Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
BAILEY - BEFORE
“No!” I cry. “Don’t touch her. Take me.” The words come out automatically.
I lift my body as much as I can and grab him around the middle, digging my nails in hard.
“Bitch,” he grunts, and backhands me across the face. Jasmine’s wails combine with my own, but I won’t stop fighting.
For her, I have to try.
I scramble, using every ounce of strength I have to lift my heavy limbs. “Hide!” I yell to Jasmine, but she’s already slumped against the wall.
The man’s face turns beet red, his breath coming in angry huffs. Before I know what’s happening, he yanks me by the hair, tossing me off the bed. My head cracks against the nightstand and everything goes black.
“… what happened to her?”
“Told you she was a fighter… They all fight at first.”
My skull throbs with each word. I know one of those voices.
King.
There’s no crying… Why isn’t there any crying?
I cup the side of my head, where an egg-sized knot has formed. It’s so fucking sore, I could vomit. Then the images come back to me… How he threw me off the bed. Jasmine slumped on the floor.
A warm hand touches my arm and I cower, forcing my eyes open.
“Bailey,” he says. “I’m going to help you up now. It’s time to go.”
His voice is familiar. Even without seeing his face, I know who he is. He was there that night at the pharmacy. Him. The one who gave me water when I came to, took me to the bathroom, sent me away. Sweeper. “Where is she?” I rasp.
He ignores my question and grabs underneath my arms. I don’t struggle… I can’t. But I ask again, “Where’s Jasmine?”
King’s cellphone rings and he glances at the screen before sighing. “I need to take this. Bring her to the van, and I’ll meet you up front.”
Sweeper nods, and as he drags me to my unsteady feet, I notice a crimson stain on the carpet next to the bed. My pulse kicks up and every terrible thought I tried to keep hidden floods my mind.
Jasmine is hurt. Or worse. Where did they take her?
Sweeper leads me to the bathroom, standing over me as I use the toilet and clean myself up with shaking hands.
I’ll never be clean though. Not really. Sweeper’s quiet and calm, like this is a mundane task for him.
Somehow, I almost wish he were angry and rough and mean.
I hate him more for offering quiet indifference.
He wraps a threadbare towel over my shoulders and guides me outside. The cool air assaults my skin, waking my tired eyes, but I immediately start shivering and clutching the towel tighter.
He doesn’t say another word until we reach the idling van where Cat already sits waiting, looking just as worn out and broken as I feel. Her eyes dart past me, brows furrowed. I shake my head subtly. She’s not here.
Her eyes widen in response.
“Get in,” Sweeper says to me. His phone rings, so he drops my arm and I have to grip the doorframe to keep steady.
He checks the screen and says to the driver, “Take them back… and feed them first. Whatever they want.” He reaches into his pocket and shoves a stack of bills at the driver like we’re groceries he’s paying for.
“Got it, Boss.”
Sweeper turns away to answer his phone, but Cat’s voice rips through the quiet, sounding raw and desperate. “No, we can’t leave. Where is she? Where’s Jasmine?”
The driver turns to face us and smiles. If I had the strength to wipe that look from his face, I would. “She’s not coming.”
Cat summons whatever strength she has left and lunges for him. She screams as her nails dig into his face. “You bastard! What did you do to her?”
“Get off me, you crazy bitch!”
Cat’s lost her mind, clawing and scratching, screaming for Jasmine. The driver slams his hand on the horn and a long blast echoes through the empty lot.
Sweeper appears at the van door within seconds, phone still pressed to his ear. Without missing a beat in his conversation, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a syringe. Cat sees it coming and fights harder, but the driver has her pinned now.
I’m frozen… watching this unfold like it’s a movie. It’s not real. None of this could be real. I want to help her, but what can I do?
“No, no, please—” she gasps, but Sweeper jabs the needle into her neck.
There’s not a hint of emotion coming off him as he caps the syringe and fixes his gaze on me.
I shake my head, my eyes widening. He must see that I’m done fighting, that I have nothing left to give, so he turns and closes the door.
Within moments, Cat’s wild thrashing slows and she sags back against the seat. Her eyes lock onto mine as the drug takes hold. They’re dark pools filled with grief and rage and a desperate plea that I can’t answer. It kills me.
“Don’t you fucking try anything,” the driver seethes as he glances at me through the rear view mirror. He shifts the van into reverse and cranks up the music—a pop song that played at Heat the night I was taken. My body trembles and I close my eyes, trying to block it out.
I scoot closer to Cat and take her hand in mine as her eyes gently close and her head comes to rest on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper, knowing it’s a lie. “I’ve got you.”
Jasmine—wherever you are, I hope you’re safe. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t help you.
It’s a rare quiet day in the house. We haven’t had one of those in the weeks since Jasmine was taken from us.
Cat, Lydia, Elise, and I are sitting together on the floor of the main room watching comedy reruns on the huge flat screen.
The one nice piece of “furniture” they have in this house.
Yuri keeps pacing in and out of the room, keeping an eye on us, but there’s been no sign of King today, or any of the other brutes that usually hang around being loud and obnoxious and leering at us all day.
We were able to shower this morning, and were given pizza this afternoon. If I didn’t know better, it’s almost like a normal weekend hangout with friends. But I do know better. My stomach’s been in knots all day waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I pick at my dried bottom lip until it stings and I taste blood. With Yuri on a call, pacing the hallway, Lydia nudges me. “How’s your head?”
I shared whatever details of the night with the girls as soon as I could when we were dropped back off at the house that night. Lydia, who I learned is the oldest of us at thirty and a mom of two, has been keeping her eye on me and Cat since.
