Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Nadia
P ain ricochets across my body as I wake up with my neck aching from sleeping at an awkward angle. Another night full of my mystery man assaulted me again and I want to cry. Giving me hope that he will come and rescue me. Then I wake up to this nightmare I’m living in every day. The assholes who kidnapped me then dumped me in this flea-infested room with fifteen other girls and my tormentors I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try.
Nausea climbs its way up my throat, my skin breaks out in a sweat and I do everything I can to hold it down. I need to keep as much sustenance in my body as possible and save my energy. Throwing up all my so-called breakfast would counter what I'm trying to accomplish. A piece of dry toast and a warm cup of water isn’t much but it’s better than the alternative. I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, closing my eyes and concentrating on keeping my food down.
“Nadia, are you ok?” Exleigh, a girl who can’t be older than fifteen asks me. She has bruising on her arms and thighs where these assholes raped her. The right side of her face is swollen from their fists, her dark hair covering most of it. Her once vibrant blue eyes are now dull and fading each day we’re trapped in here and it makes me fight harder to get her out of here. I couldn’t stop them from taking her last night and ended up face down in my vomit and blood after they beat me for interfering and left me there.
I wince before shifting slightly trying to take the weight off my bruised hip. “I’m ok, Exleigh.” I cover my stomach with my left hand protectively.
“Please don’t do that again, Nadia. They could have killed you or worse.” Exleigh’s eyes drop to my stomach and I get what she’s saying without her saying it.
“Ex is right, Nadia. There is more than just you now.” Syvannah, another woman trapped in this nightmare with me, crawls her way over to us across a dirty carpet. Her hands are bruised and busted from fighting the men off. She didn’t win but she tried like hell. Her light brown hair is knotted and hangs just past her shoulders. Syvannah brushes my long blonde hair out of my face. My skin is clammy from sweating through the nausea and I really want a shower but that won’t happen any time soon.
We’ve been stuck in here for almost three months and never once did these assholes offer us a chance to shower. We’re lucky they let us use the bathroom attached to the room. Both the bathroom and this room are stripped bare of anything we could use as a weapon against them or to kill ourselves with. Trust me, I’ve searched every inch of both these rooms, looking for anything to use to get us out of here.
“You’re right but it’s not in me to sit back and watch others get hurt.” I counter.
“I know but you have to let us take care of each other. You take care of us when we come back beat down, bloody and hurt. If you’re unconscious from their fists, you can’t help us heal.” Syvannah grabs my right hand and squeezes it.
“I don’t understand why they do violent things to all of you, but only hit me when I’m being insolent.” I shake my head and look around the room.
We’re all crammed into this tiny ass dirty hotel room. Our ages range from the youngest, Exleigh, at fifteen to me pushing thirty. We’ve all been through hell and back for the last three months and I’ve formed a bond with these two. I look around the dirty room at the women still here. Some of the women are huddled together on the floor or the bed. Others are by themselves with their arms wrapped around their legs that are pulled up against their chests, trying to make themselves disappear. Those are the ones I worry about the most. They’ve been here the longest and are the most broken.
There used to be more here from the markings on the walls, but they’ve disappeared without a trace. My guess is they’ve either been sold or are dead. I won’t let that happen to these women.
I can’t.
I’ve been told my whole life I wasn’t good at anything and I was a huge mistake. My father was the worst kind of man I’ve ever known. He never raised a hand to me when I was a child, but words cut deeper than actions. Then when I was sixteen, my mom and I found out he had another family, one he kept hidden from everyone. That sent my mom into a tailspin of alcohol and drug abuse. She never recovered and the day she died a year later was the worst day of my life. My father’s verbal abuse turned physical. He beat me until I blacked out from the pain, all while spitting on me and blaming me for my mom’s death. He was the one at fault. He was the one to blame. He was the one who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
All I knew at the time was I had a brother named Nolan. Once I healed from my father’s beating, I took off with only a small bag and a pocket full of money, to find my brother. I traced him all the way to Michigan and it turns out he wasn’t the hidden family. I was. Nolan is three years older than me.
Devastated about the news, I went back to L.A. without talking to Nolan or telling him who I was. He had a happy life, a great racing career and the last thing I wanted to do was destroy it. I stayed under the radar when I got back to Los Angeles to keep away from my father and found a home with the racing circuit. I had natural ability behind the wheel and I give that credit to my brother Nolan, only he didn’t know about me.
