Trust in Me (3 page)

“Maybe everyone does,” he said, “but you shouldn’t. You’re still a kid. It isn’t right.”

Of course I knew I was a kid. I knew that an eighteen-year-old guy about to leave home had no business at all with a twelve-year-old girl with a crush. He didn’t speak to me often above a quick wave and how-do when he passed me on the street. I should have been grateful for that much. I should have known not to ask for more. It would only lead to disappointment.

“Please, Tyler. Can’t you take me somewhere? Just take me away. I’ll go anywhere.”

His frown deepened. “Mia, what’s wrong?”

I love you.
The sound of the screen door opening screeched across the words I’d meant to say, scratching them out.

“Mia, get your ass inside,” my dad called.

I hesitated, still delusional enough to think Tyler might stop him, might help me.

“
Now
, Mia,” my dad said.

I looked up at Tyler. His face was dark as he looked my father. Then he turned to me and nodded toward the house. “Go on,” he said gently. Just two words spoken softly, but they shattered me. No, Tyler wasn’t going to help. Tyler wasn’t going to love me. No one would.

I ran inside the house, tripping blindly through my tears.

I should have been immune after that, but that was just wishful thinking. The knife that had stabbed my heart twisted as I crouched inside the kitchen, listening.

“Mr. Campbell,” Tyler was saying, “I don’t mean to tell you how to run your family, but I wonder if something is going on with Mia.”

“You don’t mean to tell me, but you do, eh? No one asked your opinion.”

“I know, sir, but she seemed mighty upset. Maybe if you—”

“She was upset because you was harassing her. What’s a grown boy got to do with a young girl, anyhow? Looks suspect to me. Maybe I should go calling the Army, let them know what kind of recruit they’ll be getting.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tyler said, his voice tight. “Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I don’t really know her but it just seemed like she might be going through a rough patch. Like children do. That’s all.”

My father yelled out a couple more threats, and Tyler left me to my fate. The words replayed through my mind.
That’s ridiculous. I don’t really know her. Like children do.

All of it was true, of course, which only made it worse. I clutched the pain of his words like a security blanket. Even when my father came back inside and locked the doors, chased me up to my room, and worked out his anger at Tyler on my little girl body, the pain protected me.

For years it had protected me, blanketed me, shielded me from the full assault of my choices or lack of choices. Now Tyler was back in my life in the worst possible way, and he wanted to strip away my pain, layer by layer. With his words and his kisses and his
sounds
, he pierced the veil that had been my survival. What would I have left when he was done with me?

Even when he’d recovered his breath, he held me tight in a slumped embrace, in a parody of a post-coitus cuddle. “Mia, why are you here? Do you need help? Do you need money or something?” His words came low and solemn, with eyes so concerned.

I had to get rid of him.

And anyway, what could I tell him—the truth? That after he left to go live his life, I was trapped in my father’s house for six long days of the hell I’d tried to tell him about? That when I’d run away from home, starving and scared, I’d survived for years on the street, only to be taken in by Carlos? And that, despite the fact that I owed him my life and my loyalty, I was planning to betray Carlos just to give those girls another chance at life, a chance I’d never had and never would? For all I knew, Tyler was part of the trafficking business. For all I knew, he was Carlos’s supplier. There was no way I could trust him.

So I forced myself to laugh. “Shit, Tyler, don’t get all serious on me just because you had a good fuck. I like what I do. It’s easy and the pay’s great.”

He considered me, doubted me. He was older, more filled out, weathered, but with his blue eyes frowning at me, he looked like the eighteen-year-old boy from all those years ago more than ever.

He hadn’t believed me way back then, at least not enough to stay and help. So what did it matter if he made the offer now? Too little and way too late.

Looking him right in the eyes, I said, “I’m a whore through-and-through, and that’s what I’ll be until the day that I die.”

And I let him look for the lie in my face, because I knew he wouldn’t find it. That last bit, at least, was the truth.

Chapter Three

The diamond earrings winked at me in the mirror, chains of silver and jewels. At least make-up covered up my sallow skin and sunken eyes. Too much thinking and not enough sleep over the past week had taken their toll on my appearance, my only commodity.

