The Barter System Companion: Volume One Read online

  Never had she seen a man disrobe so quickly.

  Beneath the spray of the luxurious shower, Irena placed her small hand on his pale chest with a smile. As his hand lifted to touch her, she drove their knife into his heart. His eyes widened in shock.

  She whispered, “Rot in hell.”

  They left him lying naked on the floor of the enclosure. They showered in another bathroom and dressed in his t-shirts and socks. KiKi found the laundry room and washed the few clothing items they had.

  In the kitchen, they found gloves to use while they ransacked his house for valuables and wiped down everything they might have touched.

  In his office, they pried open the drawer containing his cache of child pornography. They spread it over his desk and bed.

  They took a small pouch of loose diamonds they found in his dresser and the amount of cash from his pockets would see them safely to Dallas and allow them to live simply.

  Irena held up the jewels and said, “This is freedom. You never have to let another man touch you to survive. Not ever.”

  Exhausted, KiKi covered her face and cried for every lost and horrific moment of her life she’d never get back.

  Then she stood up straight, wiped her face, and swore she’d control every second going forward, no matter what it took.

  * * *

  Dallas

  The day KiKi knocked on Renato Espinoza’s door, he thought she was her mother.

  “My mother is dead. She’s been dead.” The way he looked at her was familiar. “I’m not here to take her place.”

  She stepped closer and told him the lie that would allow her entry into his world. “My name is Kikiama Espinoza.” His eyes went wide. “I’m your daughter.”

  “What is it you want, little girl? You trying to roll me?” A man like him would never call the authorities. He had too much to hide. It was a fact she counted on.

  “I was born in a brothel. My mother told me you owned a club.” He nodded. “I know sex and I know money. Allow me to assist in the club. If you’re not satisfied in three months, I will move on.”

  The big man frowned. “What’s the catch?” He stared back and forth between the girls and didn’t even attempt to hide his obvious erection.

  KiKi pointed above her head. “The upstairs is empty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let us live there. Leave us alone. Reap the financial benefits.”

  “Why should I help you?”

  Her smile was slow and calculating. “A sense of fatherly responsibility would be too much to ask for, I guess?”

  “Why should I take the word of a whore’s kid?”

  “My mother, before she was bought like an animal, brought to America, and murdered, left me photos of you together. She kept a few of the ones you took while you were deployed in Bangkok. You must remember taking them.”

  Crossing her arms over her narrow chest, she sighed. “It’s clear Iniko is a child and I’m the product of that union. Shall I throw myself on the mercy of the United States government or are you going to cooperate…daddy?”

  For almost a minute, he stared at her face, judging if she was a serious threat. She didn’t blink.

  Finally, he nodded but he didn’t look happy about it.

  “Show me upstairs. We do not need much. If you like what I do for you over the next three months, we will renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”

  It was her first day at The Playground.

  * * *

  Three months later, KiKi made her way to the first floor. The leather of her bustier was padded. She wore a long wig, very high platform heels, and a theatrical mask.

  The disguise coupled with the average person’s aversion to the idea someone only fourteen would be allowed in such a place meant no one questioned her.

  No one knew who she was and that was the way she liked it.

  Irena never entered the club area when it was open. KiKi considered herself a mother of sorts to the girl.

  The ten-year-old blonde became her major domo. Irena dressed her, learned to do her hair, experimented with makeup, and basically assured KiKi had what she needed before she knew she needed it.

  In return, KiKi protected the girl as a bear protected its cub.

  Her father, realizing his profits from The Playground more than doubled in the months after his long-lost daughter appeared on the scene, agreed to make their arrangement permanent.

  KiKi negotiated for forty percent of the profits after overhead and there was no doubt in her mind he cheated her.

  Every check was cashed and money went into her safe. The expensive model was stored with their few belongings in a unit they’d paid for in advance.

  Only she and Irena knew of its existence. The pouch of diamonds inside always made them smile.

  For two years, she made Renato Espinoza profits he’d never dreamed of and they maintained a wary truce with one another.

  Her ideas were well received and membership tripled. Raising the annual rates separated the fluff from the serious players.

  Two months after her sixteenth birthday, Renato discovered she was not his biological daughter.

  Rather than shrugging his shoulders and counting himself lucky to have her padding his bank account, the man acted as a typical fool.

  He chloroformed her while she slept, drove her to an abandoned lot, and beat her viciously. When he was done, he dumped her naked and bleeding beside a dumpster.

  The last thing he said before she lost consciousness was, “You played me all these years…now I’m going to get payback from your little pet’s ass.” Leaning close, the scent of tequila wafted from his breath. “I can’t wait, little whore.”

  KiKi could’ve died from her condition coupled with exposure to an unusually cold winter but she didn’t.

  A man saved her, protected her, and then helped her exact revenge despite suffering at the hand of his own demons.

  For that, he earned her lifelong friendship and loyalty.

  Theirs was a friendship born of evil, forged in blood, and bound by common goals.

  At age fourteen, Kikiama Espinoza had already lived an entire adult lifetime. By twenty-four, she possessed an empire.

