Jamie

 

I received another hard slap across the face. It stung, though I felt guilty and weak for even thinking that when I knew, just on the other side of that wall, Kato had been feeling far worse and more frequent pain. I’d been slapped across the face a handful of times, and already, I was cringing away from Diego’s hand. How would I hold up against real torture?

 

Abysmally, I thought with certainty. I wished I was stronger, that I could do more. This helpless feeling was worse than anything else but there was nothing I could do about it. It was awful and made my stomach churn.

 

“Fucking tell me, you bitch!”

 

I had just enough humor left to think it was ironic that he’d chastised one of his men for using foul language me when Diego himself had been cussing up a storm every time he got a little pissed off. Or a lot pissed off. He didn’t seem to have a lot of range when it came to emotions. It was either calm and collected or so pissed off that he had to be seeing red.

 

A charming individual.

 

The urge to rub at my stinging cheeks was strong but my arms were still crossed behind me. They were cinched together thanks to the metal cuffs, and since they were crossed around the chair, my hands didn’t have the same kind of mobility my legs had.

 

Not that they were exactly doing a lot of moving.

 

Fact was, I was stuck to that chair, regardless of what I wanted. About the only bright side to all of this was that no one had tried to…to touch me. That man from earlier, the one who had kidnapped me—Leo—hadn’t reappeared, and Rio had practically started snoozing in the corner, he was so bored. It was a small thing to be grateful for, but I’d take it.

 

Anything, at this point.

 

Of course, Diego wasn’t above threatening that particular kind of torture, so the comfort only went so far. He could decide that I’m worthless at any minute and just throw me to the wolves. Again, that helplessness returned in full force.

 

I couldn’t help Kato, and I couldn’t help myself.

 

I hated Diego and his men even more now than I did when they ran me off the road. And I hated them a lot after that.

 

“Do you need more incentive?” Diego demanded, pointing with his phone towards the wall. On the other side was Kato, and I winced against the thought of him being tortured further.

 

I shook my head, willing him to leave the poor man alone.

 

“Then tell me what Pax is planning!”

 

I opened my mouth to tell him something, anything, knowing that it would be a lie. But I couldn’t think of anything. If Pax had some sort of plan before I left—which I assumed he did—then he hadn’t told me about it. I didn’t know anything. I wasn’t one of his men, and we’d only just connected before he’d sent me off for my own safekeeping.

 

The irony in that was almost enough to send me into a fit of hysterical giggles, but before I could laugh, cry, or lie outright—and before Diego could press those buttons again—we heard the sounds.

 

It started with a rumbling that seemed to come from the earth itself. It was all around us. I frowned, wondering what the hell it was, but Diego seemed to know right away. He cursed and spat. “Shit. I thought I had more fucking time.”

 

He shoved his phone back down into his pocket, and I had a moment to be relieved before he reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair. He wrapped his meaty fist in it, then jerked back, hard. I winced against the pain of my hair pulling but would gladly have let him pull harder if it meant getting him the fuck away from me.

 

Instead, he got up close and in my face. “You bitch. They’re already here. If you think you’ve saved yourself by holding out, you’re wrong. They’ll die, and you will, too, but not before the boys have some fun.”

 

He released me then, shoving my head back away from him harshly. With one last lingering glare at me, he turned and headed towards the stairs. That was when I heard new sounds. More, louder rumbling from above us this time and then two loud, echoing pops. They sounded like fireworks.

 

Or…

 

“Gunshots,” I muttered.

 

Diego was already at the top of the stairs, bursting out the door as more popping sounds echoed down to me. I was almost positive that they were gunshots now, though I hardly dared to hope. Gunshots meant a fight, which meant Pax and his men where here to rescue me, right?

 

That was why Diego was so panicked.

 

I couldn’t tell if it was just desperation mixed with wishful thinking that had me praying that the noises from upstairs were a battle, but I didn’t much care. Anything that pulled Diego and Rio away from me was a good thing. And I couldn’t help but notice that the screaming from the next room was gone.

 

I could only hope that they’d left Kato alone, too.

 

Biting my lip, I eyed the wall. I seriously considered calling out to Kato, but what if they hadn’t left him alone? Would they torture him without commands from Diego, just because I tried to communicate?

 

Quickly, I decided that I had to risk it.

 

“Kato?” My voice sounded wobbly, even to my own ears. I swallowed harshly and tried again. “Kato? Can you hear me?”

