Black Tie: HOT Heroes for Hire: Mercenaries: A Black’s Bandits Novel Read online

  She stared up at him, thinking. He wondered what was going on behind those remarkable eyes. He was about to drop his arm and step away when she got to her feet.

  A moment later, she slipped her arm into his. Their skin wasn’t touching, but he still felt a jolt of electricity. One glance at her face told him she’d felt it too. Her eyes were slightly wide, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something.

  But she didn’t. Neither of them did.

  Brett led her outside, fighting his body’s reaction to her the whole way.

  Chapter Six

  The night air was cool. Tallie took her arm from Brett’s the instant they walked outside, mostly because she felt jumpy the longer they touched, but she hadn’t realized how much heat his body provided her just by standing so close.

  Still, she wasn’t going to grab his arm again, so she wrapped her arms around herself and walked over to the stone balustrade instead of sitting in one of the chairs. She could feel Brett immediately behind her. Not too close, but not so far he couldn’t catch her if she tried something.

  Like what? Jumping off this balcony into the water below? Shouting at the water taxis gliding by with their hordes of tourists?

  She could do that. Shout, that is. As soon as she heard any voices speaking English—or even French—she could scream for help. Or maybe she could just scream for help anyway. Surely a scream for help was universal?

  Something stopped her, though. Brett entered her field of vision as he stepped to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the stone. He twisted his neck to look at her. A cold breeze ruffled the dark strands of his hair. The light reflecting off the water glinted in his eyes. She knew then that he had a good idea what she was thinking.

  “It’s not the best plan,” he said. “Or maybe it is, because it will surely get back to the people who held the auction. You’ll be cementing my cover as a rich asshole who buys underage girls. With them anyway, because the authorities won’t enter this building.”

  Tallie shivered. The knit dress wasn’t as warm as she’d like, but she didn’t want to go back inside just yet. There was something about having the air on her face that made her feel like herself once more.

  It was a thing she’d thought, in her few lucid moments, that she might never get to experience again.

  “I considered it, you’re right. I decided it wasn’t a good idea. As far as I can tell, you and Colt are my best shot at getting home.”

  “We are.”

  His phone dinged and he took it from his pocket. The light illuminated his face as he read the text.

  Handsome.

  It shocked her to think of him that way. Was she suffering from Stockholm Syndrome already? Falling for her captor?

  He’s not your captor, Tallie. He’s your savior.

  She hoped like hell that was true. She was starting to believe it was—really believe it—but she’d also believed she was safe in France, traveling alone and buying antiques for the business.

  “Colt?” she guessed.

  He glanced at her. “Yes. He won’t be rejoining us tonight.”

  Her heart thumped. “Oh.”

  Brett arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked him.”

  She laughed, surprising herself. “It’s not that. I…” She swallowed. “I’m not sure I want to be alone with you.”

  He straightened, and she was reminded just how much bigger he was. Tall and muscular. Lethal strength in a very appealing package.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. If that’s what I wanted, I could have done it by now.” He sighed and looked out over the water. Then he turned back to her. “I’m going to tell you something, Tallie. Something personal.”

  “Okay.”

  He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “My mother was a sex worker. Because she had no other options—or didn’t think she did. She sold her body for food, for drugs, for a roof over our heads. I hated the men who used her. The men who only wanted to get laid and wouldn’t give a shit about her two seconds after they’d gotten off.”

  Tallie’s heart sped as she listened to him. Heat bloomed in her cheeks. Not because she was ashamed, but because she was suddenly very aware that she’d caused him to have to tell her something painful.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago and it’s over now. She’s long gone—but I want you to understand something. If I was the kind of man who could buy a woman for my own personal sex slave, I’d be an even worse kind of human being than the men who paid my mother for sex were. And I’m not. I hated those men. I’m nothing like them. I never could be.”

  Impulsively, she put a hand on his where it lay on the balustrade. His skin was warm and a little sizzle of awareness shot through her. She withdrew her hand by instinct, and then wished she hadn’t.

  “I believe you. And I really am sorry about your mother. No one should have to suffer that way.”

  His eyes glittered hard for a moment, like diamonds. She thought there might be more to the story, but he didn’t say and she didn’t ask.

  “I’m one of the good guys, Tallie. I joined the Army out of high school, did four years, then got out went to work for this outfit. I’ve been at this job for six years—and I love it because I get to make a difference in the world. Attending that auction, as disgusting as it was, is part of something bigger. Those people will be stopped, I promise you.”

  She turned to watch the boats on the Grand Canal again. The breeze was cool, refreshing, though it also brought the scents of sea and fuel with it. She’d never been to Venice before. She’d always heard that it stank, but it didn’t. Maybe it was the time of year and the fact it was cooler, or maybe it just didn’t stink at all.

  “It’s hard to believe in this day and age that people actually sell other people. Or that someone like me—independent, American, not without means—could fall prey to them.”

