Chapter 17 Everett
SEVENTEEN
EVERETT
Twenty years old
Ican’t see anything. Nothing but darkness. They say that when one sense is taken away, the others intensify.
I can’t give an opinion, because right now, I can’t see, feel, or hear anything. I can’t move.
I’m wrapped in something tight, my arms crossed over my chest, and there’s something covering my head. Rubber in my mouth. I’ve been here before. A straitjacket and a ball gag. So I can’t fight and bite.
There’s a gnawing at the back of my mind that I’m lying down or maybe I’m standing up. I can’t tell. My pussy and ass are full of…something. They softly vibrate. Enough to feel it but not enough to have any pleasure from it. It’s irritating, to say the least. To be kept right on the edge.
I fight the restraints but get nowhere. It’s strapped too tight. My arms have gone numb and my body tired.
I’m grabbed roughly, and then the hood over my head is removed. I blink rapidly at the harsh light.
“Hello, dolly. How are you feeling?”
I try to talk, but the large rubber ball in my mouth prevents it. My jaw is sore, and saliva pours from my cracked lips.
He slaps the side of my face, and my eyes spring open, the harsh light blinding me.
“Wake up, Eve. This isn’t nap time.”
That buzzing between my legs gets more intense, and I arch my back, moaning.
Heat licks my skin as if I’m outside sitting under the sun. It’s so hot. Almost unbearable.
“You’re close, Eve. I can tell.”
I hate proving him right. No matter how much I fight, he always wins because he cheats.
“You just need a little help to get there.”
I start to fight with all I have and scream into the gag when he pinches my thigh.
Then I feel the prick of the needle, and my body melts into the floor.
I moan, and he reaches out, pushes my hair down my sweat-covered face, and smiles at me.
“That’s it. Come all over it, Eve. Show me that you can be trained to be a good girl. ”
That feeling intensifies, and my eyes roll back into my head as a wave washes over me. I’m drowning, the feeling taking my breath away.
“That’s a good whore. You’ve got another hour, and then I’ll let you free.”
When I’m able to open my eyes, I see nothing but blackness, and I know the bastard either turned off the light or put the hood back over my head.
I blink, the memory fading away, and I realize my bathwater has gone cold. Pulling the drain cap, I stand, grab my towel, and dry off.
I’m proud of you, Eve, Adam had told me.
Who is proud of someone for being a whore? That’s what I was for Kashton tonight. A slut who needed to be fucked. It was like muscle memory. I mean, obviously I couldn’t deep throat like I was trained to do, but that’s like anything else. You have to use it or lose it.
Something tells me Kash will prefer me on my knees. Every man has a preference on what hole they like to fuck. And it makes my stomach turn to think about how willingly I keep giving my body over to him.
Killing provokes an adrenaline rush like no other. The odds that I might not survive get me all excited. Then to know that Kash had been following me…I was weak in the knees for him.
Bile churns in my stomach, and I place my hand over my mouth, gagging. Fuck. Not again. I try to swallow it down, but I find myself running to the toilet once more and getting sick.
Sitting back on my heels, I flush the toilet and catch my breath.
Standing up, I brush my teeth for the second time, scrubbing so hard I make my gums bleed, and gag when I run it aggressively over the back of my tongue.
Trying to remove any trace that Kashton was there and the lingering taste of acid.
Grabbing my cell, I turn off the bathroom light and place my phone in the cradle on my nightstand, turning on music.
Needing noise. I spent too many years in silence, and I can’t do it tonight.
I hear voices that aren’t there. Well, they were there once.
It’s the screams of those of us being tortured and trained.
Someone was always crying. Even if they were gagged, you could still hear mumbled sobs.
It was terrifying, but it also had to do with the drugs. They altered and magnified emotions. It was always a struggle—in the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong, but my body craved it.
“THE PURGE” by In This Moment fills my room. It’s not loud enough to shake the walls, but loud enough to drown out anything Kashton related.
I crawl into bed naked and pull the covers up to my chin, leaving the light on.
Yawning, I settle into the mattress, the bottle of Jack doing its job.
I might not be addicted to drugs, but I rely heavily on alcohol.
Neither one is good for me. But it’s not like it’ll kill me.
If it were up to me, I’d already be dead.
KASHTON
Music fills the bathroom, and I frown, wondering what the fuck she’s doing. I thought she was going to bed.
