by B. J Daniels
The worst part was that she was so exhausted she wanted to believe him. No one had promised her safety in the past eight years, but just because no one had didn’t mean she could believe this one.
“I guess it’s my lucky day,” she returned, trying to roll her eyes but exhaustion limited the movement.
“I know. I know. I do. Don’t trust me. Don’t believe. I just need you to go along with some things.”
“What kind of things? And, more important, why?” She shook her head. Questions were pointless. The man was going to lie to her anyway. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Do whatever you’re going to do.”
“You fought me.”
“So?”
He stepped forward and she stumbled away. He shook his head, holding his hands up again, as if surrendering. “I’m sorry. I won’t. I’m not going to touch you.” He kept his hands raised as he spoke. Low, with a note to his voice she couldn’t recognize.
Panic? No, he wasn’t panicked in the least. But there was something in that tone that made her feel like time was running out. For what, she had no idea. But there was a drive to this man, a determination.
He had a goal of some kind and it wasn’t like The Stallion’s goals. The Stallion had a kind of meticulous nature, and he never seemed rushed or driven. Just a cold, careful, step-by-step map in his head to whatever endgame he had. Or maybe no endgame at all. Just...living his weird life.
But this man in her room had a vitality to him, an energy. He was trying to do something and Gabby hated the way she responded to that. Oh, she missed having a goal, having some fight in her. The weary acceptance of the past two years had given her less and less to live for. Helping the other girls was the only thing that kept her getting up every morning.
“What do you want from me?”
“Just some cooperation. Some information. To go along with whatever I say, especially if The Stallion is around.”
“Are you trying to usurp him or something?”
He released a breath that was almost a laugh. “N—” He seemed to think better of saying no. “Who knows? Right now, I need information.”
“Why should I give you anything?”
He seemed to think about the question but in the end ignored it and asked one of his own. “Is it true...?” He trailed off, giving her a brief once-over. “They haven’t touched you while you’ve been here?”
She stared hard at the man. “One time a guard tried to touch my chest and I knocked his tooth out.”
The man’s full mouth curved a little at that, something so close to humor in his expression it hurt. Humor. She missed...laughing. For no reason. Smiling, just because it was a nice day with a blue sky.
But she couldn’t think about all the things she missed or her heart would stop beating.
“What happened to the guard?”
Gabby shrugged, hugging herself against all this feeling. Thoughts about laughter, about the sky, about using her mind to put the pieces of the puzzle together again.
You gave that up. You’ve accepted your fate.
But had she, really, when the fight came so easily and quickly?
“I don’t know. I never saw him again.”
“Was it only the one time?”
Gabby considered how much information she wanted to give a stranger who might be just as evil as the man who held her captive. She could help him boot The Stallion out...and then get nothing for her trouble. She wasn’t sure if she preferred to take the risk. The devil you knew and all that.
But there was something about this man... He didn’t fit. Nothing about his demeanor or mannerisms or his questions fit the past eight years of her experience. What exactly would be the harm in telling him what she knew? What would The Stallion do? He’d been the one to leave her with this man.
“As far as I know, they can knock us around as long as they don’t break anything or touch our faces. If they go overboard, or get sexual, they disappear.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “How many have disappeared?”
Gabby shrugged, still holding herself. “It was more in the beginning. Five the first year. Three the second. Only one in the third. Then five again the fourth. Two the fifth, then none since.”
Both his eyebrows raised at this point, his eyes widening in surprise. “You remember it that specifically?”
Part of her wanted to brag about all the things she remembered. All the specifics she had locked away in her brain. All the patterns she’d put together. None of the girls had ever appreciated them. She had a feeling this man would.
But it would be showing her hand a little too easily for comfort. “Not a lot to think about in this place. I remember some things.”
“Tell me,” he said, taking another one of those steps toward her that made her want to cower or run away to whatever corner she could find. But she stood her ground and she shook her head.
If she told him, it would be in her own time, when she thought telling might work in her favor in some way.
He stood there, opposite her, studying her face as though he could figure out how to get her to talk if he simply looked hard enough.
So she looked right back, trying to determine something about him.
He had a sharp nose and angular cheekbones, a strong jaw covered liberally with short, black whiskers. His eyes looked much less black close up, a variety of browns melding to the black pupil at the center.
He had broad shoulders and narrow hips and even the array of weapons strapped to him didn’t detract from the sexy way he was built. Sexy. Such an odd thing. She hadn’t thought about sex or attractiveness or much of anything in that vein for eight long years.
She didn’t know if she was glad she could still see it and recognize it or if it just made everything more complicated. Far more lonely.
The eerie click of a lock interrupted the moment and he looked back at the door, then at her. His expression was grave.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “But this may scare you a little bit. That’s okay. Fight back.”
“Fight ba—”
He reached out and grabbed her by the shirt with both large hands. She screeched, but he had her shirt ripped in two before she landed the first punch.
