Knight Takes Pawn by Martha Sweeney

Author: Martha Sweeney
Title: Knight Takes Pawn
Series: Red Knight #1
Release Date: March 21, 2017

Jagger rules everything. The cities from the elite districts, to the slums, and everything in between are his domain in one of three sovereigns on the planet Jaru. The only law is Jagger Law which can change at any moment. One wrong look or word can get a body part chopped off or have you killed.

Since the beginning of the war, which was almost over three decades ago, the air has had been stale and musty, still smelling of burnt metal. All resources needed to survive are severely limited, causing many Jaruians to pillage one another just to get a single meal for the day.

There are some who wish to end Jagger’s power and they’ve started to infiltrate his organization. Money, amongst other things, are just a farce that Jagger uses to dangle in front of his subjects to keep the population in line and distracted. Those who want to see the end of Jagger’s reign want to take control over the depleting natural resources in order to save the planet and the Jaruian species.

Natalie gets caught up in Jagger’s twisted game of power and control when she’s taken from her sovereign. Against her will, like all women who are caught, Natalie is thrown into the Jaruian sex trade. With her new, unwanted job responsibilities, Natalie takes a stand, willing to die fighting for her life rather than be used. When an opportunity presents itself, is Natalie willing to do whatever it takes to free herself or remain only a pawn?

WARNING: This series contains sensitive material. Reader discretion is advised.

  

One - Natalie

The taste of copper coats my tongue as a ringing echoes in my ears. My head throbs from the blow administered after the dacker flailed his body backward, slamming me against the wall. I almost lose my grip on the now sweat-slicked chain, but I refuse to let go. He bucks a second time, forcing my head to fly back and collide with the barrier again. Though I’m wedged between him and the cold, gritty wall, I can tell that he’s on his last few breaths of life.

His fingers frantically claw at the metal that’s wrapped around his neck as his body becomes stiffer with each passing second. Faint gurgling sounds escape his open mouth as he desperately tries to suck in air. His body starts to slump, but my tired muscles flex harder, coaxing his fate to settle in more quickly. After about ten more seconds, his fat, greasy body collapses to the floor.

Positioning my right, bare foot in the middle of his back, I yank even harder on the chain. When the coloration on his face starts to change, I finally begin to slacken the reins. My arms shake violently from how long my muscles have been tense.

While I wait for the others to return, I sit on the edge of the bed with my back against the headboard as my knees are curled up to my chest. I’m unable to cry because that’s what I’ve done the majority of the time for the past few days since they captured me.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but some time later, two guards from earlier come barging into the room which is locked from the outside. They shout profanities and some other words I can’t make out, obviously commenting on the scene displayed before them. It’s not that I can’t understand them; they’re speaking Jaruian. It’s that my brain doesn’t focus on any single word as they bounce around in my head like a set of drums.

One of them comes close to me. His arms whipping around in the air as more unheard words escape from his rank hole. I don’t bother to look at him and continue to stare at the man I just killed. I’ve never taken a life before and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Mixed emotions run through me, but regret is not one of them. It was either him or me, and I chose him. The asshole paid money, I’m not sure how much, to have his way with me for a few hours.

My head flying to the left is paired with a sharp stinging grabs my attention. I don’t whimper. I don’t cry. Everything that has happened to me the past few days feels even more surreal now.

“The boss will hear about this, bitch,” one of the voices threatens.

I guess his slap brought me back to reality, allowing me to finally comprehend their words. My eyes lift to find his. I stare him down, hoping that he sees the anger and hatred in my gaze. He inches his face closer to mine, but I don’t budge.

“Let her be,” the other one states.

“What for?” he questions. “She dacking killed him.”

“The dacker had it coming,” the other says. “Boss didn't like him that much. He always marked up the girls bad enough where they’d be out of commission for a few days. He was costin’ us money.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, turning away from me. “Help me get him out of here.”

I’m left inside the room without another word. The only sounds that are distinguishable are the door lock being switched into place, the faint percussion of music seeping in through the walls, and my heart pounding in my chest.

The small, makeshift bedroom with a bathroom, that is missing a door, still wreaks of that bastard’s body odor, causing me to dry heave a little. I’m not sure if I’m above or below ground since there isn’t a window in my tiny domicile.

I was knocked out right after they grabbed and bagged me just a few blocks from my home. When I woke up, I had a massive headache that could have been from either being hit over the head or drugged—perhaps both. Sensations of being fondled during my transportation fade in and out each time I dream or am touched by anyone, especially men.

