Sold Into Freedom - 9. Chapter 9

Andrew sat in Samantha Coleson’s office with Kyle. He’d just finished relating what he’d experienced while on Mr. Black’s yacht.

Samantha sat back. "You know what you did was rather insane, to put it mildly. You’re lucky you’re here. Joachim Black, or whatever his real name is, is no fool. He’ll know you’re here talking to us." The Constable smiled. "He’ll also know you’re only confirming what we already know or suspected."

Andrew’s face dropped. "I thought it best to come and see you at least."

"No, you’ve done the right thing. I appreciate it."

"I asked D to keep me informed if he sees any of these young men end up in The Market."

Agent Coleson nodded. "D is Dante Turner. He’s been around a long time, but he’s been with Black for several years now. Black must trust him. I’d be surprised if he contacts you but asking couldn’t hurt."

After speaking for another fifteen minutes, Ms. Coleson excused herself. "Andrew, thank you very much for coming in. I’m sorry, I’m short on time this morning and have a meeting to get to." She stood and shook Andrew’s hand. "Thanks again."

Andrew and Kyle left Coleson's office. Kyle, who had always been a reliable confidant, walked his friend to the lobby.

"Why do I feel this was just a waste of time?"

Kyle stared out the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. "Likely because it was. But you did the right thing in any case. I hope you understand that."

"Yeah. I do. I feel like I had to." Andrew sighed.

"How long are you staying in town?" Kyle grinned at his friend. "Maybe we could get together over something less serious."

"Like?"

"Like a pint and a game of darts?"

"I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. It’s been nearly a week now. Maybe a few more days. I do need to get home."

"Well, tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m on here until five, covering for half the day. How about you meet me after work and we go for a drink at least? It would be nice to chat and catch up."

Andrew smiled and nodded. "Sounds great. I’ll be here at five."

Kyle shook Andrew's hand. "Perfect. See you tomorrow, Andy."

After leaving the office building, Andrew decided to walk for a while. It's a beautiful place. I'm often here, but I never really stop to look at it.

He chose to go to Sir Walter Scott's Monument. The walk took him past old and new sections of town. He even played tourist a bit and stopped to read historical plaques he'd never seen or ignored as he grew up.

It’s the largest monument to a writer in the world. He smiled. They certainly won’t be erecting one for me! He sat on a bench and looked at the statute of Scott and his dog and the beautiful greens and gardens beyond.

When Andrew arrived home, he was hungry. The familiar smells of his mother's cooking and the sight of his father's newspaper on the table welcomed him back. He was home, and it felt good.

"Sit down, love." Doreen fussed around the table. "Your father will be down in a moment."

"Thanks, Mum." Andrew slid onto the chair where he’d sat most of his life. He sighed with some relief. "Is Dad okay?"

"Yes, I think so. We’re both worried about you."

"Sorry, I know you are. I’m doing all right. It’ll just take a bit of time." Andrew reached across the table to snag an olive from a dish of pickles. He popped it into his mouth. "I’m thinking I’ll go back on Monday."

"You can stay as long as you like, you know that. We love having you home." Doreen buttered several slices of fresh bread. She put two on her husband’s plate.

"I know, and I’m glad I stayed this week. All this took more of me than I thought it would." It still is, but I can't let this hold me back. I need to get on with it.

Doreen offered a gentle smile to her son. Her reply cut off when Robert joined them.

"Sorry! Was on the phone with David Jones-Harris." Robert sat down at his place. "This all looks lovely, dear. Let’s eat."

They tucked into a cold lunch of meats, cheeses, salad, and cups of strong tea.

As he finished off his lunch, Robert looked across at his son. "Andy, you went to see that Anti-Human Trafficking person … Ms. Coleman today?"

"Coleson, Dad. Yes, I did. I think it all went in one ear and out the other. She basically said she’d heard all this before. Waste of time really."

"That’s too bad. Well, you did the right thing."

Have I? Andrew nodded. "I’ve decided to go home and finish the book. Get it to the editor and move on."

"That’s a good idea," Robert agreed. "You’ve spent a long time on this."

"I have and I want to get back to writing fiction."

Doreen joined the conversation. "Good. Fiction isn’t nearly so dangerous!"

"No. Well, not unless you run into some angry fans at a signing. They can be pretty scary." Andrew grinned. The frown on his mother's face told Andrew now was not the time for jokes. "Sorry, Mum. Look, please don't worry. It's over now." The writer wondered if that was true. Is it over?