* * *
Jaime pretended to laugh as Gabby pounded at him. He glanced at The Stallion, doing his best to stand between the man and his view of Gabby. He’d tried not to look himself, but he needed the illusion of a fight. A sexual one.
He couldn’t let his disgust at that show. “Senor?” The Stallion always got some bizarre thrill when Jaime called him that, so he’d done it with increasing regularity. Being the egomaniac that he was, The Stallion never got tired of it. “An hour, no?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need you immediately. Your hour will have to wait.”
Jaime scowled. He didn’t have to fake it, either. He wanted more information from Gabriella. If the woman had remembered how many guards were dismissed every year...who knew what other kind of information she might have.
Jaime inclined his head as if he agreed, though he didn’t at all. He wanted to get information out of Gabriella as soon as possible. The more he got and the sooner he got it, the less he’d have to do for The Stallion.
He gave her a fleeting glance. Those big, dark eyes were edged with fury, and she crossed her arms over her chest. The bra she wore was ill-fitting and he couldn’t help but notice the way her breasts spilled over the fabric even under her crossed arms.
He quickly looked back at The Stallion. He handed Gabriella the remains of her shirt. “Perdón,” he offered, making sure he didn’t sound sorry in the least.
The Stallion chuckled as Jaime walked to meet him at the door. “You could be so much better at your job if you weren’t so easily distracted,” the man said, clapping him on the shoulder in an almost fat
herly manner as he pulled the door closed, leaving Gabby alone in the room.
He didn’t lock the door this time and Jaime was surprised at how much freedom he allowed the women he kept there. Of course, the front and back doors were chained and locked even when The Stallion was inside, and all the windows were boarded up in a permanent, meticulous manner.
There were no phones in the house, no computers. Absolutely no technology of any kind aside from kitchen appliances. But even that was relegated to a microwave and a refrigerator. No stove and no knives beyond dull butter ones.
He wondered if the women inside knew that only a couple of yards away, in a decent-size shed, The Stallion kept all the things he denied the women. Computers and phones and an array of weapons, which was where The Stallion was leading Jaime now.
“We have a situation I want you briefed on. Then you may go back to our Gabriella and finish your...” He trailed off and shook his head as he locked and chained the back door they’d exited into an overgrown backyard. “Sex is such a base instinct, Rodriguez. Women are a worthless expense of energy. I’m fifty-three, for over half my life I have searched for the perfect woman and failed time and time again. Though, I will admit the women I’ve kept are of exceptional quality. Just not quite there...”
The man got a far-off look on his face as they walked through the long grass toward his shed. It was the kind of far-off look that kept Jaime up at night. Void of reason or sense, completely and utterly...incomprehensible.
The Stallion patted his shoulder again, tsking. “I know this is all going over your head. You really ought to work on your English.”
Jaime shrugged. It suited his purpose to be seen as not understanding everything that went on because of a language barrier, and at times it had been hard to remember he was supposed to barely understand.
But when The Stallion started going on and on about women, Jaime never had any problems keeping his mouth shut and his expression confused. It was broken and warped and utter nonsense.
The Stallion unlocked the shed and stepped inside. Two men were sitting on chairs around The Stallion’s desk, which was covered in notes and technology. The man strode right to it and sat on his little throne.
“Herman’s gone missing,” he said without preamble, mentioning The Stallion’s most used runner in Austin. “He didn’t deliver his message today, and so far no one has figured out where he disappeared to. Wallace, I’m giving you the rest of today to find him. He can’t have gone too far.”
The fair-haired man in the corner nodded soundlessly.
“If he somehow gives us the slip that long...” The Stallion continued. “Layne, you’ll take him out.”
Layne cracked his knuckles one by one, like he’d seen too many mobster movies. “Be my pleasure. What happens to him if Wallace finds him, though? I wouldn’t mind getting some information out of him.”
The Stallion’s mouth curved into a cold, menacing line that, even after two years, made Jaime’s blood run cold. “Rodriguez will be in charge if we find him. I’d like to see what he can do with a...shall we say, recalcitrant employee. ¿Comprende?”
“Sí, senor.”
“Wallace, you’re dismissed. Report every hour,” The Stallion said with the flick of his wrist. “Layne, have the interrogation room readied for us, please.”
Both men agreed and left the shed. Jaime stood as far from The Stallion as he could without drawing attention to the purposeful space between them. The man steepled his hands together, looking off at some unknown entity Jaime was pretty sure only he could see.
Jaime stood perfectly still, trying to appear detached and uninterested. “Did you need me, senor?”
The Stallion stroked his forehead with the back of his thumb, still looking somewhere else. “Once we figure out what’s going on with Herman, I’ll be moving on to a different location.” His cold, blue gaze finally settled on Jaime. “You’ll stay here and hold down the fort, and Ms. Gabriella will be yours to do whatever you please with her.”
