in a low, threatening tone.
"Then shoot me," I hissed, my voice coming out in a dry rasp. "Get it over with."
He blinked, visibly surprised. His amber eyes studied me curiously and I saw the amusement grow. It only made me angry. I didn't live to entertain sick men like him anymore. If that meant I didn't live at all, so be it.
"I'm not gonna shoot you."
To my surprise, he holstered his gun. Disappointment swept through me. A bullet to the head would be an easier and much less painful death than a self-inflicted stab wound.
"Now will you put the knife down?"
"No."
I kept the knife pointed at my chest, not entirely sure what I was waiting for.
He crouched down low in front of me, powerful quad muscles flexing in his thighs as he sank to my level, his eyes studying me like a microscope the entire time.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked out of the blue.
My stomach growling and my lips parting for a drink answered for me. My hope for a swift death evaporated like mist as my body's instinct to survive betrayed me.
One corner of his mouth pulled up into an amused smirk and I hated it. I hated that he looked so smug and that I let myself be captured again.
"My name is Solomon."
He paused as if waiting for me to respond with my own name. Like hell I would. Even if I could remember my own name without struggling sometimes, when was the last time I needed it? The last time I was treated like a person?
"No one is going to hurt you," he said, his voice softer without the harsh edge of commanding orders. "We're near a convenience store where I can get you food and water."
He held out a large hand to me and I stared at it like it was an object from an alien planet. This had to be a trap. This man would lure me with food and water to his dungeon where he kept his other women locked up and I'd be right back where I started.
"Tell you what," Solomon said, his cocky smirk growing wide across his face. "If you come out and have something to eat, I'll let you keep your knife."
CHAPTER THREE
SOLOMON
This ordinary work day was proving to be a lot more interesting than I anticipated.
"Ivan," I called over my shoulder. "Get a bottle of water and some food from the minimart. And I mean actual food like a sandwich not Cheetos or any of that bullshit."
With a tight-lipped frown, my underboss holstered his weapon and did as I ordered. I already knew he didn't approve of me letting this girl live. He was an old-school gangster raised on values like making sure there were no witnesses to our business transactions.
But I was still in charge. And this girl could prove more valuable to me while alive rather than dead.
She also seemed quite determined to die despite her big blue eyes growing to the size of saucers at the mention of food and water. I wanted to know the reason behind that.
"I can help you out," I said, keeping my voice friendly and my hand extended to her. "No one is going to hurt you. You have my word."
She said nothing but placed her thin fingers in the center of my palm while keeping a firm grip on her knife with the other hand.
"That's it, come on out."
I smiled, trying to look relaxed without taking my eyes off that knife. Dried blood still rusted the blade and I wondered who was the poor bastard she used it on. This girl seemed so frail, I had no doubt I'd be able to overpower her if she tried using it on me, but for some reason, I didn't think she would.
By the time I led her out of the truck and dragged my lawn chair into the shade of the auto shop for her to sit in, Ivan returned from the store with two turkey sandwiches, a water bottle, and a bag of baked potato chips.
"The fuck are you going to do with her?" he muttered as he handed the plastic bag over to me.
"Not sure yet," I admitted. "Keep an eye out, alright? We don't know if someone wants her bad enough to follow her."
She was practically salivating when I approached with the food items. I held the bag out to her and just as she grabbed for it, yanked it back.
"Nuh-uh," I said in response to her glare. "Tell me your name first."
Her hand tightened on the knife for a moment while she stared at me with all the hateful strength left in her. I almost thought she might really use it on herself right then.
Finally, she spoke in a low whisper.
"Natalie."
Pretty name, I thought.
"Now was that so hard? Here you go, Natalie," I said, holding the bag out to her. "Enjoy."
She snatched the bag from my hand as if afraid I would yank it away again and continued to eye me warily as she tore into the first sandwich and inhaled it. The poor girl looked and acted like she hadn't eaten a proper meal in months.
Something gnawed at me as I watched her. My humanity, my conscious, whatever. It twisted painfully and couldn't understand how someone could let another human being suffer this much. This girl was someone's daughter. A person with rights, dreams, and autonomy.
I swallowed it down. I couldn't afford to be an emotional guy in this line of work. But this was why I made sure my work didn't involve treating people like cattle, even if some of my colleagues did.
When I walked off to speak with Eddie, my driver, she already gulped down half of the water bottle and was starting on the second sandwich.
Eddie was having a cigarette leaning against the side of the truck and shared my amused smile as I approached.
