“What are you thinking?”
Xavier’s gaze cut to Chambers who gulped and averted his eyes.
“Simple. Carson has specific tastes. I’m going to cater directly to him. His business might be in the trade of slaves, but that’s not what gets his juices flowing.”
“And what exactly does?” Kate tapped on the table in front of her.
“Death.” I shrugged, thinking this was common knowledge, but from the way Kate’s face paled, she clearly didn’t know that piece of it. The expressions on Xavier and Forest’s faces said they understood all too well.
The muscles of Forest’s jaw bunched. I nearly missed it, except I had expected something from him and had been watching for it. My gut told me there was more at play here, things I did not understand, but could easily uncover.
“We’re not pursuing…that.” Forest’s clipped reply cut through the speakers. “It’s not the right time.”
“I disagree. Why waste our time in Georgia?”
“Because, we need to insert you as a reputable supplier.” Kate’s voice flashed with irritation. “Have you not paid attention to anything?”
“I have, which is why we’re not doing that.”
“What do you have in mind?” Xavier steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His dark eyes glittered with sharp, jagged edges. This was a man not afraid to get his hands dirty. I understood this, even if I didn’t like it.
“Snuff.”
My subconscious blurted out the word before I was ready to reveal my hand. My thought had been to build up to this moment. Hell, I still wasn’t convinced it would work, but it was the perfect solution.
“Excuse me?” Kate leaned toward her screen. The camera angle shifted to display the graceful sweep of her neck and the silvery scar cutting across her throat.
Yes, we can use that.
The voice in my head whispered vileness, but it made sense. They wanted me to use Clara, and sacrifice her for the greater good, but Clara couldn’t endure the things Kate could. She wasn’t called the Mistress of Pain for no reason. Unlike what most thought, it wasn’t because Kate could dispense pain with such precision. Only she could endure what I had planned.
I gulped and steeled myself for what came next.
“A man who gets off on death won’t be able to refuse getting in on the ground floor of a snuff operation.”
“Zane Carson doesn’t run the death matches.” Forest crossed his arms over his chest and confirmed what I already knew. Forest knew all about the death matches.
I didn’t know how big Forest was, but from the size of his forearms alone, he had to be taller than me. Six seven or six eight, the man was built like a mountain and reminded me of a Viking warrior. I imagined he would be quite impressive in person.
“He doesn’t?” That didn’t match what I knew. Carson plucked hapless boys off the streets specifically to run them in the death matches.
Xavier dropped his fingers and rubbed at the stubble of his jaw. “No, he doesn’t. But he supplies the one who does.”
“Well, that’s better. If he’s already set up as a supplier, he’ll want what I have to offer. Not to mention it gets us front row access to the man who does.”
Why weren’t they jumping at this opportunity?
“I would love nothing better,” Forest let loose a deep sigh, “but Snowden remains an elusive prize.” Forest closed his eyes and took in a measured breath. “He’s a ghost. I’ve spent a decade trying to track him down.”
“Snowden?”
Forest’s jaw bunched. “An evil man.”
The fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted with the way Forest spoke about Snowden.
“Well, we go after Carson and let him lead us to Snowden.” I gave a shrug of my shoulders. We could find a way to get to this Snowden guy.
“We’re not ready to take on Snowden.” Xavier’s gaze cut to Forest. “Act too soon and we lose everything. Carson is our focus. Not Snowden.” Those words were not meant for me, but rather the blond giant.
Okay, I didn’t need to worry about Snowden. That simplified matters. Whatever they had planned, clearly, I was the means to an end. That should bother me more than it did, but my endgame finished with the recovery of Wu’s children.
I took another bite of my dinner, and spoke around a mouthful of one of the best burgers of my life. “This still works. Carson needs a steady stream of slaves to meet his demand. We give him that with the Georgia operation, but we get our claws in him by offering something he won’t be able to resist.” I waved my hand, making a dismissive gesture. “Death matches aside, he won’t be able to walk away.”
“Joshua,” Kate’s soft voice floated to my ears, “how does this involve me and Mitzy?”
“It plugs the biggest hole in your damn plan.”
“What are you talking about?” Her nostrils flared as she took in a slow, deep breath.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You picked me up at the damn prison. Drove me to your office and kept me there far too long. I rode off with Jake and spent time at Stripes. I highly doubt Carson is an idiot. He’ll look into who his new supplier is, and his questions will lead him straight to you. You connect to Pete, and I’m guessing Pete and Chambers are connected somehow. Everything unravels from there.”
“But…”
I held up my hand. “The only way this works is if I go rogue, which I’ve already done. By exposing your operation, I’ve sent a message that I won’t allow myself to be used. Taking over the operation proves it, but even then, Carson would be a fool to trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me. There’s no way for him to know I’m not playing both sides. Which means I have to prove myself.”
This issue kept coming round and round because that was exactly what I was doing. Wrestling with this problem kept me up late most nights, but I couldn’t see the answer. My subconscious did, but it delved deep into the depravities of my mind.
