Chapter 34
SPENCER
A sher falls asleep reluctantly. His slouched position can’t be comfortable, but I highly doubt he’ll complain. I had to reassure him over and over that I would be fine and that he needed the rest. His skin is ghostly white from the blood loss from his gunshot wound.
I should sleep too, but I can’t relax my body enough to slide into unconsciousness. My face hurts from the two hits, so I can’t imagine how much pain Asher must be in.
Before falling asleep, Asher said I need to play along with whatever Anthony says and does. He said I need to play into Anthony’s fantasy—that I appreciate the dead women and that I’ve been testing him to see how much he really cared. He said anything within reason will help keep us alive longer. Asher wouldn’t sleep until I promised I’d try.
I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off. Zane, Rio, and Asher said I wear my heart on my sleeve, but to ensure our survival, I will do my best.
Watching as the moon recedes from the sky and the sun rises over the horizon, I log everything I notice and commit every detail to memory. The guards rotate posts in the room three times; each new guard is a man I don’t recognize as one of the five who showed up at Clay Creations. I hear multiple footsteps and light conversation outside the window twenty-four times. Not once do I hear car horns, trains, boats, or water.
The door creaks open when the sunlight shines directly through the windows. Not very high in the sky so it’s not noon yet.
“Asher,” I shout-whisper in an attempt to wake him. We’re about three feet apart, so I’m praying a whisper is enough. “Asher.”
In steps Anthony, Pierce, and more armed men. One of them drags a limp form by the shoulder. Both Anthony and Pierce wear expensive suits like they always do.
Anthony does a quick assessment of my being, but Pierce’s eyes linger in the all the places I don’t want them to. I know I look like a mess. I’m sweaty, and I’m sure my makeup is smeared all over my face.
One man carries a bucket and walks right up to Asher, dousing him in ice cold water. Some of the droplets land on my bare arm and cause goosebumps to instantly break out across my skin. Asher wakes with a blink then leans back into the chair.
Anthony speaks first. “Good morning. I hope your stay here last night was pleasant.”
Asher’s spark is back as he sizes up each man in the room. “I hope you’re not planning on going into the hotel business because you will not get a great Yelp review from us.”
Anthony smiles. “That’s too bad. I recently purchased a small chain of hotels in Los Angeles.” His attention turns to me while Pierce’s focus hasn’t strayed. “How did you sleep, My Flower?”
“Good. Thank you.” I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry.
Anthony approaches me and squats down, so we’re face to face. He raises his hand to touch my cheek, and I flinch back. “Don’t be afraid of me. I’ve missed you so much, Flower.” He snaps his fingers and another man with a bucket sets it down next to Anthony and hands him a small towel. “Let’s clean you up a little bit. We have guests coming and a good fiancée should look presentable.”
I clench my jaw and hold back my retort about how a good fiancé doesn’t hurt their partner. Instead, I nod.
He hands his jacket to one of his men and rolls up his sleeves. On his forearm is a tattoo I know he didn’t have three years ago. I subtly spot Asher out of the corner of my eye staring in shock at Anthony.
Anthony finally notices the object of my attention but doesn’t stop cleaning my face with the wet towel. “Like it? I got it for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, Spencer. I always wanted the skull and snake, but I added the lilies for you. Spencer Lily Gray.” Anthony pauses and looks to me expectantly.
“Thank you. I love it.” My voice is hollow, but Anthony reacts like I just told him he’s the love of my life.
“I knew you would.” Satisfied with his work, he stands and puts his suit coat back on.
Asher clears his throat. “You’re Cain.” It’s not a question.
Cain. The human trafficker that Rio, Zane, and Asher have been trying to capture. Anthony is Cain?
Anthony smiles a self-satisfied smile. “Actually, Pierce and I are both Cain. I’m disappointed you and your little annoying friends couldn’t figure it out on your own.”
Asher shakes his head. “You’re a sick son of a bitch.”
Anthony strikes fast, punching Asher in the face. Asher’s head whips to the side, but he doesn’t give up. He laughs through the pain. “My, my. Someone is a little sensitive.”
The door swings open, banging against the brick wall. “Where the hell have you been?!”
The blood drains from my face. What is she doing here?
“Mom?”
“Spencer,” Asher cautions.
“Don’t speak to her!” Anthony yells at Asher.
My focus is glued to her. “Mom! How did you find me?”
