Manchester Ménage 01 - Saving Samuel (23 page)

S
amuel was sitting in the library looking through some of the leaflets he’d just been given by the nice lady who ran the careers and education advice centre there. He’d been online and reading up on things to do, and finishing his education was the best place to start. He wanted to get the basic exams, or the equivalent of them anyway, out of the way and then… Samuel looked down at the catering college pamphlet in his hands and smiled. He wanted to learn how to turn his cooking skills into something more advanced. Nothing fancy, he wasn't planning on becoming a Michelin star chef or anything, but he had this idea in his head about a little café and it wouldn’t go away.

To do that he’d need to know how to handle a busy kitchen and how to run a small business. It wouldn’t be easy, but Samuel wasn’t stupid and he loved to cook, and everyone who’d tasted his food so far thought it was nice. He daydreamed as he sat looking at the pamphlet, imagining the cute little café with its tables and chairs set out, a friendly server or two helping him, Samuel in the back, looking out at the people enjoying his food. He could see big glass doors opening up onto a nice seating area outside with pretty flower boxes and white tables and chairs with yellow canopies hanging over them. People drinking coffee and eating his homemade cakes as they watched everyone passing by, shopping and chatting.

It was probably just a dream. He couldn't imagine how much money that would take. Maybe he could get a loan or a mortgage, he had no idea, but he knew Milo and Daniel would help him and support him in any way they could.

Samuel woke up with a jump and checked his watch. He was late. He’d snuck out of the house while Milo and Daniel were out. He wasn’t alone, far from it. He had two guys on his tail all the time. They were outside now, watching him through the big window. Milo had been back at work for a week now after a month off and Daniel should be on his way home now from his late shift. It wasn’t often their shifts clashed, and Samuel was sure they’d arranged it that way for him, but this was the first day he'd been alone and he’d wanted to make his appointment here.

He stood up, packing his information and the two books the lady had suggested he borrow into his satchel, then he turned to leave, giving a quick look at the two plain clothes police officers watching him outside.

He was making his way through the bookshelves to the main entrance when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Hey there, little one.”

Samuel froze.

“You remember me, huh?” The low rumble of laughter against his neck made his whole body shake and when the sharp edge of a knife was pressed into his side, he sucked in a deep breath.

“Boris,” he whispered.

“Hmmm. Just keep walking nice and slow. We’re heading out the back door. One noise and you're dead and so will your two friends. We know where they are. Don’t make us hurt them, Sammy.”

Samuel was crying silent tears as he walked to the fire exit at the back of the building, dipping his head and letting Boris lead him out. He would have risked his own life and tried to escape, but not Daniel or Milo’s. That was his biggest fear, that he would hurt them in some way by leading these men into their lives, and now it had happened. “Will you leave them alone if I go with you?”

“We may do. Depends on how good you are when we get you back to Nikolay.”

Samuel sucked in a deep breath as they emerged outside the building. Nikolay!

A car was waiting for them with another big guy in the driver’s seat. One Samuel knew. One who was cruel and who’d raped him on more occasions than he liked to remember. It was Kris who’d left the three inch scar on his arse when Samuel had first been taken and he didn’t know what lengths the men would go to get what they wanted from him.

Kris smiled wickedly as he watched Samuel being pushed into the backseat. A blanket was thrown over him and Boris sat beside him, leaning his body weight over Samuel’s to keep him down and still.

“Drive, Kris.”

Samuel sobbed as the car started up. The weight of Boris pressing down on him took his breath away, but it was the thought of never seeing Daniel and Milo again which seemed heavier. He closed his eyes, ignoring the musky smell of the blanket and the dirty leather of the car seat, and thought back to the night before. Remembering their scents and the feel of their bodies. No matter what happened to him, he would always have the two months he spent in their arms.

When the car sped up and the road became straight, Boris sat up, lighting up a cigarette and barking out instructions in his native Russian. Samuel caught something about a new car but that was it. He curled up into a ball, trying to keep away from Boris and be quiet. When he was quiet they left him alone.

