Nearly Broken (36 page)

“Don’t
beat yourself up, love. You did the smart thing tonight.” I
felt him rise beside me. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have
to go get Veronica ready for the auction.”

Grabbing the red dress
that he’d stripped me of and tossed to the floor, he added,
“I’m going to lock you in. With all these buyers in the
house tonight, you’d be smart to remain quiet.” With
that, he left, and I heard electronic beeping outside the door.

My chest hurt from the
number of heaves my body jerked over the next half hour. I cried for
Veronica, whose poor mind was so far gone she didn’t even know
what was happening, that her world was about to get far worse. And I
did that to her.

I cried for Nick. Who
wanted nothing more than to protect me. Who could have died
protecting me for all I knew. It was Nick I tried to imagine beneath
me as I was forced to ride him, so he could prove that our sex was
my
choice, and that
I
had all the power. He even kept his hands
laced behind his head in the beginning so it could better sink in
that I was screwing him and not the other way around. But my lack of
enthusiasm didn’t offer him enough aggression, so he soon
flipped our positions. And the way he kissed and licked me so
greedily, made it extremely difficult to pretend it was Nick.

But I had no power,
other than determining my fate. And it sickened me that I threw
Veronica under the bus to ensure my own survival, to make certain I
wouldn’t have to endure the life I’d suffered before. I
could only pray she truly had no comprehension of what was happening
to her. But nothing would ever replace the horrible fact that I
knew
someone would always be using her, and that there was nothing I could
do about it. We were both being used in some way; completely
helpless, hopeless.

I don’t know how
much time passed until he came back, hours maybe, but the room was
pitch black before he did. I continued to lie there once the lamp was
on, even though my body ached to move about, afraid the tiniest
movement would remind him I was there.

As if he’d ever
forget.

He began unbuttoning
his shirt, directing his gaze towards me. “Sorry it took so
long. Turns out Veronica is quite the people person. She was more
than happy to go about the room getting to know each of the buyers
intimately before the auction. She created quite the bidding war.”

My hands smothered my
face in shame, as I rolled my body tightly inward.
I did that. I
did that to her.

He disappeared into
the bathroom, leaving me to wallow in agony as he took his shower. My
head rolled his way when I heard footsteps.
Oh, no.
He was
coming for me, not even a towel around his waist, a body so curved
and ripped I wouldn’t have even a tenth of his strength.

“Ready to
celebrate our newfound relationship?” he asked, rolling me on
my back and climbing on top of me right there on the rug. He didn’t
even unbind the leather around my wrists. He just pushed my gown
above my head, the straps removed from my arms but still trapped by
the chains. I had no choice but to lie there and let him do as he
pleased, knowing that if he didn’t beat me to death, he had the
power to sell me off like he did Veronica. I’d forever be
forced to bend to his will.

He’d tamed me.
Just like he said he could. And it only took him three days. No
drugs. No knife to my throat. Just persuasion, fear of something
worse.

My fucking body
betrayed me again. As much as my mind opposed what was happening, it
didn’t keep my body from becoming aroused in a twisted manner
and allowing him to slide easily inside me. I wasn’t able to
control all the tears, and a few trickled out as he used me for the
second and third time that night. But he didn’t care, saying
that with time, I wouldn’t find the need to cry anymore, that I
would come to enjoy our time together. He merely licked the tears
away, his eyes boring hard onto mine, silently declaring
you’re
mine now
.

A piercing alarm
snapped me out of sleep. It was completely dark when my hands clamped
over my ears. Feet hit the floor hard, needing just three steps to
reach the cabinet and throw open the doors. The collection of TV
screens lit up the room with a white glow, his body blocking my view
of what they showed.

He bent over and
quickly tapped something on the keyboard. The alarm disarmed, the
master door slammed and locked automatically, and a portion of the
wall slid open. His shadowed face turned to me. “Sorry, love.
But I’ll need a little time before we can continue this affair.
But don’t worry. I’ll bring you home again.” He
snatched a bag inside the armoire and ducked through the wall bare
ass naked before it closed behind him.

What the hell just
happened?

My eyes returned to
the screens, but they were filled with black and white static now.
The house was suddenly filled with loud thumping and shouts I
couldn’t understand. Scared and chained to the floor, I scooted
back until I hit the wall, watching the far end of the room,
following the sounds until they stopped outside the door.

Ten seconds of
silence, then a
boom
shook me where I sat. My head still
vibrating, my eyes tried to peek open, but all I could make out were
the streams of flashlights searching the room and the white letters
that spelled SWAT across the uniforms of the black figures scattering
about.

Sleep hardly came to me
anymore. Not only because of the horrors stored within the dark
recesses of my mind, but of the darkness that hid the world outside
my window at night.

I’ll bring
you home again.

Zander Malone. That
was his name. I only learned it after I was rescued. The wall he fled
through was reinforced with steel, so by the time SWAT was able to
get through, Zander was long gone from the tunnel that led to a
garage off property. It was no wonder he didn’t drag me along
or knock me out and carry me. I only would’ve slowed him down,
possibly gotten him caught.

I’ll bring
you home again.

