Justice For Abby (2 page)

Her heart ramped up to slamming, and her eyes darted about as the driver—Victor, apparently—got out. Seconds later her door opened. “Out.” Victor grabbed her arm and yanked her from her seat, pulling her forward. “Walk.”

Abby tripped several times as she hurried along the uneven surface, listening to the crickets singing and children playing far in the distance. A car wooshed by somewhere beyond. The sounds reminded her of a quiet neighborhood on an early summer evening.

“Go up steps.” Victor yanked on her arm.

She used her free hand to catch herself on the concrete before she fell.

“You idiot. Go up three.”

She counted three steps and was brought inside, catching glimpses of glossy pine floors and gorgeous oriental rugs through the opening at the bottom of her makeshift mask. The soles of her sandals slapped against the solid wood as she kept her free hand out in front of her, afraid she would crash into something as she struggled to keep up with Victor’s pace. Another door opened, and musty air wafted into the bag.

“Go down steps. Twelve.”

She pressed her palm to the cool stone at her left, steadying herself as she was pulled down the stairs, counting as she went.

The black bag was ripped from her head, along with several strands of her hair. Abby blinked against the bold light of the naked bulbs hanging from the low ceiling. She glanced around the dingy space in shock as her gaze traveled from girl to girl—six young teens, dirty, bruised, and malnourished, staring up at her through bland eyes while they sat or lay on filthy mattresses on the dirt floor. “What—”

“In.” Victor shoved Abby into a small, windowless room, slamming the door, locking her in with a rusty scrape of something sliding against the heavy metal barrier.

She walked on shaky legs to the wooden chair in the corner and collapsed to the uncomfortable seat, clutching her arms around her waist, shivering as she bit hard on her bottom lip while tears rained down her cheeks. Where
was
she? What was this place? She shuddered, remembering six sets of listless eyes holding hers. Nothing good was happening here.

She covered her face with trembling hands and gave into her sobs, relieving the worst of her dread, wishing for nothing more than to be home with Lex and Livy. Thinking of her sister and niece, she forced away her tears, taking several deep breaths of stale air. If she wanted to see her family again she needed to pull herself together. She couldn’t get herself out of this—whatever
this
was—if she didn’t think. There had to be a way out. Her eyes darted around the barely lit space, searching for a weapon, another exit, anything.

The door opened, and she rushed to her feet as a tall, well-built man stood haloed in the beam of light from the room beyond. Abby blinked as he stepped forward. “Renzo?” She bolted from the corner and fell against her friend’s firm chest as a wave or relief flooded her. “Oh, thank god.”

His strong arms wrapped around her.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what’s going on. I need help. Can you help me?”

“What happened?” He eased her back some, but she refused to release him from her grip.

“My family—we were on our way home from Virginia Beach. We stopped at a rest area, and two men grabbed me and brought me here.”

“You were with your sister and niece?”

“Yes, Alexa and Olivia. I think they’re okay, but I need to call and make sure. Will you get me out of here?”

“Of course.”

She could hardly believe she was leaving. “Thank you. Thank you.” She hugged Renzo again as tears of gratitude flowed free. “I knew this had to be some sort of mistake.”

“Come on, let’s get you home.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked with her to the door. “Oh, wait.” He stopped.

“What?”

“I can’t let you go.”

“What—what do you mean?” She freed herself from his grip, studying Renzo’s handsome Italian features and dark brown eyes laughing into hers as they had many times while they’d talked and joked at numerous fashion events. But something was different. Renzo was suddenly altogether different.

“You’ll be staying here until we send you somewhere else.” He shrugged, as if what he said was no big deal.

“Renzo, what are you talking about? I can’t stay here. I don’t want to stay here. My sister will be worried sick.” Her voice started to rise, as did her fear.

He gripped her shoulders and yanked her forward. “Watch your tone.”

“I’m stuck in some basement against my will with several girls who look like they’re a breath away from death. Don’t tell me to watch my tone.”

