FRAGMENTED Read online

The first guest room we come upon, I open the door and usher her inside. Knowing Cameron is going to be lurking nearby, I close the door so that we have privacy. When I turn back to her, I find her standing there, licking her bottom lip as her eyes grow heated. Her gaze runs over me with interest as she apparently likes what she sees.

  “I want you to sleep off whatever it is that your…manager gave you. We’ll talk in the morning,” I say slowly and distinctly so that there’s no confusion.

  Some of the glassiness in her eyes fades as a hint of panic takes hold. “No, I need that money.” She quickly closes the distance between us, and before I can process the move, she’s presses her lips to mine as she wraps her arms around my neck. Her lips are soft, and her warm, velvety tongue dances along the seam of my lips as she urges me to open. I’m only human, and I find myself letting her deepen the kiss. Her barely clad body presses against me, curving into mine as her tongue dances with mine. I haven’t felt this intense of an attraction for a woman in a long-damned time. The kiss deepens, and I growl into her mouth with appreciation. When I feel her hand cupping my dick through my jeans, I yank my mouth from hers.

  This isn’t her.

  It’s the fucking drug.

  I reach up and disengage her hands from my neck. Carefully, I bring her wrists down to her sides and release her. “No sex,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re getting your money, I promise. Just sleep tonight, and in the morning, you’ll walk out of here with everything I promised.”

  She looks utterly confused as she reaches for me, but I dodge her hand. “But we...”

  She associates money with sex, and my chest tightens over how she’s been living. I don’t know her, but there’s just something about her that triggers something inside me. I sigh and yank out my wallet, pulling out all the cash I have. I don’t know how much I brought tonight, but there’s still a thick pile of hundreds, fifties, and of course, ones. I hold all the cash out to her. “Here. My word is good.”

  Her eyes drop to the bills, and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepts the cash before looking up at me doubtfully. “You…want me to sleep?” she asks with a hint of disappointment.

  “Yes. Alone. In that bed,” I say, nodding at it.

  She glances at the bed, her expression unreadable.

  “No one will bother you; I promise. We’ll talk in the morning, but until then, just stay in here. Take a bath if you want, relax, sleep.”

  She turns back to me, and though she still has that glassy look in her eyes now that her panic has subsided, she seems to be comprehending what I’m saying. Slowly, she nods.

  “There’s a bathrobe in the connecting bathroom. You can slip that on,” I inform her. Then, I quickly leave the room before she can turn her attention back to her craving for sex. I’m hoping that she’ll change and just drop into bed without becoming too suspicious of the evening’s events.

  As soon as I step into the hallway and close the door, Cameron is right there. “What the hell have you done?” he demands.

  I just give him a look and begin walking away. Out of the two handlers, Cameron annoys me the most. Griffin is the silent type while Cameron is more vocal. I don’t like being questioned, and this man doesn’t know when to quit.

  “She can’t stay here,” Cameron says, staying close on my heels as we make our way down the hall.

  “She needs the night to clear her head,” I inform, refusing to give him details of her situation.

  “Nathan’s going to flip over this.”

  “He loses his shit over everything anyway.” We turn a corner, and I head for the stairs that lead up to the second level.

  “Damn it, Knight—”

  I abruptly turn on him, and he comes to a sudden halt, backing up a step. He might like to voice his opinion, but he knows when to back off physically. “She’s staying until I can find out what she’s been forced into. She’s not here for sex.”

  Cameron looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “And then what?” he demands. “This isn’t the same as bringing home a stray dog.”

  I shrug and move around him, heading up the stairs. “I’ll figure it out in the morning.”

  “What if you’re not the one who wakes up?” he pointedly asks from behind as he follows me up the stairs.

  That has me pausing.

  Shit. That might be a problem. Looks like I’m staying up all night.

  “What’s so special about this woman?” Cameron persists.

  I begin up the stairs once more. “Hell if I know,” I say truthfully.

