Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

“ D id you hear what I said? They have him in solitary.”

Pacing the length of the bunks, Elliot ground his teeth at the prolonged silence coming from the other end of the line. The cell phone he’d gotten along with his care package didn’t have many minutes, and Gerard seemed determined to waste all of them.

Ice clinking in a glass sounded before Gerard finally spoke. “He wasn’t supposed to be on this mission, mot?nel. But you organized this all on your own. Why ask for my help now?”

“Because…” Elliot swallowed hard, his throat tightening with shame. He hated asking for help at all, but this wasn’t for him. It was for Damon. “I fucked up. My credits are too low to buy any more favors. This will cost…”

“A lot. I’m aware.” Gerard sighed and the ice clinked again. “You made things much more complicated for yourself than they needed to be. When I used to attempt to team you up with the other guys, you’d insist on doing things alone. Except for Lux, but that was so you could watch over him. Which I allowed.” He paused. “You could have had this done today. Instead, you’ll be delayed, which puts you at greater risk. That’s unacceptable.”

Elliot raked his fingers through his hair. “I will get it done today. I’m still focused on the mission, but I will be more focused if I know you’re taking care of him. Please…please, Gerard. Whatever you want, I’ll owe you—”

“Don’t put yourself in more debt, my boy. You’re already in over your head.” Gerard’s tone softened. “I hope you’ve learned from this. Focus and keep yourself safe. I’ll handle the situation with Damon.”

The call ended before Elliot’s ‘thank you’ could pass his lips. That was okay, he’d tell Gerard again when he got home. Until then, he’d do his job and prove he was capable of everything he’d done when he was alone.

When he believed he always would be.

Damon’s reaction to the guard had been fucking stupid, and reckless, but Elliot couldn’t be angry with him. He couldn’t say he would’ve reacted much better if their positions had been reversed.

Actually…thinking back on how he’d reacted when Gael touched Damon, that first day?

Yeah, I would’ve reacted worse. Much worse.

Ines would be dead.

Shaking his head and blowing out a breath, Elliot distracted himself by straightening up the bed he hadn’t slept in. He was still sore from how hard Damon had taken him the night before, and he’d been looking forward to laying in his man’s arms until morning, relishing in sensations that usually meant a mission had spiraled out of his control.

A mark fucking him for that long, and making him come first?

Nope. Would never happen.

Some had made walking difficult the next day, but he’d never enjoyed a second. He’d detach himself from his body during, and after, until it felt like his own again. Then he’d go over what’d gone wrong in his head and figure out how to prevent a repeat.

With Damon, his reaction was the exact opposite. He would do almost anything for a repeat…or two or three.

Aside from getting arrested again.

I hope you really are as cool with these missions as you say you are, Park.

Because they’re all yours.

If Damon wanted to roleplay being prisoners, Elliot was totally onboard. But he’d have Gerard build cells at The Inn. A whole fucking dungeon.

Somewhere Damon wouldn’t get locked up for real, beyond the reach of the guards Elliot could negotiate with, where anything could be happening to him, right this second. He didn’t have the experience to navigate the inner workings of a mission like this. Sure, he’d been behind bars for five years, but that wasn’t the same.

He’d actually been a prisoner, then.

Now, one wrong word, one misstep, and he could be exposed as a plant.

Gerard was right. Elliot needed to focus and finish this mission. The sooner he did, the sooner he could get Damon home.

And from this point on, Damon would only do the job he’d been hired for. Driving Eros’ Eight around and providing backup as needed. That would get him in Gerard’s good graces, which he sorely needed.

Getting myself back in them will take a bit more, but I’ll do it.

I’ll show him he can still trust me.

Rubbing over the aching part of his chest, Elliot pulled out the bag holding his care packages and spread everything out on the bed, kneeling beside it to pick out what he’d need when he went down for breakfast. There was a shank formed out of a toothbrush, with a large razor jammed into the plastic. Similar enough to what would normally be found in a prison to pass, and when he got the mark where he wanted him, this whole ordeal would be over with the flick of his wrist.

The businessman, Lonn Van Attar, might have mob connections and enough frozen assets to buy a midsize country, but he wasn’t well liked. According to his file, he’d been isolating himself a lot lately, getting lonely and depressed.

A little bit of attention and he’d be eating out of Elliot’s hand.

Right before he chokes on his own blood.

Sticking his phone in his sock, two packs of cigarettes in one pocket, and a roll of coins in the other, Elliot pushed to his feet and pulled on his sweatshirt as a buzzing sounded and the door to his cell opened.

Along with every other one on the block.

