28. Twenty-Eight
Pain radiated from Camilla’s skull and through her teeth. Awareness seeped back into her with foggy sensations. Her entire body tingled, like little prickles invading her skin. Hard ground bit into her back. Her fingers twitched against a dirty floor.
Voices sounded nearby. Echoing as though in a cavernous room.
Where…?
Her muscles tensed, body preparing to flee. Escape. She’d been taken and—
No. She must be still.
Think. She held her breath and forced her eyes to remain closed. She’d be helpless without her wits. She’d been at Hattie’s. They’d been having a heart-to-heart. She’d gone out to get water for tea.
There’d been a shout. Pain.
The voices came closer. Her body strained, itching to move. To escape.
Be still!
If they didn’t know she could hear them, she might learn something. Gain insight on how to escape. Maybe they would leave if they thought her still unconscious.
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” a man said. His words dipped low, but something about them seemed familiar.
But what?
She clenched her teeth.
Think!
She concentrated on the hard ground beneath her. Anything to force her slogging mind to function at full steam. She had to ignore the throbbing in her skull and reorient her focus. A pebble digging into her shoulder blade. Hands bound in front of her with coarse rope. Earthy scents and the faint sound of whistling wind. Cold leaching through her simple blouse and trousers. Light flickered, causing a red glow through her eyelids.
As her foggy mind began to clear the haze, energy zipped through her system. She barely caught her eyes from popping wide to assess her situation.
Be calm.
Slow breaths in and out.
Lord, I need help.
Her mouth felt filled with sand, but she didn’t dare swallow in case someone watched. Unconscious people didn’t swallow.
“I know what we were told.” The man’s voice moved closer. “I’m just saying it doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
Where had she heard…? Recognition slammed into her gut. On the boat after they ran aground. The man in the suit. What was his name? Right. Pike.
A slippery fish in a nice suit with a hint of British in his words.
“Makes perfect sense to me,” another deeper voice responded. “I handle snoops all the time. Nothing new about it.”
Metal scraped against a hard surface, and her stomach clenched.
“But why now? I thought he wanted them to lead him to some kind of treasure,” Mr. Pike replied. A boot scuffed the ground.
Dare she take a peek? As slowly as she could and careful to remain as still as possible, she opened her eyes into the narrowest of slits. Blurry shapes took form not far off, the closest with his back turned to her.
Yellowed light pirouetted along the rough gray walls. No, not walls. The sides of a cave. Where had they taken her? Somewhere past her feet, water dripped.
“Look, we ain’t paid to ask questions, Smuggie. You know that. We are paid to do a job. And keep our lips locked about it. What’s gotten into you?”
The loaded question hung between them for a few heartbeats before Mr. Pike—who the other man had referred to as Smuggie—grunted. “I prefer my women on stage or in my arms. Not tied and tossed in the corner.”
She closed her eyes again lest the mention of her draw their gazes.
A dark chuckle rose from the first man. “Fun is what you want, yeah? Well, how about you and I make a deal, and I’ll take longer than normal to prepare my tools.”
Ice slithered through her core and wrapped fingers around her heart.
Lord, no!
Despite her best effort, her breath quickened. How would she be able to escape two men? Especially with her hands bound. Had Hattie or Solomon seen the men take her? Would they have sent for help? She barely remembered going to the well when pain had fractured through her skull and everything went black.
They’d taken her because of the treasure? Why? She hadn’t found anything.
Bile churned in her belly. Why hadn’t she abandoned the foolish quest? She’d known better, yet she’d still followed the same path that had gotten Papa killed.
I’m sorry.
Maybe she apologized to a father who couldn’t hear her. Or to herself. Or maybe as a heart-cry repentance. Perhaps all of that rolled together. A tear leaked from her eye and slid down to her ear.
