I WAIT OUTSIDE ELLIE’S ROOM.
I don’t know for how long, because time seems to stand still.
I’m leaning against the wall off to the side, so Jett doesn’t notice me immediately when he exits.
“How is she?” I ask as he locks the door. He jumps, snapping his head in my direction.
“Must you lurk?” he scowls.
“Yes. It’s what I do. How is she?” I reiterate.
“A little upset, feeling abused, but she’ll be okay. This is hard for her. She doesn’t understand.”
“We agreed that was the best way.”
“I still believe it is. But if you’re worried, go in and see her.”
“You know I can’t do that. I have to keep my distance. It’s safer for everyone involved.”
“I know that too.” He puts the key ring holding Ellie’s protection and freedom back in his pocket.
“Just make sure ...” I falter, not exactly sure what I’m trying to say. “Make sure—”
“She’s taken care of?” Jett answers astutely.
I nod with stern eyes. I haven’t been able to think of much else since Ellie was carried into this house. Last night felt like an injection into my veins. I didn’t think I could do it—command someone against their will—but it came easier than expected. Fighting her, overcoming her, watching her slow descent into submission. Then tasting my sweet, sweet victory in the end—it changed something in me. And I want more. So much more that I’m counting the seconds until I can go back in that room again.
“It’s what I’m here for,” he reminds me.
“It’s not the only thing you’re here for.” I punch him in the arm. Don’t let his skinny ass fool you. Jett may spend a majority of his time with women, but he can throw down with the best of them. I know, because I fucked with him once. Once. The first time I met Jett I couldn’t understand what he was doing with a bunch of hooligans like me. He was quiet and reserved and when he looked at you, those aqua eyes felt like they were digging under your skin. At least that’s how it felt to me. I didn’t like it, and I made it known—I threatened to stab them out. That toothpick motherfucker actually got in my face. He scored a point for formidability. I’m half a foot taller than him, double his weight and muscle mass. But it didn’t matter. The minute I lunged at him, he took out my knee, quick as a jackrabbit. Dirty little shit. I ended up on my back with Jett’s hand around my throat. For a puny guy, he has a death grip. It was my first lesson in don’t judge a book by its cover. I was put on my ass by someone I would normally be able to knock into next week.
It took a little while, but Jett and I finally cleared the air. My ego was bruised and so was my knee, but he never stopped pushing—for some reason he wanted to be friends with me. That was a tough concept. I was a loner. Still sort of am I guess. I didn’t have the most favorable upbringing; I bounced from foster home to foster home my entire life. Trust is hard to come by when you’re verbally and physically abused, starved and locked in closets at seven years old. Most of the time it felt like I was living with a wild pack of wolves. Everyone out for themselves, survival of the fittest. And even though Jett grew up with a loving mother and stable home, his life wasn’t much easier. He was a target; a black sheep because of the business his family was involved in. Growing up he fought for his life every day. In and out of hospitals, being treated for concussions and broken bones, after seven guys would gang up on him after school, smashing bottles over his head or breaking two or three of his fingers.
Seven to one? Those are some seriously fucked-up odds.
We had torture in common, and the same torment in our eyes. Except he was the trusting human and I was the untamed animal. He definitely helped shape the man I am today. He taught me about discipline and control. He opened my trust with loyalty, my mind with books, and my body with women. I was a virgin until I was nineteen. No lie. When I said I had trust issues, I wasn’t kidding. Especially when it came to women. Having your birth mother promise to come back and save you from the hell you’re living in, and then never hear from her again kind of fucks with a little boy’s head. So much so it ripples into adulthood.
Jett introduced me to the BDSM lifestyle and was my mentor in all aspects of sexual exploration and dominance. He is not just a business partner or good friend. He’s my brother, and the only true family I’ve ever had.
“Speaking of other things,” Jett hints. “Where is our Mexican house guest?”
“Slithering around the mansion like the snake he is.” I have eyes on him at all times. I know where he goes and whom he’s with, making sure he doesn’t slither within a mile of Ellie’s room. He asks about her every night.
“How’s your whore Kayne?”
I ignore him.
“When she’s ready I want a taste,” he antagonizes me.
Drop fucking dead, I want to say. Instead, I bite my tongue till it bleeds.
“What’s mine is mine,” is my only reply.
“Has he indicated when the meeting with El Rey will take place?” Jett inquires.
“No. He’s still feeling us out. He’s not stupid.” I cross my arms. “We just have to go on like normal and hope he finds everything kosher.”
“Well I hope he hurries up, and then slithers right into some oncoming traffic.”
“If everything goes as planned, amigo, he will.” We bump fists.