Page 20 of The Devil's Secret

The gym and work are the only places I can step foot in with the shitty car they provide us, monitored with a locator so that we don’t get any ideas. My body is my job, and they make sure I keep it in prime shape, or else they’ll have no use for me.

They also supply us with the basics like food, clothes, and toiletries. We get no money. They even take our tips. They want us dependent on them for everything we have. They fill our gas tanks too. We get a basic flip phone that we’re only allowed to use for work purposes. None of us would ever dream of calling for help.

Every week, I have a woman come to my place and do my nails. They want us to look as good as possible for their clients. The better we look, the more money they get. That cash I’ve gotten from Enzo so far, I’ve managed to hide it in a tampon box, hoping they never look there.

Some of the clients at the sex club are men with more money and power than anyone should have. They’re politicians. Celebrities. You name it. With us, all their wildest dreams can come true, as long as they’re willing to pay for it.

My mind drifts to the night before, to the three men and what they did. My pulse races, envisioning it as though it’s happening all over again.

* * *

“Let’s see how well she can take this.” One of the men laughs, after they’ve all had a turn with me. He twirls a large baton in his hand, like he’s performing a circus act, while two others hold me down by my wrists.

My breathing grows agonizingly heavy, my eyes remaining on him as he walks up closer, the thud of his footsteps slithering up my flesh with piercing dread, and when the baton lands softly on my inner thigh, I flinch.

“Bad girl,” he croaks with a grin so wicked, it sours my soul. Before I realize what he’s doing, he lifts it up in the air and hits my thigh with it, again, then again. He hits me a few times more while I scream through the gag in my mouth.

The other men fondle my breasts even as the beating stops, and then, he shoves the baton inside me.

* * *

“Joelle?”

I hear the distance of his voice—Enzo’s voice.

“Joelle, you’re shaking. What’s the matter? Talk to me, baby.”

I clear my throat, ridding myself of those thoughts, my body still trembling. Enzo gazes at me so tenderly, the agony, the tears, they scream and claw to get out, but I won’t cry. If I start, I will sob in his arms until there’s nothing left.

With him, I’m vulnerable. For once, someone cares—someone sweet, powerful, beautiful. And he wants me, or what he thinks he knows about me.

But the ugliness is still buried deep where he can’t see its tattered ruins. Will he still want me then? No. He won’t. No matter what he says, no matter what he thinks he wants. He wouldn’t want a whore. And I am one.

CHAPTERSIX

ENZO

Something happened to her.Something bad. She was afraid to tell me, and the way she was shaking in my arms, her mind elsewhere, it was obvious she had been harmed. I didn’t even need to see those black and blues on her inner thigh to know that.

I wait in the parking lot for that motherfucker with the beard. He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight will be his last night on earth.

I don’t know if he’s the one who did that to her, but it doesn’t fucking matter. He’s dead for merely grabbing her, talking to her the way he did, like she was nothing, and he was the one in charge. We’ll see how in charge he is with me.

I finally catch him come out of the club, heading for the parking lot. Once he’s in his car, I start to tail him. I can’t do shit here. I have to find a quiet place.

My brothers would kill me if they found out what I’m up to. That I may ruin our plan for the Bianchis. But I won’t. I’ll be careful. I can’t let his actions go unanswered, no matter what. He will pay.

The streets are immersed with silence at this time of night, and I keep some distance between us as we drive down a wide two-way road, streetlamps on both sides.

He makes a sharp right and I do too, finding myself on an unassuming one-way street this time, with a heavy wooded area to our right, large trees blanketed by darkness. The perfect location.

The guy slows. I think someone’s finally realized he’s got company.

Night-night, motherfucker.

Retrieving my black leather gloves from my pocket, I slip them on before picking up the knife from the passenger seat, the same one I had on me earlier.

His vehicle slows to a halt, and he steps out, a bat in his hand. I should put a mask on, in case we get company, but fuck it. I want him to know exactly who’s going to kill him.

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