Rock Bottom (19 page)

Chapter Forty

“Son of a bitch.” Elijah whirled away from the desk, looking far too close to hitting someone for the interior of a police station. “You’re trying to coerce her. You can’t do this.”

I sat back trying to piece the jigsaw puzzle in front of me together. Obviously Elijah saw something I didn’t. Whatever this argument was about, it centered around me, and I seemed to be the only not involved in it.

“What is it you want me to do, exactly?”

Elijah turned on me. “Don’t even
think
about it.”

“About what?”

“Miss Stark . . . Rylie.” Tanner’s voice went from argumentative to reserved concern so fast there wasn’t a chance I was buying it. “We need your help. There are others, girls just like you out there. Some who didn’t choose this, who were kidnapped or smuggled into the country—”

“Rylie didn’t
choose
this,” Elijah seethed beside me, but I was more interested in what Tanner had to say. Just because his concern for those girls was total B.S., it didn’t mean mine was.

“Cross is keeping them against their will. Abusing them. Selling them. Forcing them to do deplorable things.” I understood that all too well. "If what you’ve told us is true . . .
you
could get close enough to make a difference. If you could learn where he’s keeping the girls, or weapons, the money,
anything,
we could use it to nail him to the wall and take apart his entire operation. We know it’s all there, we just need enough to get us in the door.”

“And when he kills her for working with you?” Elijah pulled me out of my chair and into the corner of the room for some semblance of privacy, positioning himself in front of me so that his face was all I could see. “Don’t even think about it, Rylie. Listen to what they’re saying, this guy runs an entire criminal enterprise for chrissake. If he finds out you’re working with the cops, he will
kill
you.”

Unfortunately, I
was
listening to exactly that, and what I heard was if we tried to run, he would find us and he would kill us.
Us.
It wasn’t just Rafe we had to worry about anymore. Damien had money and connections we couldn’t dream of. We’d never be safe. Elijah was right, the only way we could be free was to see them thrown in prison. It just wasn’t going to be as easy as we’d hoped.

“Elijah . . .”

“Rylie, don’t. They’re trying to frighten and guilt you into doing this. Into risking your life. Just to score them some big bust and probably a promotion. You don’t have to do this.”

“You heard what he said.”

Elijah’s jaw turned to granite and he looked over his shoulder to scowl at the two detectives who watched us with disinterest. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”

Tanner glanced at Fawn who shrugged, and they both up and left without a word. The minute the door shut behind them, Elijah launched into his campaign.

“Rylie, please just stop and think for a minute.”

“I
am
thinking
,
Elijah. You heard everything I said . . . everything I’ve done . . .”

“No. Rafe—”

“—took advantage of me. I know that. I
know
he did. But
I
let him. He didn’t put a gun to my head. He didn’t tie me down and shove that needle in my arm. He didn’t
force
me to do any of it.” Rafe may have pointed me down the path to hell and held my hand along the way, but it was my own two feet that carried me there. “
I’m
the one that ran out on my parents—ran out on
you
—and went to him. I let myself get so wrapped up in my stupid teen angst drama that I let this happen. I had other options. Lots of other options. I
chose
this. I may not have known where it would lead at the time, and if I did, I might have chosen differently, but the fact remains . . . I
did
choose this.
I
caused this mess. Now
I
have to find a way to make it right.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Taking my hand, Elijah led me back to the chairs where I sat. He drew his up right in front of me so that our knees intertwined. “Yes, going to Rafe in the first place was a mistake, but can’t you see that going back to him now is
another
mistake? You’re talking about making the same bad decision all over again.”

“You’re right.” I nodded. I could see his point. It was obvious. But there was one very important difference this time around. “It is the same bad decision. But for a
different
reason. Last time, my motivations were purely selfish. The only thing I cared about was getting what
I
wanted. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. I—”

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do. I left you, Elijah. You needed me and I—”

“I need you
now
.”

I shut my eyes and absorbed that blow. He wasn’t playing fair and he knew it. “Elijah . . . there are other girls out there. I can—”

“I feel for those girls. I do, Rylie. But they are not
your
responsibility.”

I swallowed hard and drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly through barely parted lips. I couldn’t fall apart right now. I needed to make a rational argument if I was going to have any hope of changing his mind. Tears wouldn’t cut it. “Every time I think about what I’ve done . . . every time I look at myself in the mirror . . . I hate what I see, Elijah.”