I close the closet door and flip on the light, turning to confirm I have been in her closet. One wall’s filled with designer bags; another has various sizes and shapes of high heels. Some even look like something a stripper would wear.
Opening her drawers, I find her underwear—thongs, boy shorts, and G-strings. She didn’t come in here to get dressed, making me think she went to bed naked.
My cock was inside her less than an hour ago, and I’m already hard for her again. Especially after what she said to Adam. She thinks she can just fuck me and I’ll walk away from her?
I can handle him.
No. You can’t, angel. You think you’re sick now? Just wait. I’ll make you disgusted by the sight of me. I’m going to be everywhere in your life. All-consuming.
She’s going to be mine in every way. Including my wife.
I come to a section that is nothing but black clothes. Studded belts, black leather pants, and matching tops. I see something that catches my attention, making me frown. I pick up the hanger and look over the material.
It’s a bulletproof vest.
Looks to be custom made. More feminine than any I’ve ever seen before. It’s got plates in the front and back, Velcro over both the shoulders and across the waist but tailored to fit a smaller frame. And it feels lighter than most.
What the fuck does Adam have her do that requires a bulletproof vest? This isn’t something she can hide under a crop top when she’s trying to seduce a man in a bar.
This is something you wear under a hoodie when you’re prepared to get shot at.
Is she a cop? I know Adam works with them.
“We buried you,” I state the obvious, sitting on the private jet. “Your body…It was cold. It wasn’t like Haidyn’s fake death where he sat in a morgue. You fucking shot yourself…you had no face.”
Adam runs a hand over his dark hair. “Yeah.” His green eyes meet mine. “Although it wasn’t my body. We had to pull some strings.”
“We?” Haidyn asks, shooting a look at the other two men on the plane with us. They say nothing.
“So, what…you’re a detective or a cop?” I wonder, looking at Adam. “CIA?” Then I joke, “Hitman?” Fuck, I feel like anything is possible right now.
“Not necessarily.” He shakes his head, chuckling.
“Then what the fuck are you?” Saint growls, tired of fake deaths and games.
Adam slaps the detective on the back. “He’s my boss. For the past four years, I’ve been undercover, working in a top-secret division that specializes in human trafficking.”
I’ve seen it with my own eyes that she kills men. And the dead woman found in the cemetery…she has to be on the inside. She knows too much, and they’ve planted that body to take her down.
I return the vest and get back to going through her things. All her drawers are full of clothes or accessories. Not sex toys. Not a single one. Which I find suspicious. What kind of woman doesn’t have some sort of toys?
Does she not even touch herself?
Turning, I spot a box in the far corner. It’s hidden underneath some jeans hanging up, so it’s easy to miss.
I walk over to it and pull it out to find it’s taped shut. Removing my pocketknife, I flick the blade out and run it along the top of the tape, slicing it open. Putting it back in my pocket, I free the lid. “Bingo.”
Tipping it on its side, a dildo falls out. It’s on the smaller side, no more than five inches long. It doesn’t vibrate or anything. Next thing is a large red ball gag. “Now we’re talking,” I say, pulling out a straitjacket.
We have one at Carnage, and this one is almost identical. It’s legit. Grade A. Not some fake knockoff, and I wonder if Adam had this made for her too.
The thought has me fisting the material in my hands. I wad it up and shove it to the side. There’s also a blindfold, handcuffs, and a set of nipple clamps.
I place everything back in the box, closing the lid and shoving it back under the jeans. Mr. Fells said she bought this house a few years back, and this box was taped, so that tells me she hasn’t been in it in a long time.
That makes me feel a little better, but not much.
I crack open the closet door. The song has changed to “Push” by Matchbox Twenty, and I slowly make my way through the darkly lit bathroom and peek into her bedroom. She’s facing me, an arm stretched out under her pillow, eyes closed, and plump lips parted.
She’s passed out. Walking over to her bed, I pick up her cell, exit the playlist, and go to her recent calls. Fuckface pops up. I’m not sure if his contact name is a good or bad thing.
I text Adam from her cell that I’ll meet him after all.
He answers immediately.
Meet me at the house. You remember the address, right?
Fuck. What house? I’m about to respond with a no when he sends another one with the address.
Just in case.
I read it over and delete the text. I put it back and open up her playlist, making sure it’s just how she left it.
Then I turn to leave but pause. Very gently, I run the tip of my fingers over a bruise on her cheek, pushing her hair out of her face.
One of those fucking bastards in the motel room hit her. I should have busted in there sooner.