Alessandria had been staring out her bedroom window well after Zeke had left. She’d watched his car race down the driveway, knew that he was going to kill Gerald, and a part of her felt pleasure in that. There was also a little self-hatred. She hated that she hadn’t been strong enough to take care of herself and her problems, hated that she’d gotten herself—let herself—get involved with all of this ugliness to begin with.
An approaching dark SUV pulled up the driveway and parked right by the front door. The man that stepped out of the driver’s side was big, tattooed, and heavily muscled. He looked dangerous, looked like he could kill a man with his bare hands.
Shakes.
Touching her lips, she felt them tingle from the kiss she’d shared with Zeke right before he’d left. It had been soft, sweet almost. No tongue, no pressure. Zeke had given her that kiss as though he were sealing something.
He was. He was sealing the fact that you are his.
Knowing that, knowing Zeke wanted her, wanted to fuck her, should have made Alessandria want to leave, want to escape and not get trapped in this web of desire and security. But reasoning and desire were very powerful emotions, and she wanted Zeke.
What would he handle her honest, when she actually admitted what she wanted, when she told him how she liked the pain with her pleasure, how it had been her darkest secret her entire life? Would he be like Gerald and think she deserved what she got, that the beatings were justified because she liked pain?
She wanted Zeke more than she’d ever wanted anyone. Her need for him rivaled her need for freedom. A few weeks in his home didn’t give her knowledge into who he really was, not all the way, at least.#p#分页标题#e#
Alessandria thought about what Zeke would do to Gerald, and nothing but pleasure and a sense of finality filled her. She wouldn’t have to worry, wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder for him when she wandered beyond Zeke’s steel gates.
Zeke had been honest with her, given her space and time to heal. He gave her the sense of calm that she’d need so desperately. She’d be honest with him and tell him exactly what she wanted: him and her freedom.
Chapter Twelve
“He’s in there, boss,” Boscoe said from the front seat of the car. Zeke didn’t have many men with him, but he didn’t need many men for what he had planned. The strip club where they were was rundown, sleazy, and just looking at it told Zeke this was the perfect place for this to go down. Standing outside, just around the corner, was a girl who couldn’t be older than sixteen, and she was giving head to a man old enough to be her father. This was not the way to conduct business, any business, but this also wasn’t his issue because she wasn’t one of his girls.
It wasn’t like that was the worst thing he was seeing. No, there was another couple of girls wearing hardly anything, clearly drugged out by the way they acted, and waiting for some action. The women were also badly bruised, and around their neck was a sign that read fuck for free. They obviously didn’t give a shit, were probably paid with drugs, and the johns would pay the pimps with cash.
The women looked miserable. This was what he hated about street pimps. They had no respect for the women who worked for them. Often, they abused the girls, getting them addicted to drugs, and then making them work for said drugs. They had no life and one of the reasons why Zeke made sure his women got the best treatment and care.
All of his girls had the best care money could buy. They were loyal to him, and loyalty meant a great deal.
“This is fucking disgusting.”
Zeke watched as the man gripped the back of the girl’s head hard and slammed deep inside of her mouth, making her take it all. Zeke liked being rough, too, obviously, but he made sure the women he was with liked what he was giving them.
“Tell me I can kill the bastards,” Boscoe said.
“Let me at the fucker,” Zeke said with no emotion. Climbing out of the car, Zeke approached the scene. The young girl started to gag, fighting the man who was now laughing as she struggled to breathe. Grabbing his gun from the back of his pants, he unhooked the safety, aimed, and fired without thought. The man jerked out of her mouth and fell against the brick wall before sliding to the ground. The girl panted on the ground, glanced up at him, and then after a second scrambled away.
He left the mess for Boscoe to deal with, and Zeke entered the club. There were plenty of guys watching the girls strip. He could tell some recognized him as he walked through the shitty club, and he heard his name whispered in fear.
When he did a loop around the bar and didn’t see Gerald, he grabbed the barman and started asking questions. Zeke knew what Gerald looked like, had even seen a few pictures.