  “But yet you felt the need to bring her home?” Cameron asks dryly.

  This conversation is over, so I ignore him as I reach the second floor.

  “You know how fucked up that is, right?”

  I turn and give him a feral smile. “You’re asking me?”

  “Right,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Touch her or allow her to leave, and you’ll find yourself receiving disability checks for many years to come,” I feel the need to threaten. I wouldn’t put it past him to try getting rid of her behind my back.

  Cameron’s eyes narrow with a hint of challenge.

  “Piss off any one of us and Brick comes out,” I remind.

  His mouth tightens.

  Knowing he has no other option than to deal with my demands, I taunt, “Don’t want to play with Brick?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I release a snort. “It still amazes me that you all think Nathan runs this show,” I say before I walk away.

  TWO

  Elena

  The first thing I become aware of is the intense glow behind my closed eyelids. Slowly, I open my eyes and immediately flinch. Why is there so much light? Even with the curtains open, there shouldn’t be this much sunlight filtering into the small room I share with four other women.

  Something’s not right.

  Not to mention I’m chilled to the bone. I pull the blankets closer around my body and shiver while seeking warmth. Blankets? I’m accustomed to threadbare sheets.

  My eyelids fly open, and I squint as I force myself to look around. I’m definitely not back at the house with my roommates. As my vision slowly adjusts, my eyes widen as I take in the wall made entirely of plated glass located directly across from the bed that I’m lying on. The sun is shining brightly as I take in the view of Los Angeles down below in the distance. The sight is stunning and certainly unexpected. I don’t know where I am, but apparently, I’m somewhere up in the hills.

  Feeling a bit sluggish, I sit up and scan the unfamiliar room. It’s luxurious but simple, and I can’t recall ever seeing such unblemished white walls. Besides the king-sized bed I’m on, there’s a matching gray lounger facing the magnificent view with a small table beside it. My attention shifts to the nightstand beside the bed, and I spy a wad of bills placed beside the lamp.

  The sight of the cash brings a thickness to my throat as I try to swallow around it. This lifestyle I’ve found myself entangled in should no longer surprise me, but I still yearn for the life my mother had wanted for me. She’d be so disappointed if she could see where I’d ended up.

  Tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her sparkling eyes and warm smile. No matter the situation, she’d always found a way to remain positive.

  I swiftly pull myself together and mentally shove aside the tears that want to break free. Now isn’t the time to dwell upon the past. I need to sort out what happened last night and what I might be facing this morning.

  Last night, is one distorted memory after another, and they’re just tiny little flickers. I recall being requested for a ‘private’ dance, and I hadn’t wanted to. My stomach had been hurting all evening, but Tom, the manager of the club, hadn’t been willing to let me pass on the client. He’d forced my mouth open, giving me something that had immediately dissolved upon contact with my tongue. Anger rises deep within me, and I struggle to recall bits and pieces of what
happened next.

  I think I danced for a man, but I can’t summon his face or anything more. In my mind, I see myself leaving the club and climbing into an unfamiliar car. I blink and look around uneasily.

  Two thousand dollars.

  My eyebrows snap downwards as the sum echoes in my head. Had I been promised two thousand to leave with him? I glance at the cash on bedside table. That’s definitely not two grand, but it’s certainly more than I make in a month. Most of my money goes to the club and Mike, our pimp.

  Pain burns a hole in my chest as shame threatens to overcome me. I have a pimp. I’m not sure how much lower I can possibly sink, but I fear that I’m about to find out.

  As I struggle to calm the dark turmoil surging within me, I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale. First thing’s first; I need to sort out my current situation. I’m also becoming aware of the fact that I’m still wearing my outfit from last night, including the stiletto boots. Feeling confused, I ease the blankets aside and stare at myself. A plush robe encases my arms, but the sash has unraveled and the fabric has fallen open. Everything is still on my body. Had I not had sex?

