Page 33 of Kyle (Gold Team #3)

There was no such thing as a good night’s rest when there was a screaming girl in the next room. It was a good thing Zane’s safehouse was in the middle of nowhere.

The cabin was beautiful and had a stunning view of Riga Lake from the front porch. It was actually the perfect place for a woman who’d been battered and beaten down to recuperate. In a word, the area was tranquil. Not that Monica was paying any attention to her peaceful surroundings.

After seeing the woman and how she reacted to our presence, and then hearing her moaning and screaming all night, I was seriously doubting our ability to get her to speak with us.

I was happy to see she wasn’t restrained when we entered, even if she had to be locked in a bedroom at night. It sucked, but I understood. Jeremy needed to sleep and Monica needed to be kept from hurting herself. Or him.

Last night Jeremy had gone over security and safety protocols with Myles, wherein I’d learned the windows didn’t open. And they were fitted with a polycarbonate pane that was unbreakable. So Monica was able to roam freely during the day.

After dinner, something that broke my heart was when I saw Monica crouched in a corner, which meant Jeremy had to place her plate on the floor and slide it in her direction because if he got too close she would attack.

So we all ate at the table and Monica sat on the floor.

Jeremy had explained he only fed her food she could pick up with her hands and kept all cutlery locked up.

That was when the gravity of the situation had fully sunk in. Monica didn’t just look broken, she was.

Whatever had been left of her when she was on the street trying to survive had snapped.

Myles had done a thorough walkthrough and had spoken to Jeremy in private then he’d taken off.

It had been on the tip of my tongue to beg him to stay, or for him to take me with him.

It wasn’t that I was worried about Jeremy’s ability to protect us, it was because I wasn’t sure I could handle what was going to happen.

I didn’t think I was strong enough to do this, even with Emerson by my side.

“Well, last night sucked,” Emerson said from the twin-sized bed next to the one I’d slept in.

“That’s an understatement,” I grumbled.

“You ready for today?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“We’ll get through,” Emerson vowed.

I couldn’t understand how she could be so optimistic. Had she not seen what I had?

“This is gonna suck,” Emerson sighed. “And now that it’s just us, I can admit I’m not sure if I’m ready to think about everything that happened to me. All the feelings and fear I’ve worked hard to overcome are going to surface. And without Thad here to catch me, I’m scared.”

“So am I,” I admitted. “I know I said I needed to do this and fought so I could be here, but now, what if I can’t? What if the memories of what happened to me take over and I break down?”

“Then you break down. Hell, we’ll break down together. We have each other.”

“We absolutely do,” I confirmed.

“We got this.”

I smiled at Emerson and could totally understand why Thad was ass over tea kettle in love with his wife. She was brave and badass. We were both scared but she made me believe we could push through.

And together we could.

I learned two things sitting next to Emerson as she tried to get Monica to talk.

The first was, Emerson Bench was by and far the strongest, bravest, most badass woman I had ever met. The second was, I wanted her as a friend. A real friend, a friend I opened up to and had for a lifetime.

I also was learning there was so much more to the story about her and Thad, and about her and her sister Autumn than she’d told me.

And I desperately wanted to meet Autumn. She wasn’t a badass, she was the baddest of badasses.

“Monica,” Emerson whispered. “We can make you safe. You are safe.”

The tattered woman was looking at her lap and shaking her head.

“I was thirteen, too,” I told Monica. Her head stopped shaking but the rest of her started. “I was sold.”

Monica’s whimper spurred me on.

“I was taken to a warehouse and stripped to my bra and underwear. After that they made me walk in front of a room full of men and I listened in disbelief as the men called out their bids. I wasn’t even scared, not then, because I couldn’t understand what was going on.

It was like it wasn’t real, but it couldn’t be, I was a person.

How was it possible for someone to buy me?

I was in such a shock, I hadn’t realized the bidding was over until a man came up and grabbed my arm.

I didn’t fight when he put leather cuffs on my wrists.

I just stood there like an idiot. It wasn’t until he started to pull me behind him that I came out of my daze and started fighting.

But of course, there was no fighting it.

Not then. Not when I was being auctioned.

I was no longer a person, I was a thing. I was a nothing.”

I stopped and watched Monica’s body quake and wondered how much she’d gone through. How much worse it was for her.

“Were you auctioned off, too?” I asked.

She shook her head no but didn’t say anything else.

“Will you tell us what happened?” Emerson pressed.

Monica continued to shake her head.

“We want to help you,” I started. “We want to take you somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again. A place where they can’t ever find you again.”

“They’ll always find me,” Monica croaked. Her voice hoarse and scratchy.

“No, they won’t—”

“You can’t stop them. No one can. No one. You don’t understand.”

“Then tell us,” I gently demanded. “Tell us so we can help you.”

“You can’t help,” she snarled. “They’re coming for me. They always do. And when they get here it’s gonna be bad. Worse than all the times before.”

“No one’s— ”

“Yes. They. Are,” she cut me off. “And if you don’t think they are, then you’re stupid. They’re gonna take you, too. And no one will ever find you again.”

Fear slithered down my throat and filled my belly.

“We found you,” Emerson declared.

Monica scowled at Emmy, every feature twisted in a nasty grimace.

“No one found me,” she sneered and hugged her knees close to her body before she lowered her head on her knees, cutting off any further conversation.

Emerson looked at me and motioned for me to stand.

That didn’t go well.

We met Jeremy in the kitchen and he, too, had a scowl on his face.

“She’s gonna be tough to crack,” he whispered. “She doesn’t respond to kindness. As a matter of fact, it has the opposite reaction than you want. The only way I can get her to eat or go to her room is if I demand it. And I can’t be nice about it either.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Makes sense.” Emerson shrugged. “For ten years she’s been abused, she doesn’t know how to respond to kindness. She probably doesn’t even remember what it is.”

