Haley

The rest of the weekend was uneventful, and by Monday morning, I was still no closer to an escape. Regardless of the reason we'd been abducted, our captors wouldn’t keep us here forever. Although none of the other girls had been “taken,” at least not to Carmen’s and my knowledge, it was only a matter of time.

Until then, we remained in a holding pattern, subjected to the taunts and leers of the guards while waiting to discover our fate. What were they going to do with us? I'd used every bathroom break and interaction with the guards to try to glean clues, but I was still in the dark. If only I could get some answers.

About an hour after breakfast, I was surprised to hear the telltale sound of the lock sliding open. Immediately on edge, I clutched the blanket beneath my hands, and my gaze shot to Carmen, who stiffened. For the past few days, we were generally left alone unless the guards delivered meals or escorted us to the bathroom. This visit was unexpected and, if I had to guess, unwelcome.

The guard I referred to as Scarface stomped into the room, gun in hand, and pointed it at me. “Come with me.”

When I hesitated, he marched closer. He smelled of cheap cologne and fried food, and I shrank back when he wrapped a hand around my bicep.

“Fight me, I dare you,” he sneered.

I remained frozen in place, fear and anger warring for control. He pulled me to my feet, fingers digging into my skin, and forced me ahead of him.

I gave Carmen a quick nod, projecting more bravado than I felt, and allowed myself to be led from the room. The young guard stood sentry outside, bolting the door behind us. The loud thud echoed with a sense of finality, and I worried whether I would see Carmen again. I will, I told myself, even as I was led farther away from her.

Feeling akin to a prisoner walking to her execution, I tried to remain calm as we padded across the common area and down a hall I hadn’t seen before. Doors lined the walls, light pouring from beneath some. What went on behind them—were they quarters for the guards, bathrooms, something else?

Scarface pulled me to a stop and rapped on one, prompting a male voice to answer with a clipped, “Adelante.”

Enter.

I straightened, even as the guard maintained his hold on me and pushed the door open. When he thrust me forward, I nearly stumbled over the threshold, expecting to find a man seated at a desk, maybe even some kind of drug production in progress. I was not anticipating a makeshift photographer's studio, complete with a floor to ceiling backdrop, large light boxes, and a tripod. What the hell?

At the sight of a bed covered in satin sheets and a chair draped in lingerie, I inched backward, the barrel of a gun digging into my side. I quickly calculated my chances of escape and estimated that they were slim to none. With no clear exit, a gun at my back, and two large men hovering over me, I was trapped.

The man set down his camera and stalked closer, his eyes scanning me, assessing me as if I were a prize. “Mmm,” he hummed as he circled me. “¿Donde encontraste esta? Ella es muy agradable.”

Even as my mind whirred with various scenarios, I focused on translating. Where did you find this one? She is very nice.

I felt sick to my stomach at his appraisal, revolted by the prospect before me. Clearly, they were going to photograph me, but what were the pictures for? Was I expected to model or . . . oh, god. I shut off my brain before I could imagine the possibilities.

“Dejanos,” the photographer said.

Leave us, he commanded, but Scarface made no move to do so. “Es una luchadora. ¿Me necesitas para vigilarla?”

“No,” he responded, ignoring the guard's warning that I was feisty and his subsequent offer to keep an eye on me.

With a huff, Scarface exited the room, calling, “Estaré afuera, Javier,” over his shoulder.

I'll be just outside. Good, this was good. Not only had I learned the photographer's name was Javier, but with the guard in the hall, I had a better chance at picking them off one by one.

I kept my eyes downcast, even as Javier circled me, taking me in. He was a few inches taller than me, thin, and might have even been handsome under normal circumstances.

“¿Hablas español?” he asked, and I shook my head. If the guards weren’t already aware that I spoke Spanish, I had no intention of correcting that belief.

“There's no need to be frightened.” Javier’s English was perfect with a trace of an accent. He stepped closer, making me feel anything but at ease. “It's only photos,” he said, although I was certain he muttered, “for now,” under his breath.

For now? This had to be a nightmare, my worst nightmare. If only I could close my eyes and wake up in the loft, surrounded by my guys. Men who were caring and loving, who respected me and my body.

They would be irate if they knew about this “photo shoot.” I could imagine them storming in, Jackson with an air of calm authority, Knox livid. Theo would be the badass I’d seen the night he’d taken down the Zenith intruder. Liam would be calculated, and Chase would obliterate the technology. Everyone in the compound would be dead. The thought gave me a glimmer of satisfaction.

“Let's see,” Javier said, moving to stand by the lingerie. I remained rooted to the spot, arms crossed tightly over my chest. “Red?” He held a red slip up to my frame before casting it aside. He hummed to himself while digging through a pile of leopard print, lace, and sheer designs.

My eyes darted to the door, the blocked window, a doorframe with a curtain, and back to Javier. I had visions of bashing him over the head with the camera equipment before taking down the guards with ease. I knew it was wishful thinking, a half-cocked idea at best. Now that I had attempted to escape, doing so again without a plan was too reckless.

“Aha.” Javier drew my attention back to him and the white babydoll draped between his fingers.

I stared at him wide-eyed, shaking my head back and forth. No way in hell was I going to wear that, not even if he offered me all the money in the world.

