Rescue Us: Next Generation, #7

By J.M. Walker

-Ainsley-

He was kind.
Caring.
Patient.
Cyrus Butcher wasn't like any man I had ever met before. He took his time with me. Opened up new feelings and made me realize that not all men were monsters.
Ripped from my life at a young age, I spent years in a hell I wasn't sure I would ever survive. But I did. Only to become a shell of the woman I once was.
With him, the dark and handsome stranger who saved me, he helped me find my voice again. While he was gentle, I knew that there was a dominant man in him I needed.
As I opened up to him and gave him my truths, he showed me a passionate side to myself I thought was lost forever.
I was the pet he needed.
He was the Sir I craved.

-Cyrus-

She was quiet.
Withdrawn.
A good girl.
Ainsley Cloet was the submissive I had spent years looking for. She was passionate and fierce. The strongest woman I had ever met. But she kept those parts of herself hidden after spending years locked up at the hands of vile human beings.
While we became closer, my brother became moodier. Spending our lives trying to mask the pain of losing our parents at a young age, neither of us thought we could find the happiness we both deserved.
After earning Ainsley's trust, falling in love, and making promises about our future, someone who had been lurking in the shadows the whole time finally let himself be known.
But no matter the damage that had been caused, I would be there.
At her side.
As her protector.
And as her Dom. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.M. Walker
• Release date: Feb 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781989782316

Book preview

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FAMILY TREE

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT

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Angel and Genevieve Jay Rodriguez

(Grit, King’s Harlots #1/Grim, King’s Harlots #3)

Angelica Gigi

Ryder

Meadow

Asher and Meeka Donovan

(Stain, King’s Harlots #2)

Aiden

Ashton

Coby and Brogan Porter

(Rude, King’s Harlots #4/For You, King’s Harlots #7)

Zachary Zach

Dale and Maxine Max Michaels

(Numb, King’s Harlots #5)

Piper

Vincent Stone and Creena Stone

(Rust, King’s Harlots #6)

Luna

Vincent Junior

Greyson and Eve Mercer

(Greyson, Hell’s Harlem #1)

Jaron

Tray and Zillah Lister

(Tray, Hell’s Harlem #2)

Beatrix Bee

John and Beatrix Trixie Butcher

(Hell’s Harlem Series)

Cyrus

Samson Sammy

For more information, visit

https://www.aboutjmwalker.com/books

WARNING: The heroine is a human trafficking survivor, so if you have triggers, please read with caution. Do NOT take this warning lightly.

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Angie:

I told you I could make you love someone more than Garrith.

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Ainsley

Eyes down.

Palms up.

Breathe.

Don’t make eye contact.

Don’t utter a single word.

Do as you’re told.

Breathe.

Don’t talk back.

Survive.

Repeat.

No matter how much time had passed, I played the rules over and over in my mind. They were engrained in me like scars on my soul. No one could see these scars of course, but I could sure as hell feel them. Every time I went to bed at night and closed my eyes, the rules were there.

The faces.

The cold, vacant eyes.

The men.

The other victims.

Before I fell asleep, I was always left with his eyes staring back at me. They were dark, cold, and soulless. I could never understand how someone could be as evil as him. I heard about monsters. In the news. In movies. From friends. Teachers. My parents. But I always brushed it off. It would never happen to me. There was no possible way that I could ever run across someone like these men who took girls and boys against their will, all to make a buck. I hung out with friends, had a buddy system whenever we went anywhere at night. But we should have had one during the day. No one would grab me if the sun was up, right?

I was wrong.

I tried to forget and move on, but I couldn’t.

I could still feel their hands, their bodies, parts of them I never wanted, but got just the same. They were forever etched on my very being, much like the scars on my skin.

Although they all terrified me, there was one man who stuck out the most amongst them all. I never knew his name; I never even saw his face. He always wore a mask that was made out of leather. But I remembered his eyes. I would recognize those eyes anywhere. They were soulless, black like most of the clothes I wore. I could still remember the smell as he breathed heavily against my ear. I could feel the smooth texture of the mask as he rubbed his cheek against mine. We may not have known his name, but he was there, constantly. He made us refer to him as Master. That was only when we were allowed to speak of course.

