SINdicate: A BT Urruela FanFiction Novel: Cerberus MC Book 1.5 (6 page)

Digging around a little more, I decide on a Nutella and jelly sandwich and a ranch flavored rice cake. I know I was bitching before, but it is damn near a gourmet meal when the flavor hits my tongue. I’m sitting at one of the tables adjacent to the kitchen area. Once again, I don’t know if eating in the rooms are allowed, but I don’t want to get into trouble. The tables are clearly here to be eaten on, so I figure they’re safe.

I’m scarfing down my food, not only because I feel like I’m starving but also because I want to get out of here before anyone else comes in. My face falls when another girl walks in and grabs a disgustingly green
Naked
juice from the fridge. I cringe when she saunters across the room and takes a seat across from me. Of all the other spots to pick, she sits right near me.

I’m torn in this situation. I want to find out information and do my best to figure out a way to get out of this place, but I also have no clue who I can trust. She looks nice enough, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. She also doesn’t look like she’s being forced to be here, and that can’t be a good sign.

She’s taller than I am and quite a bit curvier. Her large breasts are hugged generously by her thin tank top. She’s not wearing a bra and by the looks of things she either has the best set of natural boobs I’ve ever seen or she has implants.

“I’m Darby,” she says softly after giving me enough time to take her in.

“Aviana,” I tell her and immediately wonder if I should’ve given her a fake name. No sense in that I guess since Vito knows exactly who I am.

“How long is your contract?” I give her a blank stare.
What in the world is she talking about?

“Contract?” I say with a confused shake of my head.

“Yeah, the contract.”

“I didn’t sign a contract.” She snaps her head up from where she was focusing on peeling the label of her juice bottle. Now she’s the one confused.

“Really?”

I’m surprised they have no clue that I’m being held here against my will. “That Vito guy,” I begin before she interrupts me.

“Mmm,” she fake moans softly. “Vito’s my favorite. He’s a good tipper too.”

Good tipper? What. The. Fuck?

I feel like I’ve somehow woken up in the damn Twilight Zone.

“Vito had me abducted because my dad owes him money. I don’t even know where I am,” I explain.

I watch as her face falls slightly. “Yeah, we get girls like you every once in a while.” She takes a small sip of her drink, and I can tell she’s contemplating on whether or not to tell me more. “You’re in Las Vegas.”

“Vegas?” My dad owes money to people in Vegas? No wonder the amount was so high. You wouldn’t find someone dumb enough to give that type of money to him in Tampa.

“What kind of place is this?” I ask hoping she’ll keep talking. I still haven’t decided if she can be trusted, so the less I say and the more she shares is best.

She gets a look in her eye like she’s trying to make it sound better than it actually is, which makes me suddenly even more uncomfortable.

“It’s sort of like a brothel.” I gasp, and she has the wherewithal to scrunch her nose up because that sounds pretty damn bad.

“A whore house?” I ask completely appalled. Why the hell would Vito bring me to a whore house? There’s no way I’m going to whore myself out.

“I mean if you want it to sound really bad, then I guess you could label it a whore house.” She uses finger quotes on whore house, and it makes me grin.

“Fuck,” I say in a rush. “I mean, I’m not judging you but, really?”

She shrugs her shoulders as if she’s used to my response. “Honestly, sucking dick is better than being homeless.”

I nod in agreement, but inside I’m wondering if that’s true. I live in a shitty apartment, but the roof doesn’t leak, and it’s warm inside when it’s cold out. I have no idea what it would be like when you’re homeless so I can’t really judge her for her choices.

“You’re here by choice then?” She nods. “What happens if you don’t want to… you know…?”

“Suck ‘em and fuck ‘em?” She grins. “Some women don’t last long here, and they take them away.”

“So they force you to have sex with them?” I push my unfinished plate of food away. Even as hungry as I know I am, I couldn’t stomach another bite after the information she’s just put at my feet.

“They don’t force us, Aviana. Besides,” she says as she stands from the table. “The guys treat us well, most of them are incredibly handsome, and a couple of them are even good in bed.”

She begins to walk back out of the room, and I hope I haven’t offended her by my reaction. I hope she knows that although she’s here by choice, I’m not. This isn’t something I’ve chosen for myself.

“Darby?” She turns back to me. “Who are they and why does this place even exist?”

She lowers her head slightly before she speaks. “They’re the SINdicate, and most of them work so much they don’t have time to date. We’re here so they can blow off steam quickly and then get back to work.”

She gives me a quick smile and waggles her fingers in a quick wave, and she leaves me in the room alone. Now the racing thoughts from earlier are much worse now that some facts have been added. I needed a plan to get out of here more, now than ever.

BT

I watch as the broken man in front of me sobs for his daughter. I give him a few minutes to compose himself, but when it becomes clear that he won’t be able to without intervention, I clear my throat.

He pops his head up and looks in my direction as if he’s just remembered that I’m standing here.

“Who took her?” I ask and follow his hands as he begins to scratch at existing sores on his arm, his nails causing new ones as well.

He shakes his head as if he’s going to refuse to give the information. I raise my gun slightly higher. It’s a scare tactic that I hope works because I know I’d never be able to shoot the man. Even if he is a disgusting tweaker whom I’m certain is somehow the cause of Aviana’s disappearance, I won't shoot her dad. Unless he tries to attack me, then I’d shoot him. Adrenaline rushes quickly in my blood, and the faintest plea in the back of my head begs for a quick second for him to make a move.

I shake my head to clear the thoughts as best I can.

“I suggest you tell me.” I pause trying to keep my finger on the trigger guard rather than on the actual trigger.

