by K. A Knight
I peer up the stairs, noting there are three floors to clear. I don’t know whether I want anyone to be here or not, because if they are here it means it’s probably a trap I’m walking into. Wouldn’t be the first time, but with Nadia in the car, I’m anxious to get it cleared quickly since I know what she’s like.
The first-floor landing only has one door with a glass window peering into a long hallway. It’s unlocked, so I slip in on quiet feet and crane my head to listen. When I hear nothing, I head to the first door on the left, turn the handle, and push it in.
It’s dark inside, and I let my eyes adjust before I head in and clear the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. There are restraints on the bed, cut and left there, and some underwear on the floor, as well as a few beer cans on the table outside, but nobody’s in there. I tread softly to the next door, one on the right, and clear it as well. It’s the same thing. I’m guessing the victims are each tied in the bedroom while they decide what happens to the girls and then they move on.
There are only two other doors. The third is empty and dark, but the fourth is lit up, the light pouring out from under the door. I hesitate before turning the handle and pushing it in. When nothing happens, I head inside and clear the kitchen and living room before moving down the carpeted hall. The bedroom is like the others, the restraints cut, and clothes discarded on the floor.
It’s the bathroom that stops me cold though. In the bath is a body—a young girl with her blonde hair dyed red from her blood, her throat and wrists slit, her eyes open in death and locked in fear on the doorway. Her head is tilted this way, legs and arms thrown carelessly to the side. She’s naked and discarded, they didn’t even give her dignity in death. I grind my teeth, hate and anger surging inside me, and cover her gently with a towel before slipping out and heading back to the landing and then up to the next level.
I’ll make sure her family are made aware and she can be buried, but I need to clear the rest of the building first. The second level has no door, just an open archway. I step inside to see the lights flickering on and off and one door to the left standing open. There are only three others on this level—two on the left and one on the right.
I check the one on the left first. It’s very much like the first floor, but the walls between the apartments have been knocked down, and in the large space there are five beds with curtains between them. I check each one, spotting the dirty, soiled sheets and blood on the floor, but there are no bodies at least.
There are needles and discarded trash, and in the bathroom are packs of condoms, wet wipes, and various sex toys. I cringe back from the smell and check the flat to the right. It’s a large apartment, and again filled with beds separated by curtains. There is a radio still softly playing some rock music in the corner. I leave it alone and head to the final level, dread balling in my stomach, and I know whatever I find there will be bad.
The third floor opens up straight into a large rectangular room, the walls obviously knocked down up here too. There are no doors or halls, just mismatched sofas with cards and drinks spread across it, a pool table, and even a dartboard to the left next to the windows. Separating the large room is a dirty red curtain. I push it aside and stop cold.
Rows upon rows of camping beds line each wall with an alley between them and sheer curtains separating the cots. There must be at least forty beds, but it’s not just that...it’s the noise—a whimper and heavy breathing. I push back each curtain until, at the end, I find a woman lying on her side in a cot. Her eyes watch me, filled with tears that drip steadily down her face, to her nose, and then the bed below. Her mouth is parted, her face locked in pain, and I frown in concern, running my eyes over her half naked body, stopping when I spot her blood-covered hands, which are clutching her stomach, blood slowly oozing through.
“Help me,” she whispers, her lips cracked, her eyes sunken into her skull. I spot needle marks in her arms and the bruises from them.
I grab my phone and dial in for an emergency responder and then help keep pressure on her wounds. “It’s going to be okay, what’s your name?”
“Rebecca,” she sobs.
“Hi, Rebecca, I’m Keanu,” I tell her, keeping my voice calm and soft. “What happened? Can you tell me?” I ask, feeling her blood coating my hands as she cries, her breathing laboured.
“I—” Sniffle. “I was out with my friends.” She coughs and then cries out as it pulls on her stomach, her straggly, strawberry blonde hair falls in her face, so I push it away, wincing at the trail of blood it leaves behind. “I met a guy, next thing I know I woke up here. They-they kept injecting me with things.” She turns her face away, wiping it on her arm. “Saying something about the workhouses for me. The girl next to me went to auction, whereas another came straight in and went to a client.”
“Okay, how long have you been here?” I inquire softly, trying to keep her attention on me. She’s paling and losing too much blood.
“Two weeks. I spoke to another girl who said they get the girls hooked before they go to the workhouses.” She cries then. “I want to see my mum.”
“I know, sweetheart, hold on for me, okay?” I order strongly, and she nods, her voice weak.
“Th-They came in tonight and said to get rid of everything. I thought it was my chance to escape, I tried. They caught me, stabbed me. The guy who did panicked, said boss would kill him, so he left me here as they all ran away.”
Shit, they cleared out because of me and took the girls with them.
“You did so good, you are so brave,” I soothe her, just as a noise has me jerking around to see Nadia dropping to her knees next to us, her eyes filled with tears.
“Hi, sweetie, I’m Nadia,” she murmurs, and then cups Rebecca’s head, brushing back her hair. “We are going to stay with you until help comes, okay?”
