Two

Chapter Two

Rue

I HUDDLED ON THE FLOOR, trying to make myself as small as possible. The three men stood over me, staring down as though they’d suddenly discovered a weird and slightly repulsive alien species in their apartment.

I wasn’t used to this response. Normally, a group of guys, when handed a woman and told they could do whatever they wanted with her, would at least come out with some derogatory comments, but not these men. Would they hit me? Kick me, maybe? Or perhaps they’d just grab me and throw me back out again.

I doubted they’d do the latter. When the Capellos told a person to do something, they normally did it.

“I think you’ve got some serious explaining to do,” the blond guy asked of the one with dark hair and piercing green eyes.

“I was trying to get a little extra cash together, that’s all.” It was the dark-haired one who’d spoken, and I detected an Irish accent.

The black guy shook his head in disbelief. “By getting involved with the Capellos?”

I was trying to align their names with their faces, but no one had used any names yet. The last guy who’d spoken was handsome—tall, with a

smooth, shaved head and stubble that wasn’t far off being a goatee. They were all good-looking, well dressed in smart shirts, and with that put- together look of having money. It was a look I recognized well from my time around men exactly like these three. Well, maybe not exactly like

them. There was something different about them, but I hadn’t put my finger on what it was just yet.

The Irish guy pulled a face. “I was hoping you weren’t going to have to find out.”

“What did you need the money for, Dillon?” the blond demanded.

Dillon. So, the dark-haired one with the accent was called Dillon. I wondered why he was the one who was in trouble.

Dillon shrugged. “Nothing much.”

The black guy lifted his eyebrows. “Nothing much? You don’t mess around with people like the Capellos for ‘nothing much.’ Are you in trouble? Have you been gambling again? Do you owe people money?”

Dillon’s pale cheeks had flared red in anger, a shock of color against his dark hair and thick, dark eyebrows, and for a moment I felt sorry for him.

Perhaps that was stupid, considering I was the one who’d just been handed over to three men who clearly didn’t want me, but I did.

He scowled in response. “For fuck’s sake, Kodee. I don’t owe anyone money, okay?”

So, he was Kodee. I was starting to put the men together with their names. I wondered what the blond was called.

The blond shook his head. “Fucking hell. What are we supposed to do now?”

They all looked back down at me again, and I squeezed myself into a ball, wishing I could vanish.

If they threw me out, I would have to sit against the door until they let me back in again. I didn’t have anywhere to go, and it wasn’t as though I could go back to the Capellos. They’d assume I’d done something wrong, and I’d be the one who’d be punished for it.

The blond reached down and grabbed me by the arm. “Come on. You can’t stay here.”

I hung from his grip, not making any effort to fight back. In my life, I did and said whatever the men who owned me told me to, and right now it seemed these men were going to own me. For the moment, at least.

“Leave her alone, Ryan,” Kodee snapped.

His grip on my bicep didn’t relax, his fingers digging into my skin. “We don’t want her here.”

Kodee gestured toward their front door. “But you can’t just throw her out onto the street.”

Dillon dragged his hand through his hair. “Jesus.” The way he said the word sounded like Jay-sus.

The blond—Ryan—released me, and I fell back to the floor. “What’s your name?”

He directed the question at me.

“Rue,” I replied, my voice small.

“Rue?” he echoed back at me. “Rue what?”

I shrugged, but it wasn’t a nonchalant shrug. It was just another response to huddling myself into myself, to compressing myself into nothing. But, also, a shrug to lift my shoulders higher, to protect my neck and jaw, should feet come flying toward me. “I don’t have a last name.”

Kodee spoke next, his voice deep. “How can you not have a last name?” “No one ever gave me one... Or maybe they did, but I’ve forgotten it

now.”

I sensed the men exchange glances.

I wanted to give them more, to say something that would please them.

Clearly, they weren’t happy about having me here. “Sometimes, a man likes to give me their last name.”

“Ugh.” The blond shook his head at me. “She’s a fucking sex slave or something.”

“Don’t act like you’re so much better, Ryan,” Dillon snapped. “What do you think a lot of our work gets used for?”

“Not always this. People trafficking.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Kodee asked.

I didn’t know what to say. My memories of ‘before’ were so faint it was as though I could have dreamed them. I didn’t know much more than my life now. Of being owned by men until they grew bored of me and sold me on to someone else. I was one of the lucky ones. I’d seen plenty of other girls killed before they’d had the chance to be sold again. I guessed the men who’d owned me had seen my value—even if it was only in what was between my legs, and my mouth, and my hands—and realized that killing me was like burning up their own money. I’d done a good job of keeping my head down and going unnoticed.

Until recently.

“How old are you, anyway?” Dillon asked. “You don’t look much more than eighteen.”

