Alissa
My phone announced a new text as Romeo was getting ready to usher me out of his office. He paused, read the text, then snickered.
“Oh, he said to meet you at the Riverwalk at two a.m.” Romeo glanced up at me. “Too bad you’ll be gone by then, but that doesn’t mean I can’t meet with him or send one of my guys.” He smirked.
Nate had responded to the request to “hook up” but not the one to help me?
What had I expected, really? I didn’t know the man. Of course, all he wanted was sex. Didn’t they all? I couldn’t squelch the disappointment and the twinge of hurt that swept through me. I had hoped he was different. But Nate was just like all the rest.
Romeo typed something in the phone, then glanced back at me. “Where did you meet him last time? He said to meet at the usual place.”
What? Either Nate thought I was someone else, or he knew it wasn’t me responding to his text. If he suspected it wasn’t me, then maybe, just maybe, he might come for me. Maybe he really did care about what happened to me. Maybe the promise of “hooking up” had nothing to do with him finally responding. Hope surged through me. Please come for me, Nate.
I thought of Riverwalk Augusta and the places a couple might meet to “hook up”. The park was huge and ran along the Savannah River. It had been a highly popular location prior to the gang wars, with walking trails, vendor booths with many items for sale, concession stands, concerts, the large water fountain, playgrounds for children, and various entertainment activities throughout the summer months, but the park was now mostly abandoned, no events having been scheduled since the beginning of the gang wars, so it was unlikely that many people would be there at all now. Where would the least likely hook-up location be? The restrooms? No. Gross. The grandstand? No. The fountain? Yes!
“By the fountain,” I said at last. It was the least likely place for a couple to hook up. It was also an open area, with benches all around, so Romeo and his thugs would be plainly visible. Nate would be able to see them from far off.
I had no idea what would happen if Nate showed up at the park and Romeo was there to meet him.
Romeo cocked a brow. “In the fountain? You dirty bitch.”
I shook my head in disgust. Romeo was such a pervert. I wasn’t surprised he’d twisted what I’d said.
He typed something else in the phone. Then he shoved me toward the door. “Go on, now. It’s time for you to get ready for Enrique.”
I went without protest—it wasn’t as if I could escape—and a half hour later, after I’d showered and dressed in the clean clothes they’d left for me, the guards ushered me back to my cell. I was now wearing a tight-fitting, short black dress that left little to the imagination. It was the type of dress I would have worn back in my modeling days when I’d had no qualms about showing off my assets. But now, I was ashamed to be wearing such a dress. Now, I wanted to hide myself from leering eyes. The girl who’d once graced the cover of Sports Illustrated in a string bikini was now ashamed to let anyone see her body. All because of one violent night that had changed me forever. I didn’t want anyone to see me anymore. I didn’t want anyone to look. I wanted to burrow deep into the ground like a rodent, and stay hidden from men and all their brutality.
There was a fresh bottle of water waiting for me in my cell. I eyed it suspiciously, then ignored it. I spent the next ten minutes pacing my cell in the sexy black dress and the too-small, thin black heels they’d made me wear. My younger self would have admired my body in the mirror for a long time, loving the way the black fabric hugged my curves and the way the sexy black heels showed off my toned legs. But my younger self was long gone. I didn’t want to be sexy. What would happen when Enrique showed up?
I felt a panic attack coming on strong, and desperately fought it back.
They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.
It had been a while since I’d suffered a panic attack. I had gradually learned to control them over the past few years. Staying away from men, hiding in my apartment, and only coming out when necessary, had helped me recover from the trauma of my past. But being a prisoner here, being forced to dress and do things I didn’t want to do, was bringing the past back like a violent whirlwind, whipping up the dust off my memories and tossing them right into my face.
If I were honest with myself, I would admit I’d rather be forced to fend off Romeo than Enrique. Romeo might scare the living bejesus out of me, but I knew him. I would take my chances with him before I took my chances with Enrique, the Flesh King. I’d once been a notorious flirt and used my feminine wiles to manipulate men and get what I wanted. I might even be able to handle Romeo now if I became the girl I’d once been. But I had no idea how to deal with Enrique. I didn’t even know if he spoke English. I didn’t know if I could be the girl I’d once been, even for a moment.
