Chapter 12 #4
“That’s not going to work. In a few seconds, whoever’s calling for Carlos is going to come in here looking for him.
You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me!
I’m doing this,” Bree insisted. “Run. Get away. Find a way to contact the guys. Tell Smiley…” Her voice cracked.
“Tell him I love him. And that he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. ”
With that, she gripped the knife tighter and quickly made her way toward the other end of the truck.
Every time she passed a cage full of chickens, she shook it slightly, making the animals squawk and complain.
Her heart hurt for the birds. She’d probably never eat chicken again.
But for now, she needed them loud and annoying.
Taking a deep breath, she paused—then ran straight toward the open door.
She saw a man step in front of the door just as she jumped. The timing wasn’t great. But then again, maybe it was perfect. She landed on the man, and they both fell to the ground. He basically broke her fall and softened her landing.
Bree scrambled off him, cursing the fact she’d dropped her weapon. But there was no time to find it. There were two other men staring at them with wide, surprised eyes.
She let out a feral scream and ran.
“Get her!”
Glancing over her shoulder as she ran, Bree was both terrified and relieved to see all three men chasing her.
She had to get as far away from that truck as she could, give Julie and Fiona time to slip out and hide. To get away.
Her heart in her throat, Bree ran. Her legs felt wobbly from lack of use and because she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. But she refused to give up.
Thoughts of Fiona were in the forefront of her mind.
She hadn’t given up. All those years ago when she was a captive, she’d never given in.
Hadn’t done what her captors wanted. She’d been held for months, walked through the jungle in flip-flops.
Saved Cookie from drug runners who were shooting at them.
If she could do all that, Bree could evade her pursuers for the little time it would take for Fiona and Julie to get away.
She’d hoped for a jungle to be able to run into. Or some huge city where she could get lost in back alleys. Instead, she found herself running along a tall chain-link fence in the dark, only the dim lights behind her guiding the way.
Her breaths came faster and faster. Bree had no idea where she was, some sort of shipping facility—which was ironic.
On the run from someone, in another shipyard, for the second time in just months.
She could smell the water, but otherwise she couldn’t see much other than what was directly in front of her.
“Go to the right, John!”
Shit. They were going to box her in. Bree tried to run faster, but it was no use. She was exhausted. Her muscles were shaking. The adrenaline coursing through her veins had kept her going until now, but it seemed as if her body was failing her.
Refusing to cry, Bree let out a small scream as one of the men got close enough to try to grab her. His hand brushed against her arm, but she jerked away and put on one last burst of speed. Only to come up against the corner of the property.
She slammed into the fence and immediately began to climb.
Two of the men grabbed her legs. She did her best to kick at them, but it was no use.
She clung to the chain-link for as long as she could, until one of her captors slammed his fist down on her wrist, making her cry out in pain.
She found herself on her back in the dirt, with all the three men holding her arms and legs.
“Fuck, is that blood?” one of them asked.
Bree bared her teeth and growled at him.
“Damn, she’s practically feral!” a second man exclaimed.
“It’ll make her even more fun to tame,” the last man said, an evil grin on his face. “Hold her down. Time for this bitch to learn her place. Me first, then you two can have a go.” He reached for the belt at his waist.
No. This wasn’t happening. She knew it was inevitable that she’d eventually be violated. But this wasn’t that moment. Not if she could help it.
Bree fought. She bucked and squirmed and bit. She refused to just lie there and let herself be raped.
It seemed as if she had some adrenaline left after all, because the men were having an extremely hard time holding her down. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, doing everything in her power to prevent these assholes from taking what she didn’t want to give.
“Shit! We don’t have time for this,” one of the men barked, after several minutes of wrestling with her.
“Boss expects her at the dock in Ecuador at the time he specified,” another pointed out.
The man who’d reached for his pants finally growled, stood up, and kicked her.
Bree tried to curl into a ball, but the other men were holding her too tightly. Soon, however, they joined their buddy in punching the crap out of her. Unfortunately, this was also familiar. She was beaten at that other shipyard, as well, back when she’d helped Ellory and Yana.
Bree would take a beating over a rape any day of the week.
Doing her best to protect her most vulnerable parts, she was relieved that the men were concentrating on her, despite the pain. Hopefully that meant Julie and Fiona had gotten away. Had found a place to hide. She refused to think her sacrifice was for nothing.
She was strong. She could do this.
Repeating the words she’d heard from Smiley, over and over in her head, Bree didn’t even notice when the men had stopped hurting her, and she’d been thrown over one of their shoulders.
She lay there, stunned and bleeding. All the fight gone out of her now.
If they decided to assault her, she wouldn’t be able to do much to stop them.
But it seemed the men who’d chased her down were more scared of their boss—Mateo, she assumed—to do anything other than take her to wherever she’d been ordered to go.
Blood dripped down her temple and fell to the ground as she was carried back to the truck with the chickens. She could hear their shouts as they got near.
“Carlos!” one of the men yelled. “Quit fucking around…literally. Get your ass out here now!”
But of course, Carlos didn’t appear from inside the truck.
“Damn it! Go get him,” the man holding her ordered the others.
They hopped into the truck, sending the chickens into another round of loud squawking. Bree couldn’t hold back a small smile, knowing what they were about to find.
“He’s dead!” one of the men exclaimed, quickly reappearing in the open doorway.
“What? How?”
“Don’t know. He’s covered in blood, still wearing the respirator.”
“And the other girls are gone,” the second man said grimly, coming up beside the first.
The man holding her swore so long and viciously, Bree’s smile grew.
Fuck him. Fuck them all.
“How the fuck did this bitch kill him?” one of the men asked, jumping out of the truck.
“I don’t know. But Boss is gonna be furious. We need to come up with a story. Otherwise, we’re screwed.”
Bree didn’t feel the least bit sorry for these assholes.
“Give her to me,” one of the other two ordered, his tone lethal.
“No. Back off, John,” said the man holding her. “I know you’re pissed but if we kill her, the boss’ll fucking kill us. You know how much time and money he’s spent tracking her down. And he’s already paid to bring her to Ecuador.”
The man, John, grabbed Bree’s hair and forced her head up, where it hung over the shoulder of his colleague.
“You bitch,” he growled, his teeth bared. “Where are the others?”
“Gone,” she rasped. “And their Navy SEAL husbands are on their way right this second to take you assholes out.”
“Yeah, right,” the man scoffed. But Bree could hear the concern in his tone.
She had a moment to feel proud of herself before he pulled his arm back, still holding her hair, and brought his fist forward.
That was the last thing she remembered before the world went blissfully dark and she felt no more pain.