  From child whore to multi-millionaire in less than a decade. Iniko would’ve been proud.

  The Carving

  Dallas – January 2003

  Another night gone.

  The alcohol and crack faded, his buzz drifting away. The sun rose over the horizon as he stumbled from the club.

  There were hundreds of such nights in his recent history. The prior year blended together, every night a party, every morning a scratching, clawing back to reality.

  He was tired. So fucking tired he wondered about ending it, calling the fucking game, moving on. He knew he offered nothing.

  There were no prospects, no purpose, no family. He’d fucked over every person who ever cared about him.

  His friends were users like him. Tired like him. Chasing the next high like him.

  It started with prescription drugs. Escalated to coke. When his access to money dried up, he looked for cheaper options to numb himself. Ways to hide from the real world.

  A world he no longer belonged in.

  Since picking up the hated pipe, he’d done things he recognized as wrong by every human being’s definition.

  Some of them would’ve shocked him three years ago. Others shocked him even now. Robbery, panhandling, and prostitution topped the list of reasons he could no longer face his own reflection.

  “Why draw it out?” he often asked himself. “If you want to die so bad, why wait? Chasing crack in dirty buildings, waking up beside dirty people on dirty mattresses. Just end it, you fucking pussy.”

  He didn’t know why he kept going. Maybe he was afraid.

  A sound to his left registered in his foggy brain. Turning his head, he frowned at the appearance of a foot. A woman’s bare foot when it was about forty degrees outside.

  “What the fuck?”
/>   Bracing himself, he stood and shuffled closer. Every part of his mind recoiled as he took in the image of a naked and severely beaten woman thrown on sacks of trash.

  There was no sign of her clothing or a bag. Just her, breathing raggedly through blood clogging her nose.

  Ripping his jacket from his shoulders, he laid it over her and took his phone from his pocket. The screen was blurry and he cursed the high that prevented him from being human.

  “Please…”

  He focused on her bright green eyes. “I’ll get help,” he told her gruffly.

  “I need to hide. No cops. Please.” She tried to disguise her accent but he heard the definitive Asian tone.

  The words took the last of her strength. She passed out and he crouched beside her, carefully dressing her in his coat that covered her to her knees.

  “What do I do?” He should call the police, an ambulance. Someone not fucking high to help her.

  He was nothing but a junkie. A loser. He was the wrong person to be given the responsibility for someone hurt.

  He lost time. When he landed back in reality, he was carrying the woman into the shitty apartment he rented by the week. He laid her on his bed.

  Then he stood against the wall and waited.

  * * *

  Several hours later, he was showered and wearing clothes that didn’t reek of sweat and booze.

  He cleaned her wounds and managed to get one of his t-shirts over her head. Covering her in his threadbare blanket, he made a bowl of Ramen when it looked like she might wake up.

  She tried to talk but her voice was hoarse. He carried a glass of tap water to the bed, helping her sit up while she sipped it.

  “Thank you.” Lowering her again, she winced.

  “You need a doctor.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing is broken. No internal injuries. I’m just banged up.” Her eyes stared into his. “What’s your name?”

  “Hollow.” He didn’t feel he had the right to ask her name.

  “I’m KiKi. Thank you for helping me, Hollow.”

  “Who hurt you?” He sat on the edge of the bed with enough space between them to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

  “The man who thought he was my father.” She gave a bitter laugh. “My father is an earthly version of Satan. The simpleton who did this wasn’t smart enough to be my dad.”

  Inhaling carefully, she told him, “I have to get back. He has my friend. She’s twelve.”

  Hollow stiffened in fury. They were the words that would ultimately change the course of his lifetime.

  “How can I help?”

  Her gaze roamed over him. “You’re strung out bad. I don’t think you can help me get her back.”

  It was his turn to laugh bitterly. “I have the skills you need. I’ll detox enough to stay alert and take enough to keep me from being a liability.”

  She frowned. “Are you serious?”

  Resting his elbows on his knees, he closed his eyes. “The man who has your friend, who beat you…will he hurt her?”

  Somehow, she managed to get herself into a sitting position. “He’ll rape her. Again and again until she’s no longer any use to him or she gets too old for him to want her. Then he’ll either pimp her out or slit her throat.”

  “Then he needs to die.”

  “I intend to kill him, Hollow. You don’t need to get mixed up in my mess. You’ve done enough already. I mean that. I was too weak to get out of the cold.”

  “I’m not good for much. I admit that. I’ve fucked up over and over. Knowing your friend is facing such…horror.” He shook his head. “I know I can help.”

  She reached out and put her hand on his forearm. “If you help me, Hollow, I won’t forget it. I can help you get clean.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  KiKi smiled. “I do.”

  * * *

  Nine days later, Hollow made a call to the only man he trusted.

  “Where are you?”

  “I need help. Not for me.” He gave the address.

  “I’ll be there in three hours.”

  With ten minutes to spare, Elijah walked to the rear entrance of the building where Hollow waited. The older man clasped his shoulders tightly before bringing him into a crushing hug.

  “You worried.”