I eyed the water again. Then I unscrewed the cap and gulped down several swallows, deciding I would need the liquid to keep from dehydrating in the event I wasn’t offered anything to drink for a while.
Hugging the water bottle to my stomach, I settled back on the floor and leaned back against the concrete wall. I sipped it again, contemplating my predicament.
It wasn’t long before my eyelids began to droop.
Then I started seeing things I knew weren’t really there.
Shapes and shadows, dancing along the walls.
Whispers. Taunting voices.
Sniggers.
What the hell?
Too late, it suddenly occurred to me that they’d drugged me. Probably so I wouldn’t fight during the transport to Enrique’s prison. Shit. Was Enrique that scary?
The water. I shouldn’t have given in to my thirst. I should have listened to my original suspicion to ignore it.
I struggled hard to keep my eyes open, but they refused to cooperate. Darkness closed in around me. Heavy. Suffocating. With the threat of the unknown bearing down on me.
The last thing I remember was curling into a ball in the corner of my cell, unable to fight off the drug that pulled me under…
“Wake up, chica blanca. Wakee, wakee!”
Someone slapped my cheek.
I blinked, grogginess swimming in my head.
An average-looking Hispanic man smirked down at me from where he stood next to my bed. Two other Hispanic men stood behind him, leering at me. Wait? A bed? The last thing I remembered was a cell at the warehouse with a cold concrete floor. No bed. Where was I?
I bolted upright. My head spun. I moaned.
Then, cautiously, I lifted my head and glanced around. Plain white walls. A tiny bookshelf empty of books. No window. Two twin-size beds, across from each other.
A college dorm room. I was at Paine College where Enrique reigned.
“You with me now.” The man in front smiled at me. “Pretty. Pretty model. I sell you, si?”
He must be Enrique. I swallowed hard as I took him in. He didn’t really look like a criminal, though his eyes were definitely hard. Cruel. “When?” I asked. I needed to know how much time I had before they sold me. How much time I had to try to escape.
“When?” he repeated. He glanced at the two men standing behind him, then back at me. His English was obviously not the best, but at least he spoke enough to communicate.
“When are you selling me?”
His gaze traveled down my body, then back up. “Tonight.” He glanced at a thick black watch at his wrist. “Una hora. One hour. Get good price, si?”
One hour?
My skin prickled. No. That wasn’t enough time to escape. How would I ever get away in one hour?
In one hour, you will be going home with a stranger who might hurt you. You will become a sex slave.
Bile threatened its way up my throat.
No.
Why couldn’t I be ugly? Right now, I wanted to be so horrid-looking that people cringed away from me in disgust. I ran a hand through my straight, sandy blonde locks. A few years ago my hair had been really long, clear to my waist, my pride and joy. But I’d had to learn the hard way that long hair and sexy outfits made me a target for attack. Long hair was easy to grab hold of, to yank back, to subdue…
Unfortunately for me, one night I had discovered what happened to pretty girls with long hair. It had been a painful lesson to learn, one I would never forget. I’d been fortunate to walk away with my life that night. A woman cop—now my friend Grace—had found me lying in the alley a few hours later, beaten and violated by the two men who’d attacked me, half my hair yanked out of my scalp. I’d been near catatonic, blubbering and huddling on the ground. She’d helped me into her cop car and rushed me to the hospital. I’d never forgotten Grace’s kindness. She’d come to see me daily at the hospital until I was released. We’d kept in touch over the years. Now she lived in Eatonton, a small town about an hour and a half’s drive to the west. She was lucky to have gotten out of the city when she had. If she could see me now, see what I’d gotten myself into this time, I could imagine her shaking her head.
If I thought that night of violence three years ago had been bad, then I could only imagine what was in store for me now. I couldn’t cower. Kenny wasn’t here to hide behind. I couldn’t be scared and broken if I was going to survive. I had to fight back. I had to face this head on.
Enrique stepped closer, pulling something from the pocket of his shirt.
I stiffened my spine, alarm slicing through me. What was he doing?