Carlos hadn’t complained, though. Not earlier that day when I’d sucked him off from under his desk while he was on his conference call.

“Next week? That’s a whole month early,” Carlos snapped into the phone while his dick jerked in my mouth.

A tinny voice answered him, garbled words about screwing the pooch and timetables.

“That’s ridiculous,” Carlos said. “Moving the delivery up makes us more susceptible, not less.”

The voice grew louder, buzzing from the phone with furor and reprimand. I knew it grated on Carlos that they used a voice modulator with him, that they didn’t even trust him enough to have a conversation. Around here, Carlos was a big fucking deal. But these guys were Russian mafia—the real deal.

Carlos shifted in his seat, holding my head steady. “Look, maybe I can move some things around, but it’s going to be tight.” His voice had turned softer, almost obsequious, something I’d never heard from him before. It was like sucking the cock of a stranger.

After that Carlos had put me in my cage, where my eyes had glazed over but my ears had listened intently for any useful information about the shipment. Human trafficking, something at once both horrifying and painfully commonplace. But this I could do something about. For once, I had power. Or I would, once I ferreted out the information.

I was told to dress nice, that we were having a guest. Although it was a work meeting, Carlos had ordered a fancy dinner. I didn’t know who it was, just that the guy meeting us tonight was heading up security for the drop. Perfect.

Outside my room, I ran into Trunk. No one knew his real name, but he was built like a tree trunk, and was almost as quiet as one. He caught me by the arm as I passed.

“Can I talk to you?” he said, low and gruff.

The men weren’t supposed to touch me. It was against Carlos’s rules. But they knew they could get away with it, at least a little bit, without me complaining. After all, if I whined to Carlos every time one of them roughed me up, Carlos would probably take his anger out on me.

“I got nothing to say,” I said, trying not to think of how the last time Trunk had spoken to me, he’d also hurt me. He’d fucked me, and I hoped he knew better than to try it now.

Trunk grunted and pushed me back inside.

“Big stuff is going down,” he said when we were inside and the door shut. “It’s not safe for you.”

“What—is that a threat?” My voice wavered embarrassingly. What kind of whore was afraid of sex?

“No.” His cold eyes seemed almost sympathetic. “Keep your head down and stay out of it.”

“Why the hell are you telling me this?”

“Just do it or you’ll fucking get hurt.”

Then he was gone, and I was leaning against the inside of the door. Well, it sure as hell had sounded like a threat. And from a guy who’d barely ever said two words to me, except when Carlos had let him…I forced my mind away.

It was a little early, but Carlos didn’t take well to waiting, so I wandered downstairs. The cook had already set out a few hors d’oeuvres platters. I appreciated that Carlos had servants to do the cooking and the serving and the cleaning, at least in the residential areas. Technically I was a servant, too, to do the fucking.

I actually liked cooking, but it would have felt too domestic to do it for Carlos. Too reminiscent of the kind of life I’d never have.

Male voices echoed from the hallway. I stood on my too-high heels and smoothed my black sheath dress. But I recognized one of the voices—Tyler.
Shit.

I hadn’t seen him since that day he’d met with Carlos—and fucked me. It had been a week. I hoped never to see him again, that his business wouldn’t require another meeting or maybe that Tyler would call off the whole thing. And I prayed that whatever he was involved in, it wasn’t this. None of Carlos’s businesses were any good, so maybe it was hypocritical to even have a preference, but I did.

Even now, disillusioned though I was,
realist
that I was, I didn’t want to think that Tyler could be involved in human trafficking. But apparently he was involved. And right in the thick of things, head of security.
Fuck.

It was just one more layer, one more obstacle. I would have to betray Carlos, which would have been bad enough and difficult enough, but now I’d be betraying Tyler, too. I wasn’t too worried about Carlos. He was like a cockroach—he could survive even a nuclear disaster. Probably turn a nice buck, too. When I broke up the trafficking bit, he’d lose some money and some credibility. That would be it. But Tyler, shit. If he was running security, he’d be right
there
. He might get caught. He might get killed. And it would all be my fault.