“Princess—”

“No.” I sliced my hand through the air between us, silencing him. “I
should
hate myself. I
despise
myself. What I’ve done, who I’ve hurt, what I’ve let myself become. I don’t know how to live with that. It’s eating me alive. Making me sick.”

“Rylie.” Elijah cupped my face, his thumbs making slow passes across my cheeks to wipe away the tears that fell despite my best efforts. “Princess, please. Don’t.”

Tears were beginning to pool in his eyes and I couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the thought of causing him any more pain.

“I’m so sorry.” Throwing myself into his arms, I buried my face in his neck and felt his body shudder beneath me. “This is my chance to make things right. To find a way to live with myself. To move on. Elijah . . . I have to do this. I have to help those girls. Maybe then I can find a way to forgive myself.”

Warm tears dampened my shoulder where Elijah’s face was hidden from me. Neither of us spoke, but I knew what they meant. He hated it. Hated himself for allowing it. Probably hated me for asking him to. But he would. He would give me this because I needed it.

Because he loved me.

Chapter Forty-one

Elijah’s hands sat heavy on my shoulders. He hadn’t taken them off me from the moment the detectives came back into the room: resting on my knee, my arm, my back, as they walked us through the plan, the backups that would be in place, and different examples of the types of evidence I’d be looking for once I got inside. Now they clung, hard and heavy, fingers digging almost painfully into my skin, because this was it.

This was goodbye.

I’d been away from Rafe for far too long as it was, and I knew there would be hell to pay for that. Elijah knew it, too.

“Don’t go.” The plea had fallen from his lips so many times over the past few hours that I was beginning to suspect the words came without thought.

“Elijah.” My fingers traced his full lips and he turned his cheek into my palm. This was something
I
had
to do. I was terrified and disgusted and heartbroken over it, but I’d convinced myself it was the only way to earn my redemption. Elijah didn’t need to be redeemed. There was no reason he should have to go through it with me. “I know this isn’t fair to you. You came looking for the girl you knew, but I’m not her anymore. She doesn’t exist anymore. I understand if you don’t want to stick around and—”

“
No
.” Elijah’s ferocity silenced me. “The girl I know—the girl I
love—
is still in here.” His hand slid over my shoulder and down my chest until it settled over my heart. “She’s just a little lost. If this is what you need to do for her to find her way back to me . . . you do it. Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

Molars ground together, forcing back another round of tears I didn’t have time for.

“I can’t think about what you’re going to do because it’ll kill me, but while you’re doing it . . .” His eyes turned heavenward and he blinked hard. “Know that I love you. Know it in here.” He patted his hand against my chest. “Don’t ever doubt it. Not for one second. No matter what, I love you, Rylie.”

If that was the truth, I’d wear it like armor. Then there was nothing in the world that could hurt me. The tears didn’t give one shit about my narrow timeline. They fell so fast that Elijah couldn’t wipe them all away, but he didn’t seem to mind. Drawing me close, he pressed his lips to mine and held me tight. The kiss was tinged with salt and desperation, but I never wanted it to end. Soon I’d have to pull away and leave him, not really knowing when I’d see him again. I didn’t want that moment to come.

But as we both knew it would, it did.

***

The instant I crossed the threshold, Rafe pounced. He must have been nearby because I didn’t even see him coming, just felt the stinging pain of a fist tearing out patches of my hair and the hard slap of the tiled floor. A scream was ripped from me as the pain in my scalp intensified. Grabbing his wrist, tangled in my long locks, I scrambled to keep up on one hand and knees as he dragged me along behind him. I tumbled down the two steps into the living room and found myself sprawled across the hardwood before I could blink.

That’s when I caught my first glimpse of Rafe. Angry isn’t a powerful enough word for what I saw. Livid. Enraged.
Murderous
. There was no doubt in my mind, in that moment, that he wanted to kill me.

“Please. Rafe, I—” I tried to sit up, but Rafe leaned over me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt, and kicked me back down to the floor. The wisp of material I’d changed back into before returning tore away from my body and dangled from his grasp.

Too afraid to risk speaking again, I curled into myself and whimpered. He was going to do whatever he was going to do. Words weren’t going to change that. I knew this was coming when I agreed to the detectives’ plan. Now I just had to survive it.

A long moment passed where nothing happened. It was hard to imagine that even the slightest bit of naivety could still linger in me, but it must have because I actually managed to convince myself that maybe that was it. Maybe he was done with me.

