Sweet Collateral

by LP Lovell

  “Come in,” a voice calls from the other side of the thick wood.

  Opening the door, I keep my head high as I limp inside and stop in front of the enormous wooden desk. My focus drifts around the room, stopping on a little gold globe nestled amongst leather-bound books on the shelf behind the desk; a tiny depiction of a wide world I will likely never see. Nestled beside it is a book I know well, the gold lettering of the author’s name is barely visible on the overly bent and cracked spine.

  “All things truly wicked start from innocence,” I breathe.

  “What?”

  I ignore him. “You wanted to see me.” My gaze seems to drift to him without my permission, seeking him out. It annoys me. What is it about him that has my iron-clad walls buckling as though they’re made of nothing more than paper and glue? Years of suffering have brought me to this invincible point. No one can harm me because no one can reach me, at least not mentally. And isn’t all pain in the mind? But he is reaching me somehow, eliciting emotions long buried: anger, animosity, and hatred.

  Perhaps it’s the way he looks at me without the desire I’m used to. It makes me uneasy because desire is predictable. He isn’t. He snaps me out of my bitter indifference and makes me far too aware of him, perhaps even fear him in a world where I’ve learned to fear very little anymore. Maybe it’s those near-black eyes of his or that aura of power he commands so easily, the danger that pours off him like water down a cliff face.

  He moves, stopping only a couple of feet away from me before he leans against the front of the desk. His eyes meet mine, full of…suspicion? I stare right back at him, trying to predict what he’ll do to me—what he wants.

  “You say you don’t know who Nero Verdi is?” He narrows his eyes as though I’m the bad one in the room.

  “I’m a whore. If I’ve fucked him then I wouldn’t know his name.”

  He inhales deeply, tapping his index finger over his bottom lip. “He’s the man who bought you.” Bought and sold like cattle at market. Disgust creeps up my throat, and I clench my teeth against the unfamiliar sensation of my anger threatening to actually breach the surface.

  “Have you ever been to New York?”

  “I’m a whore.” He raises a brow at that. “No.”

  “Do you have any Italian relatives?”

  “No.”

  “You can’t think of any reason why the Italian mafia might want you?”

  “No.”

  “Then it seems you are a mystery, Anna Vasiliev.”

  “Can I go now?”

  Pushing off the desk, he stalks toward me, every inch the predator. He reaches out and wraps his tattooed fingers around my throat. Cold, dark eyes meet mine for a beat before he brings his lips near my ear. “Nero has asked me to protect you.” Warm breath blows over my neck, and I shiver involuntarily. “But if I find out at any point you’ve been lying to me, I will consider my contract for your protection null and void. Am I clear?” The rough whisper drags over my senses like sandpaper as his thumb strokes a circle on the side of my neck. His fingers flinch against my skin in warning, but I don’t react. There’s a long breath of silence before he steps back. “You can go anywhere on the property…”

  “But not leave it,” I finish for him.

  His lips twitch. “No.”

  “Because your friend owns me.”

  “Because I said so.” Hard, implacable, undoubtedly dangerous, and yet, he’s like no one I’ve ever met. I’m not sure whether he wants to hurt me or fuck me. Both? None? Unpredictable. Not good. “Lucas!” he shouts.

  The door clicks open, and a young guy shuffles nervously through the open doorway. “Yes, boss?”

  “You will be Anna’s personal guard.” I glance at the guy, looking him up and down. He’s skinny, his shoulders are hunched, eyes darting around. I could easily escape him. Why would Rafael make him my guard? Perhaps he has no job for him, so this is like a token gesture; guard the helpless little slave who won’t even try to escape. “You are to stop her from leaving should she decide to be stupid, and if anyone tries to touch her, you have my permission to shoot them.” He eyes the boy meaningfully. “Anyone.”

  Lucas nods, a strand of black hair falling over his forehead. “Yes, boss.”

  “You can go,” Rafael says, and I do, hobbling from the room.

  I’m at my bedroom door when a throat clears behind me. I whirl around and come face to face with Lucas. He looks at me and then at the floor.