“It’s doing okay today, but it hurt like a bitch to wash my hair.”
She reaches out a gentle hand and pushes my hair away from my ear to check on the slowly healing lump. If only she saw all the bruises on my body, I’m sure she’d freak out. I know I did when I looked in the mirror the next day.
“Let’s still keep an eye on it,” she says.
There’s so much I want to ask her. All of them, really. We only get short spurts of time together like this and more often than not, someone, if not all of us, are given sedatives. But not today.
“I don’t trust him,” Cat seethes. “He’s being too nice today. They’ve gotta be planning something for tonight. I fucking know it.”
She’s probably right, but I don’t want to say that out loud.
Elise—who’s normally quiet, whether from her natural personality or from being overly sedated, I don’t know—drums her fingers on her thigh and suddenly speaks up.
“I don’t think they are.” I turn to her and notice that there’s sweat beading on her pale brows even though the room is chilly.
It’s making her light hair stick to her forehead in damp strands.
She wipes it away with a jerky hand. “I overheard Yuri on the phone. Something about laying low for a few days.”
Both Cat and Lydia stare at her for an extra beat, until Cat asks, “You feeling alright?”
Elise takes a second to answer, once again pushing her hair off her face. “I’m fine.”
Cat narrows her eyes. “When was your last dose? You’re fucking shaking.”
Lydia, takes her hand and squeezes it. “What can I do to help?”
Elise releases a shuddered breath. “Fuck, I don’t know.” She pulls from Lydia’s grip and cradles her face with her hands. “It’s been two days. I need something.”
I look to Cat and Lydia and we’re all sporting the same expression of helpless concern. Cat, being Cat, gets to her feet. “I’ll go say something to Yuri. What’s the worst he can do to me?”
Her unspoken words hang in the air. She’s already gone through hell. What else is there?
“No,” I say, standing up from the floor. “I’ll go.”
I don’t know what propels me to step in. Maybe it’s that I’ve seen how Cat gets under Yuri’s skin. Or that I’ve seen him show the smallest modicum of kindness my way. Whatever it is, I’d rather be the one putting myself out there than see Cat get hurt.
She raises a brow. “You sure? After everything that happened, you’re not in the best shape either.” Her expression drops, and I know she’s thinking about Jasmine just like I am. I straighten my spine.
“I’m sure. Just keep an eye on her.” I gesture to a quickly fading Elise.
My feet carry me into the hallway before my brain catches up.
The pizza churns in my gut, but that feeling has been almost constant anyway.
Yuri’s voice carries from the kitchen. He’s speaking in Russian, but whoever he’s talking to, it doesn’t seem like a heated conversation. It’s… softer. More familiar.
You’ve got this. It’s just a question. Like Cat said, what’s the worst that can happen?
The floor squeaks, alerting him to my presence, and he spins around, looking me up and down with narrow eyes. He speaks low to whoever he’s talking to on the phone before ending the call, slipping his phone into his back pocket and crossing his arms around his chest.
“What are you doing in here?”
My mind goes blank for a moment under his sharp gaze, but I quickly remember Elise and her shaking hands. “It’s Elise. She’s not feeling well.” He lifts his chin to look past me. “She’s in the living room. I’m the only one who came to tell you.”
He nods slowly. “What would you like me to do about this?”
“She needs a dose… Whatever drugs you all got her hooked on.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended it to. “And water… Ice cold water.”
Yuri pulls a hand through his thinning hair and laughs low. “We got her hooked on?”
I nod. “What else would it be?”
“She brought that problem with her,” he says, turning to the sink. He fills a cup with water and starts to hand it to me, then pauses and adds ice from the freezer.
I take the cup, forcing my cold, shaking fingers around the chilled glass. “And the drugs?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “You’ve got balls on you. I’ll see what I can do. Anything else, lvitsa?”
“That’s all,” I say, having no idea what he just called me. I’m not pressing my luck by asking for anything else.
“Well then, I suggest you get back where you belong before I lose my patience.” All hint of amusement is gone from his voice.
I nod and hurry back down the hallway to give Elise the water and when Yuri comes in ten m`inutes later with a full syringe for her, I can’t help but smile through the fucked up situation.
Whether Elise was an addict before she got here or they got her hooked, I don’t care.
No one deserves to suffer that way. Plus, I’m sure the drugs are one of the ways King keeps her.
That and the armed fucking brutes that watch over us night and day.
“Get your rest,” Yuri says, monotone. “You all have a busy night tonight.”
My face falls and the words slip out. “But I thought—”
“You thought what, lvitsa?” I scramble back from the sharpness of his tone. “At least you won’t have to travel.” He bends and tilts Elise’s flopped over head up. “This one’s in no state to go anywhere.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Cat reaches for my arm and shakes her head. Yuri clears his throat and leaves again, not bothering to look over his shoulder.
“It’s not worth it,” Cat says. I’m taken aback by how much she’s changed since Jasmine’s disappearance. That fight, that spark of life, it’s dimmed.
Lydia wipes at her eyes. “I can’t fight it. Fuckers have my kids.”
My mouth drops open. “They have your kids? Where are they?”
“They don’t actually have them, thank God. No. But my sister has them, I think. Still, they’ll kill them all if I toe an inch out of line. I’d never risk their lives.”
Cat clears her throat. “My abuela and baby brother… they’ll kill them too. And Jasmine...”
Her voice catches as she says Jasmine’s name. Lydia and I reach for her at the same time, offering whatever comfort we can. With both women in my arms, the thought hits me. What do they know about my family? About Layne… Leon? What if they’re watching them too?