Betrayed

well. Whadda we got here?” He moved to block her way and Brook stopped, uncertain how to proceed. “Come to Bobby, baby,” the man said, rubbing his crotch suggestively. “Let me show you what a real man can do for you.”

Brook turned and hurried back to her car, her heels tapping a quick staccato on the pavement. Behind her, Bobby laughed derisively but made no move to follow. She pressed the keyless entry as she approached the car. She was intent on getting inside, locking the door, and getting away from this place. Anger flared within her, distracting her for a second or two. What had Clark been thinking? She didn’t belong here. He could send someone else or call and have the book delivered to the house, because she wouldn’t be picking it up for him. She chastised herself for not driving right past; never stopping.

As Brook slid into the car, she sensed a movement behind her and turned her head in time to see a fist rushing towards her face. She couldn’t even manage a small scream before the blow caught her on the side of the head. Brook fell, dazed, backwards into the car. Tears sprang to her eyes.

She heard a man’s gruff voice mumble, “Shit! People!”

He reached in and shoved her roughly across the console, gouging her back on the gearshift before unceremoniously pushing her legs across to clear the driver’s seat. “You say one fuckin’ word and I’ll kill you,” he snarled. “Get down on the floor. Now, bitch!”

Brook dropped to the floorboard, shaking in fear and confusion as tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. Bewildered, she watched the man slide a key into the ignition; not her key, she still had wits enough to realize she held that in her hand. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath, prepared to scream bloody murder. Before she could even squeak, a gun was pressed to her temple. “Don’t do it, lady.” Brook clamped her mouth shut, obeying her captor. “Put your head down and cover it with your hands.”

Brook complied, heart trip-hammering against her chest. What’s happening? What does he want? Where is he taking me? Oh god, I’ve got to get away! These thoughts and more raced through her head as the car moved into the street and away, the sound of the tires on the road keeping pace with her rapidly beating heart.

“Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me,” Brook pleaded through her tears. As she huddled on the floor, her words became a chant she could barely hear over the ringing in her ears. They had only gone a short distance when she felt the car bump and then rise up a ramp into darkness. She peeked up through her hair and tried to see where they were. The driver got out and her hopes rose. Maybe he’s leaving. Maybe he’s going away. She was reaching furtively for the door handle, heart slamming against her chest, when the door was jerked open and a hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled.

“Out, now,” her assailant’s voice demanded.

Brook cried out as pain ripped along her scalp. Her hand flew to her head and the key she had been holding fell unnoticed from her fingers. She stumbled from the car to a dirty surface, bruising her knee through her custom- designed slacks. Brook climbed unsteadily to her feet and turned toward the sound of voices. She gently probed her scalp. Relief flowed through her when she found her fingers free of blood. Examining her surroundings, she realized she was in the trailer of a dark and musty semi-truck. The only light came from the open loading door, its feeble glow barely enough to illuminate the three men who stood gawking at her. Even in her terror, Brook tried to record their faces into her memory. She wanted to be able to give accurate descriptions to the police when she got out of this mess. She stared openly.

Arguing with her attacker was a tall, skinny man whose straight, medium-brown hair fell over one eye and most of the other. He had a mustache and small beard. Brook noted his bad teeth when he bared them in a snarl at the first man. “Damn it all to hell, Benny. What the hell is this?” He gestured towards Brook who regarded them with an expression of fear.

Ok, Benny! Benny’s the one who attacked me. Watch him. Remember him!

Benny glared at her from deep-set, dark eyes. He was of medium height and build. His face was long, tapering to a pointed chin with a scraggly thin beard. Sparse whiskers grew over his lip and down the sides of his face. His hair was over-the-collar length, neatly combed and swept across to one side, barely missing an eye. His clothing was more like that of a business man and totally inconsistent with his actions, she thought, as she noted his khakis, button-up shirt, tan sports jacket, and loafers. She filed her impressions away for future reference.

“She came back to the car too soon, Pete. Fuck! She wasn’t supposed to be there. It wasn’t part of the plan. And then there were too many people around. I couldn’t just dump her out in the parking lot without being seen.” Benny shrugged as he gave Brook the once-over. “Anyway, look at her. She’s kinda cute.”

“Kind of cute? Are you for real? Kind of cute, my ass!” Pete shook his head.

Pete! The guy with bad teeth is Pete. Brook made a mental note. Benny abducted me and Pete is his accomplice.

The third guy was a trucker through and through. Jeans, button-up shirt open over a wife-beater t-shirt, and tennis shoes. His belly hung over a large belt buckle shaped like Texas. Graying on top, he wore a crew cut and was clean-shaven. He spat to one side as he said, “I don’t give a flying fuck about none of this. Ya all need to get the hell out of my truck. I need to move this merchandise and don’t want no part of whatever trouble this little lady is gonna bring.” He pointed to Brook when he made this statement. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest as all three looked her way.

Benny said, “Mind your own fucking business, asshole.” Oblivious to the flash of anger on the trucker’s face, he turned to the tall guy. “We’ll just have to take her with us, Pete. Come on, let’s move.”

“Man, Benny! Jase is gonna be pissed,” Pete proclaimed.

“Fuck Jase,” Benny spat angrily, but Brook detected a hint of concern behind his bravado.

As the two argued, Brook saw a chance to get away. She started backing towards the open loading door. Slow and easy, shaking badly, she put one foot at a time behind her and moved backwards, keeping an eye on the men the entire time. She reached the door, turned and ran awkwardly down the ramp, her heels slowing her. Behind her, she heard the trucker laugh and say, “Your little woman is leavin’.”

“Shit!” Pete yelled.

Brooklyn ran for her life down a deserted alley. She heard a thump as someone leapt to the ground behind her. She needed to lose the heels but knew she couldn’t take the time to stop and remove them. Keeping her eyes straight ahead and gasping for breath, she screamed, “Help! HELP!” She could see no one, and there was no response to her yells.

Brook didn’t make it far before she was tackled from behind and knocked off her feet. Her face hit the pavement and bounced back off, abrading her cheek as she scattered a pile of rubbish from an overturned trash can. The sleeves of her beautiful jacket were stained with rotted garbage, the odor stinging her nostrils. She cried out in pain and fear as the weight of her assailant held her down.

“You stupid bitch,” Benny, lying across her, growled. “Why do you want to be this way? You’re just making this whole thing harder than it has to be.”

Brook heard the screech of tires, and hoped against hope that it was someone coming to rescue her. She tried to raise her head to call for help again, but her call was cut off when Benny crawled off her and yanked her to her feet. An SUV skidded to a stop beside them, its deep green paint sparkling in the sunlight. The windows were so dark Brook couldn’t see the driver. Benny opened the rear door and flung her inside before he crawled in behind her. He shoved her head down into the seat.

 “Go,” he growled to the driver.

Chapter 2

Lance stood back and admired the cabinet he had just installed. As he remembered the hours he had spent downing the tree, cutting the boards, sanding and finishing the surfaces, he felt a sense of pride, a feeling of accomplishment. There had been no need to hurry on this project. Time had ceased to have its usual meaning since he’d made his break from society. There were no time clocks to punch, no meetings to attend. Hours were unimportant anymore; now only seasons mattered.