  My eyes swing to the money beside the lamp. I’m utterly bewildered over how I’d ended up here and why I’m still dressed. It’s as if I hadn’t been touched last night, but I know that can’t be right.

  My heart plummets.

  What if I’d passed out and hadn’t earned the money yet? That means I still have to perform…

  Deep breath, I tell myself as I inhale slowly.

  Panicking isn’t going to accomplish anything. I just need to find out where I am and who bought me for the night. If I can just get through the next few hours, I can go back to the house, curl up on my cot, and try to sleep away the morning’s mess.

  Mind made up, I tuck away all the uncertainty and shame. Then, I pull myself together and blow out a breath. I can handle this.

  Careful to avoid snagging the bedding with the heels of my boots, I ease off the mattress and rise to my feet. I’m still chilled and find myself reluctant to part with the robe. I think I’ll wear it just a little longer. After wrapping it around myself, I scan the room once more.

  Where’s the man that had bought my services?

  There are two doors leading out of the room. After quickly stashing the cash in the robe’s pocket, I cross the glossy, blonde hardwood floor. The heels on my boots click loudly against the flooring’s surface as I approach one of the doors.

  I give it a brief knock and brace myself.

  Silence reaches my ears.

  Curious, I reach for the handle and open the door. When I peek in, the lights automatically flicker on. It’s a bathroom. A very nice one with a large oval tub that beckons to me. I can’t remember the last time I’d had a bath, let alone a shower that wasn’t cold. I bet the tub would be heavenly to soak in.

  I quickly close the door to the bathroom.

  Fantasies are nothing more than a dream that’s never going to happen. I learned a long time ago to focus on the present and only the present. With a frown, I cross the room to the other door. Where’s the client?

  This door leads into a hall, and I cautiously look around as I leave the bedroom behind. The walls are white, the flooring a pale shiny gray. Every so often is a large, gothic themed painting that appears out of place in such an airy, light atmosphere. I’m not sure I understand the dark theme against such bright starkness.

  One of the paintings catches my eye, and I find myself lingering for a moment as I gaze at the darkened landscape. It looks lonely. Tree branches reach out from a naked tree as if they’re clawing desperately at the sky while a tall gate with spikes guards a cemetery. The only word that comes to mind is desolation. Oddly enough, I feel a sense of kinship with the painting before I shake it off and continue walking.

  The heels on my stilettos are pointy, so I gingerly make my way down the hall.

  Everything is so quiet.

  Eventually, I come upon a large room, and I stand there as I take it in. Whomever lives here enjoys modern simplicity, and I find that I admire their taste. The room has white walls like the other rooms, and gray flooring. An expansive, dark gray area rug occupies the center of the room while matching sofas are artistically situated upon it. A long, rectangular glass coffee table is stationed between the sofas, and there’s a chess board positioned on it and a few elegant but simple candles.

  A mini bar is nestled in the far corner with white, brick walls separating it from the open-concept of the room. On the furthest wall is a flat screen TV, and directly below, a digital fireplace spans the entire bottom of the wall. Like the guest room I’d just vacated, one wall is complete glass, and it overlooks a patio and luxurious pool. Beyond that is another stunning view of the hills and city below.

  This place is very impressive.

  Still searching for the man that brought me here, I exit the room and wander down the opposite hall. I hear movement coming from around the corner, and I slowly make my way towards it.

  The hall opens into a kitchen. The blonde, hardwood flooring is back, and the room is sizable with dark gray, marble accents. A long, island counter spans nearly the extent of the kitchen while appliances can be seen against the wall.

  What gains my attention is the man behind the island. He’s calmly slicing vegetables with a big knife. When he looks up and notices me, I find myself frozen where I stand.

  The sight of such an attractive man is unexpected.

  His hair is dark, nearly black, and dark eyebrows hover over eyes that look hazel or brown. His face is angular with chiseled cheek bones, and a faint shadow of whiskers line his jaw. He’s wearing a dark tee shirt that shows off broad shoulders and a muscular chest. As I study him, I estimate his age to be late twenties.

