Page 2 of Pet

They shoved me through the door and, to my surprise, left me alone, warning me again not to scream or make a peep, as they would be right outside the door again.

I looked at myself in the hotel bathroom mirror and was horrified. I looked like a slutty mess. My tears had smudged my dark makeup, and the clothes were so tacky and unlike my style I barely recognized myself. I longed for my jeans and hoodie, for my own bed, and for my mom.

How long would it even take my dad to notice I was gone? My parents divorced when I was a baby, and I normally lived with my mom. I visited my dad about once a year, and it was always awful. He was a drunk and a gambler and I hated him. But Mom thought it was important for me to have some sort of relationship with my father, so every summer I spent about a week with him.

I splashed cold water on my face and tried to clean up my makeup as best as I could. I was too afraid to take it off, worried it would anger the men.

Finally, I left the bathroom and decided to check out the hotel room. Maybe I would be able to crawl out of the window or something.

With frustration, I saw that we were several stories up. If I tried to jump, I would surely break my neck. If I tried to scream to anybody outside, the men at the door would hear me and kill me. I was completely trapped.

As I peered out the window, the hotel room door opened.

An older man entered the room. He had an air of authority the masked men lacked, and I was startled to realize he wasn’t wearing a mask.

He had sharp, birdlike features, cold black eyes, and slicked back dark gray hair. He looked like a hawk or some other bird of prey. He wore a spotless all-white suit that looked very expensive. He was terrifying.

“Don’t be afraid, little one, I’m not here for you,” he chuckled, crossing the room to stand in front of me. “Although you certainly are beautiful… your father didn’t lie about that.”

I felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head. “My… my father? You know my father?” I blurted out, too surprised to remember not to speak.

The man didn’t seem to mind. “Unfortunately, yes. You see, your father owes me money—quite a great deal of money, in fact—and since he apparently can’t repay me, he has offered you up instead.” He leered at me, and I started to understand what he meant.

I wanted to kill my father. I knew he wasn’t a great guy, but I never suspected he’d do something like this. How could he do this to me? To his own daughter? The knot in my stomach tightened.

“What… what are you going to do to me?” I whispered, backing up against the window.

The man laughed. “I’mnot going to do anything to you, my sweet,” he chuckled, then leered again. “Although I’m very tempted… you are a little treat, aren’t you?”

I shuddered and looked away.

“But no, you’re not for me, and you are much more valuable… unspoiled. You’re a gift for a dear, dear friend of mine,” the hawk-eyed man said fondly, stroking my hair with his long, thin fingers.

I gagged at his touch.

“I just came to inspect you myself before handing you over. But you are more than satisfactory. I think you’re ready to meet your owner. And remember, the men are just outside the door, so if you get feisty or so much as raise your voice, you’re dead, understand?” he said pleasantly, as if we were discussing what to have for lunch.

I nodded.

“Very good.” He grinned, and his devious smile only terrified me more.

He turned and walked back to the door, then opened it.

A startlingly attractive, elegant man in his thirties entered the room. When he saw me, he gasped, and shouted, “What the hell, James?”

Chapter Two

William

I hadn’t known what to make of James Cohen when I met him.

I was the lawyer on retainer for the Cohen mob family. I’ve worked for the family for ten years, and they pay me very, very well.

Did I feel guilty for helping out a mob family? A little, but money has a way of soothing that away, and I figure I’m not actually committing any crimes. I’m just doing my job and helping the Cohen family out. If I didn’t do it, someone else would. And besides, once you’re involved with the mob, there’s really no way out, other than death.

Which is how James Cohen became the new underboss, meaning he was the family member I worked under and usually spoke to directly. The previous underboss, whom I’d known very well, had been assassinated, leaving James in line to take his place.

James was quite a character. He looked like some type of bird and always wore flashy white suits. He seemed to inexplicably have formed some sort of attachment to me and was always just a little too eager whenever we talked.

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