How are you doing? I was asked on multiple occasions ever since I escaped, but I never answered. How did they think I was doing? I didn’t speak. I no longer had a voice. I was a shell of the woman I used to be. She was still here. I knew she was. I could feel her. But she was cowering somewhere in the deepest parts of me. She had been broken, her will shattered. I missed her, the part of me that had once been fierce and strong-willed. Not knowing how to find her, I went through each day trying not to think about how much I had changed. How much they had changed me.

Ainsley.

I jumped, finding Jay Rodriguez staring back at me. She gave me a small smile, her voice gentle but firm. Lines sat at the corners of her eyes and mouth, like she had spent years laughing and smiling. I wished for that. No, I longed for it. The happiness I once had.

You have nothing to fear here, she told me. Do you understand?

Of course I understood but it didn’t mean I wasn’t scared nonetheless.

Her face softened. You’re probably scared shitless right now.

My eyes flicked to hers. I swallowed hard, nodding.

I get it. She crossed one knee over the other. I won’t even begin to say that I know how you feel because I don’t. But just know that any of us here are always willing to listen or just sit with you, even if you don’t want to talk.

Talk. I hadn’t talked in years because I had never been allowed to. He preferred it that way. Although he liked when we called him Master, he much preferred to hear our screams instead. It was one reason I stopped making a single sound. It almost cost me my life a few times, but I refused to give him that satisfaction. I needed some sort of control over my life, even if it was something small like the use of my voice.

There’s a reason I called you here, Jay said, flipping through my file.

I nodded again because I didn’t want to be rude. It wasn’t her fault I turned out this way. Silent. Mute. It was theirs. The men who had taken me and others captive. The monsters who would forever haunt my nightmares. The bastard who organized it all. If I could get my hands on him and knew I would survive, I would kill him.

How about you just let me talk, explain myself, and we’ll go from there, she added.

I nodded and looked down at my hands. American Sign Language was my way of communicating. The silent language had always fascinated me, so I learned it as a child and thankfully became fluent before I was taken. I never knew how much I needed this language until now.

I sighed, knowing that some of the fuckers who took us were able to get away. I gave the cops whatever information I had, but I didn’t let it occupy my thoughts all the time. I couldn’t dwell on it because I knew that no matter what, sex trafficking would never end.

Jay stood from her chair behind the large oak desk in her office. She went up to the window that looked out onto the back of the compound. I was kidnapped by my husband’s boss.

My eyes widened at her words.

I was found rather quickly but it still fucked with my head. She looked at me then, the lines on her face hardening as the memories rushed through her. Now, I know it’s still not the same as what you went through of course, but I just want you to know you aren’t alone. Everyone here has their own story. Don’t ever forget it.

I looked down at my hands on my lap, nodding slightly. I wanted to thank her with my words, but I couldn’t. The doctors and therapists said it was due to the trauma I endured. Maybe so. But I had never been a talker. Even before everything happened. I liked being quiet and preferred to stay in the background, listening to everyone else. I hated being the center of attention. It was one of the reasons why learning ASL meant so much to me.

I want you to know that you always have a home here. You have made so much progress since you arrived. I’m proud of you. Now, last month, per your request, we set you up with an apartment at the building run by our staff. You were also given a monthly allowance as well, Jay stated, heading back to her desk. She opened my file once again, glancing down at it before meeting my gaze once again.

I nodded.

Do you feel safe at your apartment? If not, we can keep your room here. I can’t imagine that things feel even remotely normal when it’s only been eighteen months since...

I winced, forcing myself not to let those dark thoughts invade my mind.

Do you feel safe there, Ainsley? she asked gently.

I shrugged. Truth was, I didn’t feel safe anywhere.

You probably don’t feel safe anywhere, do you? she asked, taking the thought right out of my head.

I looked down at my hands, shrugging again.

Okay. It’s settled. We will keep your room here for when you need to feel more secure. Now the reason I wanted to speak to you is because we’d like to offer you a job. If you wish.

My head snapped up, my eyes welling at the thought of making something more of myself.

She laughed lightly. I can tell by the look on your face that you weren’t expecting that.

I shook my head quickly.

Although, we often communicate in writing, you are fluent in American Sign Language. According to your file, you learned it as a kid but only started using it consistently after you were rescued.

Rescued.