Soon, they stopped and he was lifted out of the back seat still in the blanket and thrown in the trunk of another car. He cried when the lid was slammed shut. No one would find him now. He was with them again. But he would never be theirs. He would always be Milo and Daniel’s. That would never change, no matter what they did to him. He would always love them and remember their love for him.

It seemed to be hours that he lay there in the stifling dark heat, the motion from the car making him ill. He braced himself at the back of the boot, straining to hear over the noise of the road beneath him what they were planning. He was going to kick them in the face and run when they opened the boot. He would fight them.

Samuel hugged himself and thought about Daniel and Milo. They would know by now he'd gone missing. It made his heart hurt in his chest when he imagined how upset they would be. How they would try and do anything to get him back. Stupidly, he imagined seeing Milo and his police friends turning up and pulling him to safety, returning him to the waiting arms of Daniel while they arrested everyone, but that was just a fantasy.

The reality was, he was stuck there with them until they killed him or moved him back into one of the underground holding dungeons where he started off his journey three years ago. He could try to run, but if he did, they would hurt the people he loved.

Finally, the car came to a stop. Samuel had no idea how long he’d been locked up, but it felt like hours and hours. When the boot opened, he was surrounded by the night sky, the stars twinkling above him seemingly normal and safe and filling Samuel with dread.

“Welcome home, Sammy.” Kris pulled him up and Samuel saw he was back in the run down hotel they’d spent months living in. He didn’t know where it was, but it was in London. He remembered giving this location to the detective, but he could only give brief ideas of where it was. “Behave, whore, or you’ll get my boot in your stomach.”

Samuel turned away from him and walked up the stairs into the building. It would have been lovely once but now it was all peeling paint and rotten to the core. He was led into the sitting room. The big panes of glass in the windows were all boarded up. To the outside world this looked like any other abandoned building, but inside, it was anything but. Samuel winced when he saw a new boy, barely fifteen, drugged up and laying naked on one of the sofas. He didn’t even want to think about what they’d been doing to him. He knew from experience what went on here.

“Sammy, sit down.” Boris clicked his fingers in his face. “There's nowhere to go, you know that. You’ve tried and failed to escape this place too many times before to know it won’t work.”

Samuel looked at Boris. His big body was encased in a black suit, cigarette hanging from his lips and a drink in his hand. He was a big, burly, heavy set, gorilla of a man. One Samuel had spent crushed under for many nights as his body was used by him.

“Promise me my friends will be safe and I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you want, and do it willingly, but they have to be safe.” Samuel stood tall and straight. No tears now, just the anger building inside him giving him confidence. “I’ll play your game and keep you happy, just leave them alone.”

“Don’t order me about, fag.” Boris’s face went beetroot red, and before Samuel could stop him, he'd punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground where a sharp kick to the ribs from his powerful foot took the breath from Samuel’s lungs. “You’ve caused me enough trouble, you little cunt. Spilling your guts to the police, telling them everything. Do you know what you’ve done, huh? Do you know what's happening right now?” Boris dragged his head from the floor and slapped him so hard Samuel could taste the blood from his split lip flowing into his mouth. “I told Volkov you were dead. Now it’s me he's blaming for all this.”

Another sharp kick to the ribs made Samuel throw up, bile and blood choking him as he laid there semi-conscious.

“Take him upstairs and clean him up. Make him look pretty. Volkov will be here soon. Maybe seeing his pretty
boy
will calm him down.”

Samuel was lifted and dragged upstairs where he was patched up and thrown on a bed wearing a long, silk negligee in dusky pink and nothing else. Nikolay liked him in pink. He liked him in women’s clothing. Ever since Samuel first met him three months after he’d been taken, he’d worn them for Nikolay.