  “Uh, I’m Lucas.” He holds out his hand to me.

  I frown at his outstretched hand, not quite knowing what to do with it. “Anna.” I tentatively take his hand and he shakes it, then lets go.

  “Nice to meet you, Anna. Oh, the boss said to give you this.” He holds out a worn and battered version of Ernest Hemingway’s; A Moveable Feast. The bright blue cover is worn and bubbled. The gold writing cut off by the peeling corner of the card. This book is well loved and well read. He heard me.

  “He gave you this?”

  He shrugs. “I’ll uh, I’ll be right here if you need me.” I swear his cheeks tinge pink before he takes up position next to my door, his back ramrod straight.

  “Um, thanks?”

  He has to be the strangest guard I’ve ever seen.

  I jolt awake, my throat sore as I suck deep breaths into my lungs. It takes me a second to spot the figure lingering over me in the darkness. Instinctively I leap away, my heart pounding even harder.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man whispers. I frown and squint at the skinny figure in the darkness before a light comes on, temporarily blinding me. “You were screaming, and I didn’t…I thought…” Lucas rubs his hand over the back of his neck in agitation. I glance at his plaid pajama bottoms and his Star Wars t-shirt, his hair sticking up in every direction. My body relaxes, and my breathing evens out.

  “Yeah, that happens. Bad dreams.”

  He nods and looks away awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he says again and turns to walk out of the room.

  “Lucas?” He glances over his shoulder, a look of concern blanketing his face. “Thanks.” The word slips from my lips unbidden. He’s the man ‘guarding’ me—stopping me from escaping. I shouldn’t be thanking him, but his uninhibited concern is something I haven’t seen in so long.

  A shy smile pulls at Lucas’ lips before he ducks his head. “No problem. My room is next door if you need me.” He hurries from the room, and I find my own lips forming a tiny smile.

  Strange indeed.

  8

  Rafael

  Late morning sunlight streams through the windows when I walk into the kitchen. My phone is pressed between my ear and shoulder as I talk to Carlos.

  “Got a rat, boss,” he says.

  “Fuck’s sake. Sort it, Carlos, and send a message. I’m thinking a metal box and some rodents.”

  He laughs. “Gotcha. I’ll call you when it’s done.” He hangs up, and I huff out a breath. Maria is bustling around in the kitchen, and the scent of her special chili fills the air.

  “That smells good.” I peer over her shoulder into the bubbling pot.

  “I’ll get you some,” she says without looking at me. Her voice is thick and wavers slightly. I grab her shoulder, turning her to face me. The middle-aged woman swipes at her cheeks and offers me a watery smile.

  “What’s wrong?” I almost growl. Maria is like a second mother to me, and I can’t help but feel protective of her.

  “It’s nothing.” She brushes me off. “Just an old woman being silly.”

  “Maria…” She huffs a short breath, rolling her eyes.

  “She just breaks my heart.” I know exactly who she’s talking about. Another tear falls onto her cheek, and she turns her back to me. “I told you I was being silly.”

  I haven’t seen the girl in person in over a week, but of course, I see her on the monitors in my office every day. I know she never leaves the room but as long as she’s safe, and I’m upholding my end of the bargain, I reall
y don’t care.

  “You just care too much, Maria.” She nods as she spoons chili into a bowl and places it down on the breakfast island. I pull up a stool. “I can get someone else to handle her.” I spoon food into my mouth. Damn, that’s good.

  “No! She doesn’t need to be around men. They’ll scare her.”

  “Don’t get attached, Maria.”

  “She’s just a girl, Rafael.” I’m half expecting her to swat me upside the head. “She’s been taken and raped.” I drag my hand down my face. Jesus fuck. This woman. This is the damn cartel, but Maria always seems to turn a blind eye to that glaringly obvious fact.

  “She sits on that balcony all day like she might never see the sun again. She eats, showers, and sleeps when she’s told to. No matter how many times I tell her she can do as she likes she just stares blankly.”