"I take it you didn't expect a stowaway today?" I said, accepting a smoke and a light from him.
"Nah. Haven't had any of them since the agreement." He sent out a long exhale of smoke thoughtfully. "Which probably means the traffickers are just getting better at hiding 'em."
"You think Antigua would deliberately deceive me like that?" I asked. "We've been nothing but happy neighbors for years."
Eddie shifted his eyes toward me. "He probably never expected you to find out."
I took a long drag on my own cigarette as I tried to gather my thoughts.
"You didn't see anything up there that would indicate this?" I flicked my cigarette butt in Natalie's direction. "Nothing at all?"
"Not a sign," Eddie replied. "It's all as you would expect. They even gave me a tour last week. Three warehouses dedicated to growing, processing and packaging marijuana! Nah, boss." Eddie hocked a loogie on the dry dirt ground. "On the surface, everything's as clean as a fuckin' whistle."
Rubbing the stubble on my jaw, I watched Natalie as she reclined in the chair, seemingly relaxed and finished with her food.
Antigua ran his crew a good three hundred miles from here up in Amador County. We agreed on a trade deal that explicitly said no human trafficking would be conducted on either end. I didn't want any involvement in that but prostitution was profitable for a lot of these scummy crime bosses. I sincerely thought Antigua was above that though.
If what I suspected was true, and Natalie escaped from Antigua's hidden prostitution business, I had some gigantic fucking fish to fry.
Fish much bigger than me. I was only a big fish in this game because I picked out a small pond that no one else snatched up.
I had to prove not only to my own people but to everyone else I did business with that I didn't tolerate being cheated in my deals.
The only issue was, even if I was a big fish, Antigua was a fucking blue whale compared to me.
Oh yeah, and I had to figure out what the hell to do with this girl, who was technically his property, that stowed away in my delivery truck.
I sighed as I tossed my cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under my shoe. For a crime boss, life had been pretty sweet and simple up to this point. It was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.
Whipping out my phone, I hit the only number on my speed dial and brought the phone to my ear.
"Hey Netta," I said into the speaker. "Gonna need you to do me a solid."
"Ugh. What now, Solomon?" asked my disgruntled neighbor.
"Pick up Ari from school and keep her at your house tonight. I'll pay you double," I promised.
"Seriously? Can't you keep it in your pants for like, one week?"
"This isn't like that," I chuckled into the phone. "I mean, I am having someone over but I'm actually doing a good thing this time."
CHAPTER FOUR
NATALIE
Those sandwiches tasted like heaven and that water like the fountain of youth. And those kettle chips were so savory and just hit the spot. Nothing else in my life had ever tasted so damn delicious.
Still, I kept my guard up and my knife close by. I didn’t trust this Solomon guy as far as I could throw him. He was another gangster, an Al Capone wannabe just like the man who insisted I called him Owner as he dehumanized me and the half dozen other women held prisoner down there.
Like Leah.
I ground my teeth as I gripped the edges of the chair I sat in.
Leah, my surrogate daughter. Would you believe I made it this far? I’m not sure where I am, but at least several hours away. And I ate a real, actual sandwich!
Solomon walked back toward me after having a smoke with the truck driver. I kept one hand on my knife and never took my eyes off him.
He’s not bad-looking.
The thought came out of nowhere and shocked me. I hadn’t felt anything close to attraction or desire for a man in God knows how long. My body probably didn’t even know how to feel pleasure anymore, aside from the pleasure of eating a sandwich.
But it seemed that eating food did more than just fill my empty stomach. When Solomon approached me with an easygoing smile, I felt my face growing hot. And my eyes feeling shy.
“Hey, Natalie--”
“I’m not going back there,” I blurted.
His face hardened and his smile fell.
“I’m not taking you back,” he said softly as he kneeled in front of me like placating a stray animal. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”
I tried to hold the intensity of his gaze as he looked at me, trying not to crumble underneath it. Despite thinking I had this guy figured out, he kept doing and saying things I never expected. I didn’t like that. It would make it harder to protect myself if I didn’t know what to expect.
“If you would like,” he said slowly and deliberately. “You can lay low at my place for a few days. We can make sure you’re not followed, locate your family and take you where you need to be.”
Family?
My heart squeezed at the thought of my dad and I suddenly ached to talk to him. I hadn’t thought of him in months, just survival. The poor guy. Did he have any idea if I was even alive?