"I’m relieved. That’s all I can say."

"Let’s move on, shall we?" Robert looked at his wife and son. "I think now, Andrew should work on finishing his book and I’ll expect my usual copy. I’m sure it will be a success."

⸛

Andrew rose at about eight the following day after a pleasant evening with his parents and a good night’s sleep. While he showered, he thought about his day.

I'll write a bit this morning. The outline for … shit, what will I call this book? Hmmm, what about Stolen Lives? They are, after all, stolen. I'll think about that. The outline is about done; I'll look at it again. Tweak as required. Then, I need to get writing in earnest. Go back home and shutter myself in. No calls, no nothing except Maeve with food. Yeah, that sounds good. I need to give Eileen a call after this, as well. Andrew added shampoo to his hand and rubbed it through his hair. That story about the guys lost in the Amazon after a plane crash keeps gnawing at me. Maybe I’ll make some notes and let them perk a bit. He grinned as he rinsed the soap down the drain.

After shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel and dried himself. Wrapping the yellow terry towel around his waist, he padded out into his room and retrieved his laptop from the bedside table. He put it on the little desk against the far wall and pressed the on button.

While that boots up, he moved to the window and adjusted the blinds so they let in some of the bright morning sun. That's much better. Damn, I could use a coffee. Is Mum up as of yet? You can sit and write in your pants or towel and not have coffee, put on clothes, and get coffee and some food. That means you need to put actual clothes on. Andrew considered his options for a few minutes.

After a chuckle, the writer pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and headed to the kitchen. Heavenly smells greeted him as he neared the most essential room in the house.

Doreen turned and smiled at her son. "I thought I heard your shower. Are you okay?"

"I’m feeling good, thanks, Mum." He put an arm around his female parent and kissed her cheek. "I thought I’d write for a while, but decided I need some coffee and food first."

"That’s the one thing I can help with. Fuel. I’ve just taken scones out. Butter one or two and I’ll pour some coffee for you."

"Thanks."

Armed with a plate of scones, cheddar cheese, and a fresh coffee, Andrew thanked his mother again and returned to his room to write for a few hours.

Satisfied, he sat back. The outline is well-padded now. I should be able to write it—no more research. Andrew blinked away thoughts of what he'd done and hadn't. You have to stop thinking about this. It's done. After a cleansing breath, he picked up his phone, searched, selected Eileen Young's number, and tapped to call.

"Young and Marshall, Lottie speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi, Lottie, it’s Andrew MacCabe. Is Eileen around?"

"Oh, hi. Yes, she is. Just a moment please, Andy."

Andrew’s eyes looked over the outline again while he waited. It looks perfect.

"Andy! Good afternoon. I hope you have some good news for me."

Andrew grinned. "I do. The outline for Stolen Lives is done. I’m going to go home now and write it. I’ll have the first chapters to you early in the week, I hope. I’ll email the first draft so you can get a feel for it."

"Okay, that sounds good. Are you sure non-fic is the way to go with this? I hope it’s not too dry, Andy."

"It's non-fiction, but it won't be dry, I don't think." Doubt threatened to overwhelm Andrew. "Let me know what you think about the first few chapters. If necessary, I can change direction. Time and effort and risking my safety and other people's, too. I do not want to have spent all this time and effort on a book that people don't want to read."

"No, you don’t. It could have a huge negative impact on your creativity and, frankly, your sales of this and future books. People get nervous when their favourite authors stray off the path."

They’d had this discussion before. "Eileen, I cannot keep writing stories about Doctor Silverwood and his adventures. Three was enough. People will have to read or not."

The editor smiled grimly. "I know. People forget authors are artists in their own right. Don’t worry, readers come and go. Send me the first chapter as soon as you’re done. I want to see it and then we’ll talk some more."

"Okay. I’m going home in the morning tomorrow. Hopefully, you’ll have the first chapter in the next few days."

"You’re at your folks?"

"Yeah, I needed to visit for a bit. I hope you’re doing okay. I’ll get that chapter to you soon."

"Okay, Andy. Safe trip home. I’ll speak with you next week. Bye for now."

"Bye."

The call disconnected from Eileen's side.

Andrew put down the phone. I could write another Doctor Silverwood, but it's not what I want or feel. The rainforest thing is a mystery. If I can get it right, it could be epic. I need to do this. Sorry, Doc Silverwood fans. Come with me. I'd love to have you along for this ride.