  “I don’t think most people like you will ever have to worry about it, fortunately. Typically, traffickers prey on women—and men—who are vulnerable in some way. But this is a different group of traffickers and they’re looking for a particular type of woman. You’re young, you’re beautiful, and you have very rare eyes. You had the misfortune to attract the attention of men who were looking for more than the typical.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks. He’d said she was beautiful. It shouldn’t make her blush, and yet it did. Because he was beautiful himself—and she was attracted to him in spite of everything that’d happened.

  “I wear contacts when I don’t want the attention. I didn’t put them in after I arrived in Avignon because my eyes were irritated.”

  “Even if you had, they probably would have taken you anyway. You were alone. They watched you for a while to make sure of it.”

  She thought of the man she’d seen following her. He had been there for a couple of days. She’d mistaken the attention for something else entirely.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to travel alone again. I’ll always be looking over my shoulder—and I hate that because I love to travel. The antiquing trips to France make me happy. Or used to anyway.”

  “I’m sorry you’re scared now. It’ll take time, but you may find yourself ready to go again someday.”

  She sighed. “I’ve mentioned to Mom that I could lead antiquing trips. Plan a trip for a few select clients, guide them through the markets, help them choose and buy. She’s always thought it would take too much effort—but I think it’s the only way I’ll ever go again.”

  “Traveling with a crowd isn’t a bad idea. And after this, I’ll bet your mother won’t want you to leave the country anyway. Not for a while.”

  “No, probably not.” Tallie frowned. “Are you certain she’s okay?”

  “According to my boss, she is. He wouldn’t lie about it.”

  “My sister died in a car accident almost a year ago. It’s been hard for her. We don’t always see eye to eye, but I know she loves me. If she
thought I was gone too, I don’t know what that would do to her.”

  “She knows you aren’t gone. It’s for your protection that you can’t talk to her right now. The people who took you know who you are. They could be watching your mother. We have to make sure they aren’t before we let you return.”

  “But why? If I was just a random person they grabbed, why would they even care? They got their money, right? So what does it matter now?”

  “It shouldn’t matter at all. And it probably doesn’t. We’re being cautious. That’s the job, Tallie. Consider everything and plan for the worst.”

  It made sense. She understood, even if she didn’t like it. Finally, she felt like she was settling in to the things he was saying. This was caution, not imprisonment. He and Colt and Signora Ricci had been nothing but good to her. They hadn’t been drugging her, and they weren’t going to hurt her.

  For the first time since she’d awakened in her room and felt the terror of her situation, those feelings finally faded. Not the fear of what had happened to her, or the fear of it happening again—but the fear of being here in this place. With these people.

  “It’s a terrifying thought that they know who I am. Where I live. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  “It’s not very likely they’ll come for you. It’s too risky when there are millions of other young women they can choose from. And they can’t sell you to the same crowd again. You wouldn’t fetch as much a second time.”

  Tallie shivered. “I know that’s supposed to make me feel better, but it really doesn’t. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get home, but staying by myself isn’t very appealing right now.”

  “Do you have a security system?”

  “Yes. I should probably get a dog, too. I had a cat but he died of old age three months ago. I haven’t had the heart to get another pet. Maybe it’s time.”

  Sharon had told her to get another cat right after Alfie died, not to replace him but to help ease the pain. She hadn’t been able to do it at the time.

  “A dog isn’t a bad idea if that’s what you want.”

  Tallie propped her elbows on the balustrade and folded her hands beneath her chin. “I don’t know what I want. I just want life to be normal again. But it probably won’t be, will it?”

  She turned her head to gaze up at him. He gave her a look filled with the kind of quiet resignation that made her heart fall. A look that said he wanted to make it rosy for her—but that he wasn’t going to.

  “Eventually. But not right away.”

  Tallie Grant was smart. And stronger than she seemed to know. He’d been involved in enough rescues over his career to see a variety of reactions.

  Some people couldn’t function for weeks. Sometimes months. Post-traumatic stress was a real concern, and Brett didn’t necessarily think Tallie was immune to it.

  But so far, she was handling the situation with grace and intelligence. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d determined to save her. He hadn’t known who she was or where she was from or if she even spoke English.

  He hated having to tell her that life was going to be difficult for a while, but she already knew it. Knew it and seemed to be making plans to deal with it.

  He admired that. Recognized it as a strength, and one he shared as well. Even when he’d been eight and sitting beside his mother’s dead body, he’d made plans for how to get through the next few hours. Then the next few days. Then months.

  Without his ability to compartmentalize, he’d have never survived the years of foster care. He’d had terrific foster parents, and not so terrific ones. Each change in situation was like a hammer blow to his carefully constructed mental walls.

  But he’d always bounced back. He’d survived, and he’d thrived by the end. He didn’t dwell on the past. He forged forward. His background had prepared him for the Army, and then for working with Ian Black.