He grabbed her hair close to the scalp, jerking her head back. “Speak to me like that again. I dare you.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath through her teeth. Who was this man? Who was this stranger? “Renzo, I have to go. I have job interviews—”

“You have a new career. You can thank me later.” He leaned forward, closing several inches of distance, pressing his lips to hers.

She moved back as far as his hand in her hair would allow. “Renzo, stop.”

“Don’t play shy, Abby. I’ve been waiting for a taste of you for the last five months.” He released and pulled her closer as he slid his hand down her back and over her ass. “
Fuck
, yeah. You feel just like I thought you would—tight, firm. You’re fucking hot, Abby. Those dark blue eyes, all that long black hair, your body.” He ground himself against her as he backed her to the wall. “Do you know what hot girls want?”

She pushed at his chest as he held her in place. “Stop, Renzo.”

“You didn’t answer the question, so I will.” He caught her full bottom lip between his teeth. “You want to be fucked.” He pulled her magenta top from her shorts and slipped his hand down the front of her denim bottoms, groaning. “Lace underwear.”

She gulped air into her lungs as she attempted to squirm away, her terror growing as she stood pinned and helpless. “Don’t. Don’t. I thought we were friends.”

He stopped his exploration just shy of invading her with his greedy fingers, laughing. “You thought we were friends?” He shook his head. “No, we’re definitely not friends. You’re a bitch, and that’s how you’ll be treated.” He brought his mouth to her neck, sucking hard, making her gasp with the sharp pain. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to bring you aboard. The first time I saw you at the Christmas show, strutting around the runway in those hot little clothes you designed, I knew you would be perfect.”

She stared up at the person who’d fascinated her with his adventures as a fashion photographer, at the “friend” who had made her laugh and taken her to dinner, fully understanding that this man lording over her was the epitome of evil. “What are you going to do to me?”

He grinned. “So many things, but that’s personal. Let’s get down to business.” He molded his palms to her small, firm breasts, squeezing.

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull his painfully probing hands away.

“You’ll learn to like it rough.” He squeezed again as he smiled.

She shoved at his shoulder. “Renzo—”

“You’re going to be my personal assistant—take care of the books, dole out the girls to customers, make them dresses and costumes when we send them off to our high-paying clientele.”

She froze, her stomach churning, as she digested the details of her new ‘job.’ “You want me to help you prostitute women?”

He shook his head. “Our clients don’t like women.”

She thought of the sickly teens in the room beyond, utterly disgusted. “No. No, I won’t do this.”

“You absolutely will.” He slammed her against the rough concrete, scraping the skin of her back as his hands found their way under her tank top, shoving up her bra, holding her in place with his hips as she attempted to evade him. “You’ll dance too and show off these magnificent titties.” He pinched her nipples until she clenched her jaw. “You’re mine. You’ll do exactly what I say, when I say it.” He yanked her away from the concrete blocks. “Because if you don’t, we’ll grab your sister and that brat you talk about all the fucking time.”

Her fear magnified as she thought of Alexa and sweet little Livy alone and vulnerable in the tiny house tucked among the woods. “Leave—leave them alone.”

“You remember the rules, do what I say, and they’ll be fine. You’ve got yourself a great career with the ring. You even get a room upstairs if you behave. And no one else will touch you but me.” He leaned forward and kissed her again, snaking his tongue into her mouth.

She cringed, turning her head.

“Kiss me.”

She stood still, too terrified to move.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” He slapped her and shoved her to the ground. “You
will
do what I say.”

Abby held her throbbing jaw, quietly crying as she sat in the firmly packed dirt.

Renzo opened the door. “Better get some sleep. Tomorrow you’ll be learning the ropes in the office and at the club.” He locked her in the small, stuffy space with a slide of something against the door and shut off the light, leaving her huddled on the floor in the dark.

Los Angeles

December 2014

Abby set her glass on the waiter’s tray as he walked by.
She returned his polite smile, inching her way closer to the flashing lights of Ethan’s vintage arcade games—the only empty corner in the bustling game room. The Cooke’s massive home busted at the seams with everyone waiting to ring in 2015. Bodies bumped and brushed, filling every square inch. Everywhere Abby turned there was another face—thankfully most were familiar.