I smoothed my face in a well-practiced move as they came into the room. Tyler’s icy blue eyes ran over my body and then away. He was cold to me after I’d given him my spiel about once-a-whore-always-a-whore. Probably I’d torn down some of his illusions about quiet little girls not growing up into dirty prostitutes, but whatever. He was one to judge, considering what kind of business he was in.

I played the serene hostess, offering food or service, but not speaking much. That’s what Carlos wanted. I was a prop, like his Rolex or the antique furniture. Expensive things belonged to powerful men.

I sat between them, touching both of them while they touched me back. I was the link between them, the conduit. It wasn’t sexual between them, not like that. It was more like a fist bump, mob boss style.

Tyler put his hand on my bare thigh, too high to be anything innocent. “How long has she been with you?”

He spoke over me, across me, to Carlos. The dismissal was obvious and no less painful because I already knew what he was.

“A few years now,” Carlos said. “She’s a loyal one. And pretty, no?”

“Yes,” Tyler said, stroking my leg, higher, higher. “Very pretty. She stays with you all the time?”

Carlos laughed. “So she did please you. Yes, she stays with me. Why, are you interested in a rental?”

“Maybe,” Tyler said.

Carlos ran his knuckles across my breast. “Normally I wouldn’t consider such a thing. I like to keep her near. She is good stress relief. But for you? Well, we’ll see.”

I fumed inside. My anger and pain and humiliation curled and coiled over my skin until they threatened to strangle me. I was used to being a whore. I was used to being passed around, to being a toy and not a person. But not to Tyler. I wasn’t used to being treated as less than human by Tyler and I never would be.

It was my fault. I’d tried to put him off the whole humanitarian bit by convincing him I was truly a whore. Apparently I’d convinced him since he was now content to treat me like one.

Tyler’s fingers nudged my thigh to the side. I let it fall open. The short black skirt rode even higher, just barely covering the bare skin at the center. He inched his fingers up until they touched my sensitive flesh. I wanted to gasp, to squirm, but instead I went deathly still.

Let him have my body. It wasn’t worth much anyway.

Tyler fingered me, gently at least, as his mouth found my neck. Jesus, he was horny as hell. He’d certainly gotten over his reticence since last time. Maybe even that had been an act, pretending like he was reluctant, like he only fucked me because Carlos would punish me otherwise. A guy who participated in trafficking wouldn’t exactly value a woman, especially not one like me.

But, traitor that my body was, his ministrations started to affect me. Wetness coated his fingers, but that was a good thing. It kept me safe, kept my pussy from getting torn apart by invading fingers and cocks and other things. Little sparks of pleasure appeared, taunting my anger at Tyler. I wasn’t really mad at Tyler. I was mad at myself. How could I let myself be pleasured by him?

Conversationally, with his fingers in my pussy, Tyler said, “How often do you pass her around?”

I clenched around his fingers, but not in pleasure. Carlos’s hands, which had been stroking my breast, tightened painfully. Didn’t Tyler know who he was dealing with?

“Whenever I want. She’s mine,” Carlos said. I’d expected more anger, but that was probably coming. He seemed as surprised as I that Tyler would speak to him so disrespectfully.

“I would think…” Tyler trailed off thoughtfully.

“Yes?” Carlos clipped out.

“I would think if you had a girl who served you well, you wouldn’t want to share her.”

Carlos’s fingers dug into my breast. My hips jerked in a silent plea for mercy against Tyler’s hand.

“Weren’t you just the one asking to borrow her?” Carlos said in a silken tone. “And now you complain about my methods? But let’s not forget. Your area of expertise is on keeping the bitches fenced in. Me? I have years of training whores like her.”

Tyler shrugged, unconcerned with the beast in the room. “I want her, sure. I could take her off your hands even, if you were looking to sell.”

Carlos narrowed his eyes.

“I’m thinking of expanding,” Tyler explained. “Building a personal line. I could learn a lot from a guy like you. And she’d be a great starter piece.”

Carlos eyes widened briefly, which for him was practically preening. “You can purchase one from the shipment. A fresh one.”