Chapter Three
Emily sat shaking, trying to understand what just happened and if she was in a worse situation than she was before.
The man sitting beside her was scary, but she liked how soft his voice was and how gentle he was with her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
He looked down at her. “To my house. I can keep you safe until we take care of Fowler.”
“What does that mean—take care of?”
He stared at her for a moment. “Let’s just say he won’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again.”
Oh, God. She dreamed about that every night she’d been with the man. He was evil to the core and didn’t care about anyone but himself. It made her sick the way he sold women as if they were objects instead of humans.
She’d cried the first few days after they’d taken her off the streets, and every day, the beatings got worse until she stopped the tears. Fortunately, they didn’t break any bones, but she had contusions all over her body, and she ached for a long time.
Since then, she closed herself behind an unbreakable mental barrier to keep the emotions away. Now, she didn’t know if she could cry anymore or have any other emotions other than fear, hatred, and disgust.
“Does that scare you, baby?”
She shook her head. “No, it makes me happy.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?”
“I … I don’t know how to anymore.” She turned her head away from him and closed her eyes. She rested against the seat. She didn’t want to talk unless he made her have a conversation.
She must have dozed because he woke her as they drove up a long driveway to a humungous house.
“This is your house?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Am I going to be your slave now?”
He looked surprised. “No, honey. I promise you’ll never be a slave again.”
She looked down at her lap, afraid to hope that it was really true. The side door opened, and the man got out and held his hand out to her.
She exhaled, took it, and let him pull her from the car. She adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and then looked around, startled to see huge men everywhere, and some of them had guns.
“Come on, Emily.”
The driver cleared his throat to get the man’s attention.
“Where do you want the bags from Mr. Marsh’s house, sir?”
“In the bedroom next to mine, please.”
Grey pulled her into the house. “Would you like something to eat or a bath first?” he asked.
Her eyes widened in dismay. She hadn’t been able to decide for herself in months and now didn’t know if she was able.
He must have seen her bewilderment and answered for her. “How about we get you some food first. You’re very thin, so I’d like to get some nutrients in you.”
She nodded and tightened the blanket around her, afraid he’d take it from her. “He didn’t feed me a lot. When I went to live there, he kept saying I was chunky and that nobody would like a chunky girl.”
He sighed. “Baby, the man is a bastard. I know it will be hard, but we will get you through this. Maybe we’ll consider counseling.”