Evil Without a Face

and wrists were already numb.

Her body reacted in frenzy and she couldn’t stop it. A flood of desperate memories clouded her mind, yanking her back to a time she only wanted to forget. No longer a grown woman, she was forced to suffer the unimaginable torment of her childhood once again. And the jagged scars across her body—faded with time yet fresh in her mind —were plain for anyone to see. Over the years, she had grown to hate seeing them in the mirror, but here she was completely exposed.

She would have no secrets from her captors. None!

“Imagine my surprise…” A man’s voice came from the dark. “Such a beautiful woman…yet so scarred.”

She stopped her struggle and listened, her heart pounding and her chest heaving.

It took her a while to place the accent. Distinctly Russian, once she calmed down enough to reflect on it. She shifted her head right, then left, trying to catch a glimpse of the man. His footsteps echoed in the large room. And she followed the sound with her eyes, her lips trembling.

“You are a woman with secrets, yes?”

Finally, the Russian walked into the light, and she recognized his shoulder length hair. He was one of the men who had abducted her, the one who almost killed her. She swallowed, nearly choking on her next breath.

“Perhaps we share more than you know,” he whispered.

He kicked her legs apart and knelt between them. Slowly, he ran his hands up her thighs, not taking his eyes off her. The man looked like a coiled rattler ready to strike, and she couldn’t turn away. She tightened her jaw, grappling with fear.

“You wanted to know more about what goes on here. Now you will find out for yourself.”

He yanked at her knees and pulled her hips toward him, taking away her leverage to fight back. His body reacted to her nakedness. She felt it. He ran his hands over her breasts and squeezed until she cried out. Now, pinning her to the floor with his weight, he lowered his mouth to her nipple, taking it in his lips. She waited for the pain of his bite, but it never came—only the degradation. When he pulled back, he had a sick, twisted smile on his face.

“I get what I want…no matter. You tell me what I want to know and you decide. Pain or not?” He rose and leaned on an elbow, glaring at her. “Who is Seth Harper? He is not an easy man to locate, but with or without your help, I will find him.”

“Then you don’t need my help.”

Judging by the look in the Russian’s eyes, her feeble defiance struck a nerve. The man took a knife from a sheath on his belt. The blade glinted under the light. He traced the craggy scar along her eyebrow and ran the tip of his blade across her lip, cutting her. She winced.

“A pity that I will not be your first.”

She knew exactly what he meant. The man had the mark of a longtime abuser. She watched for the trigger, the instant the Russian would lose control and take what he wanted. She’d seen it before, too many times. The man stared at her now, perhaps reading her mind and torturing her with his restraint.

“You are…nothing,” he whispered, his face twisted with abuse. She felt his breath on her skin. “This…I think you know. I see it in…those eyes.”

The Russian dragged the blade under her right eye, and she held her breath. He was in complete control and she knew it. He had reminded her how weak she had always been. And no matter who she’d become, she knew a part of her would always be powerless. She had her trigger too, the point where she would give in to whatever happened. The Russian had seen it for himself. He lowered his mouth to her body and she shut her eyes, blocking everything out.

It was happening again and she’d never be free. When his hands groped her body, she fought back tears welling in her eyes. She gritted her teeth and detached herself from what was about to happen.

But a voice bellowed from the dark.

“I’ve got something you need to see. This won’t wait.” Another man called out from the back of the room, his voice in panic.

Jess couldn’t have been more grateful. Tears drained down her cheeks in relief, but to her shock, the Russian didn’t stop. If anything, he grew more determined. She heard the sound of his belt buckle and felt the urgency in his body. She struggled under him, bucking under his weight. She resisted the only way she could.

“Stas, we don’t have time for this,” the man shouted. She heard his footsteps come closer. “Put her with the others. I need you. Now.”

The Russian abruptly stopped—out of breath and seething with anger—the crazed look still in his eyes. In a move she didn’t see coming, he slashed across her chest with the knife.

“Aarrgh,” she cried, pulling her knees in tight.

The cut wasn’t deep, but he had left his mark. Blood seeped from the wound and rolled off her body. Cold chills raced across her skin.

“We are not done. You will see.” He rose from the floor and stood over her, pointing his knife. “And next time, you will wish we had finished here.”

After the Russian left, two men freed her hands and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but not out of compassion. They hauled her down a long dim hallway, past a door that got her attention.

Two uniformed men stood in the doorway, taking orders from the Russian, who glared at her as she passed. Across the room another man was talking on the phone. Although she only got a quick glimpse of him, she recognized his voice. He was the one who stopped the Russian from raping her. She didn’t get a good look, but the dimly lit room was filled with computers and high-tech control panels. A silent red flashing alarm spiraled its light through the room. The setup struck her as strange, but she was in too much pain to focus.

Down the hall, her captors tossed her into a dark room. When she fell, she scraped her knees and elbows, her body wracked with pain. Something else had been thrown on top of her, but she hurt too much to check it out. For a moment she lay where she’d fallen, curled into the blanket as best she could. But a sound from across the room forced her to listen.

A whisper. Very faint.

“Are you okay?” The whisper came again, stronger this time.

Jess rolled toward the noise and peered through the murky darkness, her only light coming from under the doorway. In the corner of the room, along the far wall, a shadow moved and then another. Others were with her. She wasn’t alone.

“Who are you?” She kept her voice low. “What’s happening?”

One of the shadows moved again and crawled toward her. A young girl. When she got closer, the girl spoke quietly.

“These aren’t much, but you should put them on. It’s cold in here.” The girl picked up what the men had tossed onto the floor beside her, nothing more than cotton drawstring pants and a shirt. “There’s more of us here, but the others are too scared to say anything.”

“How many others are here?” Jess asked as she dressed. Each move made her wince, but the girl helped her put the loose garments on.

“There’s only five in this room, including you, but I have no idea if there’s more. I haven’t been here that long.”

“Wait a minute. What’s your name?” Jess asked.

“My name’s Nikki. Nikki Archer. Who are you?”

Jess wanted to cry, but her tears at having found Archer’s niece were tinged with the hopelessness of their situation.

“I’m Jessie Beckett.” She stroked the girl’s hair with both hands. “Nikki, your uncle came to Chicago looking for you.”

“What? Uncle Payton?”

Before she could explain, the girl collapsed into her arms and let go. Without the fear of someone hearing her, she sobbed uncontrollably, her body trembling. Jess knew exactly how she felt. Long ago, she had experienced the overwhelming relief when she knew her physical torment had finally ended.

But unlike what happened with her, no one was here to rescue Nikki—no one that mattered anyway.