“If he can’t trust you,” Kate said, “then we’re all fucked. The whole operation is a bust.”
“No. It’s actually set up perfectly and where the real offer comes in. What better way to convince him I mean business than to finish off what I started?”
Xavier, Forest, and Chambers said nothing during the entire exchange. The three of them watched Kate and I volley back and forth.
“What do you mean finish off what you started?”
I lifted my finger to my throat and traced a line from one side to the other, mimicking the path of her scar.
“Revenge is the greatest motivator on earth. Carson is going to wonder what the hell you were doing picking me up. He’s going to assume you’re blackmailing me.” Something which was patently true, but I was going to turn that on its head.
Kate bit at her lip and considered my words. “I don’t think his surveillance is that good.”
“Maybe not, but I’d prefer not to assume.” Any man who could ghost through Xavier and Forest’s attempts to find him had to have a formidable intelligence network.
“So, what are you suggesting?” she asked.
“A demonstration to start, something to whet his appetite and prove I’m serious. Consider it a tease of what I offer and validation of the kind of man Carson believes me to be. I begin with your office assistant. We’ll make a spectacle of her death, which will be the warm up to yours.”
“Mine?” Kate’s complexion paled but she gave a slow nod, absorbing what I said. “You abduct Mitzy to get back at me, kill her, then circulate her snuff film.”
“Exactly. We drum up interest and wait for Carson to bite.”
“Why would he?” She gave a shrug.
“Because I’m going to offer an entire product line he doesn’t have. He trades in sex slaves, selling them off to the highest bidder. He takes young boys off the streets and forces them into death matches, but I’m going to show him how to take an innocent girl and make her beg for the sweet embrace of death. He won’t be able to resist that.”
; “That’s twisted.” Kate’s lips curled with disgust.
“That’s what I’m hoping. It needs to be depraved enough that he can’t help but want in on the action. It’s the perfect business proposition, and gets my foot in the door.”
Everything came with a price.
“How’s that?” Xavier’s cultured voice broke through Kate’s stunned silence.
“The price of admission is an invitation. I want in on the death matches. I let Carson watch Kate’s murder for the price of an admission ticket. You want Snowden? I’ll get Carson to hand Snowden to you on a platter.”
A quick glance at Forest and I paused. The ferocity of his glacial gaze disappeared beneath a sickly, green hue. Was he going to puke?
Chapter 27
I sat in the shower, rocking slowly as my tears mingled with the water. Generally, My Monster gave me time alone in the shower, but he always waited outside. Once I washed away the filth of the day, he would lead me to my bed and tie me in place.
That was new as well.
Previously, after reading our story together, he would tuck me in, kiss my forehead, and leave me to drift into troubled sleep. This past week, that changed along with everything else.
There were no tender moments tucked into the chair as he read to me. There was no drawing back of the covers or tucking me in. The light press of his lips against my forehead disappeared.
I should never have begged for that kiss. It ruined us.
In place of tender goodnight kisses, the drag of rope across my wrists and ankles announced the end of my day as he tied me into bed. He gave enough slack in the ropes to be comfortable while I slept, but I didn’t have enough room to untie myself—and I tried for hours to pick at the knots.
I couldn’t get out of bed either. When my full bladder pinched with need in the morning, I had to wait for his arrival.
The warmth of his hands was the first and last thing I felt each day and night.
Which was why, when I exited the shower, his absence surprised me. He wasn’t in the bathroom, nor was he waiting in the bedroom. It wasn’t like him to leave me alone, and those rare moments when he did, it was only after tying me in place.
I guessed he tried to impress upon me that every bit of freedom came by his hand, and I hated how effective his methods had become.
Did I crawl in bed?
Did I dare risk drifting to sleep without him tying me in place?
Did I kneel on the floor to wait for his return?
Or should I sit in the chair and read a book?
I wanted to finish our last murder mystery.
We were moments from finding out who the killer was. It didn’t feel right to read the ending without him.
Which left me to do what?
I spun in a circle, taking a step toward the bed, one toward the chair, and one toward the door. When did I become incapable of making the simplest decision?
The sound of the door lock disengaging settled the question and I quickly took to my knees and pressed my forehead to the ground in Welcome Pose.
But the sound of the footsteps which approached were not those of My Monster. I could peek, but Chambers would report any infractions.
Without a single twitch, I remained in position as Chambers set a tray down on the small table between the two chairs. He said nothing—the man rarely spoke—then with a pivot, he strode out of the room. The snick of the lock was my signal to move.
Pressing up from the floor, I rocked back on my heels and then stood. No surprise, Chambers brought my evening tea and dessert. He spoiled me with treats, soothing the pain of the day as best he could.
But where was My Monster?
He hadn’t missed one meal with me in the last week, feeding me by hand as I knelt at his feet or hung in the ropes. More training, he said.
A slave eats from her Master’s hand.
I hated why he forced that degradation on me, but there was something oddly comforting with the laser-focused attention he had to maintain.
