3. Mackenzie
Chapter 3
Mackenzie
They’ve locked me back in the dark.
Hours pass, and these men still have given me no clue as to why they’ve taken me. I’ve cried so much it feels like I’ve sobbed myself dry. My eyes are sore and scratching, my skin tight. I keep reminding myself I won’t just give in, and I’ll continue to fight, but I’m weary right down to my soul.
It must be nighttime now.
Exhausted, and with the adrenaline finally leaving my body, I have no other choice than to curl up and try to sleep. I pillow my head on my hands, but I have no blankets or mattress, and the chill from the metal floor continues to seep through my bones.
I don’t think I’ll sleep, but eventually I do, dozing in and out of a troubled slumber. Nightmares haunt me, but when I try to pull myself out of them, I am caught in one even worse than my imagination can come up with.
Even with the nightmares, sleep offers me a reprieve, and I clutch it with both hands. I miss the guys—and my mom, too—like a piece of my heart has been cut out. I’d give anything to have them with me, though I’d never want them to be trapped in this terrifying situation.
When I eventually wake again, I’m even more disoriented than before. Is it morning? The following day? Or is it still nighttime? If it’s the following day, it’ll be more than twelve hours since I’d been taken—perhaps even longer. Everyone will know I’m missing. It’s a small comfort knowing the guys will do whatever they can to find me, and they’ll be bound to bring my mom and Nataniele onboard as well. Despite what I might think of Nataniele, I do believe he genuinely cares about my mom, and he’ll do whatever he can to keep her happy. I just pray that includes calling in whatever favors he can to find me.
My bladder aches, but I don’t even have a bucket in here with me. I hope they’ll at least let me use the bathroom soon. I’m thirsty, too, and my throat feels like I’ve gargled with gravel.
Finally, my thirst gets the better of me, and I crawl over to the bowl containing the water. My captors probably wanted me to leave it on the floor, and lower my face to it to drink, but I won’t give them that pleasure. Instead, I pick up the bowl and tilt the cool rim to my lips. I’d spilled some of the water when I’d first been put in the cage, so only a little remains, but it’s enough to wet my lips, throat, and tongue, and for that, I’m grateful.
I’ve been left the bowl of food as well, but there’s no way I can eat. My stomach is in knots. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to eat again. Out of curiosity, I pick the bowl up and give it a sniff. It’s not cat food, thank God, but cooked hamburger meat, I think. I’ve got no intention of tasting it, and I throw the bowl to one side in disgust. How can I trust these people not to have drugged it, anyway? I don’t know who they are or what they want. Being drugged and locked in this cage would make me way too vulnerable.
Hopelessness and fear wash over me, and I try to push down the emotions.
I sit down, my back against the metal bars. I lift my hand and finger the collar around my neck.
Who is that man’s boss, and why has he chosen me? I remember my mother telling me about the men who’d been making threats against me, why that was the reason she’d felt she’d had no other choice but to have my father killed so she could pay his debt and remove him from our lives forever. The pain I feel over knowing that happened is overwhelming. So much of my life has been a lie. What have I ever done to deserve this?
Though a part of me wants to give in and accept my fate, the other part wants to fight. I’ve been through so much already, I can’t just give in. I want to live. I want to make it back to my men and see if we have a future together.
Maybe my attempt to escape didn’t work the first time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try again. Whoever has me clearly doesn’t think I’m much of a threat, because they’ve left my hands and feet unbound. They’ve locked me in this cage, and they believe that is enough.
In my mind’s eye, I picture the open door at the top of the stairs and the freedom that lies beyond.
My captor hadn’t been distracted enough, that was all. I’d only had that split second while he bent to put down the bowl. I’d needed something bigger, something that would have disabled him, or kept him occupied for longer, and then I’d have made it.
I don’t let myself think beyond getting out of the door or the people I might have to face.
I pick up the empty water bowl and bang it against the metal bars.
“Hey!” I yell up at the ceiling. “Hey, I need more water! I’m thirsty.”