Not long after I arrived, they had a group of women clean me up. My clothes were removed and they bathed me in a large, cement bath that was embedded in the middle of the floor of the room. I timidly kept my body covered as much as I could as they washed and rewashed my body to get rid of all of the dirt and stains. My hair was washed twice before they ushered me to another area. The women hand dried my body with small hand towels and then had me lay down on a leather-bound table where they then proceeded to wax my legs, underarms and genital region. My hair was trimmed next and styled before I was given a thin, skimpy dress to wear without a bra or panties. The women chatted quietly on occasion as they tended to me and most offered me an apologetic smile when we made eye contact.

Once I was ready, the ladies knocked on the door I originally entered. Two guards reached forward, grabbing my upper arms forcefully and escorted me away. They flanked me on either side as we followed one in front of us with one more trailing behind. I was then led to the room where I currently reside and given some food. They gave me just enough to take me away from the edge of hunger, but not enough to fully nourish me.

Two meals came each day with a small snack in between them. The food wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t good either. They gave me some juice a couple of times, but mostly water. If I needed more to drink, I was left drinking from the questionable sink in the bathroom with the use of my hands. Utensils were never given with my food, even if the option was not finger-food.

Yesterday, I was inspected by a male doctor while two other women were in the room. None of them said anything other than the doctor directing me to stand or move as he checked my body. He was very thorough and took a lot of notes.

Each night I’ve slept, it hasn’t been much. I wake to every little noise, worried that an unwelcomed intruder will arrive. I wasn’t exactly sure what they wanted from me, what they had planned, but I had a pretty good guess and it was confirmed when they let that bastard into my room tonight.

A familiar sound draws me from my thoughts and I stare at the closed door, hoping that I was only imagining it. The wooden door creaks open and three men walk into the room. My throat dries and my palms begin to sweat, nervous by their blank expressions. I recognize the two from before, but not the third. I silently pray to the Gods, if they even exist, that he’s not the next customer in line.

“What is your name?” the unfamiliar man asks.

My body trembles with fear as I can’t find the ability to answer him; nor do I want to.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says softly after a few more seconds of waiting for me to respond. He shifts closer and sits on the foot of the bed.

I watch him carefully, concerned with what he may do to me.

His eyes drift down to the spot on the ground where my victim previously laid. “Is that where it happened?” he asks, gesturing in front of him. “Is that where you killed him?”

I don’t follow his hand as I try to gauge his tone and expression. He almost seems amused rather than pissed at the fact that I killed the man.

His eyes lift to my face and his eyebrows raise a little.

I nod.

His gaze drifts down my body and back up. “Where did the chain come from?”

“He brought it in with him, sir,” one of the goons states. From the sound of his voice, it’s the dacker who hit me.

“Who let him bring in his own toys?” the man, who seems to be in charge, asks sharply.

They both remain quiet.

The one in charge slides closer and reaches forward toward me. I flinch, but it doesn’t seem to surprise him. He waits a few seconds before taking my chin. My gaze returns to him. The look in his eye tells me that he doesn’t intend to hurt me. His large, rough hand gently guides my head to turn a few inches to the left and then right. “Which one of you struck her?” he questions a little more calmly.

“Breaker, sir,” the one who didn’t hit me states.

“Quiet,” Breaker seethes through his teeth.

“Leave us,” the man directs.

“Sir?” the one called Breaker questions.

The man in charge shoots to a standing position and without another word, the two guards comply. Once the door is closed behind them, he turns back around and faces me. “I’m not a fan of my good paying clientele being killed,” he states calmly.

I don’t comment, fairly confident that he’ll do something to me regardless if I do speak and doesn’t care what my response would be.

“Do you know who I am?” he inquires.

My head bobs slightly, confident that I know his name; Jagger.

He takes a step forward and studies me for a moment. “You did do me a bit of a favor, though,” he states eerily. “He was costing me some money…more than what he was paying now that I think about it.”

I squeeze my hands together more, nervous about how this can play out.

“But, I still can’t have my clients being killed when they pay to have their way with you.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Though…it was his own fault for bringing in the chain.”

Staring at him, I’m not sure what he expects me to do. I will fight to the death to protect myself.

“I’m guessing you aren’t sorry,” he assumes. “And, why should you be. He would have broken you…physically…but, I’m not so sure that he would have broken your spirit.” He takes two steps forward and places his left hand under his chin as he supports one arm with the other. “And, I’m guessing that you’d put up another fight if I sent another client in here, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t comment, but I’m sure he can read my thoughts when he looks into my eyes.

After a few moments of silence, he says, “However…I think I just might have an idea that would work for the both of us.”