With a nod, Andrew pulled in his chair and saved the outline. Then, he opened a new document and started to write notes for his next book.

⸛

Andrew left home in the afternoon, heading to meet Kyle. I got so much done. I'm confident in both books right now. I hope Eileen feels the same way when she reads them. He was sitting on a bench near the building entrance when Kyle found him.

"Hey, Andy. How are you?" Kyle slid onto the bench next to his friend.

"Good. I have been out of sorts for a few days, and today, I’ve got some bounce in my step again." He grinned at his friend. "How are you? Are you still dating? Sorry, I’ve forgotten her name."

"Stephanie. Yes, we actually moved in together about six months ago. I like it. It’s working out well."

"Wow, that’s terrific. She seemed super when I met her at your Christmas party."

Kyle smiled. "She is. Hey, come on. Let’s get to the pub and have a drink."

"Will Stephanie meet us there?" Andrew got to his feet and pocketed his phone.

"Later, maybe. I’ll call her. She knows I’m out with you."

"Ah, you need to report in, eh?" Andrew gave Kyle a gentle nudge in the ribs.

Kyle snorted. "Yes, I’m under her thumb. Seriously, though, this is different."

"Different how?"

"It’s just something we do … we are. We’re close and respect each other. We both do, and we both care. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does. And I joke, but yeah, it’s a real relationship. Two people who want to be together, respect and care for each other. It’s how it should be." Andrew squeezed Kyle’s arm gently. "I’m happy for you both."

The crooked smile on his friend’s face told Andrew what he needed to know.

"So, what about you? You were with Tony. What happened with him?" Kyle tugged Andrew’s arm. "You okay here? It’s a straight pub. Are you willing to be seen in one with me?"

Andrew laughed and glanced up at the façade. "The Dish and Trade? Wow. How can I not go in there?"

"Exactly. The booze is cheap and the food is good." Kyle pulled the wooden door open.

"Perfect."

The two men entered and decided not to stand at the bar. They settled at a small booth next to the window.

"How long has this been here?" Andrew looked around at the beams and pieces of art or junk that filled every space. "I don’t recall seeing it before. That name I’d remember."

"Not too long … maybe a year and a half." Kyle waved at a wandering server. "D’ya have Fyne Ales?"

"Aye. We’ve got Highlander and Jarl in at the moment." The server stopped by the table.

Kyle looked at Andrew, who shrugged.

"Okay, two Highlanders and food of some sort. What’s on?"

"Fish 'n Chips, Nachos, Restuffed Taters, Burgers. Why not look at the menu while I get your round in?" I'll be back in a tick." The server laid two menus down.

The young woman walked away. The two patrons watched and then grinned at each other.

"I’m allowed to look." Kyle chuckled.

"She's pretty." Andrew grinned.

Kyle looked up from the menu. "You never answered me earlier. What about you and Tony?"

"Honestly, that’s going nowhere. The sex is great, but that’s all there is. I’ve been too busy, and he’s too needy. We are not a great combo."

"That’s too bad."

"Not really. So far, Mr. Right has not appeared, and I, for one, am not going looking. It seems most of the guys I meet are more interested in my bank account than me."

"Well, I hope that changes at some point." Kyle ran a finger over the menu. "I think it’s gonna be fish ‘n chips."

"I take it you’re hungry?" Andrew pulled the menu closer. "I’m a bit peckish myself, and yeah, I'll join you, I think."

The server returned with their beers and two glasses and took their order.

"Fish ‘n chips twice. On the way." She winked as she tucked the stubby pencil in her hair. "Thanks, gents."

⸛

Matt stood in his cabin on the ship, on an ocean an insurmountable chasm from Edinburgh. His bruises from the previous week had nearly all faded. Kanaan knows how long healing up takes. Matt's fear hammered at his ribs. It's gonna be my turn tonight.

There was a knock on the cabin door, and it was as if Matt had summoned him because Ahmet came in, holding a thick white robe.

Matt's eyes widened. "What's that?" He tightened the towel that sat on his hips.

"This is cashmere in virgin white." Ahmet looked at Matt carefully. "Tonight is important. You are what he bought I hope."

Matt stepped back. "I don’t know what he bought or thought he bought."

"A virgin." Ahmet laid the garment down on the bed. "That is what he’s expecting."

"If you mean have I … have I—"

"Has a man fucked you? That is what I mean." Ahmet was patient only briefly. "Well?"