Not knowing when he would return, I raced over to the chair and indulged in the simple freedom of feeding myself, licking powdered sugar from my fingers from what was the most delicious pastry I had ever eaten.
I may have gorged myself, rushing too fast, but it was a small, insignificant act of defiance, I would feed myself one damn meal.
But now what?
There were no clocks in my room. The passage of time came with the light shining through my window. I’d like to say I measured the days by following the phases of the moon, but it hadn’t occurred to me to do that until a few days ago.
I’d been here for weeks, but feared if too many more days passed I would lose track of time completely.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I drummed my fingers on the armrest of the chair, debating what to do next. There was a reassuring resonance to the sound of my fingers as I tapped out my frustration.
A yawn escaped me. How long had he been gone? Was he coming back? Did I have to wait for him to go to bed? Was I supposed to tie myself to the posts? How exactly would I do that?
With a start, I glanced at the bed. How easily that had become my normal. My attention shifted to the book and had me considering peeking at that ending.
I had my suspicions as to who the killer might be. My Monster did too, and we disagreed, arguing and laughing about our theories.
Where had that gentle man gone?
In its place, a stony countenance greeted me and silence filled our world. I didn’t know if we would ever get to the end of our story.
Another yawn escaped me.
“Enough!” I shouted to the empty room. I didn’t need him to put me to bed and I stomped to turn off the lights in the bathroom. With some hesitation, I paused by the switch on the wall that would plunge the room into darkness. Pressing my ear to the door, I listened for his distinctive tread, but there was nothing.
I flipped the switch and darkness filled the room. Except for a small sliver of moonlight shining through the window, there was nothing but shadows. The soft tread of my bare feet was the only sound in the room as I glided over to the window to peek out at the full moon.
As long as I could see the sky, I wouldn’t lose track of time. I wouldn’t forget an entire world existed out there. I wouldn’t forget what he took from me. My freedom was not lost, and while I had no idea how to reclaim it, I did not give up on hope.
Despite whatever tenderness he did show, My Monster was not a good man. Each night I closed my eyes and reminded myself of that fact. Over and over, I said He’s a monster.
Only, I didn’t believe it. I’d seen the truth in his eyes.
I dragged the thick covers over my body and tucked them beneath my chin. As my eyes closed, I recited my nightly litany.
He is a monster. He is a monster.
If I said it often enough, someday I would believe it. And with those thoughts churning in my head, sleep drew me into its sheltering embrace. In my dreams, I was free. He couldn’t take that from me.
Chapter 28
Sometime, much later—I had no idea of the time except it was still dark and the sliver of moonlight had disappeared—the bed dipped beside me.
My entire body went rigid because there was only one person who would let himself into my room and crawl into my bed. Only he had never done that before. He had sat on the edge of the bed, tucking me in, but never had he once crawled beneath the sheets.
I feigned sleep, too scared of what would come next.
This was it.
The moment I’d been dreading had arrived, and I wasn’t ready to face it. Instead, I played dead, or rather pretended to be asleep. I forced my breaths to slow and didn’t dare move. Why was it that moments ago I’d been happily asleep, but now felt an irresistible urge to shift position?
Terrified of the touch which would change everything, I counted my breaths. This had the unwelcome side effect of his intoxicating scent flooding my senses. Dark and dangerous, he smelled like earthy pi
ne and freshly fallen rain. No man deserved to smell that good.
But that was My Monster. Men like him also weren’t supposed to be heartbreakingly handsome or have eyes of the deepest verdant green. They weren’t supposed to have physiques the gods themselves would envy, but he did.
My Monster had that and more.
I had to breathe through my mouth as he folded his muscular frame around my slender form. It helped ease some of the terrible ache his presence brought about.
Thankfully, I faced the window, which left him to curl against my back. His broad hand gripped my hip and he drew me against his hard body. His legs curled around mine and he buried his nose into my hair.
Counting the seconds, moments away from terror, I considered how I should react, versus how I knew I would react, when he finally did the unthinkable and destroyed my innocence.
Instead of that, his breathing evened out and his hand grew slack on my hip.
Was he asleep?
I didn’t dare move, afraid I would wake him, but as the minutes dragged by there was no denying the soft snores that drifted to my ears. He had crawled into bed with me, cuddled with me, and had fallen asleep.
What kind of game was he playing?
I chewed on that for what had to have been an hour and somewhere along the way, I must have drifted off to sleep.
The next time I opened my eyes, dust motes danced in sunbeams streaming through the window. Not thinking about what I was doing, I rolled to my back.
My entire body stilled because he was no longer there. A quick glance around the room revealed no sign of him, although his heady scent filled my nostrils and lingered on the bedsheets. I reached beside me, surprised to find the place where he’d slept still warm.
Slowly, I sat in bed, listening for any evidence he was still with me, but no sound came from the bathroom.
I stretched and yawned, then noticed a note propped on top of a tablet he’d left on the table between our chairs.
Our chairs.
How easily I took ownership of my prison. That was my chair. The one beside it was his. We always sat in our respective places, never mixing things up.
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