Martha Sweeney is an Amazon Best-Selling author with five complete novels and a coloring book. With a B.S. in Psychology, Martha utilizes her knowledge of human and animal behavior successfully in the business world and in her writing. She's been creative since she was little, always drawing, coloring or making crafts, so her venture into being an author was a natural transition. Martha writes in a variety of genres, constantly pushing herself as story-teller.

She lives in sunny California with her husband and enjoys writing poolside most months out of the year.

  

Killmore by Martha Sweeney

Title: Killmore

Series: Killmore #1

Author: Martha Sweeney

Release Date: Nov 15, 2016

You know how they say the enemy of your enemy is your friend? Well, I'm still determining if there's any truth to that statement.

I was used by the Feds to report on the dealings of Antonio Herrera - the major Mexican crime lord since his uncle passed, leaving everything to Antonio. I knew everything about Antonio's business. How, you ask? I was the only woman he kept close, really close - he claimed he loved me. You get to see and hear a lot of interesting things when you hold that kind of status.

Now, the Feds have me in what they claim is witness protection. However, I never feel safe knowing he's out there. My family thinks I'm dead. All the while, I keep to myself, avoid most people in my new hometown and train rigorously everyday—waiting for the time when the devil comes calling for his debt to be paid.

***This is the first book in a two book series. This book should be read prior to the second book.

    

”Let’s get one thing fucking clear,” I spit through gritted teeth as my body trembles.  “I don’t care what you people have to say.  If you abandon me and I’m left to where it’s either him or me…he will be the one who ends up dead!  Got it!”

“Mrs. Turner.…”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” I snap with venom coursing through my veins.  The chair I was sitting in shoots back when I bolt upright.  “Don’t any of you fucking call me that.  Got it!”

“Leia…we need him alive,” Tweddledum-ass agent reminds for the umpteenth time.

I never bothered to learn their real names.  Why waste my time when they all say the same bullshit about getting the bad guys and saving the world, let alone the fact that they all wear the same bland colored clothes?  I wonder how many of them may be in on it too.

“Well, I don’t,” I counter with a sneer.  “I don’t care…I don’t fucking care anymore.  Do you really think he’ll hesitate to kill me if he has the chance?  Seriously!”

“Mrs. Turner…Leia,” Tweddledumer-ass agent coaxes.

“I’ll do what you ask,” I remind.  “But, if that fucker comes after me in any way…and none of you are there to protect me…I will fucking kill him.  I will not willingly die by his hands.  I will fight with every last breath I have to make sure he’s dead before I die.”

“It won’t come to that,” Tweddledumer-ass comments.

I snicker in disbelief.

“We have everything we need to move forward with tonight,” Tweddledum-ass states.

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before,” I spit.

“We’ll be there,” Tweddledum-ass repeats.

“You better,” I scoff.  “Not like it matters anyway.”

“We will,” Tweddledumer-ass confirms.

“So,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if I have to do your jobs…but this time will be different.”

“Different?” Tweddledum-ass checks.

“At least I know what needs to be taken care of and not afraid to fucking do it,” I challenge.

“Are you saying that you’re going to take matters into your own hands tonight …regardless if we show up?” Tweddledum-ass checks.

“Does that get me out of going?” I probe.

“No, Leia,” Tweddledumer-ass confirms.  “It doesn’t.”

“Then, yes,” I state rather calmly.

Tweddledum-ass and Tweddledumer-ass shake their heads in objection, but don’t comment any further.  Hopefully my threat will guarantee their presence tonight.

“Can I go now?” I ask, getting up and heading toward the door, not waiting for an answer.

“Agent Thompson will need to see you on your way out to check the device,” Tweddledum-ass states.

“Yeah, yeah,” I acknowledge before the door slams behind me.

Thirty minutes later, I finally leave their creepy meet-up point located at a crusty-ass, pay by the hour brothel.  My body is oddly calm and relaxed as I head to the house I used to call home.  In the past, I was terrified of Jack when he got home from work and dinner wasn’t ready.  Four years into our marriage, I was running five minutes late, not like it was the first time or anything, and I ended up with a black eye and a kitchen covered in food from his tirade.   He apologized profusely after it happened, claiming that it would never happen again and that he’s just overwhelmed with the crap that’s occurring at work.  The next few months, he was the sweetest thing ever: buying me flowers, taking me out on dates more often and even buying me a little puppy, Shepard.

I was twenty-eight the first time Jack hit me.  It happened again not long after the old Jack, the good Jack, returned for that short period.  I honestly did believe Jack when he said it was the first and last time.

