Chapter Nine #2
“If you’re smart, you will keep your mouth closed and follow the instructions,” the smaller man says. “If you keep your head down and keep the boss happy, the better your life is going to be.”
“Do you really believe that?” I snap, pissed about this entire situation.
He shrugs before leading the way in the direction that we need to go. “Doesn’t really fucking matter what I believe. What matters is I don’t piss off the Boss, and he doesn’t send me one way to meet my maker.”
I decide then that I don’t want to know anything else.
They guide us past several more cells, most of them appearing empty at this very moment.
We clear another line of cells coming to a door.
The men push it up, and we step into a bright, sterile-feeling room that is such a disposition to the dirt floors and nasty smelling cells I just came from.
“This way,” the larger of the two pulls me toward a wall of glass doors.
He pulls one of the glass doors open, revealing what appears to be a shower stall. I look between the shower and the man.
“Wash all the vomit off yourself. We will have clothes for you when you’re finished,” he tells me, letting go of my arm but not stepping away.
“And if I refuse?” I question, standing there unmoving.
“Then we will have to force you, and if that happens, let's just say it will not be pleasant,” the smaller man grins, looking me up and down.
I bite my tongue so hard that I swear I bit it in half to keep me from saying something that would make things worse.
Stepping into the shower room, I pull the door closed behind me, pretending it gives me some privacy.
The Kings of Anarchy shirt I’m wearing is covered in vomit, so I pull it over my head, tossing it on the floor.
My entire nature has me wanting to use my hands and even that nasty-ass shirt to cover my body from the eyes I feel roaming over me.
The petty bitch who is sick of being everyone’s doormat is tired of hiding and making herself small for assholes who don’t deserve it. So, I don’t. I don’t hide my body, leaving it on display.
Do I know what the “boss” has planned for me? No.
What I do know is that I will fight to get back to Rusher every day that I still breathe. Nothing and no one will bring him harm, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.
I use the items provided in the shower to wash my hair and body, standing under the spray as it warms my aching muscles, using this time to build the walls and shields I will need to make it through the coming days. A banging on the glass causes me to jump and scream.
“Hurry up, the boss doesn’t like to wait,” the smaller of the two yells.
With a steadying breath, I turn the water off, grab a towel that is set in the alcove and wrap it around my body before opening the glass door and stepping back into the room, my head held high.
Once again, their eyes scan my body, lust clouding their eyes.
Standing there with my hair dripping down my back onto the floor, causing goose bumps to pop up on my skin.
Growing tired of standing there with these two men just watching me, I tilt my head.
“Are you going to give me clothes or am I going to meet your boss in a towel with wet hair?” I sass.
Anger fills both their eyes, and once again before I can even process it, the bigger of the two men backhands me, sending me sprawling across the floor.
“Do not assume that because you’re her sister that it will save you,” he hisses down at me. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be where you are.”
“The moment I woke up in a cage, I knew my sister wasn’t saving me.
That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have any clothes other than the shirt I just had on.
” I stand so that he isn’t lording over me.
“So again, unless you want me meeting your boss in a towel with wet hair, some clothes would be fucking nice.”
The man pulls his hand back, ready to slap me again until the big guy's phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, putting it to his ear. I don’t know what the person on the other side says, but whatever it is, has the man turning to look at a camera in the room and nodding.
“Sí, Senor. Lo entiendo,” he says in Spanish before hanging up the phone, placing it back in his pocket.
“?Qué dijo? (What did he say?),” the man with a raised fist sneers.
The big man looks over his shoulder again before speaking, “Si danas lo que es sumo, te sacará el dinero period de la manga. (If you damage what is his, then he will take the lost pay out of your ass.)”
My eyes bounce between them trying to follow what they’re saying. I took high school Spanish, but I damn sure didn’t retain enough to keep up with what these men are saying. The smaller man drops his fist and storms across the room to a set of cabinets.
“What size do you wear?” he demands, not looking at me.
“In what exactly are you asking me?” I question not to entirely be an ass but also because different items require different sizes.
He turns his glare on me, looks me up and down again without a question before he starts pulling clothes.
A tank top with a built-in shelf bra and a pair of tiny shorts that look more like boy shorts underwear than shorts.