I crash metal against metal once more, vibrations running up my fingers and arm. To my surprise, making the noise reenergizes me. It’s given me a voice. I yell and stamp and bang, certain those assholes above me can hear. I hope they’re trying to do something that needs silence, and I’m being as annoying as hell.
I just need him to come back down here, to unlock the gate and leave the door open.
“I need water! I’m thirsty! Hey, you fucking assholes. You hear me? I’m thirsty.”
I’m making myself even thirstier by shouting, but if I can get out of here, that won’t matter.
With all the noise I’ve made without anyone trying to silence me, I wonder if it means I’m nowhere anyone else can hear me. They’re clearly not worried about the neighbors hearing and asking questions. I must be somewhere remote.
Just as I’m about to run out of steam, the door at the top of the stairs opens.
“Jesus Fucking Christ. Would you shut the hell up? Who knew you’d be such a little brat.”
It’s him again, the man with the pale eyes.
“I’m thirsty. I spilled my water.”
He shakes his head and makes his way back down the stairs. He comes to a halt at the gate of the cage.
It occurs to me that he can just reach through the bars and take the bowl from me. Shit. I need to do something more, so he’ll open the gate.
“And it’s cold in here.” I deliberately shiver and rub at my bare arms. I hate that I’m about to do this, but I have no choice. I need to get him in here. “Look, my nipples are hard.”
He snaps his face down to my chest.
Feeling sick, but doing it anyway, I cup my breasts over the top of my tank top and run my thumbs over my nipples. “I’m so cold. I need something to warm me up.”
His eyes, fringed with equally pale lashes, go round, pale blue glittering behind the mask. “Is that right?”
“Maybe I need a big man to warm me up.” I swallow hard, aware of how wrong this could all go. “You want to touch them?”
All he’s thinking with is his cock. He reaches into his back pocket to retrieve the key to the gate, fumbles it a little, and then manages to unlock it. He swings open the gate and enters. I take a step back, doing my best to draw him in.
“My nipples are very sensitive,” I say. “I love them being sucked, too.”
He hesitates. “The boss won’t like me touching you.”
I flutter my lashes. “No one needs to know.”
That he’d actually believe I’d want him only attests to his egotism. I hate that I’m exposing myself to this asshole, but I don’t have much going for me right now. I must use what I have. I pull down the front of my top, revealing most of my left breast, the pink areola peeping from behind the material.
He lets out a low growl and strides forward to bring himself in front of me. His hand finds my breast, and he yanks my top and my bra down, revealing it fully. My nipple puckers further as cold air hits it.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You have amazing tits.”
“Suck my nipples,” I tell him. “Use your teeth. I like it rough.”
He ducks his head, his hot, wet mouth finding my nipple. I hide my revulsion, my stomach balking, and I place my hands on both of his meaty shoulders and slam my knee up as hard as I can between his thighs. From his reaction, I know I’ve hit the bullseye. He sucks in a wheezy gasp of pain and folds in half.
I don’t hesitate.
Yanking my top back into place, I dart past him, focused only on the open door. He reaches out to try to grab me as I pass, but his grip is weak, and I shake him off easily. Then I’m out of the cage and running to the stairs. I can hardly believe this has worked, but I’m not free yet.
My legs feel like they’re made of lead, and I can’t move fast enough. I hear him cursing behind me, but I think he’s still inside the cage. I wish I’d been able to lock him in there—give him a taste of his own medicine—but I couldn’t risk trying to find the key.
I scramble up the stairs, focusing only on the light at the top. I’m anticipating it slamming shut the moment I reach it, but it doesn’t. I burst through the door and out into a hallway with wooden paneling. I look left and right, trying to work out which way to go, but there’s no obvious way out. I pick left and run. At the end of the hallway, to the right, is a door. There’s daylight on the other side. I crash into it, and yank at the handle.
My heart sinks. Fuck. It’s locked.
A male voice comes from behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
It’s not the man from the cage, but I do know that voice.
I spin to face my captor.
“You,” I gasp.