Risking a peek from beneath my arm, I caught his eye. Big mistake. They flared before the room filled with the sound of his roar. He didn’t speak. Not words. He
roared
, setting loose the beast inside of him. That was when I knew I’d made a terrible mistake coming back.

But it was too late.

I struggled, but I was no match for his size and fury. The shirt I’d been wearing wound its way around my throat. I stared up into cold, flat eyes as my airway was cut off and I fought for breath. Wrapping my hands around his, I clawed at his skin. I kicked frantically against the floor, the couch, anything I could reach. I bucked and squirmed—anything to dislodge him. But he was too strong. And I was too weak.

The edges of my vision began to blur and darken. My fingers went from digging to uselessly clinging. My mouth hung open, as I begged silently for mercy.

Not now. Not when I’ve finally found a reason to live again. I can’t die now. Not like this.

Chapter Forty-two

Just when I thought it was over—that I’d failed yet again, one final time—air rushed back into my lungs. Coughing and sputtering, I clutched at my tender neck and sucked in breath after greedy breath.

“Where the hell were you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a rasp.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me. You think you can walk out on me? Come and go as you please? I own you, Riley. You
belong
to me. You do as I say.”

“I’m sorry.” The words shredded my throat on their way out. “I . . . I got scared.”

“You got scared?” He was taunting me, but fiery rage still burned in his eyes.

“Of D-Damien. I don’t know him. I d-don’t want to go to him.” I could sell the lie mostly because it was true. But also because I knew it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to him what I wanted.

“Well that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it? Who do you belong to, Rylie?”

I cringed against the thought of admitting it out loud.

“
Who. Do you. Belong to?”
Spittle flew in my face as I watched his turn a bright, terrifying red.

“You! I belong t-to you.”

“And who tells you what you will and will not do? Who tells you where you will and will not go? Who decides when you eat? When you sleep? When you use the goddamn toilet?”

“You.”

“That’s right. And did I tell you to take off and fucking disappear on me?”

“No.”

“No. I did not.”

“I’m s-sorry, Rafe. I just got scared. That’s all. I-I came back, though. I’m here now.”

“Damn right you are.” His eyes scanned my barely clad body and the scorching flames turned to something else. Something hungrier. “Get your ass up. Move.”

He stood and I scrambled to my feet in my bra and miniskirt, tears dripping from the end of my chin. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m sorry.”

“You most certainly are. But now you’re going to prove it. You’re gonna show me
exactly
how sorry you are.” Stepping closer, his hands roughly caged my face, bracing it so he could lick away my tears. “Go.”

With a harsh shove, I fell away from him into the side of the couch. I knew where he wanted me. I knew I didn’t have a choice. And so I staggered toward the open door of his bedroom.

He followed. “Damien may be renting your ass, but until the full amount is in my hand, this will remind you who it is you belong to. Who made you. Who owns you.”

A knock to the back of my head sent me flopping onto the unmade bed. It stank of sweat and pot and Rafe. A nauseating combination, but I didn’t have much time to worry about my gag reflex. Grabbing ahold of my ankle, Rafe flipped me over and climbed on, tearing away my remaining clothes as he went, oblivious to the tears that continued to fall.

I shut my eyes and tried to float away. I tried to escape as I always did. Without the drugs it was useless. I was trapped.

Desperate for something to cling to, I tried to picture Elijah’s face, but my mind couldn’t reconcile it with the brutal pounding my body was being forced to endure.

***

Surveying my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I clung to the only silver lining I could find. Despite how sore I felt everywhere, there was only one visible bruise that needed to be covered. After the third application, I abandoned the concealer and dug through the dresser for my one and only lacy scarf. Not exactly hooker-wear, but I could find a way to make it work. Besides, like Rafe said, guys like Damien Cross wanted class, not call-girls.

It did the trick nicely, and I could only hope the deep purple markings ringing my throat would fade quickly.

“Fifteen minutes!” Rafe had been shouting a countdown at me every five minutes for the past half-hour. My time was almost up and I still hadn’t dressed for delivery.

Rechecking the curls in my hair and the rest of my makeup, I nodded to myself. From the neck up, I was ready. Now for the tricky part. Standing in front of my open closet, I surveyed the contents in dismay. Short skirts, fishnet stockings, tank tops, halter tops, midriffs . . . Nothing even remotely classy.

Sighing, I decided to start from the bottom up. I had a pair of peep-toe stilettoes that hurt like a bitch, but were fancy enough to work. Rafe hadn’t provided me with a bag or told me to pack anything so I could only assume Damien would be providing my clothing from here on out. At least I had that much to look forward to. All I needed to do was piece together
one
presentable outfit.