Would she be tortured, abused, and murdered, never to be found again? Boots scraped closer and she tensed. She’d fight. Take him unaware. Slam her head into his nose if he got close enough or…or…
“I know you’re awake.” The whisper barely slipped into her ears as a figure loomed over her. “But he doesn’t. Stay still, and I’ll do what I can to help you.”
Camilla’s eyes flew wide. The narrow face of a man not much older than she stared down at her. His lips drew into a grim line. He didn’t have lust swimming in his gaze. Only fear. Her breath came in and out of her lungs so quickly her heart might burst.
“I’m sorry about this.” He grunted and then reached for the buttons on her blouse.
She screamed as he ripped open the first two. She writhed against him as he pinned one shoulder down.
“I’ll try to get him to let me take you outside.” Alcohol wafted on the breath that hovered over her face. “Then you can run. But if you fight here, there won’t be anything I can do.”
His words came short and fast as he kept his back to the other man and pretended to be doing something other than talking.
She couldn’t trust him, of course. But this might give her a chance. Even with the panic undulating under her skin, she didn’t dare fight yet. If she could gain her feet outside, then she might be able to run away. Even though he likely only toyed with her, she would make him underestimate her.
When she didn’t get up, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and lifted from his haunches to face the other man.
“Can’t do nothing with you hanging about, you know.” His voice dropped to a thick and rough cadence. “I’m taking her out to the woods, and then I’ll toss her back in here to you when I’m done.”
Metal scraped again. Her heart quivered as the source of the noise registered. A sharpening knife.
“Got to come to an agreement first.” The amusement lacing the other man’s words made the bile roiling in Camilla’s stomach climb into her throat.
Seconds passed. Mr. Pike rubbed his chin. “Pretty one. And fresh too if I don’t miss my guess. All right. I’d say that’s worth a case.”
The first man grunted. “If that’s true, then a lamb is worth more.”
Pike scratched the back of his head.
Would he decide the price the man wanted wasn’t worth the effort? If she could at least get into the open, there might be hope.
“Fine. Two cases.”
“Make it four, and you have a deal.”
Mr. Pike snorted. “There’s plenty of skirts under the hill willing to show some leg. Durkin will notice four cases, and no dame is worth my fingers.”
Durkin? She filed the name away for the police. She shifted to get a better look at the beast crouched in the shadows.
Please, Lord. Let me make it out of here and to the police.
“Yeah, all right.” Metal rasped again as the hulking man drew a six-inch blade along a whetstone.
His cold eyes met hers, and her heart tried to fold in on itself. “She’s awake, which’ll be more fun for ya, but best you take the gag, just in case, yeah?” He tossed a bloodstained rag at the slender man, and an evil grin curled the edges of his lips. “You’ll owe me, you know.”
Pike let out a low sound like one of Lula’s growls. “Our deal covers debts. Take it or leave it.”
Oh, Lula. Was she still safely inside Hattie’s house?
Tears coursed down Camilla’s face and gathered in her ears. Whatever else the men said became jumbled through the thrumming blood. A moment later, Mr. Pike appeared over her again.
“Sorry about this too.” He grabbed the hair on the top of her head and snatched her head from the hard floor. She let out a sharp cry as her scalp lit fire.
He shoved a vile cloth between her teeth and secured it in a tight knot behind her head. Then he thrust his arms underneath her shoulders and knees and lifted her off the ground.
She swung her bound fists and connected to his ear. He grunted and faltered.
“Hang on now.” The larger man stepped closer, his looming form casting a wide shadow. “This one here’s got spunk. Might be more trouble than she’s worth.”
The grip around her tightened, pinning her against Mr. Pike’s hard body. “More fun that way. Got to be a little sport in it.”
The other man’s eyebrows dipped toward his nose. “Never heard of you being that type.”
Her captor shrugged. “I’m a smuggler. I’m whoever you want to see.”
The icy words flooded through her. She’d been tricked. He never planned to let her go. She thrashed against him, but his grip remained firm. The pain in her head reared, galloping through her temples with abandon.
Please, God. Save me.