  I store this information. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just talk to her. Take her around the house. Get her out of that room.”

  “You’re welcome to take her out.” This isn’t a holiday camp. I have better shit to do than entertain Nero’s collateral.

  She shakes her head. “It needs to be you.” I stand up and drop the empty bowl in the sink. “Please. For me.”

  This damn woman. “Fine. I’ll do it later. Now stop hassling me, woman. You’re making me look soft.”

  A smile spreads over her lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You’re a good boy.” She straightens the collar of my shirt and kisses my cheek.

  Jesus Christ.

  I get back from helping Carlos with our rat problem. I’ve sent Samuel to organize tomorrow’s shipment, and I have an hour before I have to call the Colombian suppliers. As soon as I walk in the door, Maria is waiting. She takes my jacket, eyeing me meaningfully.

  I go upstairs to Anna’s room. Lucas shifts awkwardly beside the door, trying not to look at me. He’s a good kid, but he’s not cut out for the cartel. It takes me a moment to spot Anna when I step inside. Through the open balcony doors, I see her long legs as she lies on the floor, a bandage covering one ankle. I move closer and lean against the doorframe. Her eyes are closed, a small smile on her lips. She’s completely naked, her once pale skin now a golden hue that accentuates the silvery scars littering her body. A week of Maria’s food has done her good. A hint of possible curves lay where once there was only bone. For a moment I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is, delicate, like a porcelain doll.

  When I clear my throat, her eyes slowly open, head rolling to the side as she takes me in. It’s almost predatory; the distance in her eyes as she assesses me.

  “Come on. I’m showing you the rest of the house.”

  I’ve watched her routine with Maria, her inability to make a decision for herself, so I go to the closet and find a dress. She wordlessly takes it, slipping the silky material over her head until it cascades down her bare body and brushes the floor. I

  We walk through the house in silence, her limping slowly behind me. Not like I didn’t have crutches brought here for her, but apparently she’d rather suffer.

  I take Anna downstairs and into the games room. The guys sometimes come in here when they’re on shift, to play video games or pool.

  “This is the games room. You can play pool or whatever.” I gesture around it, but she isn’t paying attention, her focus on the window. She stares out that window at the darkness beyond as though it’s her salvation, and I wonder if she was ever allowed outside.

  “Come on.” I lead her down the hallway and through the back doors that lead onto the pool deck. Underwater lights illuminate the entire space in bright turquoise. “Pool and gardens.” I gesture to the encroaching darkness beyond. Her gaze fixes on the gardens beyond the pool, and she takes a hesitant step forward.

  “Would you like to walk?” She stops and doesn’t answer. It’s like she wants to be a prisoner, as though she can’t voice what she wants, or maybe she doesn’t even know anymore. I start walking towards the gardens anyway, passing through the sculpted hedges that lead out onto the perfectly trimmed lawn. Rose bushes and night Jasmine bloom in the flowerbeds that line the walkway to the massive pond. I’m told my father had it built for his wife, years ago.

  I reach the pond and watch as Anna trails her fingers over the flowers, pausing to smell a blood red rose in full bloom. The way she caresses the velvety petals; it’s clear she has been deprived of any kind of beauty. Her bare feet whisper over the freshly watered grass, and for a second she looks peaceful. For a moment she looks like a pretty, carefree young girl walking through a garden of flowers. How looks can be deceiving. Her gaze lifts to mine, and she watches me carefully as she moves closer to the low stone wall that lines the round pond. Her fingers over the glassy surface of the water. It’s almost childlike, an innocent curiosity. When a couple of fish come to the surface, she smiles and sits on the edge. I realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen her actually smile, and I find myself unable to tear my gaze away, helplessly lured like a lost sailor to an enchanting siren call.

  The shrill ringing of my phone cuts through the chirping crickets, bursting whatever bubble she has me in. Taking my phone from my pocket, I glance at the screen and frown at my supplier’s name flashing on the screen.

  “I have to take this.” She says nothing, but the smile is gone, and she refuses to look at me. “Find your own way back.” I don’t wait for an answer, simply turn on my heel and walk back to the house as I answer the call.