When Shepard got big enough, he bit Jack on the hand when Jack went to hit me.  Jack almost killed Shepard, but I begged him not to; Shepard was my only friend.  I told Jack that I would do whatever he wanted, so long as he didn’t kill Shepard — stupid me.  After that, the majority of the physical abuse stopped, but the verbal abuse continued as Jack forced me to do some of his dirty work, which is why I know so much about Antonio Herrera and the drug and human trafficking businesses that Antonio inherited.  Aside from Jack forcing me to help him with his side job, I met Antonio, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse.

When Antonio met me, he didn’t like how Jack was using me as bait to lure men who owed Antonio money.  Antonio took a quick liking to me the day we met.  The next day, Jack brought me back to one of Antonio’s clubs, having me dress up for the guy.  The dirty work I had to do for Antonio changed—some of it became letting Antonio touch me.

Antonio had a gentler touch than my husband which made it more bearable to endure since my own husband literally pimped me out to his boss — the boss of Miami.  Antonio liked rough sex, but he never beat me like my husband did.  He never raped me like Jack did.  If I wasn’t in the mood, Antonio at least respected my wishes and would fuck one of his other mistresses.  We didn’t have sex at all the first few times we met.  Antonio was a perfect gentleman.  When I realized what giving him my body could mean for my safety, I willingly complied.

When I first learned about my husband and his other line of work, I had the doctors give me the birth control shot and asked them to test me regularly.  The funny, sadistic thing was that Jack wanted children and objected to us using any form of birth control.  When the doctor began to inquire the reason for the regular shots and tests, I just told him and his staff that my husband and I were sexually experimental, which included multiple partners.  Part of that was true.  I slept mostly with Antonio, unless Jack forced me, which Antonio put a stop to as soon as he found out.  Jack was sleeping with some of the girls who were regularly on hand for the goons aside from the ones the business brought in, claiming that it was part of his job to help break them in before they were sold.

With only ten minutes to spare, I get to the house with two large pizzas in hand.  Jack won’t suspect anything since it’s Friday, and Fridays are our usual pizza night before leaving for business.  I shove the boxes into the oven and turn it on to keep the food warm.  Then, I dart upstairs and change into a more appropriate outfit that both Jack and Antonio expect me to wear even though it gets cold once the sun is down, especially by the docks where the new shipment is arriving tonight.

Shepard follows my every move and whines while I pace the bedroom as I get ready.  He knows what’s coming since Shepard always comes with me.  I convinced Antonio to let me bring Shepard along after our fifth time being together, saying that I’ve trained Shepard for protection and when we’re together, Shepard will protect him too.

With a black low-cut, v-neck blouse that is sleeveless and a matching, form-fitting pencil skirt, black fishnet stockings and the black designer heels Antonio bought me, I hurry downstairs to the kitchen.  I pour a glass of wine for myself and start pouring a beer into the frozen glass mug I remove from the freezer when I hear the garage door opening.

“Hi, honey,” I greet Jack in a monotone voice when he walks through the door that leads from the garage into the kitchen.

Jack nods, but doesn’t reply.  This is our usual greeting when he’s flanked by three men who are a part of Antonio’s protection detail.

“I got your favorite,” I mention.  “And, extra for the boys.”

The three henchmen perk up at the mention of extra food for them.  One of them takes the pies from the oven and the four of them start eating instantly without a single word uttered.

I wait patiently, knowing that when we have this kind of company, Jack won’t let me start eating until they’ve had their first round.  It’s kind of like Jack’s way of establishing dominance in his home since I’ve got more control when Antonio and his lackeys are present.

Jorge offers me a slice before he takes his second and I take it with a smile and nod.  Other than Antonio, Jorge’s always been the nicest to me, not caring who is around.  The henchmen are all supposed to be nice and protect me since I’m Antonio’s main woman.  I would almost speculate that Jorge has a little crush on me.  If I was younger and the circumstances were different, I think I would have gone out on a date with him.

When the men are done eating, I scoop out some ice cream and offer it to all four of them as Jack turns on the television, finding the sports channels.  While their attention stays fixed in the opposite direction, I clean up the mess in the kitchen, feed Shepard, and let him out in the backyard.  Once my wifely duties are complete and a commercial comes on for the game, Jack heads upstairs to change into his black on black outfit I laid out for him.  Jorge, Alberto, and Jesus turn the television off and join me at the kitchen table where I sit reading, waiting for the night to begin.