"No." Matt's cheeks and chest flushed with embarrassment and frustration. "I’ve only done oral before."

"Good." Ahmet thought for a moment. His voice softened, the tone friendly. "If you are lying, and you have experience, then pretend. Because if he thinks otherwise …."

"I haven't done that."

Ahmet pursed his lips and nodded. He looked Matt up and down. "Good. You’ve waxed and shaved. Used the cologne provided?"

"Yes." The young man sighed. "Just like you fucking told me to."

"Matt, you had better lose the attitude. He is expecting a quiet, virgin boy. Do not disappoint him."

Matt closed his eyes. He’d grown up in a decent, God-fearing family. While Matt was gay, that didn't mean those lessons about being a good, honest person didn’t apply. The other lesson he’d taken to heart was saving yourself until you were married. He'd wanted that for his life with another person. And now, this bastard is going to rip that from me.

Ahmet picked up the garment he'd carried in earlier. "Put the robe on, and let's get going." He held it open.

Turning around, Matt slipped his arms into the soft robe before dropping the towel. He wrapped the robe around himself and tightened the belt.

"You're going to have a lovely experience with him, Matt. Don't worry. Enjoy it." Ahmet opened the door, and Matt stepped into the passageway.

Is he serious? With each step, the knot in Matt’s stomach clenched. He was trapped. Each trip to see Kanaan sent him into a spiral of fear and depression. I hate him. I hate his kisses, his hands on me. I don't want him to touch me; he makes my skin crawl.

Matt was eating little, not exercising, and he was losing weight. I don't want his fucking eyes on me. Now he's going to take everything from me.

Ahmet coaxed Matthew up the stairs and then began to drag him forward.

"What is wrong with you?" Ahmet stopped at the end of the hall. "Do you know what he will do if you deny him this? Do you have any idea just how much worse it can become? Please, Matt, you must do this."

Matt turned his tear-filled eyes to his friendly captor. "I can’t let him."

"Let? Let?" Ahmet hissed through gritted teeth. "He takes, boy. If you fight him or deny him, he will take you, and then he will throw you away. Don’t you understand? You will become a whore for the crew or his dogs, or worse. He will make sure you pay for your denial. Matt—please."

Matt thought about Ahmet’s words. He saw the pain on the man’s face. Why does he care? Then suddenly, Dante's face swam before him. His words followed. They hung there before him like they were chiseled into stone.

"What's coming for you, it won't be good. And it's gonna feel like it will never end. Ride it. Do not sink. Ride the motherfucker and when you see a tiny island of hope, fucking jump, Matt. Don't do what I have, you fucking jump."

I gotta do what I have to. I have to get through this. I can’t give in. Matt swiped away the tears, swallowed, and looked again at Ahmet. "Okay. I’ll do what he wants. I’ll be good."

Ahmet's relief was evident, and he pulled Matt toward Kanaan's door. The servant knocked.

Matt pushed down his fear with an iron hand.

"Enter."

Before opening the door, Ahmet gently kissed Matt's cheek. "Please, don't give him a reason to hurt you. I will be here at the end to look after you." He then opened the door.

Matt pulled back his shoulders and walked into his Master's lair.

⸛

Inside the opulent bedroom, Matt dropped his robe. His skin was the only covering he was allowed here. Master had taught him that.

Kanaan smiled as the lithe young man walked toward him. "Matt, come join me. We’ll share some Arak." He rubbed himself through his robe.

Keeping his eyes downcast, Matt climbed onto the bed and accepted the small glass of the mixed drink. "Thank you, Master."

Kanaan watched the boy. "Drink. It will help you relax and heighten your pleasure."

Matt sipped the cold drink and winced at the flavour. He could feel the alcohol race through him. I wish I had more to dull this ... pleasure.

When he’d finished, Kanaan placed their glasses on a table. He returned and settled next to the younger man and drew him close. He bent his head and kissed his property. He enjoyed the boy’s reaction. "Mmm, you will please me on this day, boy. Tell me now, have you had a man before me?"

Matt was suddenly afraid, sick and unsure, but he summoned his strength. "No, sir. None before you. I … I was waiting."

"How sweet. I am a lucky man then. I will be your first. It will be something you will remember forever." Kanaan stood and removed his robe. His excitement was evident. He knelt once more on the bed. "Come, we shall please each other. You will beg that I should take you."

Matt whispered, "Yes, sir." He lay back in Kanaan's arms and accepted his fate.

****