She made it to her destination, sliding into the spot by the Pac-Man and Donkey Kong machines, smoothing her clinging, short black dress with its plunging backline. Grinning, she watched Olivia weave through the crowds and grab Kylee’s hand. Kylee turned and hugged her best friend before the two ran off—pretty, energetic little blonds, laughing on their way to the playroom in matching party dresses she had surprised the girls with.

Abby continued to scan of the noisy masses in search of her sister, pausing when she spotted Wren and Tucker snuggled up, smiling and flirting in their own little world as Tucker boxed his soon-to-be wife against the wall. Morgan walked by with Hunter in-tow, and they stopped to chat with Ethan and Sarah—so many stunning people in a gorgeous home. Abby treasured the snapshot of normalcy, hugging the moment of utter contentment close as she stood among family and friends, knowing she would never take such simplicities for granted again.

“Here, I brought you a glass of champagne.” Alexa sidled up next to her in a dark blue maternity dress, showcasing her growing baby bump. Her flawless skin glowed, as did her bright blue eyes. Her sister was finally happy.

“Thanks.” Abby took a small sip as she stepped from her spot, rejoining the chaos. “Where’s your glass of juice to ring in the New Year?”

“Hailey’s grabbing me one.”

Someone bumped Abby, sending her into Alexa’s side. She tensed her shoulders, trying to ignore the skittering of unease, and smiled at her sister. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s really crowded in here. Are you okay?”

Personal space and small spaces in general had been an issue over the last several months, but she could handle this. If she struggled not to bolt from the room, no one needed to know that but her. None of the guests among the walls of the Cooke Fortress were here to harm her. “Yeah, I’m fine. This is fun. Sarah and Ethan know how to throw a party.”

“They certainly do.” Alexa twisted her waist-length black hair up and off her neck. “Whew, it’s hot.”

Abby swiped at her own hair she’d chopped to her shoulders hours after her rescue. “Definitely.”

“Juice for my lady.” Jackson swooped in with a flute of orange juice in one hand and Olivia in his opposite arm.

“Look, Auntie Ab, I have Ginger Ale for the celebration.” Livy held up her plastic cup triumphantly. “Do you want some? I’m sharing. Sharing is a nice thing to do.” She beamed her smile, Jackson’s smile. She was his mirror image.

Abby helped herself to a small sip of soda. “Thanks, pretty princess.” She brushed a finger down her niece’s nose. “I thought you were playing with Kylee.”

“Hailey’s getting Kylee Ginger Ale too.”

“I see.”

Olivia gasped. “There’s Kylee.” She squirmed to get down. “I need to
go
, Daddy.”

Jackson set Livy on her feet, and she was off.

“How is she still
awake
?” Jackson’s blue eyes followed his daughter as he wrapped his arm around Alexa’s waist. “I hate to say it, but we may have a future party animal on our hands.”

Alexa leaned against Jackson’s side. “Hopefully that trait lived and died with you. Maybe you should’ve napped with Livy before we came over.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I guess so.”

Abby studied her beautiful sister, at peace and relaxed, and her gorgeous brother-in-law, unmistakably happy—college sweethearts back together after so long.

“The ball’s about to drop,” someone shouted over the music, conversation, and laughter.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Abby chimed in, grinning at Alexa, taking her hand as the famous Times Square lighted ball made it’s descent on the movie-sized screen occupying the back wall. “…seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!”

Jackson kissed Alexa enthusiastically, then turned to Abby, planting one on her cheek. “Happy New Year, Abby.”

She gave him a peck in return and a huge hug, holding on, always grateful to Jackson and Alexa for bringing her home. If they hadn’t found her… “Happy New Year.”

She hugged Alexa next. “I love you, Lex.”

“I love you too.”

She eased back, staring into her sister’s face, which was almost identical to her own, grinning again, and caught Jerrod looking her way across the room. Her roommate took a sip of water—never alcohol when he was on duty, which was always—and gave her a nod. Abby waved and returned her attention to Alexa. “Here’s to a new year.”

“It’s going to be good, Ab.” Alexa gave Abby’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“I think you’re right.” But there were obstacles to face yet.