Keeping his head down, Elliot joined the line on the walkway, sensing the eyes on him, the whispers of ‘fish’ and ‘fresh meat’ drifting from all around. The seemingly well-behaved prisoners might not be as rowdy as he’d expected—a guard cracking a guy who spat on the floor with his club, while the rest calmly continued on might explain why—but they were no less dangerous.

The walk to the cafeteria was a slow, shuffling drag, but as soon as Elliot passed through the doors, he spotted his mark and his pulse raced with anticipation. Lonn sat at a table closest to the food service, sipping some water while another man brought him his tray.

There were three huge men guarding the perimeter around his table, discouraging anyone from drifting too close. Two didn’t look friendly, but the last exchanged a few words with prisoners who passed on their way to getting their food.

Elliot couldn’t kill Lonn in here, not without getting jumped by his men. But if the intel on him was accurate, a pretty boy would get him using his almost unlimited resources for some privacy. He’d already sampled all the younger men available and gotten bored with them, despite their best efforts. Belonging to him came with benefits, but holding his interest for long was almost impossible.

This would be where being ‘fresh meat’ would give Elliot the advantage.

Grabbing a tray, Elliot got in line, shying away from the men crowding in behind him. The shank he carried became more and more tempting with every ‘accidental’ brush against his arms, thighs, and ass, but if he made a huge mess in the prison, there would be no cleanup available.

A move like that would have him dropped from Eros’ Eight and cut off from everyone he knew and loved. Killing a small number of people in prison could be easily explained away, but this wasn't a black market auction or an underground dog fighting ring—a massacre would make the news.

If he went after one guy in line, that’s exactly what would happen. He’d have to slaughter the next one, and the one after, until he reached Lonn.

Which meant he had to tolerate the unwelcome touches and keep pretending to be helpless.

Do this nice and clean, the way he’d been taught.

“Hey, sweetcheeks.” The friendly guy, big and beefy, with a head of shaggy brown hair, grinned as Elliot finally reached his side. “You don’t look like you’re having any fun.”

Elliot bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “No, but…” He pulled out one of the packs of cigarettes and pressed it into Shaggy’s hand. “I’ve heard things. Ways I can maybe…have a little?”

“Smart boy.” Shaggy pocketed the cigarettes and flung his arm around Elliot’s shoulders, dragging him out of the line and straight to Lonn’s side. “Hey, LonBon, I’ve got a prezzie for you.”

Lifting his head from where he’d been staring at his food, Lonn looked at Elliot. A wide smile stretched his lips across his oversized face, his dull green eyes somehow getting bigger, like they’d popped right out of his head. “Have I mentioned you’re my favorite, Donald? Go talk to Ines. I want the hall with the windows.”

Ines is getting paid by Nexus and Lonn?

Almost hearing Damon telling him to abort the mission, Elliot dug his nails into his palms, testing the range of his acting abilities to keep his hopeful smile in place.

“On it.” Shaggy—or, Donald—smacked Elliot’s shoulder and took off running toward the guard, who was waiting near the side door of the cafeteria.

“Don’t bother sitting. The food’s shit.” Lonn stood and latched on to Elliot’s wrist. “But if you’re as tasty as you look, I’ll have something brought in. What do you like? Burgers? Tacos?”

Elliot licked his lips as though just the mention of outside food made his mouth water. “Yes, anything would be great. I’m starving.”

“I bet. You’re already so skinny.” Lonn hummed happily as he led Elliot to the doors, where Ines let them through without a word. “Good thing I like my boys delicate.” He glanced back as Donald and Lonn’s other two men fell in behind them. “I love seeing how much a tiny thing like you can take.”

Fuck, this is…not ideal .

With three men surrounding him and Lonn, Elliot needed to avoid getting pinned down. He was fast, but if one of the big men grabbed him, he could easily be overpowered.

I just have to take this fucker down and get back to the cafeteria before they have a chance to react.

Simple. He had to keep things simple.

Another set of conveniently unlocked doors and they reached a long empty hall with five narrow windows, all facing east and letting in the light of the morning sun. There was no quick, easy escape route, only the path he'd already taken, but Elliot had managed worse conditions when he was a child. When his only advantage was men assuming he was helpless.

I'm not a child anymore. And I've never been helpless .

I only have to pretend to be.

With a shy smile on his lips, Elliot faced Lonn, recalling his last words. “I…I think I could handle you.”

“Us.” Lonn smirked when Donald grabbed Elliot’s arms and shoved him against one of the barred windows. “My men take good care of me because I’m so good at sharing. But you don’t mind, do you, pretty?”

This hadn’t been in the fucking file. Lonn was supposed to be a loner, who bought protection, but nothing else. He was supposed to like a quick, easy fuck.

Sharing wasn’t part of the equation.

Only…the person who'd likely put the file together was standing in the fucking room. Ines wouldn't expose his own arrangements with the prisoners, especially when there was a conflict of interest.