  The only thing he would change, if he could, was that he wished his mother had lived and gotten clean. It might have made him a different person, but that would’ve been okay too.

  “Thanks for being truthful with me,” Tallie said.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” He wouldn’t if she were a weaker person, but he didn’t tell her that.

  She shrugged. “I think a lot of people might prefer to sugarcoat the truth. Tell me it’ll all be great and I’ll get over what happened in a week or two.”

  “You won’t ever get over it,” he told her. “But you will figure out how to live with it.”

  Her eyes glistened. He wanted to reach for her, but he thought that would be a bit too much.

  “I don’t even know if they… you know.” She swallowed. He knew what she was trying to say.

  “I don’t think so, Tallie. And I’m not just saying that. The women are valuable to them, and they want the best price possible. Rape is for the client who purchases, not for the men who work for the organization.”

  He was angry saying those words, but she had to know. Maybe he should have tried to find a doctor, one Ian could have paid off, and had a rape kit done on her. But it’d been too risky and he hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

  Still, their information about the organization thus far was that the girls were not sexually abused before going into the auction. That was for after.

  “The men who took me talked about it, and one of them said I was supposed to be delivered untouched. And I don’t feel like it happened—but if I was drugged for days, they could have done anything and I wouldn’t have known.”

  He wasn’t going to deny it. She knew better.

  “You may want counseling when you return home.”

  She blinked up at him. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “There’s time.”

  She went silent then, staring at the scenery. Venice was incredibly beautiful at any time of day or night. The palaces that lined the Grand Canal were lit from below, warm light caressing their facades.

  There were restaurants perched along the canal, too. Brett could hear the clinking of silverware on plates and the voices of happy tourists enjoying the beauty of the city. The water lapped the foundations as boats traveled along, and music drifted up to the balcony from the gondoliers who played recordings of traditional Italian love songs as they rowed gape-eyed lovers through the city.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Tallie eventually said. “I never realized. Pictures don’t quite do it justice.”

  He hated that her first time in Venice would always be associated with something terrible. Maybe it was her last time, too. She might never want to return. He didn’t blame her.

  “Wait until daylight. It gets even better.”

  “You’ll let me outside then?”

  “Do you promise not to scream for help?” He said it lightly, but he was serious too.

  “I’m not going to scream for help. I’ve realized that you are my help.”

  He relaxed slightly. “I’m glad to hear it. And yes, you can sit out here for breakfast if you like.”

  “What about my bedroom door? Will that still be locked?”

  “No. Your door was locked because we didn’t know how sick you’d be from the drugs. We thought it best not to let you wander around until they’d all been flushed from your system.”

  “You aren’t worried I’ll try to escape?”

  “The outer doors are locked. You can’t walk out.”

  Her gaze dropped for a second. “Of course. But I don’t intend to try. Like I said, I believe you now. And I trust you to get me home again.”

  He studied her features. The outside light illuminated creamy skin, a small nose, finely arched eyebrows, and generous lips. Her eyes were the star of the show, however. Even in the dim light, he could tell they were different. One was deeper than the other.

  “What was it like growing up with heterochromia?” he asked softly.

  She smiled. “You know what it’s called. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  He’d
said the word when she’d been drugged, but she clearly didn’t remember it. He was surprised she remembered anything at all, though she did seem to remember snatches of things.

  “I know a lot of random stuff.”

  “Well, it was a bit of a nightmare, actually. Kids are cruel, you know. And of course I couldn’t wear contacts then. Even when I was old enough, my parents wouldn’t let me. My dad was a big proponent of embracing who you are. He had heterochromia too, though it was more subtle in him.”

  “He’s gone?”

  “Yes. Suicide, unfortunately. I guess embracing himself was a bit too much in the end.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. It was five years ago. I miss him every day.”

  He didn’t miss his mother anymore, but she’d been gone for twenty years. When he thought of her, he realized how little he’d really known her.

  And he hadn’t known his father at all. She would never say who his father was. It wasn’t until he’d gotten older that he realized she probably hadn’t known. Though when she’d been clean, she’d talked of growing up in a town with parents and grandparents and a normal life. He used to beg her to take him back there. She never did, which made him wonder later if it had all been made up.

  He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to learn more about her and who her family might have been. Some things were better left alone, he reckoned. That was one thing that working for Ian had taught him. You didn’t always want to know the truth.

  He’d stopped searching. Because it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was who he was now.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Yo,” he said, recognizing the number as Ian’s private line but not wanting to give any hint to Tallie that he was talking to the boss.

  “Yo yourself,” Ian said. “How’s Sleeping Beauty doing?”

  “Great,” Brett said, eyeing her.

  “I’m hearing rumblings. Von Kassel is offering big money to anyone who can retrieve Miss Grant—not that he’s referred to her by name—from Carter Walker.”

  Brett’s gut twisted. “What? Why? If he’d had it, he’d have spent it when he had the chance.”