Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,26

it in an instant.

As his lips lift in a similar fashion, he asks, “Are you smiling ‘cause I look like I shit my pants? Or are you excited about devouring some fresh bread?” Although he’s asking a question, he continues talking as if he didn’t. “I can still recall the first time I sampled bread straight out of the oven. It was warm and spongy… almost as delicious as a woman’s cunt.” A flare darts through his eyes when he drops and locks them with mine. “This isn’t warm, K, but I swear to you, it’s fresh.”

My heart beats out a funky tune when he rips off a chunk of the bread and pops it into his mouth. After angling his head so I can see the bob of his Adam’s apple from him swallowing it down, he tears off another generous chunk for me. He doesn’t force it into my mouth this time around, though. He holds it out in front of me, offering it up as if there won’t be any stipulations attached to his generosity.

It takes me longer to accept than I care to admit. My mind is still spiraling with debilitating confusion, so a lack of respect can be excused. Furthermore, men I once called friends hurt me for less than a chunk of bread, so it’ll take a lot longer than an hour for me to trust one I hardly know.

“More?” Trey asks when our turn-for-turn on the bread roll sees it consumed in under a minute.

Although I still feel hollow on the inside, I shake my head, confident the empty feeling has nothing to do with a hungry stomach.

“Alright.” Trey stands to his feet without the slightest bit of discomfort fettering his features from my monkey hold. “Then, how about we get cleaned up.”

Don’t misconstrue his wording. He isn’t suggesting we should do this. He’s telling me what we’re doing. It’s a known trait of all men in this industry.

Usually, I hate it. It isn’t irking my nerves as much tonight, though.

After placing me back on my feet, Trey curls his tattooed hand around mine. His hold is less aggressive than it was previously, but there’s no denying its possessiveness.

When we enter the common area in the middle of the compound, my eyes float up from the floor to Trey when he says, “Give the women access to the shower stalls. They’ll need clothes and toiletries. If the whores don’t have enough to share, send someone out to get supplies.” He’s speaking with the man he was talking to earlier, the giant who’s missing a finger from each of his hands. “And have some of Nero’s men guard that side of the compound tonight, but ensure they’re aware of Nikolai’s order. If they are touched—”

“There will be hell to pay,” the unnamed man interrupts. As his tongue fiddles with the circular ring in the corner of his bottom lip, he drags his eyes down my body. His prolonged gawk of my stew-stained nightgown doesn’t make my stomach flip, but his questions sure do. “What about her? Want me to take her back to the dorm?”

I doubt he’d touch me, fear was the first emotion that flared through his eyes when he finalized Trey’s threat. It is Trey’s reply that has my stomach twisted up in knots. “No. She’s staying with me.”

I don’t know why his answer shocks me. I paid horrendously for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so why would I anticipate a lessor response for a much more heartier meal? Nothing in life is free, and I’m about to learn that the hard way for the third time in my life.

Eight

Trey

“Eight is going to get you some clothes, but for now, you can wear one of my shirts.”

After double-checking the temperature of the water pelting out of the shower, I spin around to face the main section of my room. Clarks is like a fortress. It’s made out of concrete, glass, and steel, and has an impressive amount of floor space, however, its sleeping quarters aren’t hideously ugly like the rooms Vladimir held his captives in. They’re like hotel rooms with king-size beds, double-headed showers, and state-of-the-art equipment.

I swear the person who built this compound was either gay or a chick because even the roughest and meanest members of Nikolai’s crew have hairdryers in their bathrooms. I’ve had my room the longest. It was the first space I was given that didn’t represent a prison cell after my failed bid to take