I almost scoffed at that single word. Sure, I, along with others, were saved from those men, but there were so many of us who weren’t. Some committed suicide because they couldn’t handle being out in the real world. Years of conditioning were so engrained in us, we didn’t know how to cope without being told what to do. It was fucked up to say the least.

Picking up my phone, I started typing. It was the way I communicated with people when they didn’t know ASL. Not that I expected everyone to know it of course, but it was a nice surprise when I came across someone who did. Jay even provided me with a therapist who could communicate with me using ASL.

I was sick one summer when I was a kid and couldn’t play outside. I read every book in my grandmother’s house a handful of times. She always told me I was too smart for my own good. Maybe she was right.

One night over dinner, she and my grandpa were talking about ways to challenge me. I was acting out because I was bored. Whatever virus I had, just wouldn’t go away no matter what we tried.

My grandpa suggested jokingly that I learn another language.

My grandma laughed.

They didn’t think I could do it, but I did. I learned ASL because it fascinated me but also because there was something about it that I needed. I just didn’t know it at the time.

And you succeeded in learning it, Jay added in awe.

I nodded, placing my phone back on my lap.

Well, the job we are proposing is that you teach others here how to sign. Once you are comfortable with that, I’m sure we could find more work around the center for you too, to fill your time, help us out.

I gave her a small smile, appreciating all she was doing for me.

Would you like that?

Picking my phone up again, I typed out a single word that I had been trying to get answered for years. No one knew the damn answer but hopefully Jay could at least answer it for this situation.

Why?

She went to the couch by the far wall and patted the spot beside her.

I moved from the hard chair and joined her.

Jay turned toward me, giving me her full attention. I know you’ve had it hard and are trying to make a life for yourself. I’m not even going to pretend to know what you’re going through but I’m offering to help in any way I can. That’s what we do for everyone who comes here. We don’t close our doors on anyone. Even when it’s someone who just needs to get away because the demons in their head are too loud. You don’t have to have experienced recent trauma for us to take you in. It could be a childhood experience or a current experience. It doesn’t matter. Our doors are always open. As you know, we have quite a bit of trained staff who deal with all sorts of mental health conditions, trauma, PTSD, and more. Now that The Dove Project has gotten quite successful, we’re able to get doctors, therapists, psychiatrists and everything else that we require to help those who need us, but some of our residents still need to find their voice, or may want to learn a new skill while they are here. For this reason, the other owners and I have sat down and would like you to be part of the staff here. Offering ASL would be a wonderful addition to the team, and you are the only person we feel is right for the job.

I tilted my head, searching her face for any indication that she was lying. I had learned over the last few years how to read people. That was what happened when you had nothing else to do and had to remain silent instead. You kept quiet, listened, and watched. Everything.

You’re probably wondering why we want to hire you. Jay laughed lightly. In addition to your knowledge of ASL, you’re young and I think you can relate more to the other survivors here. They’ll see that there is a chance for a normal life. All of you are strong. Her voice cracked, her eyes welling.

A part of me wanted to reach out and console her but I didn’t know how. My emotions were locked up tight. I wasn’t even sure when the last time was that I cried. And laughing? That was almost non-existent anymore.

Thank you, I signed.

Jay smiled. You’re welcome.

My lips twitched, a tiny smile forming on my face at the fact that she had been trying to learn ASL.

For me.

While we filled out the paperwork, I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn’t been introduced to The Dove Project. It was owned by Jay and her friends. They started the company years ago after they had worked with their husbands and brought down a human trafficking ring. I didn’t know their individual stories, but I did know that they all experienced their own personal trauma. Some more than others. I could see it in their eyes and the eyes of their husbands. They tried masking their pain with whatever vice they could and even though it had been a long time, it was still there. It would always be there.

I was thankful the center had grown as much as it had and that I was handed information for the center from the social worker at the hospital. I couldn’t stay in that city. I couldn’t even stay in that state. When I first wrote down my need to leave, my social worker did her research and returned with the information on The Dove Project. I agreed that it was the place for me and she set it up.

I wasn’t sure what would have happened to me if that raid had never occurred at the brothel. The only thing I currently knew, as safe as I thought I was, someone was likely looking for me. Maybe someone would always be looking for me.

I also knew that one day, the monsters would come. Whether it be the ones in my head or the ones lurking in the dark corners of my room. It was only a matter of time before they came to collect. I just didn’t know who would be first.