“I got into some trouble. They took her as payment.” He sobs again, but he’s so dehydrated, he’s run out of tears.

“What the fuck are you talking about, old man? You sold your fucking daughter?” He’s even more vile than his outward appearance led me to believe.

“Might as well have sold her!” He yells suddenly getting angry.
Get off the couch; I fucking dare you
. “They want me to pay two hundred thousand dollars. I don’t have that kind of money. She’s theirs. There’s nothing I can do.”

Ignoring the details I ask, “Who do you owe that kind of money to?”

His head jerks up like I’ve thrown something at him. “I can’t tell you that.” His eyes widen even further, “They’ll kill me.”

“Look at you. Seems like death would be easier than the shit you’re dealing with now.” I should regret saying such a horrible thing. It may not have been drugs in my life, but I’ve been pretty fucking close to rock bottom myself. I know the kinds of thoughts he’s thinking. Only difference is, my rock bottom didn’t cause harm or even possible death to others.

He nods his head as if agreeing that death would be easier. “Can you find her?”

“I sure as hell will give it my best.” It’s an honest answer. I can’t be sure of much else until I know exactly what it is that I’m dealing with.

I watch as he takes a small bag out of the front pocket of his shirt. “They call themselves the SINdicate.” He taps the bag, so some of the hard clumps fall out onto the scorched spoon I’d seen on the table earlier. Because getting high right now is the best thing for his daughter apparently. “They’re out of Vegas.”

“What casino?” He ignores me as he scoops up the lighter from the table. “Stop!” I insist. “You’re not smoking that shit with me in here.”

“Then get the fuck out,” he seethes. I can already see the tremble in his hand and know he’s not far off from losing it. He probably should have taken his next hit an hour ago.

“Tell me what I want to know,” I say through gritted teeth.

He ignores me for the last time, and I take a step forward just as he lifts the lighter under the spoon. I kick the shit out of his hands before he has time to strike the flint.

“What the fuck have you done?” I shake my head, growing angrier every second, as I watch him scramble after the small pellets of dope on the disgusting carpet.

“Tell me what I need to know, old man or I’ll take what’s left from your pocket.” He turns suddenly and clutches his dirty hand over the pocket on his shirt. I almost laugh because he looks exactly like Sméagol off of
Lord of the Rings
when he finally got his hand on the little, golden ring. Except this shit isn’t funny and Aviana’s life is in danger. If she’s still alive, comes to my head unbidden.

“What Casino?”

“It’s called The Golden Dragon.”

“Never heard of it.” I’ve been to Vegas numerous times, and it doesn’t ring a bell.

“It’s not on the strip. It’s mainly used by locals and people...” His voice trails off, but I see his fingers twitch against his chest.

“You smoked two hundred thousand in dope?” I don’t even try to hide the disdain in my voice.

“I gambled some too,” he says sounding affronted.

“You went there looking for drugs?”

“I went there broke. They found me, not the other way around,” he explains. This means they’re looking for people to get their hooks into.

I nod, scenarios already running through my head. I need to get out of here and start putting a fucking plan together. I’m already days behind.

“How long did they give you?”

“Three weeks.” His fingers dip into his front pocket as if it’s second nature and the action is subconscious.

“Mother fucker,” I mumble as I holster the Sig.

“You going to go find my baby girl?” The packet of dope is already open and tipped over the top of the spoon.

“You better be gone before I get back. This is the last fucking thing she needs to see after what you’ve put her through.”

I leave him in the squalor of the apartment. I have more important things to deal with, and her useless father is the last fucking thing on my list.

***

I make my way back to campus to get my truck. The dank air from the apartment clings to me, and the urge to head home to take a shower is almost too hard to resist.

My first call is to my boss at the Academy. I tell him there’s been a family emergency, and I have to take a leave of absence. He doesn’t give me any shit and doesn’t ask questions. The next call I place will not go as quickly, so I pull up an old friend’s number and put the other call on the back burner.

The phone rings several times before being answered. “What’s wrong,” the man on the other end of the call says with no other greeting.

“Why does something have to be wrong?” I ask even though I know what he’s going to say.

“You never call. Something must be wrong.” I instantly wish I’d been a better friend to him. My life is busy, and I’m sure his is too, but I should make more time for the people in my life.

“Spill it, peg leg.” I smile from ear to ear. Anyone else saying something like that to me would piss me off at the audacity, but since Blade is a double-leg amputee, he had one leg up on me, or was it down? At any rate, this man knows better than most what’s it’s like to be in our situation and sometimes, well most of the time, comedy is the best answer.

I’m just about to brag about half priced pedicures, but the realization that Aviana’s gone and I’m just wasting time right now hits me hard.

“I need some help,” I pause. “I need some things, but more importantly, I need a secure line for Shadow.”

“Pretty serious then, huh?” He asks, and I can hear him rustling paper around.

“Extremely serious,” I tell him.

He rattles off the number to me, and I jot it down on a receipt in the console of my truck. “Grab a burner before you call him.”

“Of course,” I say. “We’ll catch up after this.”

“It’ll be good to see that ugly, bearded face of yours,” he says with a chuckle.

We hang up, and I head for the nearest store that sells prepaid phones. At each stop light on my way, I begin deleting and suspending each one of my social media pages. Not to brag, but my face has been all over the internet for years. I hope the assholes in Vegas don’t recognize me. I’m pretty certain that they don’t read romance novels, so that’s a plus.

I shoot off quick messages to the authors I have pending shoots for and let the photographers know I have some shit to deal with. I assure them I’ll be back before long, and we’ll pick up right where I left off. Everyone seems to be super understanding, and that’s what I love about the indie author world.