Keep: Romanian Mob Chronicles (2 page)

F
awn

I
followed the man
, or more accurately, was pulled behind him, fear of toppling off my shoes making me keep pace. He opened the opulent doors of David’s home, and the cool breeze against my mostly bare skin made me shiver even harder than the fear that snaked down my spine.

My gaze was centered on the broad expanse of his back, the tight T-shirt that pulled across his shoulders leaving no question of the powerful physique underneath. I kept my eyes there, the unreality of the situation making it impossible for me to look elsewhere, not even as I heard David behind us screaming at the man to stop.

An instant later, I felt the familiar wetness of David’s palm around my wrist, and then heard the snap of one of my heels after it got caught between two of the stones that lined the driveway.

“Argh!” I let out a stifled scream as I fell, losing my balance when David’s grip on one arm pulled me back even as the man moved inexorably forward.

I braced myself as best I could with no free hands, tried to ready myself for the shock of hitting what I knew from experience were hard stones.

But impact never came.

One second I was falling, and the next I was crushed against a warm chest that felt as solid as the stones beneath my feet. A thick arm around my waist held me, not allowing me to move when I tried to back away. I looked up the strong column of his neck to lips thinned in a cruel scowl and up farther until I met ice-green eyes. The chill I saw there made me back up again, but the arm around my waist still gave no quarter.

And then the man looked away, and I followed his gaze to where it rested on my arm. Without a word, David released me and the loss of his touch pushed me closer to the man. I didn’t try to move, had realized that doing so was futile now and instead looked at David’s face.

When I saw the rage that contorted his features, everything in me screamed that I should go to him, try to calm him or deal with the consequences. But that wasn’t an option. The man’s grip was tight, unbreakable, and though it didn’t hurt, I had about as much chance of breaking it as I did of predicting what David might do to me if I didn’t.

So yet again, I was stuck, torn between these two men, a bystander in my own life, wondering what the outcome would be. I knew what David could do, and though the man was unknown, I didn’t doubt that he was formidable. And so I stood, waiting, the ever-stretching moment thick with tension as the men eyed each other.

And then I was moving, the man practically carrying me the rest of the way down the drive. Before I knew it, I was in the passenger side of a luxury car, and before I could even think to jump out, the man had rounded the vehicle, slid behind the steering wheel, and taken off.

Before the gates were completely open, the man drove out and sped down the road. It hit me then that I was being driven away from a house that had been my own personal hell for so long that I never thought I’d get out of it. I’d fantasized about leaving that place so many times that I’d had to force myself to stop. The reality of waking up to David and whatever torture he had planned, the knowledge that I would never be free made the fantasy far more costly than the moments of happiness it gave me.

But those seconds of watching that house of horrors get smaller and smaller and smaller were the greatest gift I’d ever been given.

And when the house was gone completely, the horizon only dark skies and the reddish glow of taillights over asphalt, I turned forward and prepared myself to face what might become my new nightmare.

F
awn

I
sat
stock-still as the car purred down the road, smoothly guided by the man’s huge hands on the wheel. My fingers had been locked around the door’s handle since he’d closed it, and as discreetly as I could, I tightened my hold.

“That would be a painful way to die. And I wouldn’t stop to come back for you or tell anyone you were there.”

His deep voice sliced through the heavy silence of the car’s interior, his words, his gravelly rasp sending shards of ice through my veins. David had threatened to push me out of the car before, but I’d known it was all bluster. He preferred to work in private, wouldn’t risk someone seeing, or leave the possibility I might live. For all the pain he caused, the moment-by-moment suffering that being in his presence caused, I knew David, understood him. But this man…

I knew nothing of him, nothing of what he might do, and that was most terrifying of all. I sat up straighter, not sure why, knowing I had no place to go but needing to do something, anything, to try and tame the fear that had my nerves on edge.

I kept my gaze forward, uncertain how he’d even seen me when he’d seemed so focused on the road. But the how didn’t matter. I was on alert now, knew this man didn’t miss anything.

It was strange—not being watched, because God knew David did that—but being
seen
. I almost felt invisible around David, tried to keep myself that way especially when I sensed he was in the mood to inflict some of his petty tortures. But this man was aware, paying attention even when he seemed not to be. I’d have to stay on guard.

