Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Alarm’s cut,” Havoc announced.
Atlas moved away from Willy’s building and went to the side entrance. Bending, he took out his lockpick set and then worked the tools into the slot. It would’ve been faster to blow off the lock, but once they were inside they needed time to get into the computers and search files.
The lock clicked and he pulled open the door. Rogue, Havoc, and Viper filed inside, and they all climbed the staircase. Atlas and Rogue clicked on their flashlights. Havoc had determined that Willy’s office was on the second floor.
They reached the second story in less than a minute. They didn’t dare turn on lights. Marble floor greeted them outside the stairwell. A set of locked double doors stood between them and the office.
Once again, Atlas picked the lock. This one was much flimsier than the outer lock. He had the door open in half the time. A large stone accent wall was behind the front desk.
Tropical plants flanked the desk, and a sitting area with brown leather furniture and a TV was tucked into the corner. Yellow light from the streetlamps outside streamed through the windows.
Without a word, they passed the reception area and headed down the long corridor lined with offices. The nameplate next to the door at the end read William Dunne.
Atlas checked the door handle—locked.
He had the door open in three seconds.
“I’ve got the filing cabinet,” Viper announced.
“Havoc, you work on getting his computer password,” Rogue ordered.
Havoc rounded the desk, dropped into the large leather chair, and pulled out a small device from his cargo pants. He plugged the tiny machine into the USB port.
“How long will that take?” Atlas asked, clicking off his flashlight.
Rogue lowered the blinds, then took out his penlight and moved to where Viper stood at the filing cabinet. The top drawer was already pulled wide.
“Few minutes. Sometimes less.” Havoc straightened. “I’m in.”
Atlas sidled around the desk. “Check his email first. There’s a good chance he spoke to someone about not coming in today.”
Havoc clicked on the mail icon and went to the first conversation. “He did. This email was sent this afternoon.” He highlighted the short message addressed to someone named Faith.
I won’t be in the office this afternoon. Something came up. I’ll see you Monday. If Vinny calls, tell him to reach me at the island.
Atlas nudged Havoc’s shoulder with excitement.
“Guys,” Havoc said, “we’re looking for documents that mention an island.”
“An island? There’s a fucking million around Panama,” Rogue grumbled, a file folder open in his hand. He stuck his penlight between his teeth and flipped through the pages.
“Well, there’s a good chance he’s at one of them,” Havoc retorted.
It wasn’t much of a lead. They needed to find out more before they invested too much time on this road. “Move over.”
Havoc got out of the chair and Atlas sat, needing to put his fingers to use. He entered “Vinny” in the email search bar. Hundreds of messages appeared.
He clicked on the most-recent message from Vinny, sent yesterday.
I’ve got a buyer. Needs to be good. You know the specs.
Too vague. He scrolled through the thread. Then one of Willy’s messages made him stop dead in his tracks.
I might have one tomorrow night. Worth a lot. Be on standby. I’ve attached a picture.
Atlas clicked on the attachment.
An image popped up and his heart squeezed. His eyes strained, trying to deny what he saw. Havoc’s sharp intake of breath confirmed he wasn’t hallucinating.
The picture was clearly taken for a work-ID photo. A close-up shot against a bright-white background.
Long blond hair, amber eyes, and a killer smile. Molly stared at him as if searching his soul.
And she might already be lost to him.
Pain hammered against Molly’s skull. Her stomach rolled and threatened to eject its contents. She clamped her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut as if doing so would stop the constant rocking of her body.
Was she on a boat? A plane?
No, she was hanging upside down. Over someone’s shoulder.
Oh god.
Another sharp sway. She swallowed a gag. Her ribs ached and her lungs demanded she take a deep breath, but all she could muster were small, shallow ones. Anything more would surely intensify the nausea.
She needed to find out where she was. Opening her eyes was like peeling glue off a wall. The first thing she saw was the back of someone’s legs climbing a set of wet wooden stairs—they were still outside.
She hadn’t been passed out for long. Her face throbbed with the memory of the men’s fists and feet.