The woman nods, crying again, and Nadia looks at me. I see the question in her gaze, so I shake my head. She sucks in a breath, knowing I mean she won’t survive, but she puts on a brave face and turns back to the girl.
“I bet your mum can’t wait to see you again, huh? My mum used to sing to me when I was sick, did yours?” Nadia questions, keeping her distracted.
“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes wide and panicked, her body undoubtedly packing in.
“Want me to sing to you?” Nadia murmurs, stroking her face, and the young girl nods.
I watch as Nadia sings, her voice soft and sweet, wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. As we wait, she keeps singing different songs, all the while holding the girl and staring into her eyes until, as we both watch, the girl’s eyes slowly shut, her body going limp in the bed as she passes out. Lifting my blood-soaked hands, I press my fingers to her neck, checking her pulse. It’s slowing, almost gone.
I glance up to Nadia and see tears falling down her face. Her voice catches, but she sucks in a breath and carries on, continuing to sing until I release my fingers from Rebecca’s neck and sit back. She cuts off with a sob and turns to me. I open my arms and she falls into them, laying her head on my chest, her hands twisting my shirt as she cries.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing she didn’t have to see that.
She lifts her head, tears tracking down her face, her cheeks flushed and blotchy, and her eyes sparkling, but she has never looked more beautiful, more defiant and strong. “We kill them all, we make them all pay.”
“We will, princess, I promise,” I vow, and brush her tears away. She leans into my hand, her eyes closing for a moment, and I want to pull back. I don’t deserve to touch her, especially with the innocent’s blood drying on my hands.
She opens her eyes and sighs. “Okay, so what’s next?”
“I found another girl downstairs, I’ve called in clean-up and emergency services, they will sort through all this. I’m going to check out the cameras and computers downstairs and hope they left something behind.”
She nods, sitting back, her eyes flickering to Rebecca for a moment. “What about her par
ents?”
“Donald will tell them.”
“Tell them the truth?” she asks, looking over at me. “They deserve the truth, they deserve to know how strong she was, how much she wanted to come home.”
“Trust me, Brat, I will make sure they do. We’ll pay for her funeral as well and help them in any way we can.” I stand and outstretch my hand to her before seeing the dried red blood. I start to pull it back, but she grabs it and pulls herself to her feet, twining our fingers, uncaring about the blood.
She glances back over her shoulder, and I see the pain in her eyes at leaving Rebecca like that, so I pull her closer, under my shoulder. “I promise they will be here soon. They will look after her and give her as much dignity as they can.”
“Okay.” She nods, moving closer as I lead her from the flat and back downstairs, just as clean-up arrives. I let them in and inform them of each girl and what’s needed. They nod and I leave them to it as I lead Nadia to the room under the stairs.
“Sit down, Brat,” I order, and push her into a chair. She slumps there, looking beyond exhausted. I need to do better, look after her more, especially when it’s clear she is willing to kill herself to help these girls.
I ring Donald and let Nadia listen as I inform him about Rebecca and the necessary arrangements before I boot up the computers. It doesn’t take me long to hack the password. There isn’t much data, no system links up, just an intake and outtake sheet with some prices and protected names. There are some locked files, so I send them to myself to go through later before wiping everything and leaning back to see Nadia almost falling asleep in her chair, her eyes shutting and head drooping. Standing up, I scoop her into my arms, and she slips her hands around my neck and buries her face into my neck.
“Come on, baby, let’s get you home and to bed.” I drop a kiss on her head and she shivers, snuggling closer.
“Will you stay with me?” she whispers, her voice tired.
“Always,” I promise, as I head back outside and take her to my car. I tuck her in, put on her seat belt, and before I’m even in the driver’s seat, she’s asleep.
I can’t help it, I snap another picture and set it as my background before firing up the car and heading home. I place a reminder on my phone to make sure she’s eating and sleeping properly. She might not be willingly to look after herself, but I’ll gladly do it for her.
She means too much to just waste away. It can be easy to lose yourself in the job and let it consume you. I’ll make sure I’m her safe place, keeping her afloat.
Maybe this is what love feels like, this all-consuming need to look after her and make sure she’s okay. It won’t ever be normal or even the same as Max and Scarlett’s, but in my own way, I can show her how much I care. How much she means to me.
And hope that’s enough when all is said and done.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nadia
I remember getting in the car, and then nothing until I was laid on a bed as a kiss was dropped on my head—unless I imagined that—before I dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep. I must have been really tired. My eyes flicker open, racing around the room, trying to figure out where I am while sleep still clings to me, making me slow.
It’s not the guest bedroom at Keanu’s, or even my own bedroom. The walls are black, a matte that should be depressing, but with the furniture it looks cosy. A modern fireplace is next to the door below a flat screen TV. A small desk is in the corner, with two silver bedside tables and touch lamps framing the giant silver bed I’m lying on. The sheets are silky and warm, and there is a grey fur throw over my feet. I turn my head and my mouth drops open at seeing Keanu next to me. He doesn’t seem the type to rest or relax, so seeing him so fast asleep, so utterly relaxed and peaceful, is strange.
