Page 28 of Veiled Vengeance (The Devils of New York #3)

CARMEN

L ight music floats into the back seat. On either side of me sits an intimidating asshole. They’re dressed like they were Secret Service in a former life, but they don’t act like it.

I’m unable to control the quiver of my shoulders.

I was studying for the LSATs on campus late at night when a cloth was placed over my mouth and nose.

In my panic, I inhaled a sickly-sweet odor, then my vision went dark, and when I woke up, I was in a musky warehouse.

The men on either side of me now were there, leering at my body.

They held me at gunpoint and made me strip off all my clothes.

I was treated like an object as Anthony told them to check to see if my virginity was still intact.

It’s not, but they wouldn’t take my word for it.

Then, every inch of my body was examined.

Afterward, I was allowed to dress, and I tried to run—I didn’t get far and paid for my attempt.

My clothes were torn in the struggle, and my nose smacked against the concrete floor, causing it to bleed.

I was thrown into a chair, and they tied me to it with duct tape.

All while their bosses watched in amusement.

The man driving the car now said his name was Pierce, and he told me to thank Spencer for my current situation. I still don’t know what to make of that, but I know she didn’t set me up for this. There’s no way Spencer would do something like that. If she did, my brother wouldn’t be dating her.

The other man, Anthony, treats me like I’m a means to an end.

They’ve told me their names and haven’t made an effort to hide their faces. It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means . . .

They don’t plan on letting me survive this.

Hopefully, by now, Rio, Asher, and Zane have noticed I’m missing and are coming for me. I made Gabriel, Mateo, and Diego give me space, so I doubt they know about my kidnapping.

“Where are you taking me?”

Anthony turns in his seat like he’s planning on giving me an answer when they’ve ignored my questions thus far. He rears his hand back and brings it across my face. My head whips to the side, and the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. Involuntary tears sting the corners of my eyes.

“Keep your mouth shut, you low-life whore,” Anthony spits at me.

My hand instinctively raises to my cheek, and the skin there heats up.

Anthony looks to the assholes with me in the backseat. “After she’s served her purpose, you can do what you want with her . . . and make sure it hurts.”

I look back and forth between the two men. The one on my right licks his lips as his eyes rake over my skin. The other stares at my breasts while he adjusts the erection in his pants.

I make myself as small as possible and do as Anthony says.

I remain silent for the rest of the drive.

This isn’t the first time someone has used their muscle to beat me down—it may not even be the last—but it’s the last time I’ll take it lying down.

I’m forced from the car when one of the creeps drags me out by my hair. I bite my lip hard to prevent myself from crying out. The muscled creeps grab my arms, and we walk behind Anthony and Pierce as we near a brown brick building in Yonkers. I note the lack of windows.

There’s another man who looks identical to my two prison guards at the black metal door. He opens it for us, and the scent of booze, smoke, and sex fills my nose. Music pounds against my eardrums, and I’m hauled inside.

The hallway we enter is dark, and the air is stale. We go through another door with another man standing guard, and light finally meets my eyes. I blink, adjusting to the stage lights as I’m forced to cross to the far side of the main area, but no one pays attention to us.

To the right is a bar with liquor shelves lining the entire wall.

There’s a large stage opposite the bar with a silver pole.

A topless blonde woman in a G-string dances seductively as men in suits sit in red armchairs that line the edge of the stage.

She gives each one attention, and they respond in kind by sticking bills in her thong or tossing them on the stage.

There are two smaller stages also surrounded by cushy armchairs.

One woman occupies each mini stage, and each woman has a full audience.

Anthony nods to a door that says “Employees Only” as he and Pierce head up a set of stairs hidden behind the bar.

“Get ready,” one of my guards tells me as he shoves me through the door. I fall to all fours on ugly white tile. My palms sting and I can feel bruises forming on my knees.

“Better yet, stay just like that. Easier access.” They chuckle together and a chill races down my spine.

I flip and scramble backwards to get away from them.

A set of gentle hands land on my shoulders.

Looking up, I find a woman with long, black hair and deep blue eyes.

She is scantily dressed in a bra and panties, but she doesn’t act embarrassed whatsoever.

Instead, the threat of violence in her eyes is directed at the men who pushed me in here.

The men smirk and one says, “Good to see you, Raven. Dancing tonight?”

Her vein at her temple pulses. “You know I am, Jared, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

“Ah, ah, ah. Watch your tone or I’ll make sure you don’t make your quota tonight.”

Raven clenches her jaw to stop herself from responding. Jared gives her a disgusting smirk and shuts the door. A deadbolt slides into place, locking us inside with no way out.

Raven helps me to my feet, and I look around the room.

We’re not alone.

There are clothing racks at the back and vanities all over the place. Most of them are occupied by women who are similarly dressed to Raven. They’re all watching us.

I also note that there isn’t a second door.

No way out.

“Are you okay?” Raven questions me.

“I’ll be fine.”

Fake it ‘til you make it.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“Carmen,” I answer.

She places an arm around me and guides me to an empty vanity, sitting me in the chair. “Let’s get you dressed. They’re going to expect you to be ready when they come back to escort you to the stage.”

My jaw drops as I stare at her in disbelief through the mirror. “The stage?”

The corners of Raven’s lips turn up in sympathy. “That’s how it works. They usually make the girls that they don’t want to get roughed up by their usual clientele dance.”

A pit forms in my stomach. “Usual clientele?”

“These men are in the skin trade—we’re nothing more than cattle to them. We get to live as long as we make them money, and they put us wherever they can capitalize on us. It’s either the streets, the sheets, or the pole.”

I refuse to let my tears fall. I refuse to let my fear show.

“Do you have any kids?” Raven inquires.

“Umm. No.” I shake my head.

“Good. They’ll use your children against you.”

My heart falls. “Is that what they did to you?”

Her deep blue irises look hopeless. “Yeah. They have my son, Noah. He’s how they keep me from running away.” She’s given up hope.

My breathing picks up. “I can’t do this.” This can’t be my life now.

“Just do what they want, and you’ll be fine.”

This can’t be how I live the rest of my life.

I don’t know if anyone is looking for me.

I have to be my own hero.