  A blur of black suddenly bounds at me, and I release a yelp as something collides with my legs. For a moment, I find myself tottering on my heels until I steady myself. A black lab greets me, tail wagging fiercely as pale blue eyes meet mine. A long, pink tongue hangs out of its mouth as the dog waits for my attention.

  A soft laugh escapes me as I squat down and rub the dog’s ears. I wasn’t expecting such a greeting, and it’s eased some of the tension that had been building within me.

  The dog pushes into me with his body, licking my face.

  “That’s Blue,” a masculine voice says.

  The reminder that there’s a stranger in the room causes my smile to fade, and the dog is forgotten as I rise to my feet.

  The man releases a sharp whistle. “Blue, out,” he orders. The dog automatically scampers off and out of sight.

  I stand there awkwardly, clutching the robe to my body as I try to sort out what to do next.

  “Hungry?” the man asks as he turns his attention back to slicing the vegetables.

  Not sure if he’s speaking to me, I look around but see no one else. “Um…a little,” I say truthfully. I can’t remember the last time I ate.

  “Sit,” he orders, nodding to the chairs on the opposite side of the island.

  This is an odd situation that I’ve found myself in, and I cautiously cross the room and ease onto a chair. I watch as he turns and carries the cutting board to the sizzling pan on the stove. As he adds the vegetables to whatever he’s making, I study him further.

  His back is broad, and he looks to be very fit. Jeans cling to his lower body, and I note that he’s wearing black boots. His demeanor is very casual, and he looks out of place in such lavish surroundings. As my gaze lingers, I acknowledge just how good looking the man is. There’s also a hardness about him, and the way he moves and speaks warns me that he’s probably a very straightforward guy who speaks his mind.

  “I only cook scrambled eggs,” he warns over his shoulder, not looking at me.

  “I…wasn’t expecting a meal.”

  He doesn’t reply as he stirs the pan’s contents. A mouthwatering aroma has filled the kitchen, and my stomach rumbles lowly. My face warms, and I hope that he hadn’t
heard it.

  He moves away from the pan and reaches into one of the above cupboards, pulling out two, black plates. As he picks up the pan and begins divvying up the eggs and vegetables, I become incredibly wary. Clients don’t usually make me breakfast.

  I wish I knew his agenda.

  A second later, he sets a plate in front of me and a glass of water. He nods at the glass. “Drink all of it. You’re probably a little dehydrated from whatever was put in your system last night.”

  I look at him with surprise.

  He gives me a hard look. “I could hear you and your manager outside the private room.”

  Oh. I drop my gaze and pick up the fork as I study the eggs he’d made. They’re scrambled with bits of green peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes and other things that I can’t identify. It smells fabulous, so I dig my fork in and take a tentative bite. Oh my God. This is so good.

  “Do you remember last night?” he asks, cutting into my thoughts.

  I finish chewing and meet his dark brown gaze. He has intense eyes, their color reminding me of espresso. His irises are so dark that they appear to be black, but there’s no mistaking the hint of red undertone. “Some,” I admit, acknowledging his question.

  “Then you know you willingly came with me, correct?” he asks levelly.

  I remain silent. He’s being nice right now, but I’m betting he wants something that I’m not going to want to give. Men who enjoy being violent so they can live out some sick fantasy are disgusting to me. Is that what he’s leading up to? I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “Answer me,” he commands as his eyes seem to bore right through me.

  I set my fork down and glare. “You want sex, I get it. That’s the entire reason I’m here after all.”

  The amusement that flickers across his handsome features is unexpected, and I feel thrown off balance. My head hurts, and I just want to go back to the house and hole up in my room. False kindness always stings, and I am low on patience.

  I ease off the chair and give him a look. “Let’s drop the false pretenses.” After untying the robe, I drop it and stand there in the faux leather lingerie. “Where do you want to do this and how do you want it?” I ask bluntly.