  The blonde nodded against him. “I worried.” Pulling back, he murmured, “Tell me what happened.”

  “We have a man hostage. The girl he was hurting…she’s in shock. We can’t call the police. My friend is underage, too.” Elijah’s eyes widened. “It isn’t like that, I swear.”

  He led the way into a dive club that was prettier on the inside than one would expect.

  In the center of the large main room, the man who’d beaten KiKi and left her for dead was suspended from the ceiling.

  She circled him, taunting him, as the small blonde girl stared into the distance on one of the couches.

  The moment Renato Espinoza saw Elijah, his eyes widened and he started screaming behind the duct tape over his mouth.

  Crossing his hands at his back, a man known around the world as The Destroyer approached the stage.

  “Espinoza. What a tiny world.” His eyes flicked to KiKi and away before returning for a much longer look. Their eyes locked and Hollow watched the fearless young woman take a step back. “Who are you?”

  “Who the fuck are you?” she demanded. Bending, she pulled a knife from her boot. “I’d know your goddamn eyes anywhere!”

  She lunged across the stage and Elijah disarmed her in seconds. He pinned her arms to her sides.

  Hollow had no clue what the fuck to do. He watched his friend calmly hold the girl he’d agreed to help as she thrashed violently trying to free herself.

  “I’m not him,” Elijah murmured. “You will be calm.”

  “Fuck you. No way am I trusting you.”

  He turned her, lifting her to a small stool so they were eye to eye. “Did he know of your existence?”

  She moved to slap him and he blocked the hit. “I was left in a goddamn brothel as a child whore. It was the only protection my mother could give me. He murdered her.”

  “Did anyone else know of you?”

  “I have no idea. The children of whores are rarely noted. Why the fuck do you care?”

  Hollow stood close, looking back and forth between them. Hand over his mouth, he whispered, “Oh god…she’s your sister. You have a sister.”

  “Never say those words aloud again,” Elijah told him. “He’d stop at nothing to have her killed if he knew we were related.”

  KiKi blinked several times. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “He lives?”

  “The man who contributed genetic material to my birth, and I suspect yours, was disemboweled in a pit when I was seventeen. It’s the man who gave him orders you must avoid.”

  “I’m not afraid to kill.”

  “Neither is he.” He inclined his head at the man hanging behind them. “You carry this one’s name?”

  “Another camouflage from my mother. I convinced him it was the truth and took over his business. Fucker did a DNA test and left me for dead.” She lifted her chin. “Hollow saved me.”

  “He’s good at such things.”

  Inhaling carefully, she glanced at the blonde girl. “He raped Irena, hurt her. He has to die.”

  “Agreed.”

  KiKi frowned. “You…what?”

  “It must appear to be a natural death. I see the bloodlust in your eyes but if you want to maintain control of this club, we do it my way.” He held out his hand. “This is the perfect cover. I’ll help you set it up.”

  Warily, she took his hand. “Legitimacy?”

  “Every step. Trust me. I won’t let you regret it.”

  Clearing her throat, she murmured, “I’m only sixteen.”

  “Then we make you older.”

  * * *

  Two days later, Hollow’s shakes worsened as they boarded the plane bound for Washington.
/>
  When they were seated, Elijah gripped his forearm. “Hang on. Fight.”

  “I’m tired.”

  A rare smile crossed the blonde’s face. “So are the people waiting for you to save them.”

  “The family won’t forgive me.”

  “You know better. What you must work on is forgiving yourself.” Their eyes met and a history filled with horror passed between them. “When we fight, we win.”

  “You’re stronger than me. You’ve always been stronger.”

  “A lie you tell yourself to justify taking the easy way out. I fight. It’s time for you to fight.”

  The silence drew out between them and Hollow sighed. “Alright.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I’ll always help you.”

  Hollow turned his head on the seat and stared into the beautiful green eyes of a man who once saved his life by taking another. “He doesn’t deserve you but I admire your loyalty.”

  “Sleep. You’re going to need it.”

  Over the following six months, Hollow began the biggest and most brutal fight of his life and sometimes, he won. Every loss cut him to the core and carved out a bit more of a soul dark with sadness and the filth of humanity.

  It wasn’t the first or last time Elijah saved him but it was the time that changed everything.

  The Seeds of Sin

  March 2003

  His head pounded and his hands shook with the need. Sweat poured off his body and he tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  He hadn’t been home in three years. Opening the door was terrifying.

  She waited for him, pacing the foyer beside his mother as he walked into the house he loved and loathed in equal measure.

  Isabella ran across the marble and threw herself into his arms, the tears on her face soaking through his t-shirt. “You’re back. Thank god you’re back.”

  He didn’t know what to say. The things he’d done and seen were a concrete monument between them. “Hi, Izzy.”

  Leaning back, she stared up at him with midnight blue eyes that featured in so many of his dreams. “I missed you. I was worried about you.”

  “I’m alright.” His voice was hoarse. He knew what he looked like. The stench of his own toxic sweat as his body fought to detox drifted on the air. “I-I need to shower. I’ll see you.”