The two thugs behind him stepped forward, their leers growing larger.
I scrambled backward on the small bed. Were they going to rape me now? “No. Please. Don’t.”
Enrique clucked his tongue and shook his head back and forth. “Don’t fight, chica blanca. This only take one moment.” His voice was soft, soothing. Why was he trying to calm me down? Did he prefer his women to be submissive when he raped them?
He reached for a lock of my hair and gently rubbed it between his fingers. “So pretty,” he whispered. He turned his head, nodding to his men.
They were on me in an instant, shoving me back onto the bed. I screamed and fought as hard as I could, but they were too strong. They easily held me down while Enrique lifted the item he’d removed from his shirt. A pen? Or a tiny flashlight? Panting heavily, I glared at Enrique as he loomed over me with the pen/flashlight thing in his hand. One of the thugs shoved my face to the side, exposing my neck.
I felt a panic attack coming on strong. I gulped in several deep breaths, trying to shove it back.
Don’t lose it, Alissa. Keep it together, girl.
“Only hurt for one moment,” Enrique murmured. Then he stuck me in the back of the neck with the pen thing he held. He stepped back and the thugs let me go.
I slowly sat up, lifting my hand to the back of my neck, gently feeling the sore spot. The panic attack that had nearly overtaken me slowly slipped away.
“What did you do?”
“We track you.” Enrique waved his arm at me. “We know where you are. Always. I know. Buyer knows. Always. You numero veinticuatro.” He pointed to the inside of my left wrist. I glanced down, noticing for the first time the red-rimmed number “24” tattooed on the inside of my wrist. What? They’d branded me while I’d been drugged? Assholes! It was tiny, only about a centimeter across, but still a tattoo I hadn’t consented to.
I sat back, stunned. Was that why they’d drugged me? So I wouldn’t fight while they branded me like a cow? And they’d just put a tracking device under my skin. Bastards. Anger surged through me. What gave them the right to treat me like livestock? I was a human being!
Now they would always know where I was, even if I managed to escape.
I had a number. A tracking device.
Who did Enrique think he was? Pig! How would he like it if I dug a knife into his skin and left a tattoo behind? How would he like it if I plunged a knife directly into his cold, criminal heart?
Seething with uncommon rage, I lifted a shaky hand to probe the area at the back of my neck, searching for the tracking device.
Enrique shook his head. “No. No. Don’t touch.”
He grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand away.
“Fuck you,” I sputtered, wanting to claw his mean black eyes right out of his ugly head.
His grip tightened on my wrist. His eyes narrowed. He motioned to his thugs. The two men stepped forward, pulling my hands together in front of me and wrapping plastic zip ties around my wrists, securing them tightly.
Now I was branded, cuffed, and had a tracking device under my skin.
I wasn’t human to this guys. I was a cow to be sold, a package to be tracked.
And in an hour I would be sold.
Nausea threatened its way up my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing it back down.
The thugs headed for the door.
Enrique eyed me for a moment. “Tracking device is new, si? You are number twenty-four to try it.”
I glowered at him. Number twenty-four. That was all I was. A damn number.
“Have the other twenty-three tried to escape?” I couldn’t resist asking.
He shook his head. “No one escapes. I now track everyone.” He paused, his gaze once again raking me up and down. “One hour I sell you.”
He turned and left the room.
I pulled at the zip ties, hoping I could make my wrists small enough to escape, but the plastic cuffs were too tight. I was helpless.
A new surge of rebellion swept through me. As soon as these cuffs came off, I was going to claw the back of my neck until I found the tracking device. I was going to tear it free, with my fingernails if I had to. Then I was going to escape.
In one hour? My mind mocked. The helplessness of my situation settled heavily down upon me. How would I ever escape?
By finding a newer, stronger Alissa from somewhere deep inside. Determination surged through me. I couldn’t be afraid to flaunt my assets, to use my body, my looks, in any way I could to escape this nightmare. I had to escape.
Because if I didn’t, then I had no doubt these bastards—or whoever purchased me—would break me.
And if I broke again, this time it would be for good. My soul would shatter, my mind would splinter into complete uselessness.
And Alissa would be gone forever.