“Or,” Solomon said scratching at the dark stubble on his cheek. “I can drop you off at the women’s shelter in the next town over and we can pretend we never met. No guarantees that Antigua won’t come knocking though. With me, you’ll at least be protected.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. He had all the markings of a crime boss but didn’t act like any of the ones I had the displeasure of meeting, if you could call it that.
“Why would you help me?” I demanded.
He grinned a cocky, boyish smile that would’ve made me blush a lifetime ago.
“Because you can potentially be a big help to me. If you were indeed Antigua’s property, that means he went back on a deal he made with me. And I can’t allow that.”
Those amber eyes stared through me as if I were the most fascinating subject he ever studied. No doubt I looked like a trainwreck. I hadn't even seen a mirror in months.
I wilted under his gaze like a thirsty plant in the sun. He was more intimidating than any other man who stared at me, even if so far he was the least sadistic and cruel.
"This can be a mutually beneficial friendship," he continued, gesturing between himself and me. "We can both take Antigua down in the end. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
More than anything. Then Leah and the others can be free while that disgusting, evil bastard rots in Hell.
Solomon's eyes twinkled mischievously at the reaction on my face. "I knew you'd like that. Again, you have my word that no one will harm you. So what do you say, Natalie?"
I was still hesitant to trust this man. I didn't know him at all. But as long as we had a common goal, I wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt me. Once that goal was taken care of, he'd probably show his true colors. But by then I'd hopefully regain some strength and come up with a plan.
"I'll come with you," I said cautiously.
"Atta girl," he replied, standing to his feet. "My car's just this way."
Hesitantly, I followed him while still clutching my knife. One of his eyebrows twitched when he saw me grab it but he said nothing as he led me to a sleek, black Audi parked behind the empty building we sat in.
I stiffened as he came extremely close to me, too close. His shirt was still open and I could count the fine hairs on his sculpted chest. He smelled spicy and manly, like Old Spice deodorant.
"It's okay," he said in response to my stiff, defensive posture. "Just getting the door for you."
He pulled open the passenger door and promptly moved away to the driver's side, taking his arduous scent with him.
When we both sat down and pulled our doors closed, I had a moment of panic. Being in such a compact space with a strange man kicked my instincts into survival mode.
Solomon must have seen my change in demeanor. He hit a button that slid back a sunroof and lowered both of our windows halfway down.
He watched me as I took gulps of fresh air out the window, my panicked breathing slowing down.
"We'll be out of here soon," he said with surprising gentleness as the car pulled onto the gravel road. "You'll have a room where no one will bother you."
I watched the world outside the car window zip by, practically sticking my head out like a dog. What happened while I had been captured? What did I miss in the world of people while I lived like a caged animal?
>
"What city is this?" I asked Solomon as he took a freeway exit into a subdivision with new-looking, tri-level townhouses.
"Cloverville, California," he answered, glancing at me as we slowed to a stop sign. "Where are you from, Natalie?"
"Oregon," I answered. "A small town in the middle of nowhere called Brownsville."
He let out a charming laugh. "Well if you stick around, you'll feel right at home in Cloverville then."
We pulled up a to a charming two-story townhouse with a small, manicured lawn. It was clean, cute and trendy and like it was built within the last five years.
"This is where you live?" I asked, my jaw agape.
Solomon laughed again. "If you were expecting a mansion or the ghetto, sorry to disappoint either way."
"No, I just..." didn't expect a mob boss to live in a shiny new housing development with an HOA and probably its own church community.
He led us inside his house to an open, airy space with tall ceilings and cool, tile floors beneath my bare feet. A spacious kitchen with an island stood just beyond the living room, which had large leather couches, a flat screen TV, and what looked like a child's armchair and a crate full of toys and coloring books.
"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," Solomon offered with a lopsided grin. "I'm not much of a cook but I have the necessities. And my neighbor brings stuff over so I always have something to heat up. Bedroom and shower are upstairs."
I followed his lead up the staircase, feeling a bit stunned at the fact that I would be living here for the foreseeable future.
"You can have the guest room," Solomon said, flicking a light on to reveal a room with nothing but a queen-sized bed and a dresser. It reminded me of seeing my old college dorm for the first time.
"There are clean towels in this closet. The bathroom is down here." Solomon gestured down the hallway. Following the length of his muscular, tattooed arm with my eyes, I saw a door halfway open across the hall. On the other side sat what looked like a twin bed with a purple bedspread and a dollhouse on the floor.
Down and Dirty: A Single Dad Bad Boy Romance (Small Town Bad Boys Book 3) Page 2