There was a black skirt that covered slightly more than my ass. Rafe had told me to hem it shorter, but my academic success hadn’t extended to home economics. I laid it on the bed and moved to the dresser in search of a more appropriate top. The pale blue transparent lace chemise looked slutty as hell over nothing more than a black bra, but if I combined it with one of the black camis . . . Not exactly formalwear, but it would do the trick.

A peek into the living room assured me Rafe was occupied as I nudged the door shut and made one last stop at my dresser. I had nothing of my own. Nothing to cling to, draw comfort from. Nothing except for a single five-by-seven photograph. So many times I’d considered tearing it to shreds, throwing it in the fire, but I’d never had the strength to go through with it. Instead, I’d taped it to the bottom of my underwear drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.

I peeled it loose and laid it on the dresser top. Elijah’s handsome face smiled up at me—a sight I was going to need to get through whatever came next.

“Five fucking minutes! Your ass had better be ready to go.”

I took a deep breath and folded the picture in half, tucking it away inside my clutch along with a little gift from the detectives before burying them with enough cosmetics to repel any man. I looked the part. Now I just had to figure out how not to walk like a ninety-year-old grandma. The shoes only served to exacerbate the soreness in my lower body and my head ached something fierce, but I’d survived. I’d made it this far and I was moving on, taking the next step along the path that would lead me to freedom.
To
Elijah
. 

“Let’s go.”

Rafe spent the entirety of the car ride reiterating his expectations. I had a job to do—impress Damien Cross. Enough so that he chose to keep me. For once, Rafe’s goals lined up perfectly with my own, so I listened attentively and nodded through his instructions.

We were met at the door to the building by the same concierge who escorted us to Mr. Cross’ private elevator when we’d attended his party. The elevator to his penthouse suite might have been private, but the young man in the collared uniform seemed to have little interest in keeping the passcode that way. I watched his lean fingers jab at the buttons right in front of us—7631—and stored that little tidbit away for later. I had a notion it would come in handy.

Damien’s suite was on the sixty-fifth floor, an assent that took several long, tense minutes to complete. Rafe didn’t speak. No last minute demands. No threats. Not even a half-assed goodbye. Only silence. I wondered if that had something to do with the small black dome in the corner of the ceiling.

Is Damien watching us right now? What is he thinking? What is he planning?

Sweat broke out on my palms and tickled the back of my neck. This was it. There was no turning back.

An all-too-innocent ding announced our arrival. I don’t know what I expected. The tolling of some ominous gong, maybe? The doors slid open and we stepped out into a grand foyer. It wasn’t overly gaudy, but you could practically taste the money on the few carefully chosen items. An enormous painting of some landscape I’d never see for myself. A marble table with an empty antique vase perched on top. A backless velvet bench positioned below a bay window, overlooking the park.

I’d seen it all before, of course, but I was seeing it through new eyes. Last time, it was the just fancy décor of a rich man throwing a party for his rich friends. Now, each item held potential clues to the man I was about to
belong
to.

He had good taste. Not too flashy, but obviously proud of his success and not afraid to flaunt it. Clearly, he took care of his belongings—not a scratch, dent, or mote of dust to be seen.
That bodes well for me, doesn’t it?
Unless someone took care of all of this for him. Then I was back to square one.

Rafe steered me to the left with a firm grip on my wrist that I almost appreciated. My knees were knocking so hard I wasn’t sure I could have covered the distance on my own. A muffled chime sounded from inside the thick wooden door and when it swung open, I expected to see the frighteningly handsome face I remembered from the night of the party. What I was met with was . . . empty space.

About a foot and a half south of where my gaze was fixed stood a petite woman with straight black hair tied up in a neat bun. Wrinkles lined her mouth and eyes, but they didn’t look like they’d been caused by laughter. She was dressed in black slacks and a white button down with a black collar that looked unmistakably like a uniform.

“We’re here to see Mr. Cross,” Rafe announced.

The woman’s puckered lips took on an even more sour expression as her dark eyes traveled over me from head to toe.

“Señor Cross said give you this.” She handed an envelope to Rafe, which he accepted greedily, grinning ear-to-ear.

“Alright. She’s all yours.” He placed my wrist in her hand as though it was a leash, and she tugged me inside, shutting the door on Rafe.

As glad as I was to see him go, part of me quailed at the loss of the only familiar face I had left.