Every muscle in her body ached. Weakness had seeped over her bones. Fighting would be impossible now. She didn’t have the strength. The wooden stairs led to a muddy path carved through the grass.
“Open the door,” the man holding her demanded. Chris.
Hinges squeaked and he moved into the house, the other man behind him. She kept her eyes closed and her arms limp.
“Take her to the room,” the other man said. “Make sure she’s chained good this time.”
Chris carried her through the house. Her eyes were hot and irritated. She needed to sit upright soon or she’d pass out again. He stopped walking and his hand moved to his pocket. Keys clanked, then he pushed open a door.
They were alone. If she could gain the upper hand and take him out, she could escape through the balcony again. She wouldn’t make it far. She was weak, tired, and hurting all over.
But she wouldn’t get another chance at survival.
He wheezed as he entered the bedroom and flicked on the light. She might have a shot. He was injured. Slow. Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her arms dangling. As soon as he saw her face, he’d know she was awake.
He bent forward, flipping her onto the bed. The second her ass hit the mattress she swung her foot toward his face.
He grasped her ankle and twisted her leg painfully. “What, you want to get smacked around more?”
He leaned toward her and caught her jaw between his thumb and fingers. As he inched closer, his mouth oozed into a slimy smile. He wedged himself between her legs.
Panic launched her forward. She raked her fingernails at his eye. He hissed and clapped his knuckles against her cheek.
Blood filled her mouth. A low ring sounded in her ears. Fingers closed around her neck. She gasped.
“Stop,” a man commanded from the doorway.
Chris’s hand loosened, but he didn’t back away. “Do you know what the bitch did?” he asked through clenched teeth, spit flying.
“She did a number on you two. I’ll give her that. Now back away.”
He let go of her and took two steps in retreat. His hands knotted into fists at his side, his body vibrating.
Molly scooted into a sitting position. Shivers took hold of her limbs. She could do nothing but stare at Willy as he entered the room. He walked slowly toward her.
He stopped at the side of the bed, inches from where her feet were curled on the mattress. In his left hand was a bundle of rope.
“You fucked up her face,” he said to Chris. “I need her goddamn face in good condition. No one wants to buy a beat-up whore.”
“She was bruised when you brought her here,” Chris said defensively. He turned for the door.
“Wait. Stay here until she’s tied up.” He brought his gaze back to Molly, the corner of his lip curling with disdain. “She might be small but she’s ballsy.”
He shook out the rope and reached for her ankles. His thumbs bit into the thin flesh near the bone. “Kick me and I’ll knock out half your teeth.”
A tremor shook her spine. She didn’t doubt him for one second. He wound the rope around her ankles, pulling tightly and making a knot between each figure eight. Next, he brought up the loose end of the rope and tied her wrists together, forcing her into a rounded position.
She couldn’t move. Willy pushed her shoulder, and she toppled onto the sheets with her backside facing him.
Panicked, she jerked and wiggled, valiantly trying to get to the other side of the bed.
Willy laughed mockingly. Seizing her legs, he dragged her back toward him, then tied the last bit of rope to the headboard. “Relax. As much as I’d love to give everyone on this property a turn with you, I’ve got a buyer coming soon.”
Terror launched into her throat.
Chris snorted. “She’s gotta be late twenties. Not worth as much as someone half her age.”
“No,” Willy agreed. “But she’s a pretty one. Right now, anyway.”
He dusted her hair away from her face. His touch was akin to centipede legs, and revulsion brought the nausea back full force.
“Sleep while you can. You’re going to be used more than a public toilet tomorrow.”
Chris let out a derisive laugh, and they walked out of the room. The light clicked off and the door shut. The lock snapped into place.
Dread wrapped around her throat tighter than the ropes.
She was helpless now. Breaking free was no longer an option. She’d failed. Not just herself, but Atlas.
Tears blurred the dark room and fell silently onto the silk sheets. Exhaustion encased her in a warm hug, promising her a safe escape if she just gave in.
A deep, rattling sigh fell from her lips, and sleep pulled her into its arms, as dark as the waves outside her window.