“I can’t find my fucking phone!” Jang yelled in the cab.
Gabi felt the blood drain from her face.
The van pulled over and stopped. Heart pounding, Gabi unsilenced the cell and slid it across the floor. It stopped beside the porta-potty. She slumped, trying to control her breathing.
The door to the cab burst open and hit the wall with a crack that made her insides cringe. Light from the windshield highlighted Jang’s body as he stepped into the back. “Where is it, you fucking bitches?”
Gabi mirrored Jessica’s baffled expression.
“Fine, I’ll find it myself.” He still walked as if his balls hurt. Avoiding her feet, he yanked Gabi sideways until the restraints pulled her arms straight. The handcuffs dug into her raw wrists. He tugged at her corset unsuccessfully, cursed, and started to unhook it.
Gabi struggled futilely, sick with revulsion. With fear. When her corset opened halfway, Jang grabbed her breast.
When he touched her, her thoughts fragmented with terror. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“What’s taking so long?” Cesar stepped into the back and glared at Jang. “You asshole, I don’t have time for this crap.” Pulling out his own cell, he punched in a number…and the phone by the commode buzzed softly. “You clumsy fuck, it’s over there.”
“Fine.” Jang squeezed Gabi’s breast viciously. “Consider this a sample for later,” he whispered and shoved her against the metal wall.
She grunted as she hit, and tears filled her eyes.
After retrieving his phone, Jang hit a few buttons, obviously checking the outgoing calls.
Not moving, Gabi watched, thanking God she’d erased the numbers she’d dialed. Her head pounded; her shoulder and wrists and breast throbbed with pain. If he came back for her, she might cry. Her jaw clenched. No. No, she wouldn’t.
With a shrug, he told Cesar, “We’re good.”
“Yeah, good thing for you, fuckup.” Cesar motioned him into the cab and followed.
“You okay?” Jessica whispered.
Gabi nodded, grateful she wasn’t totally alone. Not that it would matter.
Leaning her head on the wall, she stared at her wrists, at the mangled flesh and purpling bruising under the metal handcuffs. Blood smeared the metal floor. Maybe that’s why Marcus only used leather cuffs. She remembered how he’d stand close enough that her every breath brought her his masculine scent, how he’d hold her arm with a firm, warm grip while he ran a finger under the cuff to make sure it wasn’t too tight. She’d look up to see him watching her intently. His lips would curve-just barely those first few days, then more. The last two nights, he’d had a different smile: one that said he knew her, all of her-the possessive smile of a man who’d had a woman and intended to have her again.
Each time, even though she wouldn’t move at all, she’d yearn toward him. Toward his possession. No longer
And now she’d never see him again.
A slave. Would they break her? Maybe? Or maybe she’d die first, her body as mangled as her wrists, her voice gone from screaming. A shudder seized her. She wasn’t especially afraid to die. Everybody did, sooner or later. But the thought of what came before death, that someone would deliberately inflict horrible, crushing pain on her… As her hands trembled, the blood oozing from her wrists splattered on the floor.
And if she managed to attract attention, then maybe-even if she died-maybe Kim or Jessica might get rescued.
Her spine straightened. Pretty weak plan, but it helped take her another step away from losing control.
As the truck rumbled down the road, she mentally pulled up her big-girl panties-and she really, really wished she’d worn panties rather than a thong-and turned to Jessica. “You know, I had all these great insults to use at the Shadowlands, but I forgot to yell them at Jang. Wanna hear them?”
Jessica stared at her, then sucked in a shaky breath and grinned. “Sure. I’ll trade you some of my favorites.”
“Cool. My favorite is: Your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory.”
“Nah. Jang’s too stupid to get the meaning.” Jessica thought. “How about: Why don’t you check eBay and see if they have a life for sale?”
Gabi grinned. “Not bad. Hmm-oh, I know… Is that your face or did your neck just throw up.”
The sputter of laughter Jessica gave made Gabi’s heart lighten. It was good not to be alone.
In increasing frustration, Zachary watched as the FBI agents tried to find something, anything to point them in the right direction. Dammit, where would the pickup happen? His fear for Jessica knotted his guts until he stood and paced the kitchen. Again.
From the bedroom came the sound of plaintive meows. He’d been in there earlier, holding and petting the two felines while Vance searched the apartment. The cats wanted Gabrielle. Maybe as much as he wanted Jessica. He ran his hand through his hair, craving her so badly his arms ached. Needing to shake her silly for scaring him, to hold her and let her know what she meant to him. All he could think about was how unhappy she’d been last night. Because of him.
He stared at his hands, useless with no target in sight. This not knowing…not being able to act…
On the decrepit sofa, Galen had his bad leg extended. As he talked on his cell phone, his face slowly reddened with anger, and his low voice sharpened to such a cutting edge that the other person probably had blood pooling at his feet. With a low curse, the agent snapped the phone closed and called over one of the local agents. “Campbell, meet Rhodes at your office. Grill him for anything he saw last night.”
“What happened to him?” Campbell asked. “Why isn’t he here? Is he okay? Where’s Ms. Renard?”
Galen’s eyes had darkened to total black. “The fucking asshole says Gabrielle lost her temper and punched him. Broke his nose. He spent the night in an ER, waiting to get it set.”
Campbell stared. “He left her and didn’t call in?”
“What kind of training do your agents have?” Marcus snapped.
Galen took the verbal hit without wincing. “He thought the investigation was over. Last night an agent assigned to another decoy caught a man attacking a woman behind the St. Pete club. The woman was knocked unconscious during the fight, and Thompson believed he’d got the unsub. He called Rhodes to gloat.”
“It wasn’t the kidnapper?” Zachary asked, already knowing the answer.
“Just a couple from the club wanting to play out a rape scenario. Once the woman woke up and explained, we released the man. But Thompson didn’t bother to call Rhodes back.”
“So Rhodes is free and clear?” Marcus’s hands had fisted. Zachary gave him a warning look.
“No, Marcus,” Vance said. “No matter what, he should have arranged coverage for her. We’ll deal with him later.”
Marcus stilled and visibly forced himself to relax. “I overreacted, gentlemen. Please forgive me.”
Galen gave him a thin smile. “Consider him dead meat, Marcus. You have my word.”
Zachary turned and paced back across the room, his need to do something ratcheting up another notch. Do anything-take the car and yell their names at every corner.
With the noise of the various conversations, Zachary at first didn’t hear the music coming from the bedroom. Mangione’s “Feels So Good.” His cell’s ringtone. “No!”
He tore across the apartment, shoved the door open, tripping over the cats and somehow managing to kick the door shut behind him before they escaped. He grabbed his jacket from the bed and yanked the cell out of the pocket.
The ringing stopped.