“I know I am.” She kissed her cheek. “I’m going to go find Livy.”

“Of course. Send her my way when you track her down.”

“Okay.” Alexa and Jackson wandered off hand-in-hand.

Abby took another sip of champagne and set her glass on a tray.

“Hey.”

She turned as someone tapped her shoulder.

A heavyset man with beer breath grabbed her up in a tight hug, lifting her off her feet. “Happy New Year.”

Her heart kicked into high gear, and she automatically shoved at his shoulders. “Don’t touch me.”

The man released her and shrugged, moving on to Austin and Hailey several steps away. “Happy New Year, Mamma,” he said to Hailey as he patted her ever growing baby belly. “When’re you gonna have that kid anyway?”

Hailey laughed. “In March.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight, buddy?” Austin asked, winking at Hailey as he slung his arm around her shoulders.

Abby’s breath rushed in and out, and she trembled, even as she realized the grabby stranger was harmless. Air. She needed air. “Excuse me. Excuse me,” she murmured, fighting her way through the crowds to the open sliding glass doors by the pool. Finally she freed herself from the masses and bee-lined her way to the rail overlooking the cliffs and endless Pacific below, gulping in the cool, biting breeze while the winds tossed her hair around her naked shoulders. The pounding surf soothed with each deep breath in and slow exhalation—a coping strategy she’d mastered. Relaxing her grip on the chilly metal, she rolled her eyes to the stars, seething with frustration. Why did she have to break out in a damn cold sweat every time someone looked at her the wrong way or touched her? Why couldn’t she just shrug the moment off the way Hailey did? A year ago she would have. A year ago she would have hugged the guy back.

“Abby?”

She whirled, her guard still up, as Jerrod walked her way. Pasting on a smile, she swallowed the defeat of her latest setback. “Hi.”

He stopped in front of her, holding out a bottled water. “I thought you might want a drink.”

She took the bottle. “Thanks.”

“It’s cold out here.” He rubbed his hands over the arms of his white button-down. “You’ve gotta be freezing.”

“I think it feels good.” Goosebumps covered her skin, but the chilly air was better than the hot, crowded house.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t ready to go in and deal with the people and noise yet.

“I’ll be right back.” He walked off, returning moments later with one of Emma’s pale pink blankets, settling it around her shoulders.

She pulled the soft, warm fleece tighter against her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He skirted around her and leaned his powerful frame against the rail, crossing his muscled arms at his chest as the wind ruffled his short, dirty-blond hair. “Nice night. The stars are bright.”

She looked up again at the flecks and twinkles high above. “Mmm. Perfect for ringing in the New Year.” She twisted the cap on her bottle. “Happy New Year, by the way.”

“Happy New Year.” He gave her a rare wink.

She smiled, treasuring the small gesture. Jerrod was friendly and kind but a constant professional. They’d lived together for months, yet she’d never seen him fully relaxed. Sipping her drink, she studied his strong jaw and firm lips complementing a spectacular face, eyeing him as he watched her.

“So, that guy, Darren, he’s pretty harmless. He does PI work for Ethan.”

Jerrod had seen her shove the PI away. Great. She wrinkled her nose, barely suppressing the need to close her eyes in humiliation. Jerrod had seen her at her worst, but every display of her inner turmoil was a step in the wrong direction. “He surprised me, that’s all.”

He nodded. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

She sipped again and looked down. “Thanks.”

“So,” he reversed his arms, still resting against his chest, “have you changed our plans for tomorrow yet, or are you going surprise me at the last minute like usual?”

She grinned. “You can relax, big guy. No changes. I’m working from home until two, just like we planned. You can lay around in your boxers and watch football.” Not that he would. He would appear from his room clean-shaven and properly dressed in slacks or jeans as he did everyday. In the five months they’d shared her downtown condo, she’d never seen him any other way—except for the rare occasion he wore gym shorts and a t-shirt to the breakfast table. “Is there something else you need to do?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

Relaxed again, she rested against the railing, her arm brushing his.

“Are you ready to head home?”