The ones in my head.

Or him.

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Cyrus

I didn’t usually visit my parents’ gravesite by myself, but my brother was off doing who knew what, and I didn’t feel like waiting for him. He typically joined me, was the first one to arrive most times, but not today. For whatever reason, pussy was more important to him. That was the excuse he always made anyway but I knew that it went deeper than that. He missed them. Both of us did but their deaths affected us in different ways.

Our parents had been gone for over twenty years, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Both shot and killed within a year of each other, the agony over losing our mom and dad when we had been so young, would forever be etched on our damn souls.

We had different ways of coping with that loss. Sammy fucked through anything he could stick his dick into, and I fought. I also drank a bit at times but fighting was better and helped me deal.

Glancing at the headstone one last time, I took a deep breath, swallowed my sorrow, and headed back to my bike. It had belonged to our father. Even though it was old, the machine purred like it was brand-new. Keeping up on the maintenance helped and I would ride it into the ground if I had to.

My phone took that moment to buzz. It was later in the afternoon and while most were getting dinner ready, I was itching for more. Something else. Something different. Something I never had before.

Checking my cell, I saw a text from my brother.

Sammy: The kitties are in full swing tonight.

My brother’s choice of words when it came to women, was interesting to say the least. I couldn’t wait for the day when a woman brought him to his knees.

Me: On my way.

Sammy: I’ll keep them warm for you.

I rolled my eyes, stuffing my phone back in the pocket on the inside of my leather cut.

Sammy’s views on women changed depending on how they acted. Most threw themselves at him, so he would fuck them and leave. Pussy was pussy. His words. I knew there was someone out there for him and I had a feeling that he had already found her. Especially since he had become moodier over the past few months. A lot of shit went down in the last year. Things we never even saw coming. They never affected us directly but seeing family members almost lose each other and a child at the hands of vile human beings, we upped the protection and remained as quiet as could be as a result of it.

My brother was now on edge and searching for something much like I was, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t think he knew either.

I wanted a good girl. Someone who was okay with sitting at home on a Friday night and watching re-runs of The Office. Someone who enjoyed the simple things in life. Like a home-cooked meal or that first cup of coffee in the morning. But I also wanted someone who had a passionate part of them just the same. A part that they would only let me see. I wanted her at my feet when the moment called for it, but also at my side.

I wasn’t happy being single anymore and had been looking for that special someone for a while, but something was always stopping me. Endless dates were a recurring thing for me until our cousin asked both Sammy and me to watch over his girl and daughter. I didn’t mind as it was distracting, and Piper Michaels was like a little sister to us anyway.

Slipping on my helmet, I straddled my bike and let out a sigh as the engine roared to life. Driving the distance to Rouge, the strip club Sammy was at. The length of time it took to get there eased some of the tension resting on my shoulders.

When I arrived at the club, it was pushing seven at night. It was still too early to be attending a strip club, but I never said anything and just went with it. I also had to look out for my brother. He was a hothead and was going to get himself mixed up with the wrong woman one day who had an ex that was larger than him. Sammy was a nasty fighter and one of these days, he was going to get himself hurt or worse.

It’s about time you showed up. Sammy butted out his smoke on the bottom of his Shit-Kicker and pushed away from the wall.

Killing the engine, I pulled off my helmet. Why are you here so early?

I was bored. He grunted, pulling a pack of cigarettes out from the inside of his cut. He lit up another smoke, took a deep inhale, and let it out through his nostrils. The spicy scent of the tobacco wafted into my nose. He was stressed about something. It was the only reason he was currently chain-smoking.

You’re always bored. I slid off my bike and placed the helmet in the side storage compartment before locking it back up.

Nah, brother. It’s getting worse.

I straightened, slowly looking at him over my shoulder. What’s wrong?

He shrugged, puffing away on that damn smoke.

Sam. I went up to him and took the smoke from between his fingers before bringing it up to my mouth. Inhaling the sweet, spicy bliss, I let the smoke settle deep in my lungs before blowing it out slowly between my lips.

Nothing’s wrong exactly. I just... He looked at the building behind him. Rouge sat in large red letters above the door. It had been our home away from home for years. We knew the owners and the women who danced. We even knew the regular customers. If new people came into the club, we made it a point to get to know them as well.

You’re wanting something more than just easy pussy, I told him.