 

There was a long pause of silence. I kept waiting, straining my ears in the hopes that maybe he would respond, but there was nothing. I imagined him breathing heavily, recovering from the horrible torture they were inflicting upon him. Because of me.

 

Shaking my head, I forced the thought away. No, not because of me, because these people were assholes, terrible human beings that didn’t care about the lives of those around them. That wasn’t my fault. I was sorry that I couldn’t stop his torture, and I would probably never forget the sounds of his screams—assuming I survived all of this—but I refused to believe that it was my fault.

 

“Just hold on, Kato,” I called to the wall, even though he hadn’t responded. I hoped that he would at least hear me and have some hope. “I think Pax’s here.”

 

My stomach took a tumble, wrapping around itself in a mixture of desperate hope and the strong desire to see him. I really wanted him to save me. I really wanted someone to save me, especially since I didn’t think I could save myself.

 

I gave each of my feet a quick jerk, rattling the cuffs, but I didn’t gain anything. They strained, but when the links were pulled taut, all movement stopped. Then I tried my wrists. I was thinking maybe I could pull my hands through since they were little. Well, they were long and thin, anyway. But as I tried tugging first on one hand, then the other, I found that it was useless. The cuffs were tight enough that all I was managing to do was make my wrists sore and uncomfortable. I imagined they were red and raw.

 

Straining my ears, I tried to listen to what was happening above. There was stomping and shouting, more popping sounds. Most of them sounded like they were coming from outside, though, and my heart dropped a little.

 

Had no one even made it inside yet?

 

I renewed my attempts to get the hell out of there, but I wasn’t having any better luck. I was busy trying to yank my hands through the handcuffs once more when I heard the footsteps.

 

They came down the stairs, and for a second, I was so relieved. He’s finally here!

 

But when I jerked my chin up to watch the stairs, I found myself quickly disappointed…and scared.

 

It was a man coming down the steps. I saw his boots first, and as they clomped quickly down the stairs, I saw the rest of him. Instant recognition washed through me and not in a good way. Oh, no, not him.

 

It was the man who shot Alex. The same one that had dragged me into the house with every intent on screwing me, whether I was willing or not. My body shuddered in disgust. I wanted more than anything to be free of that chair with the chance to run as far from him as humanly possible. But the cuffs wouldn’t give. I was completely alone, cuffed to the chair, without even a chance of getting away or fighting back.

 

“Well, we meet again,” Leo said, grinning broadly. It wasn’t an attractive smile. He dragged his eyes over my body, just like he’d done in the car, and I wanted to scream for someone to help me. Anyone was better than this revolting man, even Diego.

 

Swallowing, I motioned towards the stairs. “What’s going on upstairs?”

 

Leo waved off my question like it was an annoying fly. “Never you mind that. It’s nothing. We’ve got other things to focus on.”

 

I resisted the urge to shudder again as best I could because I remembered how he’d taken that reaction in the car—as an invitation. “Your boss was just down here. He’ll be back any minute.”

 

Leo actually laughed at me. The sound was unpleasant and nasally, making him seem even more like the worm he was. Grinning, he approached me, taking slow, calculated steps. “I think he’s a little busy right now, meaning we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetcakes.”

 

I shook my head. No, don’t let him get any closer! Don’t let him touch me!

 

He stopped maybe a foot or so from me, pausing to examine the chair I was strapped to. He seemed to be considering it. Slowly, he began walking a full circle around it. There was shouting and more popping from above. He paused, glancing at the ceiling briefly, but the sounds didn’t hold his attention for long.

 

I felt sick—not just because of his presence, which was enough to do it—because of his indifference. If he wasn’t worried, did that mean nothing important was going on? Did that mean that Pax wasn’t actually here?

 

I shook my head to clear the thought as best I could, but it was hard. Really hard. He said he’d come for me, I reminded myself before I started panicking or hyperventilating. And Diego seemed worried. Maybe this guy’s just an idiot.

 

That was pretty easy to believe, so I forced myself to go with that.

 

“What do you want?”

 

His eyebrows rose. “Seriously? You haven’t figured it out? And I thought you were supposed to be some smart, educated lady.”

 

I swallowed down my suddenly dry throat. “Listen, you don’t have to do this.”

 

He actually laughed at me. Leaning towards me, he grinned. “Oh, but I want to. And pretty soon, you’ll want me to, too.”

