Chapter 3

Joliet Refugee District, Incorporated Chicagoland, IL June 10, 2031

Ellie's consciousness swam slowly upward from the depths of sleep. She tried to cling to the shreds of unconsciousness, but there was an insistent pounding pervading her dim, watery awareness. She hadn't fallen asleep as much as passed out and, when she woke, she still felt drunk.

The pounding came again and was, of course, someone at the door. She looked for Ricky on his side of the bed. But, of course, he wasn't there. He would have dealt with whoever was knocking on the door with such vehemence by now.

Even during the day, Ellie knew better than to answer the door when Ricky wasn't here. After the destruction of Chicago, the government had taken the Harrah's hotel-casino in Joliet and converted it to Chicago Area Refugee Center 17. That was so long ago that Ellie could barely remember Chicago, her parents or anyone that she'd known at the time ... She'd been a child then, lucky enough to be on her first class trip when the bombs fell. She hadn't felt lucky at the time, but she'd survived when millions had died. To Ellie, that was all that counted.

Since then, she'd lived in CARCEN 17, first in the orphanage that had started life as a poker room, later with a string of foster families, then with whoever would promise to treat her better than her foster families did, and now with Ricky. Seventeen had never been a great place to live, but it had gotten a lot worse in the last few years. People said the new president was trying to get rid of the refugee problem by ignoring it until it went away. Ellie didn't know about that. But, she knew that she needed somebody strong like Ricky to keep her from being easy prey for anybody who wanted her. It wasn't conceit to say that a lot of men did. White, blonde, and pretty were a rare combination in Seventeen.

Whoever had been knocking at the door pounded again, "Ellie, come on. Open the door. I know you're in there."

The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. She threw on a robe and went to the door. Through it, she said, "You go away. If you wake Ricky up, he'll..."

"Ricky's dead, babe. Open the door."

Ellie gasped. It wasn't surprise. Ricky was a hard man with his fingers in a lot of illicit pies. He had pieces of gambling, prostitution, and drugs throughout Incorporated Chicagoland. He wasn't as big as he liked to pretend to be, but he was big enough to rate a luxury suite inside the Seventeen that normally would have held seven or eight people.

It wasn't grief, either. Ricky had protected her after a fashion. But, she'd paid for that protection. He'd hit her whenever the mood struck him. He'd lent her out to men he owed debts to or wanted favors from or just if he wanted to be alone with some young thing he'd gotten his hands on. She wouldn't shed any tears for Ricky.

She was afraid. If Ricky really were dead, Ray would be here any minute to claim her. She'd always suspected Ray wanted her place in Ricky's bed and on one unwise, alcohol-fueled night, accused him of such. Ray had given her a black eye over it and Ricky had given Ray a thrashing that nearly killed him.

"You have to go," she said through the door. "If Ricky is dead, Ray will be here any minute and..."

"Ray's dead, too," said the man on the other side of the door. "Ellie, you've got to let me in. I killed them both and people are looking for me."

She opened the door with the swing-bolt engaged, enough to see who was in the hall. It took her a few seconds to place the face on the other side. Finally, she said, "Clay?"

He nodded, "Open the door. This is the one place nobody should be looking for me. And if anybody comes looking for you, I can protect you ... at least until morning."

Ellie nodded and opened the door. Clay slipped in, spun her so that her back pushed the door closed. His lips were on hers and his tongue in her mouth before she could even take a breath. Ellie stiffened, but only for a moment. He'd offered to protect her and she knew the price of that kind of protection. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand going up to stroke the smooth top of his head and tried to remember everything she knew about Clay.

He was in a gang, one that used to do jobs for Ricky but didn't anymore. She couldn't remember the name of the gang or why there was a rift between them. Someone had decided they deserved more power than they had and gotten shot trying to take it, most likely. She broke the kiss and looked down for any sort of insignia to jar her memory, but Clay was wearing plain denim overalls over a black t-shirt.

Clay read more into her gaze than Ellie had meant. He winced, "Sorry, baby. I'm going to need to take some of Ricky's clothes to get from here to the bus."

"The bus?" Ellie had no idea what he was talking about or why he was apologizing until she looked down and saw blood on one of her palms. She looked up. Ricky had unhooked the overalls and was peeling off the t-shirt. A drop of scarlet dripped off the bottom and spotted the rug. Clay's black skin and t-shirt had hidden the worst of it until she looked more closely. She gasped and stepped back, "Is that..."

Clay carried the shirt into the kitchenette and dropped it in the sink, "Ricky's? Yeah. And Ray's. And Tino Buck's ... and whatever the name of his other bodyguard was."

"Erik Bloomfield?" Ellie filled in.

Clay frowned, "White guy? Curly, blond hair?"

"Yeah."

Clay nodded. His grin made Ellie shiver, "That's the one." He reached for Ellie and wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, drawing her in for another kiss, "I told you I'd take care of them for you one day, baby."

"You did." At the last moment, Ellie managed to turn her question into a statement. She remembered Clay vaguely now, but still couldn't remember having a conversation with him. He'd been muscle. A couple of years back, Ricky had gone to Denver without her and left her in the care of Clay's gang, whatever they were called. But, she couldn't remember what she might have said to him to make him think she wanted him to kill Ricky and Ray.

It was possible, though. She had wanted Ricky and Ray dead and vaguely remembered ranting about them when they went away and left her.

Whatever she'd said, Ricky and Ray were dead and Clay considered himself her protector. She knew better than to argue. She kissed him and held nothing back. There was blood on her hands and her robe was ruined, but it was too late to worry about it.

And Clay was a good looking man. Ricky had been like him once, powerful and built so that wrapping herself around him felt like hugging a wall of muscles. In recent years, most of Ricky's muscle had turned to fat. Clay was still in prime form.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her, "You have hot water? I could use a shower."

Ellie nodded, "Ricky always has hot water."

Clay smiled and looked towards the bathroom. He still held one of Ellie's hands. Ellie understood what he was asking and knew it wasn't really a question. She smiled at him, "I could help you scrub that off."

Clay was gentler with Ellie than anyone had ever been. Even at first, when Ricky had been on his best behavior, he hadn't been able to entirely restrain his basic, savage nature. He never would have held back long enough for them to scrub the blood off. Clay was rock hard as soon as he got his clothes off, but he let Ellie wash him thoroughly and even washed off the blood that had seeped through her robe to her skin before pinning her to the wall of the shower and entering her.

By the time he did, Ellie was ready for him. He was a beautiful specimen of a man and knew how to touch her in ways that made her eager to be taken. Fear rose in her throat when he pinned her wrists above her head, but rising pleasure made being afraid seem less bad.

She pretended to come early and was surprised when the real climax came. She let out a sob and clung to Clay. Her whole world was changing around her, but she was able to put it all aside for a few minutes at least.

Clay released her wrists and stroked her hair, holding her against his chest, "It's okay, Ellie. You're safe now."

Clay dried her off before he took her to Ricky's bed. As he did, there was a faint smile on his lips. Ellie wondered for a moment what Clay thought she was. No one who knew her had ever looked at her the way he did. It was the sort of look she imagined Prince Charming would have given Sleeping Beauty.

He was ready for her again as soon as her back hit the sheets. Ellie wrapped her arms and legs around him and opened herself to him. Again, she lost herself to the rhythm of his thrusting, even urged him to take her harder. She bit his shoulder to stifle her cries when she came again.