27. Louise
Chapter 27
Louise
“Wakey, wakey.”
Icy water splashes in my face, and I cough and splutter. My head is pounding. I can’t remember a headache like it.
Where am I?
I inch open my eyes, and the harsh lighting fires into my retinas. It hurts so much, I close them again.
So tired.
A hand slaps my face, hard. Crying out, I try to curl into a ball, but I can’t move. And I’m cold. Bitterly cold. It runs so deep, it feels like liquid nitrogen filling my veins. A violent shiver rattles through me, and my teeth chatter.
“Come now, Detective Rhodes. Don’t play coy.”
Another slap rings against my cheek. My eyes fly open, and this time, the light isn’t as painful to look at. Horror congeals in my chest as reality crashes into me. I’m naked, spread-eagled, with my wrists and ankles cuffed to a metal table. Standing in the room are four men. Two, I recognize—Beresford and Shala—and two, I don’t.
Bile crawls into my throat. Breathe. This is the plan. Where is Draven? Why hasn’t he come for me already? How long have I been out?
Seeking out my captain, I pour hatred and defiance into my gaze when I find him. No matter how terrified I am, I won’t let these bastards break me. Draven will come. He won’t leave me here like this.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Detective Rhodes,” Beresford says, stepping forward. His tie is askew, the top button of his shirt unfastened. “But you’ve already fucked up our original plans. I can’t have you ruining the next phase in our operation. This is bigger than you, than me, than any of us. You should have let it go, but since you didn’t, you leave me no other choice.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. Please work, I pray to who the hell knows. No one is listening. If the GPS in my tattoo doesn’t work underground, I’m fucked, and I presume I’m underground. There are no windows in here, so it’s a safe bet.
But… what if it doesn’t? I should have asked Dayton that. Why didn’t I ask more questions? Oh, hell. Am I fucked?
Please, Draven. He must have figured they’ve taken me by now. He would have seen I’m not at home, that I didn’t follow the planned route.
What if he can’t save me in time? What if they rape me, beat me… kill me.
What if they sell me to replace all those girls we saved?
Nausea swirls through my abdomen, and I force myself to breathe through my nose. Don’t be sick, I tell myself. I’ll choke if I’m sick while strapped down.
“Let me go,” I grit out. “There’s no way you’ll get away with this.”
Beresford laughs, then turns to Shala. “What do you think, Arjan? Is she right? Should we turn ourselves in, take our punishment? Should I immediately call the commissioner and confess all?”
Shala smiles, but there’s no warmth in his eyes, only power, greed, and wickedness. He inches forward, running a fingertip over my ankle. I flinch and flex my legs. The cuffs bite into my skin. It’s futile to fight, but my instincts have kicked in. I’ll fight to my dying breath.
“I’d rather we recoup our losses,” he says quietly, walking his fingers higher.
I thrash again, but it’s pointless. There’s hardly any give from the restraints. He clamps a hand on my thigh and pinches me so hard, he pulls a cry from my throat.
“She’s not a bad piece of ass,” Shala continues. “Are you as feisty as your sister? Is your cunt as sweet and tight as hers was?” He pinches my nipple and twists it.
I hiss through my teeth, biting back a scream of pain as anger surges through me at the mention of Kiera’s name spilling from his lips. “Fuck you,” I spit.
“Hmm,” Shala says. “Definitely feisty. I’ll make sure my clients understand you need a firm hand. A few punches to the face should fix that attitude.”
“Do what you want with her,” Beresford says. “As long as she disappears for good and nothing gets traced back to me, I don’t give a shit.”
Jitters speed up and down my arms, my terror paralyzing me.
Relax. This is all part of the plan. Draven will come. He won’t let me down.
Right this second, he’s probably at the perimeter of this building, wherever it is, ready to storm inside and skin alive the men in this room for daring to lay a finger on me.
“Maybe I’ll have some fun with her before I hand her over,” Shala says, licking his lips. “Break her in. Let her know what her life will be like until she draws her last breath.”
I refuse to cower, to close my eyes, to show any kind of weakness in front of these men. Their kind thrives on fear. They get off on it. Too bad they abducted the wrong woman this time. I won’t allow them to break me. They can do what they want to my body, but they’ll never have my mind.
My lips curl back from my teeth, and I look at him as if he’s a piece of dog shit I’ve scraped off my shoe. “You think you’re such a big man, kidnapping helpless women, forcing them to sleep with you and anyone you choose. You’re nothing. You’re no one. You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re a rapist with a miniscule dick.” I laugh hysterically.
Blood blooms in Shala’s cheeks. Good. I’ve gotten to him.
“Get her up,” he barks.
One of the men I don’t recognize approaches, and he releases the restraints on my legs, then my arms, before he hauls me to my feet. My calf scrapes on the corner of the table, and I yelp in pain. But now that I’m no longer restrained, I have a chance, and when it comes, I’m going to fucking take it.
Blood flows to my extremities. I flex my jaw, controlling the agony as my limbs return to life. My head still feels woozy from whatever they drugged me with, but with each passing second, my mind clears.
My knees buckle as they stand me up, and my toes curl the moment my bare feet hit the cold, concrete floor. I try not to think about my nakedness or my vulnerability. It’s four against one, with more possibly loitering nearby. Not a fair fight by any means, but I’ve never shirked a brawl in my entire life, and I don’t intend to start now.
“You think you’re above everyone, don’t you?” Shala breathes in my face, the foul smell of garlic and stale cigarettes forcing my head to the side. “But that badge your kind are so fond of means nothing here.” He jabs a finger at the man standing to my left. “Hook her up. I’m going to teach her a lesson she won’t forget in a hurry.”
Coarse hands snare my wrists. I struggle, but he’s much bigger than me, which means he overpowers me easily. The cool snap of handcuffs around my wrists sends a shiver of terror racing up my spine. My arms are raised overhead and fastened to a ring in the ceiling.
He’s coming. Stay cool. He knows exactly where you are. Hang on just a little bit longer. Distract Shala.
Shala grips my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw, then the slap comes out of nowhere. My head snaps to the side, and pain shoots up the back of my neck. Shala’s eyes glimmer. He’s getting off on this, the sadistic bastard. If I get a chance, I’ll skin him alive.
My eyes water, but I refuse to cry or give this cunt any satisfaction.
I face him head on. “You think that makes you a man?” I snort a laugh. “To beat a woman who can’t fight back? You’re a joke.”
Another slap, this time a backhanded one to my right cheek. The ring he wears on that hand tears my flesh, and I feel the blood drip down my cheek. I flick out my tongue, and the bitter taste of iron explodes on it.
My smile builds slowly, my eyes on Shala’s. He’s too busy staring back at me, plotting my downfall, to see me bring up my foot. I might be hanging from my arms with no purchase on the floor, but my regular Pilates sessions have given me a core of steel, and I ram my heel into his crotch. A high pitch yelp rents the air, and he doubles over, cupping his precious balls.
“You fucking bitch,” he wheezes.
Rising to his full height once more, he punches me in the stomach, then sends another blow into my side. I cry out, and I’m furious at myself. As much as it hurts, I peel my lips back from my teeth and sneer.
“That all you’ve got? You fucking pussy.”
He hits me again, and this time I know he’s cracked a rib, but as much as I almost pass out from the pain, this time I swallow my cries. I won’t give him the fucking satisfaction.
Hurry, Draven. Please.