Best of 2017

I looked at Damien’s hands, his knuckles busted up, Ricky’s blood covering them. His arms were crossed, his face a mask of pure violence. He was a man comfortable with death, with killing.

Just like Cameron…the man who now owned my body.

Cameron was collected, calm, but I could see the anger, the rage simmering right below the surface. He wore a suit, the dark fabric molded to his strong, hard body. The white shirt underneath the jacket had the first few buttons undone at the collar, his chest and neck tattoos a stark contrast to the light-colored material.

My heart was thundering, and I felt like I could pass out.

His dark hair was short, cropped close to his head, styled like he didn’t give a fuck. And I knew he didn’t, because a man like him cared only about what he could gain, what he could own. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was in this life, in hell, by caring about anyone but himself.

Then I watched as Cameron produced his own gun, the dark violence swirling around him despite the composed aura he held. He cocked the gun, his gaze locked on me. No emotion, no fucks given as he stared at me.

“He’s been hurting you,” Cameron said matter-of-factly. “He hurt you right now.” I couldn’t move, couldn’t even rise from the floor or say a word about this. I was a slave to my emotions…and I’d be a slave to Cameron once this was all said and done.

I opened my mouth, maybe to say something, anything, but the words failed me, the air thickening. I was sweating, my hair sticking to the sides of my head, beads of perspiration dotting the valley between my breasts.

“You want your trouble to go away?” Cameron asked.

I was frozen, not even able to think coherently at the moment.

“You want to be free of this pain, of this nightmare?”

Still I couldn’t speak. I glanced at Ricky. He watched me, one eye swollen shut, blood covering his face. He didn’t seem strong now. He knew his number had been pulled and he’d be dead before the night was over. I knew that, too. I also didn’t give a shit. He deserved this. Ricky knew who and what he was up against, and he knew this was the end of the road for him.

Maybe that makes me a monster, too, because I don’t care. I want him to suffer, to be afraid.

“Sofia,” Cameron said my name softly, urging me in that deep, commanding voice of his.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice empty, just like my soul. I turned and faced the man who’d ridden in like the very devil himself. But then again, wasn’t I the match to this gasoline-saturated scene?

“Say it. Ask me for it.” Cameron’s voice was eerily strong, collected.

I looked at Ricky again, a man who would have done horrible things to me, trying to push my humanity down. I should feel nothing. I should want him to hurt as much as he’d planned on hurting me, using my weakness to benefit him.

“Ask me to take your problem away.” Cameron’s voice was low, a little seductive. I glanced at him again, feeling like I was lost at sea.

Cameron was powerful and wanted to exert that, wanted me to be on my knees as he showed me what he could do—figuratively and literally—what he could solve. I was at his mercy, the same as Ricky. And a part of me knew that once I said the words, everything would change. Once I told Cameron what I wanted, that I wanted Ricky gone, dead, the life I knew, albeit shitty, would become something else.

I’d be the epitome of darkness, embracing it because I’d taken a life in my hands and extinguished it.

“I want my problem to go away.” The words that came from me were cold, detached…just like my soul in that exact moment. I saw the way Cameron’s lip lifted, this sardonic, sadistic smirk coming into play. He would have killed Ricky without my prompt, without me begging. But here, now, making me ask, that was him showing me the control he had over me.

It was the promise of what he’d show me once we were alone and I had to pay my dues.

“Say it,” Cameron said again, harder this time.

I swallowed, squeezed my hands into fists, and said the words that would change the very person I thought I was. “I want him dead.”

It happened in slow motion, the world rewinding, the air being sucked out of the room. Cameron lifted his hand, his hold steady on the gun, his body seeming corded, tighter. Ricky begged, pleaded. He cried and shook uncontrollably. It didn’t matter, because his fate had already been sealed.

He knew what it felt like for me, how his life was now in someone else’s hands. Good.

And then the sound of the gun going off filled me, surrounded me. It was an echoing in my head, rocking me to my core, shaking everything inside of me. Warmth seeped over me, seemed to seep into me.

Blood. Hot, viscous, life-sustaining fluid covered my face and chest. I was frozen in place, my body numb, the feeling of that liquid dripping from my chin, from the very ends of my hair and onto the floor, stunned as much as it disgusted and pleased me. I looked down, this humming in my ears, this vibration starting deep in my belly. I looked at Ricky, who now lay on the floor just a few feet from me, the bullet having gone right through the center of his forehead.

Just like his friend.

“Look at me, Sofia.”

There was this buzzing in my head, this war drum in my chest.

“Look at me,” Cameron said, harder this time, commanding me to obey.

I slowly lifted my focus from Ricky and looked at Cameron. He wore a mask of indifference. He tucked his gun at the back of his waistband, held out his hand for me to take, but I felt like I was going to throw up, like I was spinning out of control.

This is what you wanted, what you knew would happen.

I stared at his hand, feeling tears running down my face—or maybe it was Ricky’s blood.

“Take my hand,” he said, his voice even, nothing wavering from him. I found myself looking at Ricky and the guy he’d brought with him again, my throat closing, my body feeling like it would shut down.

And then I felt someone help me up, strong hands under my arms, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. The scent of Cameron filled me: dark, heady, and powerful. I tilted my head back and glanced at him. What did he see when he stared down at me? Did he see a broken girl who had nothing else to lose?

And when he lifted his hand, I felt myself flinch. I didn’t think he’d hurt me, but after what had just happened, my body was on the defensive. I watched his jaw clench, wondering what emotion he was experiencing. Did a man like him even feel anything? Did he experience warmth, sadness, regret, or fear?

No.

No, a man like him only cared about power, about bringing fear in others.

“Damien will have the bodies disposed of.”

My mind was a whirlwind, my body on autopilot as Damien led the way. We walked down the stairs of my apartment building, and I turned back and looked at my door. I knew I’d never be here again. Even after the two weeks was up, I couldn’t go back. The money was still hidden, maybe forever, or maybe it would be gone, lost like I felt right now.

“The money. My things,” I found myself murmuring.

“All your needs will be met.” Cameron’s voice was low, pitched only for my ears.

Before I knew what was happening, I was outside, the air feeling colder than it should. And there, sitting right in front of me, was that dark SUV I’d been seeing around town, following me. I would have thought it was Ricky’s, but when Cameron opened the back door and ushered me in, that went right out the damn window. Once inside I stared at Cameron, not sure what to say, what to do. But before I could utter a word, he moved closer. Every part of me felt in shock, frozen to this seat.

“You’ve been following me,” I said, my voice empty, my entire body, mind, and soul frozen.