Silence again reigned, and though the vehicle was large, his presence was oppressive, almost overbearing. Not daring to risk looking at him directly, I peeped at him through the thick fans of my false lashes, certain he knew what I was doing, but unable to stop myself.

I glimpsed his huge hands, which still gripped the steering wheel tight, let my gaze move up bulging arms that were covered with inky-dark tattoos. Another surreptitious glance revealed a harsh face, one set in an expression that could be taken for anger, but that I suspected was just the natural set of his features, hoped so anyway.

And to my surprise and horror, through the fear, there was a stirring of something, my mind conjuring what it might be like to see that face set in some other expression.

I tossed the thought away and averted my eyes, chiding myself for even letting such a thought in before turning my attention back to my predicament. Each revolution of the wheels moved me farther from David, closer to an uncertain future. And as we moved, I cursed him, his pride, his stupidity.

He loved that, parading me around in front of his “clients,” his own personal whore to be gawked at, but to never, ever be touched. If I’d been braver, or stupider, I’d have told him what he risked—what he made me risk. David thought himself important, one who wouldn’t be crossed, but he hadn’t seen, or hadn’t cared to see, how they’d looked at me, hadn’t seen what I had seen, that threat of brutality I had come to recognize on sight.

Deep down, I’d known it was only a matter of time until this happened, until one of the awful men David dealt with decided to turn the tables on him. My fears had been realized. And I was left to deal with the consequences.

Far too late, I’d realized what David did, what type of men his clients were, and this man was no different. Maybe even worse. David had displayed a level of obsequiousness that was extreme for even him, which told me that this man, physically imposing as he was, had more than size to back him. He had money. Power. Probably both.

And I was trapped with him.

David had done things, things I tried to convince myself I’d one day forget, but he’d never shared me. That he’d offered me to this man meant something significant.

And that this man had taken me without giving David a second look told me something else, told me that despite David’s connections, his money, this man felt no hesitation about crossing him, which meant he’d have none about hurting me.

My heart skidded harder, and I wanted to shrink away, curl into a ball and hide.

But there was nowhere to go, so I sat silent, tense, anticipation flooding through me. I sneaked another glance at him, looking for any shift in his completely unreadable features. But there was nothing. So I gripped the door handle tighter and rode with this stranger into the unknown.

F
awn

T
he man stopped
and pulled to the side of the road. He got out and stood next to the closed door, his huge form blocking the entire window. I listened to the sound of spinning gravel, heard a car door close, and then a shadowed figure leaned casually against the new vehicle.

They spoke in hushed tones, the language between them familiar, though I couldn’t quite place it. There was no urgency in their speech, no particular menace, but my mind filled with all manner of horrors.

Was he selling me? Arranging something with his friends? I knew that people like me, disposable possessions, faced such fates with depressing regularity, and my throat tightened as I considered the possibilities, what I might do to get out of this.

Then he and the other man embraced and he folded his body back into the car and sped off.

I cursed myself, my slowness and my stupidity again leaving me at his mercy. Maybe I could have run away, found a way out. But yet again I’d failed, and yet again I was stuck.

The man drove, not looking at me, not speaking to me, seeming to be unaware of my presence altogether, though I knew that wasn’t the case. It had been a very long time since I prayed, so long that I couldn’t remember when I last had, but I did so now, my fingers still tight on the door handle as I exalted God, any god, for help, prayed I would make it through this.

When he stopped the car again, he got out and walked around it, his steps all the more terrifying because of his grace. Without a word, he opened the door, stared down at me expectantly, and after a deep breath, I stood and then followed him, hobbling along on my broken heel.

I hadn’t known what I expected, was desperate for any hint of where we were, and I glanced around avidly, looking for any clue. But it was too dark for me to tell much about my surroundings, quiet, so still it seemed like he and I were the only souls on the planet.

And so it went. I followed as best I could across what felt like a smooth driveway until he stopped in front of the structure that I presumed was his home. After opening a metal door, he looked inside, silently ordering me to enter. I did and he came in behind me.

And when I heard the door close, the
click
of a lock, I felt the eerie sensation my fate had been sealed.

