Page 26 of Unlocked

I laugh. “Listen, I was trying to talk, but then you had to go and attack me, and now here we are.”

“I’m serious," she says, rolling her eyes.

“I know. Can we raincheck this?” I ask her, my eyes pleading as I pull out of her. I remove the condom and nip her lip playfully, before pulling my sweatpants back up, and disposingof it in the kitchen trash. I turn back to find her watching me curiously. “Look, I’m aware we need to have a more serious conversation. I have a lot on my mind, but right now, I could use a distraction from everything outside of this room. How about we table this conversation in favor of some pizza. Tomorrow we can get back to the real world?”

She smiles before grabbing her leggings and pulling them back on. “Okay, deal. One condition though…You better order mushroom because I’m starving and it’s my favorite.”

“Already on the way,” I say, smiling as I walk back over and yank her to the couch. “How about a movie while we wait?”

“Sounds perfect, Jonathan.”

Chapter 20

Jamison

We’ve just entered the casino portion of The Celler when Andre and Xavier walk away from us heading in the opposite direction from where we are walking.

“Where are they going?” I murmur quietly to Antonio as I watch them disappear through a set of double doors. He doesn’t know it yet, but I already know exactly where they’re heading. I have this place memorized like the back of my hand and have since the first time I was brought here at twelve years old. I grimace as the flashback assaults me.

“I’m hungry,” Jonathan says to our parents as we sit in a small room with only one mirror on it. “When are we getting dinner?”

“There’s no eating before a Cellar event, Jonathan. I already told you I would get whatever you guys want afterwards,” our adopted father replies. He turns toward our adoptive mom and mutters under his breath, “Can’t have them getting sick and puking everywhere.” She rolls her eyes and walks out the only door as he holds it open for her. The door slams and I hear the distinct sound of a latch sliding. My eyes narrow as I assess the room around us. It has a large flat screen television set up with multiple game consoles. An entire rack of games and movies line one wall. There’s a small sofa in front of the television. There is an entire area in theopposite corner full of various types of toys including Legos on top of a rug that expands the length of the room. My nose wrinkles. Why are we here? Our adoptive parents told us we were going somewhere fun. This place looks questionable even to my twelve-year old eyes. I scan the wall with the mirror as Jonathan immediately heads to the television to flip it on. I’ve heard of these before when reading my mystery novels. If I had to guess, I’m betting it's a window and we are currently being watched.

“Come on Jamison. They have Call of Duty on here. Help me pass the time.”

I groan as I turn to my brother and oblige his demand. I’m either bored or I’m bored. I can’t really win in this situation. I’m unsure how much time has passed but the door swings open and two figures enter, both wearing hoods. The shorter figure pulls his hood down to reveal a set of hazel eyes and rather, large round nose. His pudgy features, combined with his twisted smile, immediately give me the ick. The figure beside him doesn’t remove his hood, but stands there with his hands crossed in front of him. There’s a tattoo on one of his hands of a woman’s face wrapped in barbed wire. Interesting.

“I want that one." The pudgy man says to the other while pointing at my brother.

My hackles immediately rise. “What’s going on?” I ask as I step in front of my brother.

“Don’t worry, boy." The pudgy man laughs. “You’re just as pretty, and I’m sure you will be called on soon. I would take you both, but I can’t afford your steep prices.”

I grimace at his last words, and bile rises in the back of my throat as I turn to my brother, who looks just as worried and confused as I am. The hooded figure makes a grab for my brother as the pudgy man exits the room and I slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch him,” I growl out, which pisses him off. He slams his palm against my chest with such force I’m thrown to the ground. I make to jump up quickly, but the last thing I see is Jonathan’s wide eyes as he’s carried out of the room like a sack of potatoes. I try the door but it’s locked and in a fit of rage I find myself screaming at the top of my lungs, banging on the glass in front of me. I can’t say how much more time passes, but I know my voice is hoarse and my knuckles are split, when the same hooded figure with the hand tattoo comes back in with a woman around my adopted mother’s age. She smiles, her white teeth looking completely out of place next to her large nose. Her beady eyes, spaced far too wide for her face, scan my body, making me internally cringe. I scowl at her as she approaches me and pushes my normally groomed hair out of my face.

“Hello Jamison," she says as she pushes her over processed bleach blonde hair off of her shoulder and leans in close. “I’m Chanelle.” Her eyes shoot to my bruised and bloodied knuckles, and she bites her lip before turning to the hooded figure. “He’s perfect.”

I’m ripped from my memories by Antonio nudging me to sit down at a poker table. He eyes me warily. “Where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere,” I reply with zero emotion. I pull the chair out beside him and lean back while he places his bet, looking at me curiously. Our job was to scout the main area while Andre and Xavier make their way through the private rooms. I won’t be sitting here, though. I have unfinished business to attend to, and nothing is going to get in my way.

“Where’s the restroom?” I ask Antonio casually, while glancing around.

He nods his head in the direction of one of the hallways, before looking back down at his cards. “Don’t take too long.”

“Of course,” I reply curtly as I stand up and head in the direction he nodded towards. Once I’m out of his eyesight, I cut back across the back of the room, careful to stay out of his view, and slip a small keycard out of my pocket. I smile to myself as it scans and flashes green, granting me access to a separate area of private rooms I remember all too well from my childhood. Silently, I thank the sick fuck whose card I stole after I tracked her down recently. Her body is currently decomposing in the cement of a recently constructed building downtown. She’s just one of the many on my list to dispose of and it’s been a long time coming.

I make my way down a few hallways before entering a familiar door. Pop music assaults my ears. It's not dark and sultry like other areas of The Cellar. It’s light and fun sounding. It’s childish and it’s fucking disgusting. I stop and grab a pill that looks identical to a candy heart from a bowl to my right that a small woman with pigtails holds, before making my way to a couch and sitting down. I pocket the pill, not bothering to pretend to swallow it when I realize no one has paid me any attention. The room is full of sick fucks who have all downed at least one of these pills by now. They dance and gyrate against each other while waiting for their number to be announced. They are all sweaty, pupils fully dilated, and unaware of the danger sitting right in front of them.

I can’t wait to set this place on fire and watch them all burn, but for now, only one man will have to satisfy my craving. I hear his voice before I see him. He sits on a couch, surrounded by other men and women. His large stomach bounces grotesquely while he laughs, no doubt telling some ridiculous story to the imbeciles who surround him. Igor Fanz is a regular in The Cellar. Both Jonathan and I figured that out fairly quickly once we became of age to attend events. He shifts off of the couch and I watch him walk through a doorway beforeI smoothly stand and proceed to follow. I remember this area leading to a large bathroom area set up much like a locker room. This would be a clean up area for guests. A smaller duplicate one, mirrors the one I’m in, just on the other side of the main room. That one is for the entertainment. My nose wrinkles when I step around a corner and see Igor drop his clothes before stepping into a small private steam room they call a torch room. I quickly catch the door with my foot before it has the chance to lock me out and enter behind him. He spins around, noting my cloak and hood still on and narrows his eyes.

“This is a private room," he says assertively, as I glance around at the various large pots of boiling water emitting steam throughout the room.

I don’t say anything, as I step forward and remove my hood. I see his throat muscles work as he assesses me. It’s clear he realizes the danger he’s in, but has no idea why.

“Hello, Igor,” I purr out as I advance on him and grab him by the throat. I slam his body down on the bench, causing him to cry out in pain. These rooms are all sound proof. Everything in The Cellar is sound proof. I relish that fact as I whip out my pocket knife and slash down his cheek. He howls in pain and proceeds to cover the wound, but it's deep and the blood oozes between his fingers.

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