Chapter Fourteen
Adam
Hours after they dropped us in here and slammed the door, my head’s killing me. My stomach’s upset. Maybe because I was hit in the head, but…
This has happened before. More than once. The worst was weeks after Troy and I left home, after we’d sold my car and the money had run out. Finding food had become an issue. That was the day Troy starting tricking, to make sure we’d never be hungry again.
If we’re stuck here for too long? I’m in trouble.
I have no insulin, and I need to eat something. Fuck knows what happened to the kit I was carrying on the way into the Premiere, but it isn’t with me now.
It’s too soon to say anything. No point, anyway. Troy will figure it out before too long. The bigger issue is if we’re stuck in this room for too many hours, things will only get worse. Whatever these guys’ plans are, they’re not good.
“Nadia? What happened? How did you get here?” Wes is shuffling around, trying to get closer to her. It’s dark since they shut the door on us, and the poor girl has been barely responsive since then.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says gently. Sounds like he’s next to her now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but right at this moment we’re okay. Right now you’re okay.”
It’s the soothing tone of his voice that raises the hairs on my arms.
“Damn,” Troy whispers as he presses his arm against mine. “He’s good. Now I want to tell him all my secrets.”
I press back against Troy’s arm in acknowledgment.
This Wes we’re seeing? This isn’t the controlling dick we first met, the one who meddled in his brother’s love life and looked down his nose in judgment at us. This version is soft-spoken and kind. If words had fingers, his would be giving Nadia a gentle back rub about now.
Maybe this is how he bagged that pretty blonde he married. A few soothing sentences, and I’m practically drooling.
Thanks to Wes’s coaxing, Nadia finally finds her voice.
“A couple of days ago, I went out on my break to get my sweater from my car.” Her voice shakes.
“I think it was a couple of days ago? It feels like it’s been so long.
Someone grabbed me near my car. Two men.
One clamped his hand over my mouth, and the other grabbed my legs so I couldn’t kick at them.
Next thing I knew, they’d injected me with something and stuck me in a van. When I woke up I was here.”
Did we get drugged? Must have. That might partly explain why I feel so fucked up.
“Any idea what’s going on here?” Troy’s tense next to me.
The other guy pipes up. “I got a better look last time they let us go to the bathroom. It’s porn, I think.
Except not the cheesy ‘secretary fucks her boss at the office’ kind.
They’re getting people to do things. Fucked-up things.
Sounds like they’re selling it to sick fucks who get their jollies on that sort of thing. ”
“How do you know?” Wes asks.
“I got here a day before she did.” He must mean Nadia.
“They come in here, drug two or three people at a time, and after the drugs’ve kicked in they take them out to that other room.
It’s hard to hear, but one of the girls…
” The hiss of his breath suggests he’s gathering himself.
Or maybe he’s pissed. “Even with the pills, she… There was a lot of yelling.” His breath hitches.
“The one guy, he laughed. Said they’d love the show. ”
Someone makes a quiet whine. Maybe Nadia. Maybe the other guy. I know the sound of someone who knows they’re about to die. Some guys react loudly, fighting and begging.
Some don’t.
Shit. This is bad. Troy and I can handle it. Fucking someone, or getting fucked, to stay alive is old news for us. For most people it would be awful.
How do we get out of this? Can we? The pounding in my head is making my thoughts cloudy.
“Do you know what drugs?” I ask.
“Gotta be something illegal. It’s not as if we can see much of anything in here. When they come in the light is so bright you’re basically blind,” the guy says.
Troy scoots close to me and whispers, “Do you think your message got through to anybody?”
“I sent something to the group chat. Someone will see.”
Hopefully Brennan. Or Ravi will tell his boyfriend.
“They still have to find us,” Troy says.
And they have to do it soon. We might have a couple of days. We might have a couple of hours. “I know.”
“Okay. We need to buy time if we can. We’ve got help coming,” Troy says a little louder. He wants the whole room to hear, but we don’t know how well the sound carries outside. The other guy said he could hear yelling from the outer room, so how loud is it safe to raise our voices?
“Does anyone know how long whatever drugs they give you take to wear off?” Troy asks.
“Nobody comes back,” Nadine says, less shaky than before. “They drug you, they take you out, and then who knows?”