Instead of listening to me, she ignores my question and stomps right over to Anthony. Her hair is perfectly curled and pinned back, and her makeup is pristine. She looks clean and put together in a beige sheath dress and black pumps. “You’ve been dodging my calls. Even Pierce won’t answer me!”
Why is she calling Anthony and Pierce? Why isn’t she trying to get to me? I need her help. I never wanted her caught in the middle, but we all need to get out of here.
“Mom! Please help me! My friend is hurt. We have to go!” But no one pays attention to me. Not even a whisper of a glance.
Anthony’s mouth crimps and his teeth grind. “Who let you in, Mariana?”
Mom’s arms wave around wildly at her outrage. “That’s not important. I want to know why you’re ignoring me! I did everything you asked. I got you her number, I gave you information about where she might be. Hell! I delivered her to you on a silver platter, and you couldn’t even keep her in line!”
Who is “she”?
Anthony doesn’t answer her but looks to the man closest to him and snaps his fingers then points at Mom. “Time to go, Mariana.” The man grips Mom’s upper arm.
“What are you doing? Get your dirty hands off me! Anthony, tell him to let me go.”
“Mom!” I plead again.
She finally turns to me. “Oh my God! Shut up! You insufferable idiot! I needed you to do one thing. One damn thing! You couldn’t give me this? You couldn’t just marry him?”
“What are you talking about?”
Looking around the room, I notice how everyone is looking at me with varying expressions ranging from pity to glee.
My voice turns timid. “Mom? What’s going on?”
“Spencer.” Asher’s voice is sympathetic.
“Don’t ‘Spencer’ me! I need to keep my mom safe. I’ve worked hard to keep everyone safe,” I snap at Asher.
Anthony speaks slowly as if speaking to a child. “The night we met, there was an auction.”
I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t an auction. It was an art show. My first art show.”
Half of Anthony’s mouth lifts. “No, Flower. It was an auction.”
My mind is spinning. It was definitely an art show.
Am I going crazy?
“Where was the auction? Was it in a different room? What was being sold?”
Anthony’s gaze turns possessive as he looks me right in the eye. “You.”
“Me?” My hands tremble.
“I bought you and your sweet virgin blood. By right, you are mine. You were bought and paid for.”
I was . . . sold?
“Mom?”
The click of her heels echo in the room as she walks right up to me. Her hands cover my wrists and tighten like a vice. “Why did you have to make this so hard? You’ve always been such a stupid fucking brat.”
My heart shatters right there on the bitter concrete floor. My muscles go weak. It’s like an anesthetic is injected into every vein in my body as numbness takes over my limbs. But Mom doesn’t wait for me to adjust.
“Your father didn’t want anything to do with you, but at least he paid up. Then you were about to turn eighteen, and the nice cash flow was going to stop. I had to think of something. I met Anthony at a gala, and when he suggested an auction, I thought it was too good to be true. If I would have known he just wanted you for himself, I would’ve handed you right over. But he got one look at you, and he wanted you for more than one night. He wanted forever, so we came up with an arrangement.”
My panting is the only sound in the room. Her face is the only thing in focus in my vision. Everything and everyone else is a blur.
The deafening sound of my brain splintering takes over my consciousness like nails on a chalkboard. The jagged pieces left behind can’t be glued back together. The shards are barbed, tearing apart each happy childhood memory. Each nurturing moment.
She. Sold. Me.
“I gave Anthony every bit of information I could while you were off whoring yourself out to those lowlifes.”
“My phone number?” My voice is empty.
“I had to. The only way Anthony would pay me was if I gave him anything useful.”
“You sold me? Your child?”
She grits her teeth and spits more vile words my way. “You are nothing to me.” She stands and runs her hands down her dress to straighten out the wrinkles. She addresses Anthony formally. “You have what you want. I expect my payments to resume as usual.”
He nods with a smile, like she gave him water while he was dying of dehydration. She willingly turns for the door and exits the room so easily, leaving me behind, in the hands of a madman.
The person who was hauled in earlier groans on the floor. The dark hair, painted nails, and pink heels scratch at a memory in my mind. But I’m unable to connect the dots until she rolls over.
Her face is covered in black and blue, her lip is cracked and bleeding, and her leg rests to her side at an odd angle.
“Iris?”
The Devils of New York story continues in Veiled Vengeance .