Deep (3 page)

“There you are,” she said, and the guy holding me immediately froze.

He checked her out—of course he did. She was a bombshell blonde, one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in real life. And judging from the way this guy’s jaw dropped, his too. The asshole had had no trouble hauling me up against him, but he wouldn’t touch her that way.

“Ella,” she said in a chiding tone. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I had no idea who Ella was, but I was going along with whatever game she was playing. She was one of the only people I’d seen in the past week who wasn’t manhandling me or trying to rape me.

“You know Daddy doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she added as if I knew who that was either.

It seemed to be the magic trick, though, because the guy released me. I suppose that, between her looks and confidence, it seemed like he should defer to her.

“She dropped this,” he said, picking up the black leather wallet that had fallen from my grasp.
Damn it.
I needed that money to get home, to get safe. Walking out into downtown dressed like this with no money was asking for trouble—as much trouble as I’d had in the penthouse or even worse.

“I assumed it wasn’t hers,” he added, sounding a little nervous now. Because if it was mine, and if I was rich and powerful—or at least part of a rich and powerful family—he might be screwed.

The woman sighed. “Really, Ella? Wrecking the Mercedes wasn’t good enough? Now you have to steal something? Where’d you pick that up—the hotel restaurant?”

The lobby actually, but I assumed that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Apparently we were playing some kind of wicked-stepmother game to get away from this security guard. She wasn’t even that much older than me, but I guessed that worked for the game.

I crossed my arms, playing along. “Bet Daddy didn’t even notice I was gone.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her eyes, but at least she didn’t smile and ruin the charade.

“So, you know her?” the guard asked, appearing reluctant to give me up now that he’d caught me.

The woman sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. We’re family.”

Family.
I knew she was just playing a role, the same way she’d played the sultry bisexual in the penthouse suite, but the word still pinged in my chest. I didn’t have a family. Just adoptive parents who had taken me in as a last resort, only to realize they could have a natural-born son after all. And then they were stuck with me.

Except I was supposed to be playing a role here too, and unlike the penthouse, I wasn’t planning on slugging her a second time. “You’re not my real mom,” I shouted because that sounded like something a teenager would say to her only slightly older, gorgeous stepmother.

“But you’re stuck with me, darling,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.

The man was clearly uncomfortable around feminine bickering. He shifted, almost releasing me. Almost. “Right. Well. I don’t want to get involved with a domestic dispute.”

“Oh no,” she said. “It’s too late for that. She stole something. Isn’t that like, a felony?”

Damn, she was good.

The guy opened the wallet, revealing a stack of twenties. “I don’t know. It looks like it’s all here. No harm, no foul, I say.”

I smirked, because after the hellish week I’d had, this was actually almost fun. “Guess not every old guy falls for your fake boobs.”

A horrified expression crossed her face, and she clasped her breasts. Breasts that were probably not fake. “They’re not—” She broke off with a glare, then turned to the man. “You can’t just let her go. Call the police. She needs to be locked up. She’s horrible!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, and I knew then that she had solidified our exit by insisting I get in trouble. She definitely knew how to work men to her advantage; I’d give her that much.

We’d be able to leave with no suspicion now. If this story ever got passed on, it would be told about two rich brats the security guard would like to fuck. But considering he would probably pocket the money in the wallet, the story most likely wouldn’t get told at all.

As if confirming that, he added, “It’s hotel policy not to involve the authorities unless there’s been property damage, and since I’ve recovered the wallet, I’m afraid I’m going to have to release her into your custody.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m telling Daddy. He’ll cut you off.”

I almost stuck out my tongue. “Bite me,
Mother.
”

Apparently that was our cue to leave, because she grabbed my arm and we hightailed it into a hallway leading away from the kitchen. She glanced back, and the guy must have been leaving us alone, because we made it into a hallway.

“You little brat,” she said more mildly—and not entirely part of the charade. “I can’t believe you hit me. I was helping you.”