Jaime smiled. “Excellent.” He didn’t have to fake his excitement about that, because Jaime was almost certain Gabriella had exactly the information he’d need to pull the sting to end this whole nightmare of a job.
And then Jaime could go back to being himself and figuring out...who that was again.
Chapter 3
Gabby considered taking a nap in lieu of lunch. Her little visit, which she couldn’t begin to understand, however, had eradicated any appetite she’d had.
That man had acted like two different people. Even the way he talked when The Stallion was present and when he wasn’t was different. His voice, when he’d spoken with her, had only the faintest touches of Mexico, reminding her of her parents’ accents—a sharp, hard pang of memory.
But when he spoke to The Stallion, it was all rolled R’s and melodic vowels. Even his demeanor had changed. That goal or determination or whatever she thought she’d seen in him just...disappeared in the shadow of The Stallion. He was someone else. Something more feral and menacing.
But, despite the very disconcerting shirt-ripping, and the way his gaze had most definitely lingered on her chest, he had been honest with her thus far.
He hadn’t hurt her, but he’d let her hurt him. Blow after blow. Considering she’d gotten into the habit of exercising to keep her overactive mind from driving her crazy, she wasn’t weak. She had punched him with everything she had, and though he hadn’t made too much of an outward reaction, it had to have hurt.
She shook away the thoughts, already tired of the merry-go-round in her head. If she couldn’t nap or eat, she’d do the next best thing. Exercise until she was too exhausted to think or to move or to do anything but sleep.
She rolled to the ground, then pushed up, holding the plank position as she counted slowly. It had become a game, to see how long she could hold herself up like this. The counting kept her brain from circling and the physical exertion helped her sleep better.
A knock sounded at the door, which was odd. No one here knocked. Except the girls, but that was rare and only in case of emergency.
Before she could stand or say anything, the door squeaked open and in stepped the man from earlier.
She scowled at him. “I only have so many clothes, so if you’re going to keep ripping them, at least get me some duct tape or something.”
He pulled the door closed as he stepped inside. “I won’t rip your clothes again...unless I have to.” He studied her arms, eyebrows pulling together. “You’re awfully strong.”
“Remember that.”
“It could definitely work in our favor,” he muttered. “Now, where were we?”
She pushed into a standing position. “You don’t want to go back to where we were. I’ll hit you where it really hurts this time.” Why he smiled at that was completely beyond her.
“You might literally be perfect.”
“And you might literally be as whacked as Mr. Stallion out there.”
He shook his head in some kind of odd rebuttal. “Now—”
“You act like two very different people.”
He froze, every part of his body tensing as his eyes widened. “What?”
“You act like two completely different people. In here alone. With him. Two separate identities.”
He was so still she wasn’t even sure he breathed.
“Two separate identities, huh?”
“Your accent is different when he’s not here. The way you hold yourself? It’s more...relaxed when he’s with you. Rigid with me. No...almost...” She cocked her head, trying to place it. “Military.”
She knew she was getting somewhere at the way he still didn’t move, though he’d carefully changed his wide-eyed gaze into something blank.
Yeah, she was right. “You were military.”
“No.”
“Police then?”
>
“You’re an odd woman, Gabriella.” He said her name with the exaggerated accent, and it reminded her of her long-dead grandfather. He hadn’t been a particularly nice man or a particularly mean man. He’d been hard. Very formal. And while everyone else in her family had called her Gabby, he’d been the lone holdout.
He’d never appreciated the “Americanization” of his family, even though he’d immigrated as a young man.
“I’m right. You’re...” Her eyes widened as she put it all together. Him not hurting her. Him gathering information. Being someone else with The Stallion.
He gave a sharp head shake so she didn’t say anything, but she did step closer. “But you are, aren’t you?”
“No,” he returned easily, nodding his head as he said it.
Her heart raced, her breathing came too shallow. He was an undercover police officer. She had to blink back tears. “Tell me what it means, that you’re here. Please.”
He let out a long breath and stepped toward her. This time she didn’t scurry away. She needed to know more than she was afraid of him. He’d checked the room for bugs before, and she knew they were safe to talk in there, but she also understood how a man like him would have to be inordinately careful. Undercover. What did it mean? For her? For the girls?
He inclined his mouth toward her ear, so close she could feel his breath against her neck. “I can’t promise you anything. I can only tell you that I am trying to end this, so whatever information you can give me, whatever you can tell me, it’ll bring me closer to finishing out my job here.”
He pulled back, looking at her, his gaze serious and that determination back in his dark eyes.
She tried to repeat those first five words. I can’t promise you anything. It was important to remember, to not get her hopes up. Just because he was an undercover police officer...just because he wanted to take The Stallion down...it didn’t mean he would. Or that he’d get her out in the process.
“How did you put it all together?” he asked. “I’m not...”