“I’m older than eighteen,” I said, unable to hide the defensiveness from my tone. “I mean, I don’t know exactly when my birthday is or anything, but I think I might be around twenty-two.”

His lips twisted as he frowned. “Well, you don’t look it.” “That’s not my fault.”

I clamped my mouth shut, sensing that getting into an argument when I was surrounded by three hard-looking men probably wasn’t a good idea.

Just knowing they were associates of the Capellos was enough to make me realize they weren’t a group of God-fearing, law-abiding citizens.

“She doesn’t even know when her birthday is,” the blond, Ryan, muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Shame swamped over me, and I ducked my head, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t remember when my birthday was, but that didn’t stop my cheeks from heating. I must have

known once upon a time, though I didn’t remember any from my childhood. No birthday cakes or presents, or anyone singing to me. Perhaps I’d simply blocked them out, though why I would have blocked out something that

surely should have been a happy memory, instead of all the hundreds and thousands of very unhappy memories of my life, I had no idea.

Kodee exhaled a long sigh. “You know we can’t just let you go.” “I don’t have anywhere to go, even if you did.”

His brown eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have family? Friends, even?”

I shook my head. “I’m property. I’m not allowed any of those things.” His forehead furrowed. “You’re not property. You’re a human being.” “No, I’m your property now. That’s what Duncan said.”

Ryan stepped in. “Duncan? Is that the guy who brought you here?” “Yes.”

“What if we don’t want you?” he said.

I tried not to let his words sting. I wasn’t used to being unwanted, at least not in that way. Most men were happy to be given a little fuck-toy to do whatever they wanted. Wasn’t that most men’s dream? A young, pretty thing who’d do anything they asked.

“Then they’ll probably kill me,” I replied. He flinched. “Who will? The Capellos?”

I shook my head. “No, the ones who came before them.”

He dragged his hand through his blond hair. “Fucking hell.”

“What are we going to do with her?” asked Kodee. He looked to Dillon. “How long is she likely to be here?”

Dillon shrugged. “I have no idea.” “Do you know?” Kodee asked me.

Ryan stepped in, not giving me time to answer. “She doesn’t even know her own surname or birthday. She’s not going to know what the Capellos’ plans are.”

He was right.

“I could go back and ask,” Dillon muttered.

“I don’t think the Capellos appreciate being questioned about their plans,” Ryan said.

Dillon’s lips thinned. “Well, we can’t leave her sitting on the floor.” “I don’t want her anywhere else,” Ryan snapped.

Kodee reached out to the other man and touched the back of his arm— not a pat or a tap, but a distinctive stroke. My gaze darted between them, trying to read their faces. That wasn’t the touch of one guy to another, that mock punch or brisk handshake or even the firm hug with the pat on the back. No, that had been a touch of affection, a way of showing concern, but also taking pleasure and comfort in the hard ridges of biceps and triceps.

Ah, so it was like that, was it? That was why they weren’t all jumping on me like a bunch of horny hyenas. What about the third one? Just a friend, perhaps? Certainly not a brother, or any other kind of relation—I

could tell that from both their appearance and the accent. But then the black guy fixed his sights on Dillon, and something passed between them that

sparked my curiosity. Was there something going on there as well? Did the blond know about it? Were all three of them together?

“Come on.” Kodee motioned with two fingers toward me. “Get up.” Cautiously, I unfurled and got to my feet. I didn’t trust these men—I didn’t trust any man—and I remained tense and prepared to take a blow,

should it come. It wasn’t unknown for a man to hit me simply because he

could. Some men had some serious issues with women, or maybe it was just that they had issues with themselves, and being cruel to a woman for no reason made them feel better about themselves.

Now I was no longer on the floor, I cast my gaze around what I could

see of the apartment. The place was open plan, with a breakfast bar dividing an expensive, chrome kitchen, all modern, sleek lines, and not a door handle in sight, with the living area. Normally, I’d have expected to see a large, flat screen television mounted on the wall opposite the U-shaped

arrangement of leather couches, but instead there was a whole wall of bookshelves. I turned my face, the wall of books intimidating me.

This place was nowhere as big or fancy as many of the places I’d been delivered to in the past. Plenty of the men who’d owned me had lived in

entire mansions, or in big, rambling homesteads. Though this apartment looked expensive, and clearly wasn’t in the price-range of the regular

working man, it wasn’t flashy as some. I wondered what these men did for a

living. I would put money on it not being anything legal, so what was it? Drugs? Money-laundering, perhaps?

“Go over there.” Kodee motioned to the couches. “Sit down and stay there while we figure out what to do with you.”

“And don’t touch anything,” snapped the blond.

I wasn’t a thief, if that was what they thought. I felt like telling them so, but I didn’t think they’d believe me, anyway. In their eyes, I was pond

scum, and I wasn’t about to disagree with them.