I have a pretty good idea. “If nobody came back, they’re probably either dead, or they’ve been shipped somewhere.”
It’s what my dad would have done. What my brother would probably do. Holding a person takes resources. Why not send them someplace else to make money again?
Wes pipes up. “What are you guys thinking? What can we do?”
It’s the first time he’s spoken to us as if we’re all on the same team. We’re going to need each other to have any chance of getting out of this.
Troy says, “They probably untie you first before they make you do whatever they make you do. There might be a window when we can fight back, if the drugs don’t have us too fucked up.”
“At least one of those guys had a gun, though,” Wes points out.
“More than one,” the other guy says. “At least a couple.”
“Probably all of them.” Not to bring down the mood, but we need to be realistic. “How many people total?”
“They seem to come and go,” Nadia says sadly. “Fewer than you’d think, honestly. There are a couple of guys who seem to be in charge of transporting people, and a few who are here all the time. One who seems to oversee everything.”
“I don’t think he’s calling the shots, though. He keeps taking calls from someone,” the guy across from us adds.
Troy shuffles next to me. “They’re keeping it small to keep it controlled. The more people you have involved in an operation, the riskier it gets. My father shipped guns overseas under the cover of a legitimate art export business. Only a few trusted employees knew.”
“Nadia,” Wes says her name softly. “Is Caitlyn okay?”
“I-I think so.” Her voice breaks. I think she’s trying not to cry. “My neighbor watches her. I can only hope she’s still got her.”
“She does. I’m sure of it.” Wes is kind, but firm.
Not the sexy, awkward stammering we get when we touch him, but someone who’s confident and in charge.
Who the hell knows if that woman’s neighbor is still looking after her baby, but Wes must realize that giving her another thing to fear will only make matters worse.
There’s rustling, like he’s moving closer to her. Comforting her, maybe.
Of course he is. I’m beginning to see he’s that kind of guy.
I agree with Troy that how Wes meddled with Fallon and PJ’s relationship was shitty, but he’s not a total dick.
Wes Monroe is more like Troy than maybe either of them realize. They’re helpers. Misguided ones, but still. They’re both the type of guys who come up with fucked-up ways to solve a problem and think they’re helping.
Wes attempted to help by setting his brother up on a date with a sex worker. Troy went out and gave blow jobs when I landed in the hospital.
“Look alive,” someone shouts from the outer room.
The heavy door is wrenched open on screaming hinges. Light floods from the other room. Some dude walks in with a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Another follows behind him, holding something. I can’t tell what.
“You.” The big guy points both his gun and his high-beam light straight at Nadia, who’s back to shaking like a leaf. His grin isn’t only cruel, it’s also excited. He knows he’s scaring her. He likes it.
The second guy crouches down in front of her. “Open up, sweetheart. This all goes easier if you cooperate.”
So that’s what the other guy has. Pills. Suddenly, I’m remembering those drugs Brennan warned us about.
“No.” Wes shoves Nadia aside to get in front of the gun, almost knocking the dude with the pills off his feet.
My heart’s hovering somewhere near my collarbones. Wes is going to get himself killed.
Sure enough, the bro with the gun pushes the muzzle up against Wes’s temple. “The fuck do you think you’re doing, buddy?”
“I think…” Wes clears his throat. I can make out his ragged breath from over here. “No, I know. You-you’re making a mistake. You’re in the business of depravity, right? That’s what this is all about. What about…”
I could swear for a second he looks our way.
The mix of light and shadow make it tough to tell.
“What about a six-foot-two straight guy who’s never been fucked getting split open on camera, huh?
What if s-someone had to hold me down while I fought b-back?
Or…or tied me down? Shoved their cock in my throat?
Wrecked my asshole? Bet your sicko viewers would really get off on that shit. ”
Oh, Wes . No.
I get what he’s doing. We need to stall to give Brennan or whoever time to find us. Letting that shaky wisp of a girl across the way get thrown to the wolves is no good. Hell, my sicko dick even likes what he’s suggesting. But the way he’s putting ideas in their head?
Fucking disastrous.
Sure as hell not a good idea to have these people tie him up. If we are to have any chance of fighting our way out of here, we’ll need our hands free.