“We’ll try again after lunch?” I asked.

“Yep. Next time we talk to her, we’ll go about it differently. Brace yourself, Anaya; it’s gonna get ugly but we have to get her mad.”

I hadn’t fully understood what Emerson had been saying until a few hours later when we were sitting in front of Monica again.

“How many women do you think you brought to the stable?” Emerson inquired. “That’s what you did, right? You recruited.”

Monica’s body jerked with the new line of questioning.

“How hard was it for you to get those innocent women to join you?” I took over. “Bet it was hard to convince them that being a prostitute was easy. Was it the money? Is that what—”

“Innocent?” Monica growled. “They were already whores walking the street.”

“Right. So that made it easier?”

“Easier than you think. At least we had protection. At least they wouldn’t be walking the streets.”

“So, what? You did them a favor?” Emerson spit out. “Is that what you’ve convinced yourself you were doing? Helping them?”

“They went for sucking dick in alleyways to fifteen-hundred thread count sheets. So you tell me, was it a step up?”

“Is there a difference?” I grumbled.

“One way you walk away with scabbed-over knees and the other you get luxury,” Monica informed me.

“And again, is that better? You’re still sucking a man you don’t like’s dick.”

Monica sat back and uncurled her legs, now sitting Indian style. “Didn’t take either of you for na?ve bitches. You know the way this works.”

“No,” I told her. “Tell me how does it work?”

“He owns me. I do what he says when he says. I’m his to loan out, rent out, sell, fuck, slap around, whatever he feels like he gets to do because I am nothing.”

“And who does he loan you out to?” Emerson asked.

“Anyone he wants. And I get that while I’m getting fucked, at least it’s on luxury.”

I was speechless. Seriously, I had nothing to say because what was there to say? Monica had spent ten years being treated like a walking, talking sex doll.

“So you recruited others so they’d get luxury, too?” Emerson inquired.

“No. I did it because I was told to do it. And I learned not to be stupid and just do what I was told.”

“You’re just as bad as he is,” Emerson blurted out. “You sold those girls out to save your own ass. No, you’re worse because you’re a woman and you knew what was going to happen to them.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you both. You have no idea. Both of you think because you got a small taste of what it’s like you know what it feels like to have to swallow shit every day.

You don’t. But you will. He’s gonna find you and when he does, he’ll mark you and rent you out, too.

So talk to me after you suck a few hundred dicks in an alley.

Then and only then can you tell me that luxury resorts and private jets don’t make it bearable.

After you’re torn apart because you’re fightin’ the inevitable, you come talk to me and tell me you wouldn’t do what I’ve done if it means you never feel that pain again.

Until then, shut the fuck up and leave me alone. ”

“Speaking of marks,” I started, proud of myself that my voice was strong and steady when I was really freaking the fuck out inside.

I really didn’t ever want to know what it was like to suck a few hundred dicks—ever—but most certainly not to be forced to.

“Your QR code, is that the only one you have?”

Monica smiled a broad scary smile and shook her head. “I’m his favorite. I have a special one.”

“Mind if we see it?” I asked.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Monica stood and her entire demeanor changed, and chills raced up my spine.

Emerson and I quickly got to our feet as Monica pulled her shirt over her head and turned her back to us .

A beautiful peacock feather was inked from her tailbone to her shoulder. I didn’t get the chance to fully admire the work that had gone into the artwork when Jeremy’s loud curse filled the space and Monica turned to face us.

Emerson looked like she was in a trance and Monica took full advantage. The woman rushed Emerson. She lowered her shoulder to hit Emerson in the stomach and they both hit the floor with a sickening thud.

What the hell?

Without thinking, I got behind Monica and tried to yank her off Emerson but she wouldn’t budge, her hands were around her throat, her grip so tight Emmy was turning red.

I slid my arm around Monica’s neck, pulled her into a headlock, and squeezed as hard as I could.

There was no time to think about what I was doing.

I just needed to get Monica off Emerson.

Jeremy was shouting from beside me as I attempted to suffocate Monica while she was trying to kill Emerson. Finally, Emmy pried Monica’s hands free and she started coughing. But I couldn’t let go of Monica. The whole thing seemed to go on forever.

I could see Emmy’s lips moving but nothing was penetrating through the buzzing in my ears and fear flowing in my veins.

Jeremy’s hands went under my pits and he hauled me off Emerson. But I still hadn’t released Monica. I felt something pop, the feeling so disturbing I snapped out of my daze and released Monica. Her limp body crumpled to the floor.

“It’s done, Anaya,” Jeremy spoke softly in my ear. “Everything’s fine.”

What was done?

“She’s gone. Emerson’s safe,” he continued.

Gone ?

I glanced down at Monica’s prone body, her wide, open eyes blank. Lifeless.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

Emerson scrambled to her feet, then Jeremy was shoving me in her arms.

“What did I do?”

“You saved my life,” Emmy whispered back. “That’s what you did.”

Emerson turned and started to shuffle us away from Monica’s dead body but I stopped her. I needed one more look at the woman I’d killed. A woman who’d suffered for ten long years. A woman who should’ve had a better life.

Guilt washed over me.

“Get this now,” Jeremy barked. “You did what was necessary to save your friend’s life. And if you hadn’t have done it, I would’ve. The moment she touched Emerson she was as good as dead.”

“Thank you,” Emmy said and hugged me tight. “Thank you so much. I couldn’t breathe, Anaya. She was going to kill me.”

Shame and guilt were all I could feel.

How would I ever be able to face Kyle again?