One of the police
officers in L.A. had infiltrated that part of their organization, and
was invited to the auction. He was one of the buyers, one of the men
that allowed Veronica to sexually please him before sending in the
squad to intercept her new owner and rescue her. Though I understood
he couldn’t break cover, I was still repulsed and couldn’t
have him anywhere near me while I was being questioned afterwards.

I also told the
detectives and their investigation into that slave ring to go screw
themselves. I had tried to help and all it got me was stolen and
raped again, in a way more mentally terrifying than ever before. I’m
sure they got what they needed raiding Zander’s home, and if
not, there was nothing I could tell them about his role in that
operation. Best I could tell he was just a buyer, sometimes a seller,
though he clearly knew others like him willing to share services to
improve their girls. I had the proof of that on my body, my burns
still pale pink.

And because that
officer took his sweet time organizing the raid, Zander got to use me
three times that night, got to put his lips on every square inch of
my body as if he had the right. Sometimes I still felt the things he
did to me, like little aftershocks, my body twitching as my
traumatized mind tried to make sense of it all, constantly trying to
rewind the footage, to see where my decision-making had gone wrong.
It constantly debated that if I had said
no
and gone to
auction, that I would’ve been the one rescued in-route, and I
never would’ve allowed him to touch me that way. But I was a
fool to think that because of what happened to Veronica on the
auction floor. Who was to say I wouldn’t have been forced to
treat all the men before the auction as well? That could’ve
been far more traumatizing.

There was no win-lose
in this situation, just lose-lose. Veronica and I both lost the
moment we were taken. I just didn’t have the damaged mind to
protect me from the nightmares that plagued me every time I shut my
eyes. So I rarely slept, until I passed out from utter exhaustion.
Only then was I able to sleep without dreaming.

Forty-one days
since I was rescued, since Zander Malone promised to find me again.
How long did I have? A week? Two months? Half a year?

For hours now, I’d
been lying on my side, waiting for the sun to rise, slowly lighting
the forest that surrounded my new home. I couldn’t stay in that
apartment any longer. Not after what happened. Though the one-story
home I now resided in outside of Seattle was probably less safe than
that building, I could never forget that Nick was shot there. Because
of me. Even with the security personnel, the cameras and extra effort
they put in to make that place safe, it was no safer than anywhere
else. My best option was to just hide.

Head down. Stay off
the radar.

The house was put in
someone else’s name, a name no one outside my family knew
about, as were all the bills, erasing the paper trail to my name. All
because I didn’t trust the police anymore. Not after Zander
told me how they were filled with corrupt individuals aiding their
organization. I wondered exactly how much money someone made at my
expense. How much did he or she make to strip me of my freedom? To
sell my sexuality without a care in the world? Exactly how much money
was enough to make them erase the guilt of damning my life?

I tried closing my
eyes once more and rolled away from the morning light. My hand
fanning out, the bed was cold and empty beside me. I scooched to the
middle of the king size mattress, until I settled against warm flesh.
My presence made him shift, and my eyes opened, wondering if I woke
him up. Nick lay on his back beside me, his head turned away,
seemingly asleep. My gaze fell upon his chest and the red scar that
was forming on the area that continued to heal.

Now we were both
imperfect.

Had the bullet hit
just three centimeters downward, he wouldn’t be with me here
today. I reached out to trace the scar over his heart. Funny how such
a small entry wound could be so detrimental. Such a tiny piece of
metal.

He slept better than I
did these days, but only because I lied. I was gone for about a week,
and he was unconscious for most of it, going in and out of surgery,
barely hanging on to life. When I was rescued and taken home to my
family, I feared the worst, to be taken to a grave to say my goodbye.
But Nick was still alive and finally gaining consciousness again. And
once I made it to his bedside and he saw that I was alright, his
guilt relented and his will to survive increased.

So I didn’t dare
tell the truth. I told him the same thing I told the police. That
Zander had taken me hostage, but only intended to clean me up and
sell me off for profit. I told them Veronica was his chosen piece of
ass, and suggested that they probably rescued me right before he
intended to begin with me. I said that because I didn’t think
Nick could take thinking he had failed to protect me twice. He’d
be forever damaged inside.

Like me.

But he knew that
horrible truth now. I had managed to keep the rapes secret up until
last night, when we tried to have sex for the first time since being
ripped apart, but I broke down crying as soon as he pushed inside me.
I tried to fight the horrible feelings and memories rising inside me,
tried to tell myself that it was Nick who was trying to love me. But
I couldn’t stop picturing Zander on top of me, couldn’t
keep from crying or pushing Nick off of me. But I didn’t really
have to push, as my crying was enough for him to pull back out, fear
overtaking his eyes as they settled above to connect with mine, and
that unspoken truth came to light.

Embarrassed and
terrified, I had wiggled free of his entrapment, laying with my back
to him, so close to the edge there wasn’t an inch to spare. He
hadn’t said anything. I hadn’t said anything. But he laid
behind me, close enough to keep my back warm, yet far enough away
that nothing touched. It had to have killed him, but he knew he had
to let me be, allowing me to sob, allowing my body to shake, with
nothing but my own arms to wrap me up for comfort. Because he feared
I couldn’t handle his touch at that moment. And he was probably
right.