  It’s a quick conversation. A simple ‘no, you cannot have more of a cut’. I’ve just hung up and am almost to my office when Lucas stops me. “Raf— Boss, can I talk to you?” He glances at me, though his chin remains tucked to his chest. “Please.”

  The kid looks like he’s about to shit himself.

  “Today, Lucas.”

  Taking a deep breath, he finally looks at me. “Anna needs some sleeping pills.” I lift a brow, and his face pales. “She…has nightmares, and she screams.” Yes, I’m well aware of the little bird’s demons. I also know how well young Lucas plays the White Knight, rushing to her aid every night.

  “So, what? You want to knock her out?”

  “She asked me for…” a nervous swallow, “some ketamine.”

  I exhale a long breath. Shit. “I’ll handle it.”

  He nods and scurries away. Looks like the little Russian may not be so hard after all, but if she wants help, she’ll have to ask for it. She’ll have to come to me.

  9

  Rafael

  My office door slams open without warning, and I look up, glaring at whoever the fuck would come in here without knocking.

  A very naked Anna limps in, her eyes feral as they land on me. She’s clawing at her already reddened arms, her entire body shaking. “I need…”

  I tilt my head to the side, watching her trembling form. What happened to the emotionless little robot? She’s a mess.

  I push to my feet and round the desk. “What do you need?”

  “Just one line,” she begs as tears pool in her eyes. And so she comes to me, her icy façade shattering to cold powder before my eyes. “Please, Rafael. I’ll do anything.” She drops to her knees in front of me, and then her hands are on my belt. “This is what you want isn’t it?” she yanks at the leather.

  “Fuck, Anna.” I grab her wrists in one hand, stilling her. She looks up at me, wide blue eyes so innocent, full lips that look like they were made for sucking dick. I can picture her staring up at me just like that as I fuck her mouth. Shit. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and swallow a groan as my cock rises to attention. God, this is screwed up, even by my standards. Disgust rises in my throat; at myself, at her, at the entire damn situation Nero has put me in. This is someone’s daughter, lover, sister. At some point, I know this was probably my sister, begging a faceless man to give her drugs in exchange for her last shred of dignity. I drop to a crouch in front of Anna, and she just breaks, buckling in my hold. We end up on the floor, my back pressed a
gainst the wall and sweet Anna clutched against my chest.

  She keeps scratching over her already raw arms, and I grasp her wrists, pulling them tight over her body. “Please,” she begs.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “I need it.” She lightly thumps her forehead to my chest. “I can’t do this. One line,” she cries.

  “No.” I take her chin and force her to look at me. Her eyes are distant and unfocused, filled with the kind of horror I will never know. “Look at me,” She slowly focuses on my face. Those bright blue eyes meet mine, and fuck, she slays me without ever even knowing it. “Snap out of it. You have no choice but to do this.”

  “I remember everything.” Her brows pull together in a pained frown.

  “Choose whether you want to be a victim or a survivor, avecita.”

  Her cheek rests against my chest, tears soaking my shirt. I refuse to let her pull away for what feels like hours, until her breathing evens out and she falls asleep against me. I glance down at her and catch sight of a tattoo on her hip and another on the inside of her wrist. Numbers. Slave numbers. She’s been through three different owners, which is rare for a girl as beautiful as her. The men who buy slaves like pretty possessions, and often won’t sell them to another because money is irrelevant; it’s the ownership. They’d rather kill them when they’re done than allow another to have them.

  I hear footsteps coming down the hall before Carlos appears in the open doorway with a blanket in hand. He must have heard her. He hands it to me, and I wrap it around Anna, covering her naked body.

  “Thanks.”

  “You okay, boss?”

  I sigh and lean my head back against the wall, stretching my legs out. “Yeah.”

  “You sure?” Dark eyes search mine, seeing too much, knowing too much. We both know this isn’t the first time I’ve done this.

  “She isn’t Violet, Carlos,” I say, agitation riding me hard.