He walks them over to me, holding them close to his body so I must reach out and take them from him.
The man then allows me to take only one item at a time.
I work to pull the clothes on without dropping my towel when the big man behind me reaches out, snatching it off.
I want to scream at the unfairness of it all but bite my tongue once again. These people will not see me break.
Once I’m dressed, the big man grabs my arm, walking me toward a door.
He types in a code and then places his ring finger on the finger scanner.
The door pops open with a hiss, and I have to blink several times before I can make my way up the stairs in front of us.
The bigger guy walks through the doorway first, and I pause, not wanting to follow him.
The smaller man pushes me forward, causing me to stumble. I look back at him, glaring.
“Get the fuck up and let's go,” he demands.
I stand not saying a word before turning to go up the stairs.
The bigger of the two is standing at the top of the stairs holding the door open, waiting for us.
I step into a house that looks like it was set on fire and then flooded.
Looking around, all I see is more and more devastation and destruction.
There is so much trash lying around I’m afraid to take a step for fear of stepping on something.
The smaller guy pushes me when he makes it to the top of the stairs and finds me standing there.
I spin on him. “Dying might just be fucking worth it if you put your fucking hands on me again. Open your damn mouth and tell me what you fucking need.”
He steps up, looking down his nose. “I’ll do whatever I want to you and anyone else here, and there isn’t anything anyone can do about it.”
I cock an eyebrow. I know I’m poking a monster right now, though if he kills me right here right now it’ll save me from whatever fresh hell is coming. “I’m not so sure your boss would agree with that.”
The man’s face turns purple before he screams, “?Estúpida! ?Te voy a matar!
“I would choose your next actions very carefully. I don’t give out more than one warning to goddamn anybody,” Jose drawls from his place leaning on the doorframe across the room.
Both men take giant steps away from me, fear written all over their faces.
I stand there with my hands on my hips, fighting the urge to hide behind the men.
I want to peel my skin off everywhere Jose’s eyes touch.
He stands to his full height, sauntering across the room as if we’re not standing in the middle of a dump.
“Your sister was not wrong,” he murmurs with complete appreciation.
“What exactly was my sister not wrong about?” I fight to hide the tremor in my voice.
He stands so that I can feel the heat from his chest on my back and leans so close to me I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. “That you’re going to make us a whole lot of money.”
I jump when I feel his fingers run across the top of my shoulders. “There are some very wealthy people who will fight over you frequently.”
Bile rises in my throat, burning like fire all the way up. “I would rather you kill me than whatever it is you have planned for me.”
“Your death is part of the plan,” Jose steps around me, tipping my chin up so I have to look him in the eye. “The only question is when, Estimado.”
“If I have a vote, then I wish to die now,” I force as much assurance into my voice as I can.
He leans forward, brushing his lips across mine before speaking. “Well then, it’s a great thing you don’t get a say in the matter.”
He turns, releasing me suddenly, causing me to stumble back, landing on my ass.
I’m unable to stop the scream that escapes when I land.
My hand is cut on the palm, and my calf catches on something that is slicing into my leg and foot.
No one moves to help me. They just watch with sick satisfaction.
Clinching my teeth so as not to have to scream out in pain, I stand to my full height, clutching my hand to my chest.
“Now, as you can see, I am injured. I truly doubt I’m of any use to you like this,” I say, my voice low and venomous.
“Take her back downstairs. I’ll check on her in a day or so,” Jose waves a hand before he turns to leave.
I limp down the stairs, leaving bloody footprints as I go.
When we make it to the sterile room, we stop long enough for the bigger of the two to grab a couple of things out of a cabinet.
The two men flank me as they take me back to my cell.
Every step is like agony, and my head spins.
By the time I make back to my cell, my vision has narrowed to a pinpoint.
The bigger of the two unlocks my cell and practically drags me in, throwing the supplies he gathered on our way onto the floor beside me.
“Clean yourself up. Boss doesn’t like having blood everywhere,” the smaller man sneers.
I do my best to sit up, fighting the spinning in my head, and gather the items to get to work on the wounds. Thankful right then, I did not know how bad this would get before it all ends.