Page 22 of Heathen

The big guy narrows his eyes at me as I walk past him out of the room. Before the stranger showed up, I might've been trembling and terrified from the look, but there's something about this man that tells me maybe he will protect me like he claims he will.

It doesn't, however, answer the millions of questions I have for him.

"I hear we have a love match!"

My head snaps in the direction of the voice, my eyes landing on Dima who has his hands pressed together and a sinister look in his eyes. I swear the man is pure evil, and I pray this guy isn't full of it and can actually help these women.

"She's feisty," the stranger says, leaving me standing there while he crosses the room toward the big boss. "Ellis Burke."

The two shake hands like there isn't a woman literally being sold, standing on the other side of the room.

"She's new," Dima says, a warning in his tone. "Are you sure you don't want one of the others?"

"She's perfect for what I need her for," Ellis says, not bothering to look over his shoulder in my direction, even though he's talking about me.

"If you're sure, the van is waiting."

"Van?" Ellis asks, a hint of surprise in his tone.

"We have to go to the Marriage License Bureau," Dima explains.

Ellis takes a step back from him.

"What is this?" Dima asks, suspicion filling his tone as he points at the man. "Why are you nervous?"

"What if she says something to the clerk?" the man asks, clearly shocked that we would leave this place and present ourselves in front of others so soon.

Dima looks from him to me, a slow evil smile spreading across his face. "Her friend Morgan assured me that she'll be the perfect wife."

I swallow the bubble of terror that tries to force its way up the back of my throat. I never mentioned my friend to him. It seems he has spent some time since yesterday afternoon doing research on me. I hear the hint of warning, knowing that I've put my one and only dear friend in danger, all the while trying to find out what happened to a woman whose last name I don't even know.

Ellis looks over his shoulder at me, and I can see that he understands completely what is happening. Either I'm reading him wrong or he actually looks a little sad at the veiled threat I've been issued.

As if we've been together forever, Ellis holds his hand out, waiting for me to cross the room in my too-high heels and then he places his palm on my back. I don't miss the way his fingers curl, and I take it as a way he's trying to assure me that everything will be okay.

I climb into the SUV, scooting away from Ellis when he climbs inside, while trying to fight tears.

I thought it would be simple, that I could come here, find out what I needed, and leave whenever I wanted, but the threat against Morgan makes it very clear that isn't going to be possible. It makes me wonder what threats the other women have gotten to keep them there. I approached this situation only looking at the face value of it, and that shows just how uneducated I am about this sort of thing.

Regret makes my stomach turn the entire way across town, and I press my hand to the window when we drive right past the grocery store. How I wish my life was still just the boring old go to work and go home that it was a mere twenty-four hours ago.

I feel like a failure, and, worse, I feel selfish and unkind for wishing I had just minded my own business instead of trying to find out what happened to Alena.

I flinch when Ellis palms my knee, giving it a little squeeze of reassurance, before pulling it away.

He frowns at me, but I'm in no position to worry about his feelings right now.

I look out the window, my eyes scanning the multidimensional building. I've driven by this place a million times in the two-plus years I've lived here, but I never imaginedI'd be in a vehicle, parking in the lot, then walking through the front doors.

Once again, as we make our way into the building, Ellis has his hand on my lower back.

"I can't," I say, stopping in my tracks.

Dima steps forward, as if he's willing to put me in my place right here in front of God only knows how many witnesses, but he freezes when I bend over and reach for my shoes.

"I'm going to fall," I mutter, trying to break the damn heels off of the shoes.

"Just take them off," Dima urges, as if he's going to miss getting paid if we're delayed another minute.

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