Is that what you want? he asked, still looking at the building.

I’ve been wanting it for years, Sammy. I clapped his shoulder, handing him back his smoke.

Why? Women are difficult, brother. He stuck the smoke back between his lips. They usually come with baggage or a large fucker for an ex.

That’s because you go after women who aren’t readily available. I went to walk past him when a thought came to me. How’s Red?

His dark eyes locked with mine. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

I chuckled, shaking my head and heading into the club. Sammy followed because I knew he would. Even though I could hear him grumbling shit about the woman he was currently hung up on, he followed because he wanted to see her. She was a dancer and only ever went topless if the owners demanded it. It didn’t happen often because even when she was clothed, she could move and had the men drooling at her feet.

Once Sammy and I were seated at our usual booth, his mood changed. He scowled, glaring at everyone who walked past our table.

Seriously, Sam. Chill the fuck out. I stared at my twin. What the hell is your problem?

He crossed his arms under his chest, staring out at the dance floor.

I followed his gaze, finding the reason for the sudden change in his mood front and center on the stage.

Red was moving her body to the music. She swung from the pole, did tricks and moves most would kill for. Though she was beautiful, she never did it for me. Not that I was opposed to strippers or anyone for that matter, the attraction just wasn’t there. She never even looked at me anyway. Her eyes had only ever been on my brother. Like they were now. I saw a smirk spread on her face as her eyes locked with Sammy’s while she danced. When she was done, she blew him a kiss and quickly left the stage.

Glancing back at him, I saw his shoulders slump like he was relieved no one was watching her anymore.

You two have a history? I asked, even though I knew he wouldn’t tell me. We were close. Hell, we were twins. We were identical but now that we were older, you could easily tell us apart. I became bigger and he became moodier.

Not yet we don’t, he mumbled.

But you want something. From her. I wasn’t one to pry but if it distracted me from my own shit or lack thereof, I was down for it.

I want to beat her ass for dancing like that on stage and choke her until she knows who she belongs to. Sammy’s eyes snapped to mine. Does that answer your question?

I sometimes questioned my bother’s sexual exploits but if it was consensual between him and his partner, who was I to judge?

Just make sure you have a damn safeword, I warned.

I know that, he said, signalling the waitress.

Hey guys, the waitress, Kelly, greeted, coming up to our table. The girls were just asking about you. You going to play nice tonight, Sammy?

I always play nice if they give me what I want, he said, letting his eyes roam down the length of her.

Well... She hesitated, probably knowing that there was no point in arguing with him because truth was, my brother was sick in the head. I’ll get you your beer. She spun on her heel before either of us could respond, and headed to the bar.

Why do you have to scare the girls? I asked, wondering about him sometimes.

He only shrugged.

I loved him but sometimes I worried he would be alone forever, and that no woman would be able to handle his level of kink. Whatever kink that may be. We were close. More than brothers. We were best friends. But when it came to sex, that shit was private. I had heard about twins sharing women but that had never been our thing. I was a selfish guy. When I had a woman, I wanted her to focus solely on me and no one else. Sammy was the same. He had women, several women in fact, offering him up threesomes and more, but he never went for it.

Ever since Red started working at Rouge months ago, I actually hadn’t seen my brother with anyone. He used to take them home, but that hadn’t happened in quite a while. Maybe she was the reason for his change in mood.

I haven’t been to the club in a while, he muttered, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Neither have I. There was no reason to either when I didn’t have someone to go with me.

Sammy and I were members of a BDSM club called The Rope. No one knew of our lifestyle. Hell, even the women we had been with outside of the club, didn’t know. Both of us had one goal in mind when we explored our kink; that was to get a submissive. But it hadn’t happened yet, so our visits to The Rope were few and far between.

You heading to The Dove Project tomorrow? Sammy asked, changing the subject.

Yeah. Greyson thought it would be a good idea for us to help. Jaron liked the idea, so he’ll be there too. We had been on edge lately. After almost losing Jaron Mercer, the newest president of the Hell’s Harlem MC, we needed something to take away the stress. Most of us either drank or fucked it out. A few of the guys had an old lady to go home to, so I was sure that helped them deal. But Jaron’s father knew that a lot of us were still single, so he was trying anything to help us work through the stress.

I would give my left arm to be able to go home to a woman. Someone