Parker…Parker must've made his own deal because Nexus' protection wasn't nearly enough. He wouldn't have complained, or told anyone what he was really dealing with.

He asked for all the prison jobs so no one else had to do them.

Damn it, Parker…we're gonna have a chat when we both get home.

This job should have been Gael's, though, since Parker was on another assignment.

I never thought I'd go there, but…how would Gael handle this?

Fighting for calm, Elliot gave his ass a provocative little wiggle. “But why share? I can blow them if you want, but you’re the real prize. I’ve heard how you built up your empire. You’re ruthless, you own everything you touch.”

“Oh, I like this one.” Lonn slid his hand down the back of Elliot’s pants, his jagged nails scratching as he prodded his hole. “But he’s a little too easy. Make him scream. Make him bleed. You know how I like it.”

Over by the door, Ines stepped into view, smirking as he pulled out his dick. “It’ll take a lot to get this one to make all the right noises. The way his man fucked him yesterday? He’s probably still full of cum.”

“You have to wait your turn, Ines.” Lonn’s tone was lightly scolding. But then he laughed. “Donald will get him warmed up. He loves when they’re already prepped.”

More hands gripped Elliot and his pants were shoved down. Moving his fingers, Lonn pulled Elliot’s ass cheeks apart, crouched down right next to him while Donald pulled out his large dick and slapped it against Elliot’s hole.

Straining pressure tore at Elliot and he braced against it. The mission would be an ugly, painful one, but it wasn’t over. He’d give Lonn what he wanted, so he’d let his guard down, then…

He choked out a cry as his dick was twisted and yanked. Someone tugged on his balls, squeezing so roughly, his eyes teared.

And Donald grunted, shoving hard, then pulling out. “Too dry.” He bent down and spit, wetting Elliot’s hole. Then he lined up his dick again, roaring with triumph as the head of his dick began to penetrate. “Fuck, yeah! There we go. He’s got such a tight little pussy, boss. So, so good. I’m gonna tear him right open for you.”

Lonn moaned, clawing at Elliot’s ass cheeks. “I can see… Mmm, keep going.”

Another groan, then a loud CRACK!

The pressure went away. Warm liquid spilled down Elliot’s spine, so unexpected, it took a few seconds to catch on that he wasn't being held anymore.

As every man turned to face the sudden attack, Elliot hit the floor, lips parting when Damon freed a hammer from Donald’s skull and swung it at Lonn. He caught him between the eyes, lifted the hammer again, then broke open the side of Lonn’s face.

Springing to his feet, Elliot pulled out the shank and slashed Ines’ throat before he could land a blow with his club. Swiftly moved on to one of the two remaining men, climbing him like a tree and butchering his face as he screamed.

The last man standing held his hands up and backed away. “Hey, I only hold the guys down for him, I never—”

Damon snarled and threw the hammer, cracking the man in the center of the head. When he fell, Damon went down with him, lifting the hammer again and again.

Blood covered Damon, his wide eyes even more brilliant with the crimson mask, his teeth a flash of white. Stunning and brutal and…unbelievably hot.

That Elliot’s mind even went there showed how fucked up he was. He gave his head a hard shake, speaking softly as he approached Damon, one hand out in a calming gesture. “He’s dead, babe. He’s dead, the mission’s over. You can stop now.”

Dropping the hammer, Damon stood and grabbed Elliot’s hand, pulling him hard against his chest. “That man, what he was doing to you…” His whole body shook, like he couldn’t contain the onslaught of his violent emotions. “I’m so sorry, my little python. If I hadn’t lost it and gotten locked up, I could’ve been here. I should’ve been here for you.”

“But you came. Damon, you came.” Elliot wiped some of the blood off Damon’s cheeks with his sleeve. “It’s done. I’m okay.”

Hugging him tight, Damon nodded, then shook his head. “We’re taking that vacation.”

“You’re damn right we are.” Elliot stroked his man’s arm and pulled out his phone. Pressed redial on Gerard’s number. “Thank you. Damon got out just in time to save me. The intel was wrong.”

Gerard made a rough, incredulous sound. “What do you mean ‘save you’? And how was it… Damn it, tell me when you get back. How big is the mess?”

“Five guys.” Elliot spat out a laugh, and he wasn’t sure why. It sounded funny. “Sorry.”

That earned him an irritated grunt. “I’m not looking forward to this debriefing. Please tell me you at least kept it away from gen pop?”

“Yes. I know what that kind of mess would mean.”

“Good. I’ll send the extraction team and arrange a cover story.”

Nodding, Elliot ended the call. And turned back to Damon, needing to hold him.

Needing to make him believe.

This was actually a win .