“Yeah. I need to say goodbye to Lex and Sarah, who didn’t drink a drop of champagne tonight, in case you didn’t notice.” She wiggled her brows.

“I can’t say I did.”

She raised her brow at him. Jerrod had eyes like a hawk. He saw everything, watched constantly. She pushed herself closer to the man who easily had six inches on her short frame, even when she was in heels, absorbing the warmth of his body, staring into his eyes. “I think Sarah’s pregnant.”

He blinked, unfazed. “Cool.”

She sighed. “Do you ever gossip, speculate, have
any
fun?”

He shrugged. “I guess it depends on what your definition of ‘fun’ is. Wondering about things that are none of my business doesn’t top my list.”

A bouncy pop song played through the outdoor speakers. “What about dancing? Is dancing fun?” She wiggled her shoulders and hips in time with the catchy beat, enjoying herself immensely as she pulled him away from the railing. Teasing Mr. Serious was definitely fun.

He stood still. “Abigail, you know I don’t dance. And I’m on duty.”

“Uh oh, he’s breaking out the ‘formal.’” She raised his hand above her head and spun. “Why do I always feel like I’m in trouble when you call me Abigail?” She continued her dance, grinning when he did. “Loosen up. We’re at a party.”

“
You’re
at a party. I’m working.”

She shimmied to the left of his solid chest, then to the right. “We’re at Fort Cooke. I don’t see any evildoers scaling the cliffs.” She moved in and bumped her hip to his, looking up into his pretty baby blues, batting her lashes and was rewarded with a chuckle. “Oh. Oh. There it is.” She poked him dead center in his firm stomach. “You make me work too hard for those.” She tugged on his hand. “Come on, bodyguard. Let’s go home.”

~~~~

“Abby.”

She opened her eyes as Jerrod’s voice penetrated her foggy brain. “Hmm?”

“We’re here.”

She glanced toward the bluish glow on the dashboard, surprised Jerrod was turning into the entrance of the underground garage. “It’s already two?”

“We made good time. Traffic wasn’t bad.”

She sat up in her seat, fixing the cashmere wrap around her shoulders. “I didn’t realize I fell asleep.”

“You were out before we made it to the highway.”

“Huh.” She yawned. “It must’ve been the two glasses of champagne.” Stretching, she watched Jerrod scan the shadows in the dimly lit area, as he did every time he pulled his Audi into their reserved spot. He killed the ignition and unsnapped the strap on his holster.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

He gave her a nod and got out.

She unfastened her seatbelt, waiting for Jerrod to come around to her side. He opened her door, and she stood, blocked by his body, moving just to his right as they walked to the garage-level entrance—a well-choreographed dance they perfected months ago.

She slid her plastic card in the slot, waiting for the door to release. Jerrod pulled on the handle, letting her in ahead of him, covering his holster with a quick slide of his jacket as they stepped into the warmth and comfort of their swank surroundings. Abby’s heels clicked against glossy marble as they passed potted palms and bold, modern paintings decorating the walls on their way to the elevators.

“Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. T.”

“Happy New Year, Moses,” Abby smiled, never bothering to correct the night guard’s assumptions that she and Jerrod were married or that their last names started with a ‘T.’ Lily Thomas Brand’s name was on the lease, not hers or Jerrod’s—just one of the numerous precautions Ethan Cooke Security had set in place.

The elevator doors slid open, and they both stepped in.

“Good night,” Jerrod said as the doors shut. He gave her a small smile and pressed the button for the nineteenth floor.

“Ugh, I have to take these
off
.” Abby balanced herself with a hand on Jerrod’s arm while she slid her feet from her ice pick heels and wiggled her aching toes. “Better,” she sighed, standing straight, looking at their distorted side-by-side images in the gold plated metal. “So, do you think you’ll ever get sick of being Mr. Thomas? I’m pretty sure Lily doesn’t mind, but...” She shrugged, sending a gentle elbow to his ribs.

“I have no problem being the man behind the woman.”

She laughed. “Why, Jerrod, you made a joke. Twenty-fifteen is just beginning, and you’re already a changed man.”

He smiled, flashing her his slightly crooked right incisor.