 

I highly doubted that, but I didn’t say as much. Instead, I started struggling against my restraints again. He eyed them for a moment, then glanced back up at me. “It’s going to be tricky with your clothes on.” His eyes paused on my crotch. “Well, the bottom half of them anyway. What do you think we should do about that?”

 

I was about to open my mouth and spout off about how he should just get the hell away from me, but I paused. An idea slowly began forming in my head. It was a risky one and, already, it had fear rising in my breast, but I reasoned that it was no more dangerous than what was already happening.

 

At least this idea had the potential of letting me get the hell out of here.

 

Biting my lip, I did my best to wipe the disgust off my face. Clearing my throat, I tried to make my voice pleasant. “Well…we could…take them off.” I nodded towards my lower half. “I mean, my pants, that is.”

 

His eyebrows shot up high on his brow, then lowered in suspicion, which was smart of him. My change of heart was a complete one-eighty, and I wouldn’t have bought it, either. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” I pursed my lips together to keep from answering him. “Well, joke’s on you lady.” He opened his palm in front of me and let a set of keys drop down between his thumb and forefinger. “ ’Cause I have the keys. And I am going to take off your pants—but that’s it.”

 

I blinked at him. Wasn’t that what I’d just basically told him to do? “Um…”

 

“That’s right,” he continued like some evil genius about to give a monologue. “I’m going to uncuff your legs, and then I’m going to take off your pants. I’ll bet you’re not even wearing panties. But you know what I’m not going to do? I’m not going to undo your arms. I’m going to leave them cuffed to that chair while I fuck your brains out. How does that sound, sweetheart?”

 

It sounded utterly disgusting. It sounded bad enough that the urge to vomit was almost too strong to resist. But I managed to control my building nausea because he was going to do just what I wanted. Well, not the taking off my pants part, but I was hoping that he wouldn’t get that far.

 

I wanted him to uncuff me, and while I wished he would release my wrists, too, I thought maybe my legs would be enough… Maybe.

 

God, I hope it’s enough.

 

Kneeling down in front of me, he paused with the key near my left foot, then he looked up at me. “I should tell you before we begin, I’m packing more than my cock.” He lifted up his shirt to reveal a pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans. I wanted to snort and tell him that he’d probably shoot his package off keeping it there, but honestly, I was scared, and I kinda hoped that he would…

 

I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, but somehow, I’d convinced myself that if I could just get free, that would be my biggest hurdle. I should have anticipated that he’d have a weapon, but I didn’t.

 

It’s okay; everything’s okay. I can do this.

 

Seemingly pleased with my complacency, he nodded and went back to my foot. I heard him as he messed with the cuffs, then felt as they slid away from my ankle. One down, one to go. He glanced up again, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Remember,” he said. “I’ve got the gun. You’re the one stuck to that fucking chair. Don’t try anything funny.”

 

I remained silent as he got to my other ankle, but I was bursting with nervous energy. This was it. Once he did this, I’d have to move fast…and hope I was quicker than he was to pull that gun. I felt him slide off the second metal cuff.

 

This was my chance. It was now or never. I felt him begin to tug off my shoe. Mustering up my courage, I took one deep breath—then kicked. My leg pulled up and back at the same time so that the top of my foot made contact. The hit was lucky, catching him just beneath the jaw. I heard a cracking sound that I really didn’t want to think too much about, then he fell back to the floor. His body made a heavy thud as it crashed onto the concrete.

 

I stared at him with wide eyes, disbelieving. I kept waiting for him to move, to get up and curse at me, maybe even to lunge towards me and wrap his hands around my throat to throttle me. Or maybe to simply pull that gun, aim, and fire.

 

The thought that I would die at any moment made me tense up, bracing myself as I waited for it.

 

But death never came. That asshole never got up. He lay there on the floor, his head pushed back slightly at an awkward angle, his face pointed away from me. He looked…

 

Don’t say dead, don’t say dead.

 

I told myself that he was fine. The hit was lucky and had knocked him out. Or stunned him. Whatever. It hadn’t snapped his neck, only forced him to hit his head on the concrete…right?

 

It was convincing enough that I could force my body to move again.

 

“Keys,” I told myself. “I need the keys.”

 

Getting my feet free had helped with my mobility, but I still had the little problem of still being stuck to the damn chair to deal with. If I didn’t get those keys, I was going to have to figure out how to move while still attached to the chair. And it was a heavy, solid wooden chair. No way could I manage to carry it up the stairs, strapped awkwardly against my back.