The man still hadn’t spoken, and I watched him as he entered the room, grateful when he flipped on one small light that didn’t illuminate the place but at least gave me some sense of where I was. It appeared to be someone’s dwelling, though there was nothing personal about it.

I let my eyes touch everything except the huge bed that took up one corner of the space. Silly really, because people like him, dangerous ones, didn’t need beds to inflict their damage. But better to not even give him the reminder.

He went through a door, and I heard water turn on.

I stayed still, but when the faucet clicked off, something inside me bounded to action, and I moved back as quickly as my heels would allow, arm outstretched as I groped for the door handle.

“You don’t want to do that. It will make a loud noise. And then my men will come and kill you.”

His voice was ice cold, the truth of his words clear. And the calm with which he spoke, the absolute certainty I was completely at his mercy, had my heart pounding so hard all other sound was drowned out.

He walked toward me, the black T-shirt that he wore doing more to emphasize his massive chest than it did to cover it.

He reached out a hand. “Take that off,” he said, gesturing toward my face.

“Oh…” I said and then trailed off.

“Oh” had been the best I could come up with. Fucking great.

He stuck his hand out again, and I grabbed the wet cloth he held, not wanting to anger him.

I started to wipe away the thick coat of makeup, peeled off the false eyelashes. And despite myself, I felt relief. I hated the makeup, but like the heels, the dress, David required it, and I did what I was told or faced the consequences.

After I wiped my face as thoroughly as I could, I lifted newly lightened eyelids and looked up at him. He stared at me, assessing, his height and heavily muscled body making me feel insubstantial, something I was not accustomed to.

“That too,” he said, nodding at the long tendrils of hair that trailed over my breasts and down my back.

“Okay,” I said, hoping my voice was calm and placating, not wanting to set him off.

Like the makeup, I had no love for the wig, so I loosened it and then tossed it aside with no qualms, the brush of cool air against my scalp a relief. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how I looked, almost me above the neck, below still purely David’s creation.

He stared, glass-shard eyes revealing nothing as he took in every inch of me.

The confusing tumble of emotions that ripped through me left me almost dizzy. His gaze was mysterious but not shy, and I sensed no threat in it at the moment, not that I trusted my evaluations. But still, it felt like he was seeing me. The real me. Something no one had seen for years.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought.

Then he turned abruptly, and I jumped ever so slightly as if awoken from a dream.

He went to the small dresser, removed a black T-shirt that seemed identical to the one he wore, and walked back over to me, arm extended.

“Wear this.”

I looked at the garment, the huge tattooed hand that held it, and then those green eyes, wondering where this was headed. His eyes still revealed nothing, but so far he hadn’t harmed me, had been almost gentlemanly. But I knew well how that could change in an instant and hoped my next question wasn’t a turning point.

“Is there a bathroom?” I asked timidly as I took the shirt.

He inclined his head to the left, the room where he’d gone before, and I toddled toward it, my heels clicking loud and uneven on the floor. I couldn’t tell whether it was concrete or marble in the darkness of the night, but each little
click-clack
seemed louder than the one before it, though all were still drowned out by the pounding of my heart. I felt his eyes on me as I walked, tried to keep steady, not show the fear that coursed through me.

When I went into the bathroom, I took a chance on closing the door. And then I locked it. Standing in complete blackness, my heart pounding, I imagined he’d come rushing in, rip the door open as he raged about me doing something like that without permission, about me keeping secrets, trying to hide things from him. But I heard nothing and as I stood in the darkness for long moments, my heart again slowed.

Groping at the wall, I searched until I found a light switch, lowering my lids when I flicked it on to combat the harsh glow.

Then I set about my task, pulled off the dress and then stepped out of the heels and garter David had insisted I wear. I kept the bra on, though the flimsy material showed my nipples, and did little to support the weight of my breasts, something that was apparent when I pulled the black T-shirt over my head.

It pulled snug over my chest, then bunched at my waist, pulling tight over my hips and thighs. I tried to tell myself that it was no more revealing than that dress, but it was a lie. The man was much taller than me, but my curves shortened the shirt and put what little of my body had been left to the imagination completely out in the open.

I tugged at the hem, trying to make the shirt as long as I could, and then I flicked off the light and exited the bathroom.