Nikolay considered himself straight, and he hated to be reminded of Samuel’s maleness in anyway, except when they were fucking and he couldn't keep his hands off Samuel’s cock. He would be dressed up in makeup and sexy underwear, waxed and plucked to perfection and made up like a model. Samuel had actually come to enjoy parts of the dressing up. The clothes were always pretty and expensive and they felt good on his skin. It caused him further confusion when he escaped, because Samuel felt that familiar fear of being even more different than other men.

He lay still, holding his ribs, not moving because the pain was too much. After some time alone, he tried moving, wincing as he felt his bones ache. He sat up and took a shuddery breath. He’d been through worse. He would survive.

Nikolay was coming. He was in the UK. It surprised Samuel. He imagined him being locked away in some remote country hiding from the police, but he was here. Samuel shut his eyes then slowly stood up and checked out his reflection. He had a swollen cheek where bruises where already forming and his lip was puffy and spilt. He dabbed it with a cold towel while he zoned out.

Nikolay was here for Samuel. He’d told the police about Nikolay. About how Samuel was a favourite of his, that Nikolay had treated him better than the other boys. But had he told them how Nikolay would confess his love for Samuel? Had he told them how in the darkest of times Samuel tried to earn that love, begged for it? Even murmured words of love back?

Samuel held his hand over his mouth and sobbed. He had been so weak, so desperate for love and a caring touch that when it was given to him, even by the hand of the man who had taken him, who it turns out had tortured and killed his dad, murdered his uncle, he had wanted to love Nikolay. Samuel was ashamed. Ashamed more than he could bear. How could he ever tell anyone that? They wouldn’t understand, they would see him as a boyfriend, as a lover, not as a victim.

Even now there was the thought in the back of his mind to make himself look pretty, to comb his hair and look attractive for his monster. Samuel sat in one of the high backed chairs and stared at the door, waiting and wondering what kind of mood Nikolay would be in.

Time drifted by and Samuel found the pain and dizziness made him drowsy, his lids dropping despite how he tried to keep them open. His body gave out and he fell asleep, hugging his legs to his chest and face pointing to the door.

He was stiff when he woke. The dull lamp in the corner of the room was the only light and the low watt bulb gave a creepy look to the room. Samuel looked around, noticing for the first time this wasn’t just any room, it was a room they kept free for Nikolay. He was in his private bedroom.

“Hello, Sammy.”

Samuel didn’t need to turn around to see who was speaking. The distinct low rumble and the deep Russian accent could only come from one person. Nikolay.

Samuel shifted slightly, looking through his hair at the man who was responsible for so many hurts in his life. Nikolay stood leaning against the door, his tall six feet four body clad in one of his smart designer dark suits, shiny shoes and expensive cologne, hair cut in his usual short business style. The five o’clock shadow which always clung to his chin seemed darker, denser, and those eyes, dark and piercing.

“No hello? Nothing?” Nikolay moved closer in his own predatory snake-like way.

“Nikolay.” Samuel’s quiet voice made Nikolay smile. Everything about Samuel made Nikolay react. Even when he tried hard to do the opposite of what he wanted, Nikolay always enjoyed him.

“You slipped through my grasp, Sammy.” Nikolay was standing in front of him, hands in pockets, casually shaking his head and looking at his feet, as if pondering what coffee to order at Starbucks. “That wasn’t your fault. I know it wasn’t. Boris was… wrong to let you wander off like that. I knew you would never do it willingly. You were just lost. Unable to find your way back.” Nikolay lifted his head and held Samuel’s gaze. “I had him search everywhere for you. Then he comes to me a couple of months ago and says, ‘Nikolay, he is dead.’” Nikolay’s eyes darkened. “A lie.”

He held his arms wide and smiled—a big, wide one full with humour and light. Like he was showing off a gift to a child and was so pleased with himself for getting it right.

“Over a year. A year, Sammy.” Nikolay moved closer still and Samuel tensed. “Look at you now. Drug free, clean and fresh. You’ve even filled out a little.” Nikolay drifted his gaze up and down him. “I like it. I like that I can have you sober. It’s been such a long time since that happened.”