Helping? I snorted. “Yeah, helping me whore myself. No thanks.”

She seemed startled, a little taken aback. I wondered if I had actually hurt her feelings. I would have said sorry, but she spoke first. “Jail won’t be any better for you, sweetheart. Not if Henri’s pissed, and he will be once he hears you bailed on the VIPs.”

I had no idea who Henri was, but unlike the fictitious Daddy, it seemed Henri was a real person who was calling the shots. Was he one of the men who had dragged me out of the club, one of the men who’d taunted me when I was chained to the pipes in the bathroom? Or was he someone higher up, the true person my father had accrued all that gambling debt to—the one who had wanted fifty dollars a hole.

Either way, he wasn’t a man I wanted to meet again.

After a moment of walking in silence, she asked, “Are you at least going to tell me your name now?”

It’s Claire. Please help me. Someone help me, want me, love me. I want to be part of a family.

I want to feel safe.

I didn’t say any of that. Instead I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, struggling for some of the confidence she seemed to wear with ease. “I’m Polly-fucking-anna,” I said instead. “Pleased to meet you.”

She sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m calling you Ella.”

Great, she had named me. Like a pet.

I pulled my arm away. “Whatever you want.”

“Sweetheart, if you’d said that twenty minutes ago, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

If I’d said that twenty minutes ago, I’d have been torn apart by a group of stockbrokers.

“What’s keeping you?” I wasn’t sure I would have ever recovered from that. I shivered, chilled just by the possibility. “Leave already. I don’t give a shit.”

“Come on,” she said with a thin thread of patience. “We need to get you out of here before Henri shows up.”

I winced at the mention of that name again. Henri. How could I trust her? If she worked for him, she would have incentive to rein me in. Maybe she would even get a bonus. “I’m not going with you.”

“We don’t have time for this,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She seemed sincere, but in the past week I had learned not to trust anything or anyone. “Why, so you can take me to him?”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Then she shook her head, something world-weary and devastated in her expression. “The truth is, I’ve been thinking of getting out myself. Well, now I’m out. Maybe you did me a favor, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” Not after what I’d seen in that penthouse. And I seriously doubted
getting out
would be as simple as walking away. “And isn’t he going to be angry at you too?”

“‘Favor’ may have been too strong a word,” she admitted. “I’m going to try to keep you safe.”

“Try?” It didn’t inspire much confidence. Then again it was the best offer I’d gotten in a while. Even my adoptive mother and father couldn’t have cared too much about what happened to me—if they had paid their debt, I would have been free.

She met my eyes, her gaze steady and sure. “I can promise you this: you’ll be as safe as I am. Now, how the hell do we get out of here?”

There was a maze of doors, all with little black plastic rectangles beside them that required security clearance to get through. At least I hadn’t dropped the security card I’d swiped, unlike the wallet. I held it up. “Got it covered.”

Chapter Four

H
ER NAME WAS
Shelly. And she had transportation in the form of a nice Mercedes.

Apparently working for Henri paid well.

There was a lightness in my chest I did my best to ignore. I couldn’t count on her. She was a stranger to me. She could just as easily turn on me as help me.

Even with her help, my odds weren’t looking too good. Helping me had made her boss angry.
Henri.
She took us to a friend of hers—or maybe he was more than a friend. And he was a cop, so he could help. Until we found out that the cops were looking for us too. Apparently Henri had dirty cops on his payroll, and it wouldn’t be safe for us there—not even in police custody.

It wouldn’t be safe for us anywhere.

That was how we ended up at the door of a mansion.

The high gates and tension in Shelly made my heart skip. “I don’t want to go here.”

“Sorry to say, we’re running low on options. What, you don’t like rich people?” She glanced at me, and I read the truth in her eyes. Whoever owned this mansion was dangerous. Even more dangerous than the man after us. That was the only way we’d be safe.

Safe had become a relative term. “I don’t like men,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Men aren’t for liking, Ella.”