A couple of years after I found him, he came to L.A. with his girlfriend Krimson, who is the head of the racing circuit. Nothing goes on without her knowing it and it’s a little intimidating, but I managed to stay away from her crew’s attention. I saw Nolan at almost every race, only he didn’t see me hiding in the shadows. Krimson’s crew was more worried about finding out who killed her parents and little brother, they didn’t notice me. Not until the last day Nolan and Krimson were going to be in L.A. for a while.
The smell of racing fuel and burnt tires fills my nose as I relax against the hood of my Supra, waiting for the cue to race. The deep thumping of someone’s bass vibrates through my body, making my adrenaline burn. Rumor has it Krimson and her crew won’t be here tonight and it’s been a while since I raced the streets for cash, I figured, fuck it, I should be safe tonight. Besides, I need the cash.
A tall, muscular, dark-skinned man with dreadlocks grabs everyone’s attention. The music turns down. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s race is a special one. With a five K buy-in, we are shaking things up a bit. It won’t be like a normal quarter-mile race. Instead, we have downloaded GPS directions to your phones. The winner will receive their special prize at the end of the race. I promise you will not be disappointed.”
Once he is finished, the five driver’s, including mine, phones ping with a location. We’ll end up at the old warehouse in Culver City, about three miles away from here. This means we will have to battle, not only with each other but with L.A. traffic too. The first one to make it there will have a special surprise, which will be given at the end of the race.
“Line ‘em up!” The man shouts.
I hurry to my car and fire her up, plugging my phone into the console, so the coordinates pop up on the screen. The purr of the engine settles me and I pull up to the makeshift starting line. Questions about what awaits the winner at the end fade away as all five of us line up. I’m directly in the middle, just where I like to be. Once everyone is lined up, I reach under the passenger seat and turn on the two tanks of NOS. Can’t win a race without a slight edge. I pull my long blond hair out of my face and focus on the woman standing between my car and another racer. She’s wearing a short white skirt that barely covers her ass, a tight red blouse and a red scarf. She points to each of us one by one to make sure we are ready. Once she is satisfied, she unties the scarf around her neck and raises it above her head. Once she releases the scarf, all five of us take off from the starting line, neck and neck. I fight to overtake the car to my left when we come to a corner. I ease up on the gas a little, throw up my parking brake, shift down once and floor it. I squeal around the corner in perfect precision, overtaking two drivers. There are still two in front of me, but I’m eating at their bumpers, waiting for the perfect time to pass.
According to GPS, we have less than a mile before we reach the warehouse. The light in front of us changes from green to red but I don’t stop. I weave in and out of traffic, crossing the intersection. Horns blare but I can’t let up, not if I want to win the twenty K and the surprise at the end. Weaving in and out of traffic, I smoothly shift gears and am ready to pass the two cars in front of me. I flick the switch to the NOS and activate it with a push of a button. The power it sprays kicks me back in my seat and the adrenaline flows through me like a wave. A heady rush steadies my nerves as I overtake the two drivers and come barreling down to the finish line. With only seconds left, I cross the finish line ahead of the rest of the drivers, winning the race. Bringing my car to a complete stop, I’m swarmed with people congratulating me on my win. A different man comes up to congratulate me. He is tall, and has dark hair with blond highlights and I recognize him at once as Rush, from Krimson’s crew. Oh shit.
“Great win, what’s your name?” Rush asks me.
I panic and give him a false name. “Tatianna.”
“Well, Tatianna, since you’ve won, we are going to make your dreams come true. We have a spot open in our crew and you have the skills we need. What do you say?” Rush’s bright white smile is supposed to relax me, but all it does is send me into a panic attack.
“Thanks, but I’m not interested,” I say quietly.
Rush frowns, “Are you sure? There are a lot of people who would die to be in your boots right now.”
“Yes, thank you for the offer, but I really can’t.” I shake my head. My father’s words ring in my ears. You’re not worth it. You’ll never be worth it.
“Well, if you change your mind, please reach out to me, any time, night or day. We really could use a driver with your skills. Besides, your racing reminds me of someone close to me.” Rush studies me intently before he hands me a plain business card. On it is a single number. “Remember, any time Tatianna. We’d definitely be able to use your skill.”
I take the card with trembling fingers and thank him before hurrying to my car and taking off like my ass was on fire.
Holy shit, that was close.
