AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She might not but I will.” My body freezes when Connor’s voice echoes across the room and my heart immediately falls through the floor. No, no, no. We’ve played right into their hands. A cold chill runs down my spine as I realize I’ve been used as bait to lure Dmitri straight into a trap.
3
ELANEE
One week ago…
It’s late in the evening and I’m wearing a hoodie ensuring anyone who might see me at the very least won’t recognize me. No one knows I’m back in New York and I have every intention of keeping it that way. It’s better for everyone and I’d come to that isolating resolve a long time ago.
Music is pounding outside the cheap-looking establishment in the outer edges of the city. I hate coming here with every fiber of my being. It’s the second time I’ve made my appearance, dutifully bound to do so once every week. If not, they’ll come looking for me instead.
A different bouncer from last time sizes me up the moment I approach the entrance. I don’t speak, just push back the cuff of my hoodie and raise the rose gold bracelet with the intricate placement of amethysts. It’s the mark recognized by anyone in his employment. Recognizing it, the bouncer opens the door.
I hate the things I see when I walk into this place, including the crimes and misfortune. It acts as a constant reminder that if I don’t do as I’m told, I could be worse off. And I will do everything within me to prevent that, even by proving myself to them. It’s kept me alive for this long.
Smoke billows throughout the room and the bar on the left is dimly lit. My throat tightens when I momentarily see four women submissively sitting to the side in filthy underwear, bruising and track marks evident before averting my gaze.
I quickly learned to keep my gaze to the floor when entering this place. Despite my defiance the first time I came here, I’d only been broken down because of it. I might be kept around because of their boss’s personal interest, but what others see as ‘special treatment’ they’ll twist to despise and torment me for it.
“Ahh and here I was hoping you’d be late!” with his thick Russian accent Slater declares Slater propped up on a chair with his legs hanging over the armchair, as if it were his personal throne. It makes me uneasy realizing I’m not dealing with Connor tonight.
Slater is already acting like a damn king and it’s evident the periodic promotion has gone to his head. Coming in at six foot four, all brawn no brain, green hair shaved at the side and brown eyes that are almost black, it only adds to his intimidation.
I briefly glance around, searching for Connor. Slater’s a wild card, one despite my “favoritism” I’d rather not get on the bad side of. My protection only went so far.
As I scan the room, a small wave of relief washes over me when I spot Lyle, standing silently behind Slater in the corner. He was in the same position last time when I was dealing with Connor. His long black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and his eyebrow piercing, glistening slightly in the dim light, give him an air of silent observation. He seems disinterested, but I know better. He's always watching, always waiting.
“Well, have you been a good girl?” Slater's voice cuts through the air, his words heavy with authority. He pushes off the chair and stops only inches away. He towers over me in size and looks down on me with disdain as if I’m no more than vermin.
“Yes.” Is all I say.
His face twists in disgust with my clipped reply. I learned early on not to respond to Slater’s theatrics. It’d only make him angrier—more excitable to inflict pain. But if I remained silent, he’d be irked by being ignored. It was a lethal balance dealing with him. Especially when I had to ensure I didn’t say any of the unfavorable things that always came to mind.
I feel a deadly glare boring into the side of my face and brief a glance into the direction of the pink-haired woman death staring me. Candy, I think her name was. Even on unfriendly terms she’s jealous of the attention he gives me. It twists a revolting nausea in my stomach to know that someone could be attracted to a man like this. She was nothing but a plaything to him. But for her… I think it was more. Not that I cared. I had to only focus on myself.
Her narrowing gaze meant little to me because I feared him more than I did her.
When my gaze lands back on Slater I realize my mistake. I’d looked away from him only briefly, but it’s enough to trigger that wild card beneath the surface. My teeth grind as I anticipate… anything.
He smiles brightly, his erratic self brightly glowing as he points to me but looks at Lyle over his shoulder.
“You know she used to be a dancer, right?” Slater laughs as if he’s letting Lyle in on some big joke. I bite my tongue. He’s baiting me, trying to provoke some kind of reaction so he can punish me for it. He clicks in front of me. “Are you going to dance, little girl?”
I knew the moment I was dropped back into New York that I was nothing but a pawn in a game. And although my day to day was sufficient enough, I was on a tight leash, my freedom a distant dream.
I hated coming here, being constantly patronized and my very real anguish and wounds on display to be laughed at.
The reminder that my freedom was stolen from me and I all I could do at best—was survive.
“I would stop patronizing her Slater. Sometimes it’s the quiet ones who bite the hardest.” Connor’s voice breaks the silence and a ripple of ease cuts through me, as best as possible.
Slater curses under his breath, his previous excitement immediately shut down. It shifts the entire energy of the room. Some of the members at the bar now look away.
“Always a boring prick,” Slater mumbles under his breath but takes a seat beside the bar and ignores Connor’s scathing gaze. He no longer seems interested in patronizing me as he ushers over Candy to sit in his lap as he begins to sort through the various drugs in his pocket.
The tension in my body ever so slightly eases as Connor adjusts his suit jacket as he takes his seat. The man looks no older than thirty with perfectly styled blonde hair and brown eyes. It surprised even me when I did my research on Connor Riley to discover that he was the youngest son to a wealthy businessman in New York. Not a man at the top of the food chain, but not one to be trifled with either. So I find it strange as to why he would risk his family reputation to be a part of the underworld and especially my keeper.
Then again, every family had their secrets. Maybe this line of business wasn’t so unusual.