 

I needed to find those keys and get the cuffs binding my hands released.

 

My eyes tried to gloss past the unconscious man on the floor. Unconscious, not dead, I tried to convince myself, but that was difficult when I didn’t see his chest rising and falling. Swallowing heavily, I looked away, then jerked my gaze back.

 

“Crap.”

 

The keys were right there next to him, by his feet where he must have dropped them as he fell. Biting my lip, I worried that I had just royally screwed myself.

 

Tentatively, I started to stretch out my legs. Overhead, sounds continued to rumble and pop, but I was focused solely on those keys. If I could only reach them…

 

I extended my leg as far as it would go but only just barely touched the keys. I cursed and tried again, but the toes of my shoes only grazed the slivers of metal. Slouching down in the chair as much as my bound arms would allow, I tried to reach once again.

 

I got a little closer, but then I had the issue of getting the keys to me. I quickly realized that I wasn’t going to be able to kick them over. But maybe I can grab them?

 

Kicking off my shoes, I reached again. This time, I was able to get my toes on the metal. I gripped them just enough to pull them towards me. “Yes!” My small victory buoyed me. But now the really difficult part came. How was I going to get the damn keys to my hands?

 

Since I wasn’t a damn contortionist, it was unlikely that I was going to be able to twist my legs around behind my back. I was going to have to try and throw them to my hands. And I was only going to get one shot.

 

Praying for a little luck, I tried to throw the keys with my foot. It ended in disaster.

 

I heard the keys as they clanged against the concrete floor, and I winced. There went my only chance. “Shit!”

 

Now what?

 

Twisting my head around as best I could, I tried to see where they’d landed—not far from the chair. Maybe I could move the chair enough to get to them. I started rocking. Using my freed feet, I pushed the chair back on its legs and began to wiggle-walk towards the keys. The noises upstairs grew louder. Nervousness swamped me. Would they be coming down for me? Was Diego coming back—or another one of his men—this time to succeed where Leo had failed?

 

I had to swallow back my fear, but it still made my movements jerky and uncoordinated. I wobbled the chair, then leaned back a little further trying to get my fingers close enough to the ground to grab the keys.

 

“C’mon, c’mon!”

 

I ended up shifting to the side, balancing on one leg, as I reached for the little pieces of metal. I stretched out my fingers as much as possible, determined to get myself out of this damn mess.

 

Just as I felt my fingers brush cold metal, victory within reach, I leaned back just a little too far, and the chair leg gave out from beneath me. With a cry of surprise, I slammed down to the hard concrete floor. I landed on my side, seriously bruising my left arm and shoulder, not to mention slamming the side of my head against the hard floor.

 

For a long moment, my head swam in a sea of darkness.

 

Oh, that was not good. Really not good. Nausea briefly flooded my system as I tried to breathe and blink away the blackness all at the same time. I groaned.

 

I didn’t know for sure how long it took for my vision to clear. When it did, I still felt unsteady. I blinked several times until the room came into clearer focus. That was when I really registered the spots of pain. I told myself they weren’t too bad, but my shoulder felt bruised and sore, and I knew I had a nice little knot on my head.

 

Great. I probably have a damn concussion.

 

I hoped not and promised myself that I get checked out as soon as I was free of this place, but concussion or not, I didn’t have time to sit around and see if I was feeling okay. I needed to take this opportunity and run with it, fast and hard.

 

“Please tell me I didn’t fall past the keys…” I muttered to the empty room.

 

I couldn’t turn my head enough to look behind me, so I just started feeling around with my fingers again. Miracle of miracles, I found the keys. My heart leapt into my throat as hope sprung up within my chest. Maybe I would get out of here!

 

I fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice. Each time was a stab to my heart. But I continued to struggle until I finally felt the key click into place. One twist and my left hand was free. My eyes widened; I couldn’t believe it. I was actually going to make it.

 

Shaking off the cuffs, I jerked my right hand—cuff and all—through the chair so that I could move off of my left shoulder. Free from the chair now, I hurriedly got to my feet. Then I nearly crashed back down when my vision started to swim.

 

Concussion, remember? Take it easy.

 

I gave myself enough time to take several slow, steady breaths, then I made a break for the door. I didn’t even pause to get my damn shoes.