The lock rattles and the door swings open with a hard slam, making me jump and bringing me out of my memories of almost meeting my brother. My old boss from the strip club, Mr. Lattimer, comes strolling in. With his slick black hair, a tailored three-piece suit, and eyes as black as the devil himself comes waltzing into the room without a care in the world. Behind him is his henchman, Josiah. I don’t miss the way Josiah’s eyes linger on me a little too long. He has always given me the creeps and still does.
Lattimer’s deadly black eyes survey the room until they land on Syvannah crouched next to me with her trembling arm wrapped around mine. Her bruises and cuts are fading and she’s finally getting some mobility in her left wrist. I shake my head, my muscles coiled, ready to protect these women.
“No, Nadia,” Syvannah whispers in my ear, not breaking eye contact with Lattimer. A wicked grin splits his face, accentuating the scar above his lip.
A groan breaks the quietness surrounding us, followed by a high pitch scream. All of our attention moves to the opposite corner of the dirty room where two women are huddled together. One is screaming at the top of her lungs and the other is thrashing around on the carpet, foaming at the mouth before she stills. Her eyes grow blank, staring at the wall.
Shit. This isn’t the first time one of the women has died in my care, but it still hurts when there is nothing I can do to help.
“Get those two bitches out of here, Josiah.” Lattimer motions to the two women, like her death is more of an inconvenience than a tragedy.
“Yes, boss.” Josiah hesitates.
“What?” Lattimer barks.
“We need to replace these two, sir.”
“I know this, Josiah. Get the fucking job done.” Lattimer turns on his pristine shoes and leaves the room.
Why two? One is still alive. Are they going to kill her for being near the dead one?
Josiah drags the girl whose screams turn to whimpers by the arm, forcing her to stand. He grabs the dead girl by her arms and starts dragging her body across the room like a caveman while gripping the other woman’s arm painfully. Two other men come into the room to get rid of the body.
Relieved Lattimer isn’t taking Syvannah is short-lived when Josiah stops in the doorway. A menacing glare aimed right at me. He strides to me in quick steps and leans over so his wretched breath fans across my face. “Don’t get too comfortable, Nadia. It’ll be your turn real soon.” Josiah inhales against my neck and disgust swims in my belly. I swallow the vomit threatening to come up and stare back at Josiah. I’m not afraid of him and he knows it. His glare swings to Syvannah and Exleigh huddled next to me. He brings his knuckles against my cheek caressing it like a lover. His other hand grabs Exleigh and halls her against his open legs. I turn my head and Josiah grabs my face painfully with his fingers forcing me to watch what he does next.
“Unzip and take me out, bitch.” Josiah’s face is filled with hatred and longing. “This is all your fault, Nadia.” Exleigh does what he told her to do with shaky fingers. “Suck it and if you bite, I will kill her.” Josiah says to Exleigh but his eyes never leave mine. She starts sucking him while gagging. “Soon, this will be you on your knees deep throating me.” Josiah warns. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and then opens them.
I shake my head but his fingers grip my chin harder making my jaw rub together. He makes me watch him abuse Exleigh for longer than I figured. His grip tightens again on my jaw and his other hand wraps around Exleigh’s throat, choking her. Tears and snot run down her face, while trying to breathe. He releases a guttural moan and reaches his peak, unloading himself down her throat. Josiah releases both of us and shoves Exleigh against the wall.
“Fuck, that was hotter than I imagined.” Josiah pants, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up. Syvannah holds Exleigh while she sobs and tries not to vomit in front of him. He’d make her clean it up and do it all over again. We’ve seen it several times and after a while the women know not to throw up after they get him off. Anger and rage vibrates through my veins and it takes everything in me to not beat the shit out of Josiah. His time is coming and it’s coming soon.
“Why?” I ask through clenched teeth.
I’m not sure if it’s from him getting off or something else, but Josiah’s answer shocks me. “Why them and not you?” he asks. I nod my head. He leans down close to my ear, inhaling my scent again. “Because you’re not worth it.” The bitterness in his voice tells me he means it.
According to my father, I’m not worth it and never will be. I’ll never be good enough for anyone to love me, only use me for what they want. I should feel relieved at Josiah’s words but the self-doubt I’ve had my whole life rears its ugly head and I hold back tears as Josiah’s evil laugh penetrates the room.
“That’s right, you’re a worthless whore. You’re not worth it.” Josiah storms out of the room and I release the breath I was holding.
Yeah, I know I’m not worth anything. That’s been clear to me for years. Now how do I get the fuck out of here and prove I’m worth everything I want? That includes a hot man who blushes at everything and rides a Harley.