Unless he’s offering himself up as some kind of sacrifice.
He’s got that haunted look on his face all the time. I could almost see it. Like he thinks he has things to atone for. Just like me. Just like Troy.
“Fuck no.” Troy pushes his back against the wall, struggling to his feet. “You don’t want him. You want someone who can take a dick like a pro.”
“No. I’m the one you want.” I push to stand, too. “Bet your audience would love a stellar DP. I’m looser than your mom after a few drinks, and I’m a great fucking actor. I don’t even need drugs to make people think I’m absolutely dying while a couple of guys fuck me.”
It’s not my thing. From experience, I know if you don’t prep enough, things don’t feel great. But I can do it if I have to.
Also? I’m not letting Wes offer himself up when I’m the one least likely to get out of here alive.
A lot of things would have to align for us to be found before I’m too far gone. I’m not giving up, but I’m also not super hopeful.
The two men stand there for a moment, staring. The gun’s still on Wes, but it’s clear they’re having trouble deciding what to do. Not the sort of situation where people usually volunteer.
Now that my eyes are adjusting to the bright light in the room, I can make out the rapid rise and fall of Wes’s chest. He’s got to be coursing with adrenaline right now.
Finally, the one with the gun presses it harder into Wes’s temple. “This one.”
Shit .
Before anyone else can say anything, the other guy is shoving two pills into Wes’s mouth. They stick a bottle between his lips and upend it, making him sputter. Forcing him to swallow.
“Let me fuck him, then,” Troy growls. “Let me tear up that pretentious middle management dick’s asshole. I’ve been dying to.”
The best lie has a hint of truth, right? Troy’s eagerness is a hundred percent believable. His smile is unhinged.
“Me too.” This isn’t how we wanted it with Wes. But better us than a stranger.
“Fine.” The guy approaches and quickly shoves pills into Troy’s mouth too.
Huh.
I get a better look at the party favors when he pulls the baggie out of his pocket. They’re round, a chalky green color with a leaf stamped on the top.
They call it Spark. It’s the same stuff that’s been circulating on the streets recently. The stuff Brennan warned us all against because it’s killed some people.
Troy’s taken it, though. One of our clients paid extra. At least we know what it does.
I’m busy looking between Wes and Troy when the guy with the gun grabs me by the hair. I usually keep it pulled back, but my hair tie got lost somewhere in the scuffle. He’s got a big fistful and he’s tilting my head up to the ceiling.
“No, he can’t take that shit.” Troy pushes toward me, but I try to give him a warning with my eyes.
They can’t know. If they have any idea I’m sick, I’m dead. My father dealt in trafficking. If I’m a liability, I’m done.
Troy’s dad was into shady shit too, so he’s not stupid. He settles down pretty fast.
When they pour the water into my mouth, I get lucky. The pills get caught in the crease where my lip meets my gum. The taste while I hold them in there is bitter and nasty as hell, but who cares? If I’m less fucked up it’ll be a good thing.
With the way I’m already feeling, I’m not even sure it’ll be hard to fake.
I don’t breathe again until the two men are gone. Thank fuck.
As soon as the door closes, I spit them out and crush them under my shoe. Then we wait.
It feels like a while passes before they come back. Wes is definitely getting hit the hardest. The light’s gone again, so I can’t see him well, but he’s sort of moaning and lolling his head against the wall.
By the time they come back my butt’s fallen asleep from sitting on the hard floor. One at a time, they drag us out. They drop Wes face up on a mattress in the middle of the room. His hands are free, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s loose-limbed and half out of it, his eyes hooded.
“Shit, we need more time.” Troy says next to me. He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to.
Between the two of us, we can maybe manage taking down these guys. But at least one has a gun. There might also be guards if we try to leave. We need Wes able to stand on his own two feet. Otherwise, he’s a liability. Which means we’re going to need to do the thing.
This is going to be an absolute mess.
“Get the fuck over there.” Someone shoves me between the shoulder blades, making me stumble toward where Wes is lying.
“W-what do you want us to do?” As if I can’t guess.
“Spit roast.” He looks at Troy. “Make him scream.”
Wes groans, and so do I. Because we’re going to have to hurt him to save him.