“Would you prefer to be photographed nude? Because that can be arranged.”

“Please, Javier,” I implored. “Please don't make me do this.”

“Sorry, cariña, but this is how it works. If I had a quarter for every girl who asked me that, I'd be a rich man.

“There's a bathroom through here.” He ushered me to the doorway as if I hadn't just begged him to reconsider. “Clean yourself up, put this on, and swipe some gloss over those lush lips.”

A flicker of hope sparked in me when I closed the curtain. But as I scanned the small bathroom, I quickly came to the realization that there was no way out. Despite a half-window near the ceiling, daylight was non-existent. The lack of boards on the inside led me to believe it had been blocked from the outside.

With a deep sigh, I desperately swept the room for weapons. Apart from prying the lid off the toilet, I was out of luck. Even the electric razor was of little use as a weapon. It had been secured to the wall much like a high-end camera at the electronics store.

“Chop-chop, cariña.”

I hadn't yet made a move to change, and I couldn't bear to look at the babydoll and matching thong clutched between my fingers. I kept wishing there was a way out, a solution I hadn’t thought of. Better yet, I wished the guys would bust through the door, guns blazing.

“Should I call some of the men in to watch?” he taunted. “You can only imagine how lonely it gets for them out here.”

Spurred on by his threat, I unzipped my cargo pants and slid them down my legs, followed by my underwear. I made quick work of shaving my legs and armpits, allowing myself a moment to relish the feeling of the warm washcloth on my face.

With shaking hands, I folded my clothing before removing my shirt and slipping into the babydoll and thong. Thank god, it looked clean.

I had just pulled my bra from beneath the lacy top of the babydoll when the curtain was wrenched open. Crossing my arms over my chest, I ignored his smirk. I'd never felt more exposed, more humiliated, in my life. I froze on the spot, unwilling and unable to move forward despite his threats.

“I've heard your roommate is quite the looker. Bruises won't show up on her like they would on you. If you don't cooperate, I might decide to have a little extra fun with her.”

After that comment, I allowed myself to be escorted to the bedroom, steeling myself for the task ahead.

He walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. “Sit on the bed, knees bent, with your legs crossed at the ankles.”

I refused to look down at myself, preferring to pretend I was fully clothed. But with every flutter of the thin material against my thighs, every brush of the lace against my nipples, I found it increasingly difficult to forget.

“Lean back on your hands and arch your back slightly.”

Click, click, click went the camera. I closed my eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. Please let this end. Please, please.

“Don't cry, cariña.” I forced open my eyes, angry with myself for letting my guard down for even a moment.

“You're one of the lucky ones. Beautiful girls like you have it good. It’s the ugly ones who get stuck cleaning rooms at Motel Magnifique.” He snorted derisively. “Like giving it a French name could make that place anything but a flea-infested dump.”

Motel Magnifique? My brain latched onto it, certain it was a name I had seen before. It was too distinctive to be easily forgotten.

If I remembered correctly, Vincent DuBois was the owner of a corporation that had a number of holdings in the hospitality industry. Motel Magnifique was one of their properties. I nearly shook with rage. I should have expected that scumbag to be behind something like this, not that I could prove it. Not yet.

Javier took a step back, adjusting the camera settings and snapping a few more shots. If only I’d spent more time researching DuBois’s properties. Maybe knowing the location of Motel Magnifique would have given me some clue as to my current location.

“Mmm.” Javier cocked his head to the side. He leaned over me, dragging one of the flimsy straps down my shoulder before grazing the top of my breast with his fingers. “Perfect.”

I shuddered at the unwanted contact, incensed. As if his blatant leering wasn’t enough. He had no right to touch me. If I didn’t have Carmen and the other women to think about, I’d gouge his eyes out and run from the room, white babydoll and all.

While Javier’s head was down, eyes trained on the camera screen, I lifted the strap.

“Tsk tsk,” he said without looking up. “I was finished, but I suddenly feel inspired to take a few more shots. Lie down and fan your hair over the bed.”

Begrudgingly, I did as instructed.

“Head turned to the side, eyes closed, lips parted.” Click, click snapped the shutter as I died a little more inside. Finally, when I thought I could take no more, he shut off the camera and set it to the side. “Fuck me, my boss is going to piss himself at that shot,” he said more to himself than me. “We’re done. Get dressed.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. I darted to the bathroom, and I couldn’t get my clothes on fast enough. I nearly fell as I fumbled with my pants, the babydoll quickly discarded in a puddle on the floor. I kicked it out of view. I never wanted to see another white lace negligee as long as I lived.

I heard a door open, then the voice of the guard as he conversed with Javier in Spanish. Peeking my head out from behind the curtain, I discovered them huddled over the camera screen, backs to me. I swiped two pens from a nearby table and slipped them into my sleeve, heart in my throat.

Scarface turned his full attention to me, his eyes dark, filled with lust. And even though I was fully clothed, I felt naked beneath his gaze. I boiled with rage, barely containing the urge to stab him with the pen hidden up my sleeve.

I didn’t know what came next for the “lucky” girls like me, but I didn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out. As he led me back to the room I shared with Carmen, I vowed that we would escape, no matter the cost. I would make sure the bastards couldn't do this to anyone else, and I would get justice—for my mother, for my father, for myself.

DuBois was going to pay.