“What are they for, then? Fucking?” My stomach turned over at the memory of the men in that hotel room. Of the men in that empty house, coming in to use the bathroom while I was chained to the pipes. Of all men, everywhere. “For money?”

“At least I provide a service when I take their money.”

So she thought I’d gotten paid for being there, that I’d made a deal and then backed out. It wasn’t the truth, but I didn’t bother correcting her. It didn’t matter how she thought I’d ended up there. All that mattered was that I was out now. And I would never go back.

We stopped at a metal pad outside the wrought-iron gate, a little green light the only illumination besides the moon. She typed in a number, and the gate rattled open. Whoever this was, Shelly knew him, and knew him well. She pulled the car into the circular drive as the gate closed behind us.

The engine popped under the hood as it cooled. Shelly wiped her palms on her dress.

She’d had nothing but confidence since I met her. Now she looked scared.

“You seem…nervous,” I told her, which was a charitable description.

Her lips pressed together. She said nothing, which only made me nervous too.

I glanced at the forbidding facade of the mansion. “I mean, why wouldn’t you come here first—a loaded guy like this in your address book?” Not just a man she knew. One she knew well enough to have a security code. “Unless he’s really bad.”

“He’s my friend,” she said, her voice somehow small. “It’s just that…well, he might be upset with me.”

Shit. “What’d you do?”

“I sold him out.” She sighed, resigned. “Almost got him killed.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know much about powerful criminals, but I would have thought that was a death sentence for her. She seemed to know it too, her expression chillingly blank.

We were both tense as we approached the front door. A man in a smart vest and slacks answered the door. His clothes looked expensive enough, his eyes jaded enough, but he didn’t quite exude power. And definitely not anger. He seemed more bored than anything.

“Philip’s not here,” he said, and I couldn’t help a quiet sigh of relief. I didn’t want to meet this man—a man who could inspire fear in a woman as self-assured as Shelly.

Except I could feel Shelly’s panic—and I knew that we had nowhere else to go.

“But you’re free to wait here until he returns.”

*

W
E WAITED IN
some kind of living room, the oversize molding and furniture making me feel small. Shelly kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa, falling asleep within minutes. Apparently it had been a bad night for her.

I was right there with her, dark memories following me into sleep, crowding my nightmares.

I dreamed of men’s leering faces and cruel words. I dreamed of rough hands and lingering pain. I dreamed of a warm weight on top of me—and I fought it. Just like before, I kicked and punched, determined to fight my way out.

“Shhh,” came a voice I didn’t recognize. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

My vision slowly cleared from sleep, blurry shapes sharpening into a man. He wore a white dress shirt, slightly rumpled but clearly well fit on his powerful frame. His gaze took in everything—from my tangled hair to my messy makeup to the bruises on my wrists.

And he was holding a blanket.

That had been the weight I dreamed about. He wasn’t going to hurt me.

This must be the man we came to see. The man who owned this mansion. The man more dangerous than the one who hunted us now.

“You’re Philip.”

He gave me a small smile. “And you are?”

I shrugged, only half-awake. “She calls me Ella.”

He glanced at Shelly, who was asleep on the couch. “Why did she bring you here?”

Would he kick us out? If he did, I’d have nowhere to go. Nowhere safe. I’d be lost. But even more than myself, I was worried for Shelly. She had betrayed him, she said. Sold him out. He might kill her—and she’d risked so much for me already.

“Please don’t hurt her,” I whispered. “She saved me.”

A slight frown crossed his handsome face. “Why would you say that?”

Oh shit, what if he didn’t know what she’d done? I couldn’t tell him. “No reason.”

Then he did something that surprised me. He laughed softly. “All right, Ella. I’m not going to hurt her. Even if she is fucking a cop.”

My throat was dry. “Please.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. He reached for me, and I flinched. It didn’t stop him. He ran a finger down my cheek, barely a whisper, maybe not even touching, just moving the air. “So soft. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?”

The air felt too thin. I couldn’t breathe enough in. “I’m not.”