By ten, the five of us and Shepard take two different black Escalades that have tinted, bulletproof windows and make our way over to Antonio.  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at Antonio’s main home in Miami.  Two of Antonio’s men lead me up to Antonio’s bedroom, leaving my four companions with the rest of the crew.

It’s about time the Feds get something right when it comes to microphones and listening in on conversations.  They’ve finally adopted the use of actual high-tech gear that goes completely unnoticed while providing optimal visual and audio feedback.  They managed to duplicate the earrings I’m wearing which were given to me by Antonio.  No more getting caught with a wire being strapped to your stomach or through an ugly brooch or a thing sticking in your ear that are way too obvious.  Knowing what the night will entail, I remove my earrings, leaving them on the jewelry dish Antonio bought me that rests on the counter in the bathroom — no need to let the Feds who are watching get any more of a glimpse of what they really don’t need to see.

As part of Antonio’s pre-game or pre-deal regimen, he likes to become completely relaxed — that entails having sex.  Two other women, Genevieve and Maribelle, join us in the bedroom, but Antonio pays more attention to me as he always does.  He claims that I always give him the best head he’s ever had in his life — and that he loves me.  My nonchalant attitude towards him sleeping with other women when I’m not around drives him crazy.  He wants me to be possessive and jealous.  I cater to his game on occasion, teasing him to giving him what he wants just enough to keep him interested.  It also helps maintain my status and rank within his organization.  The teasing only makes him more aroused too.  It drives Jack fucking crazy that I’ve got a higher position than he does, even though Antonio did promote him after Antonio and I were introduced.  I’ve got more in with the boss than Jack will ever have, which is why the Feds need me and why I need them to get me out of this fucking hellhole.

Does Antonio treat me good?  Yes.  Far better than Jack ever has, but I don’t want to be known as the mistress or wife of anyone associated with a cartel — especially the boss.

Genevieve, Maribelle, and I freshen up in the bathroom after our frolic with Antonio under the sheets.  Even though the two of them are jealous of me for having Antonio’s eye more than any other woman, they’ve always been nice and offer to help me finish getting ready.  I get why they’re mad.  They want the security that I have.  If there was ever a challenge with one of the other girls in the past, in any sense, Antonio would add them to the collection of women being sold — or he’d kill them.

You may ask how I can be so casual and nonchalant about everything that is happening around me?  I can only relate it to the fact that I have to be.  I have to be numb.  I have to not care in order to maintain my status and the little bit of control that I do have over myself and my situation.  I’ve watched Antonio, and a number of his goons, point a gun and fire it into someone’s head.  I puked only the first time.  It’s not easy seeing a person’s face when the bullet hits, let alone how their body flops to the ground immediately afterward — some of them still move.  The second and third time I saw someone being killed, I cried only because they were women.  I’m grateful for the fact that I’ve only had to watch or be near when someone’s been shot.  There have been some stories that trickle around about how people’s fingers, hands, or toes are chopped off, bodies being torturing in all sorts of ways, including burnings, and other things I don’t dare repeat.

Antonio apologized profusely the first three times to me when I witnessed people being killed, claiming that it’s only a part of the business and it must occur .  His actions are how he needs to establish fear in all of them in order to maintain his leadership.  He professed that he would never have me killed because he loves me as much as he tells me on a regular basis.  He professed his feelings for me the first night we had sex.

His attitude changed toward me when I saw the fourth person killed.  I think I earned Antonio’s respect at a whole new level after that.  I’m not sure why and I honestly don’t want to know, but I think it’s because I didn’t flinch when it happened.

I think Antonio is a coward.  Actually, I think they’re all cowards.  Anyone who uses fear to gain and obtain power is a coward.  They’re just insecure bullies who do it to validate themselves.  Jack was my first real bully outside of the stupid shit you deal with as a kid in school, and I think he hates me because he can’t bully me anymore.  Antonio won’t have it.  I won’t have it.

Martha Sweeney is an Amazon Best-Selling author and plans on writing in a variety of genres other than just romance, some of which will overlap into mystery, suspense, and science fiction.  She’s the author of the “Just Breathe” series, a contributing author to the “Because Beards” anthology, and has released a book themed coloring book entitled “Bookish,” for book lovers who are thirteen years of age and older.

Martha has been creative since she was little, always drawing, coloring or making crafts. When her adult life kicked in, her creative outlet disappeared until she discover Adobe Creative Suite products. Now, Martha is a self-taught graphic and website designer, works with her husband on their business, and writes into the wee hours of the night.

She lives in sunny California and has recently begun to enjoy reading in the past few years, unlike in high school or college which has sparked her new creative avenue of writing.