Every time I’ve been here he hardly sleeps, and even then he gets up early, yet here he is lying next to me. His eyes are closed, hiding the green gems, his black lashes shadowing his cheeks. His blond hair is mussed around his head. His arm is thrown over my stomach, his face turned towards me as his chest presses to the bed, his naked back exposed to the air, the sheet slipping down and giving me an unobstructed view of his skin…which is covered in scars. I don’t know how I missed these before, I must have been distracted...
Shock fills me. I remember him saying his grandad beat him, but I didn’t expect...well, this! Scars crisscross his back, some old and white, others still pink and raw. There are so many, they cover nearly every inch of skin from his neck to his ass. Tears fill my eyes as I reach out a finger and trace the raised flesh, his pain becoming mine.
God, what this man has endured, suffered.
I look over and see his eyes open and locked on mine, but he doesn’t say a word or stop me, so I stroke each one before leaning over and kissing them, infusing them with love where there was only hate. No one will ever hurt him again, he’s mine, and therefore mine to protect, to love, to keep. Whenever he gets cold, worried, or falls back into old ways, I’ll be there reminding him of what he has to fight for.
I lean back and lay my head on his pillow, our faces inches apart. His eyes are vulnerable, watching me to see if I’m horrified or repulsed.
“If I ever find that man, I will kill him for you,” I vow and he smiles, soft and slow as his tired eyes watch me, no coldness or barriers, just him.
“I might even let you,” he whispers, his voice silky and sleepy.
“Did you get some sleep?” I ask, smiling as he reaches up and brushes the hair from my face, so gentle and caring like he did for Rebecca. He turns to his side, his legs twining with mine as his arm drapes over my waist, pulling me closer.
“I did, more than I have in years. Seems you’re a snuggler and having a brat wrapped around me like a boa constrictor sent me right to sleep,” he teases.
I snort and smack his shoulder but snuggle close to his warmth. He drops his chin on my head and pulls me even closer so there isn’t any room between us. “Uh-uh, and I’m the cuddler,” I taunt.
“Shush, Brat, don’t make me spank you.” He laughs, tapping my ass with his hand softly, making me grin into his chest.
“Why not? We both know we enjoy it,” I purr, then dart my tongue out and lick his chest, giggling when he spanks me lightly again.
The last few days have been so busy, so blood filled and crammed with near-death experiences...it’s nice to just relax. To just be held and take a moment for ourselves, like we’re in a bubble we know can pop at any time, but you still enjoy it while it lasts.
“Brat,” he warns, his hand massaging my ass, pushing up the shirt I’m in. I have a vague memory of him stripping off my jeans and boots before he tucked me into bed and a smile comes to my lips.
“Did you enjoy undressing me?” I purr.
He sucks in a breath, so I lift my head, licking his chin before dropping kisses there. “I bet you did...did you stand there and watch me? Did you take those pictures you like so much?”
“No,” he mumbles, as I tilt his chin down and seal my lips over his before pulling back and sucking on his plump bottom one, letting it go with an audible pop.
“Why?” I whisper against his lips, slanting my mouth over his as his lips fall open slightly.
“Because it would have been wrong...you were asleep...” He trails off, swallowing.
“Never stopped you before. Since when has wrong and right ever applied to our relationship?” I laugh and then kiss across the stubble of his jaw to his neck, sucking the skin there before kissing it better. His hand grips my ass tighter, yanking me to him as I feel his hard length press against my stomach.
“Carry on, Brat, and I’ll punish that dirty mouth of yours,” he warns, before pressing his lips to mine, kissing me slowly...almost caringly, unlike his words and his hand, which is skating around my thigh and hitching it over his hip, making me gasp into his mouth.
I pull away, panting as I stare into those cold eyes. “Don’t make threats you won’t keep.”
He groa
ns, his eyes closing as if he’s in pain as I trail my lips down his chin and throat again, catching my teeth on the skin, making him jerk against me. “I like it when you punish me. I like it when your fingers bruise my skin, when your cock stretches my pussy,” I whisper as he moans. “I love it when I see that last shred of control snap...when you become you...unleashing all that power on me. I want it, I crave it...”
I trail off as I’m thrown, my words ending in a shriek as I bounce on the bed, face first. Not a second later, my ass is yanked back into the air as his hand drops to my head and pushes it farther into the bedding. I turn my head so I can breathe as his hands spank me in unison.
Groaning, I push back into it, loving it as he massages away the sting. Leaning over me, he dots biting kisses up my spin until he gets to my ear, his temple pressed to mine, letting me feel the raw strength in his position. “You shouldn’t have pushed me, Brat.”
“Why not? The pain is so sweet.”
He lands another two spanks, harder this time, and I jerk from the force even as a moan leaves my lips. My ass is already sore, feeling like it’s on fire from his touch alone as his fingers trail across the red skin and down my crack to my dripping pussy. There, he swirls them, teasing me with the barely there touch. “I’m going to get my dick real nice and wet. No doubt you will misbehave and this arse of yours will be redder than your cheeks...only then, when you deserve it, will I fuck this tight little ass. Making it hurt so good, my hips slamming into those stinging cheeks with each thrust.”