It occurred to me then that maybe I should have stayed in the bathroom for as long as I could. But as I’d already proven more times than I could count, I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box.

The floor was cold against my feet, and I padded softly, not sure of my destination but moving anyway.

I didn’t see the man, so I looked around the large, nearly empty room, praying he wouldn’t jump out at me.

“Water?” he asked.

My gaze flew toward the sound, and I found him leaning against the countertop. His body was still coiled with alertness, but he seemed different, not relaxed but not tense either. But he was still entirely unreadable.

“No, thank you,” I managed to choke out.

He nodded and then walked toward the bed. I kept my gaze on his feet, afraid to look anywhere else.

“Come,” he said.

I didn’t dare disobey him, hoped that maybe if I were good, this wouldn’t hurt so much. That maybe he wouldn’t beat me.

So heart stuttering, I followed, walked until I reached the edge of that huge bed I had tried to avoid.

He inclined his head again, his intention again clear, and on a deep breath, I climbed in, got as close to the wall as I possibly could and waited.

I shrieked low in my throat when he climbed into the bed next to me, but if he had any reaction, he didn’t show it.

He lay down, taking up much of the space, the heat of his body rolling into me, his large form spread out on the bed but still dangerous despite his seemingly relaxed state.

“Cum te cheamă?”
he said.

“Uhh…” I started.

“What is your name?” he asked without looking at me.

“Fawn,” I said in a soft whisper. “Fawn Michelle.”

“
Imi pare bine,
Fawn Michelle. Try not to kill me while I sleep, eh?”

Then he turned off the small lamp next to the bed, and the room was shrouded in darkness.

F
awn

I jolted awake
when he moved, and looked around the room disoriented. I hadn’t let myself believe last night had been a dream, but I was surprised I’d managed to fall asleep. I had curled in the farthest corner as tight as I could, determined to watch him all night. I’d held out for a while too, the question of why he’d made me change, take off the wig and makeup providing a little puzzle for me to wonder over. But soon, to my surprise, I’d fallen asleep and stayed that way for hours it seemed.

He stood, more intimidating this morning than he had been last night. But the light did give me a chance to see him better, and what I saw made my already dry throat squeeze tighter. His stature was still imposing, the tattoos had the same menace, but his eyes were softer somehow this morning, icy but not threatening, and the raspy shadow of his beard, a few shades darker than his surprisingly soft-looking brown hair had the duel effect of making him more threatening and more human.

And as reckless as it was crazy, I felt a spark of desire low in my belly. It had been so long since I’d felt such a thing, I hadn’t thought I ever would again, but the tight thrum that sparked inside me was undeniable.

“W-what’s your name?” I asked, my voice breaking from disuse and the dryness of my throat.

Rather than respond, he turned and walked toward the kitchen area of the large room. With efficient, graceful movements, he retrieved a glass, filled it with water and came back to me, glass extended.

“Drink,” he said.

Rising up on my knees, I reached for the glass and then caught the almost imperceptibly quick glance he cast at my legs. Belatedly, I remembered that I was clad in a not nearly long enough T-shirt and that my thighs were completely exposed. I froze, torn between the desire to cover myself and the desire not to upset him.

But he did the most unexpected thing—he looked back into my eyes. It was a simple gesture, hardly notable, but it allayed my fears more than anything else could have. He didn’t leer at me, hadn’t touched me, and that made me want to trust him.

The first drops of cool water against my tongue were refreshing, and I drank eagerly until the water was gone.

“More?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

I shook my head.

“He’s your husband?” he asked.

I shook my head again. “N-no.”

“Do you want to go back?” he asked.

“No.” I spoke emphatically this time, knowing that no matter what, I couldn’t go back there.

He stood aside, gestured toward the front door. “You are free to go,” he said.

As modestly as I could, I crawled out of the bed and stood, drawing as close to him as I dared. Then I looked toward the door, then back at him, my heart pounding harder than it had before.

He was offering a way out, the thing I had dreamed of, but my feet were rooted to the floor. I looked between him and the door again, sickening dread filling my stomach.

David would take me back. He always found me and took me back. But maybe here…

I met the man’s gaze head-on.

“I want to stay.”