Rock Bottom

by Canosa, Jamie

  The ruthless grip tugging me toward the ominous looking black van parked at the curb by the roots of my hair distracted me, so I didn’t notice the rusted-out station wagon sitting across the street.

  If I had, things might have turned out differently.

  ***

  Bruises formed on my back and shoulders as I rolled around the cargo area in the pitch dark. I tried to brace myself against the ribbed plastic flooring, but each turn sent me hurtling into one wall after the next. My mind struggled to keep track of them. Right, left, right, right, left, right . . . I lost track after that. It felt as though we drove forever. Too far to ever hope to find my way back.

  When we finally came to a stop, it almost felt like a blessing—until the doors were thrown open. I squinted through the onslaught of light. We were inside some kind of structure. I could see a white cinderblock wall. And just before the oversized garage-style door rolled down, I caught a glimpse of the outside. A large cracked concrete lot surrounded by miles of overgrown fields. Wherever we were, it was long forgotten by the rest of the world.

  A stocky silhouette blocked my view as the door came clattering down. I covered my ears and pressed myself against the back wall of the cargo area. As if that would do me any good.

  “Get out.” Light gleamed off of his shaved head, highlighting the scar in his cheek with deep shadows.

  I didn’t move. I probably should have. They weren’t just going to forget about me. Give up and let me go. My fate was sealed no matter how I got there. The only choice I had left open to me was whether it was going to be the hard way or the easy way. Like most of my recent decisions, I went with the dumbest one possible.

  “Now!”

  I planted my feet in a pathetic show of stubbornness. A low growl filled the suddenly too small space as the man crawled inside and grabbed hold of my ankle. A solid yank had me sliding toward the open doors on my ass. A switch of grip to my arm and a flick of his wrist and like magic I was standing.

  “Now move.” A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

  Rounding the hood of the van like a good toy soldier, I came to an abrupt stop. Inside the enormous cement room—which was all the building really was—were two other black vans identical to the one we’d arrived in and . . . oh, God . . . a shipping container. The big metal kind. The kind that could be loaded on a boat along with thousands of others and taken anywhere. Literally, anywhere in the world. Elijah wouldn’t stand a chance of ever finding me again.

  But that wasn’t even the most horrifying sight.

  Along the back wall stood a row of women—some old, some looked younger than me. They were all thin with long greasy hair that fell in clumps across their downcast faces. Dirt-streaked skin could be seen through the matching tattered sack dresses they all wore. Heads down, waiting obediently for their next command. All the life had been drained from those women. Even if one had wanted to run or fight, she couldn’t. Every wrist and ankle was cuffed to the one beside them. A despondent chain of humanity. And I was meant to be the next link.

  Well, screw that.

  With some sort of sick ninja move I didn’t know I had in me and couldn’t duplicate again in a million years, I twisted around, ducked under his arm and snagged the gun right out of his holster.

  For one endless moment, time stood still. My recently disarmed escort stood staring at me in disbelief, Brian retreated, and Damien stood stock-still, glaring at me as though the heat from his gaze alone could melt the weapon from my grasp. I almost believed it possible, myself.

  “Put the gun down!” I’d hesitated too long. Whatever I was going to do next, I should have done it before Brian took cover behind one of the other vans and drew on me.

  “No!” I set my sights on Damien. Let him shoot me. It was better than getting in that crate. “You put it down or I’ll shoot him.”

  “Star. Pet.” Damien tipped his head and smiled indulgently as though he were speaking to a whimsical child. “You think you’re going to kill me? You don’t have it in you.”

  “You have no idea what I have in me.” I hefted the gun higher, wishing it had some sort of hammer to cock for a more dramatic effect. Wondering if maybe it did. Or a safety. I’d never held a gun before. I hadn’t the slightest idea what I was doing. But none of that would stop me from pulling the trigger if that’s what it took. Of that much I was certain. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are they.”

  All of the women were watching. Some peeked through their curtains of hair, while others defiantly lifted their heads. The shortest at the far end of the line looked awestruck and terrified. A few even whispered amongst themselves, but none dared move. There were three men and over a dozen of us. It should have been easy. It wasn’t.

  “Dammit, Cross.” Brian flicked his gaze toward Damien. “We don’t have time for this shit. Tame the beast or I’m putting her down.”

  “Do it and he goes with me,” I warned. That’s when I saw the first hint of true fear from Damien Cross. It only lasted a moment, but a vicious wave of satisfaction washed over me knowing I’d been the cause of it. “I mean it. Put down your gun or he’s a dead man.”

  Damien glanced from me to the third corner of our cozy little triangle and back again. I would have given anything to know what he was thinking in that moment.

  “Fuck it.” Brian took a step closer, narrowing his aim and I knew this was it.

  My last moment on this Earth was about to come to an end. I’d failed one final time. Let down Tanner and Fawn. Let down all of those women. Let down Elijah. There was so much more I was meant to do. So much more I should have accomplished. But I’d never know any of that. The only satisfaction to be found was in the feel of the trigger squeezing beneath my finger.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  “Stop!”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Brian shift his attention over my shoulder and my finger eased off the trigger. All the color had drained from Damien’s face, but I was too busy splitting my attention between Brian and a new fifth member of our entourage to enjoy the sight.

  Echoing footsteps preceded him around the corner of the shipping container and I immediately recognized the second half of Rafe’s Dynamic Duo. And he wasn’t alone.

  “We’ve got a complication.” My sobriety sponsor shoved a wild-eyed Elijah ahead of him and came to a dead stop. “What the hell is going on in here?”

  “Bitch got the jump on me. Stole my damn weapon,” a voice behind me growled. I hadn’t been paying him enough attention and he was closer than I’d expected.

  “Back up,” I warned and he took a single step back, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

  Elijah’s eyes collided with mine and I swear I saw pride in them before his escort gave him one more shove forward toward the rest of us. “Boz, you friggin’ idiot.”

  “Well, where the hell were you, Hariri?” Boz demanded.

  “Thought I spotted a tail on the way here. And looky what I found snooping around outside.”

  All eyes turned to Elijah, including Damien’s, and a cold lump formed in the pit of my stomach.

  “I know you.” Damien scanned Elijah through narrowed eyes, searching his memories. I crossed my fingers and hoped like hell he wouldn’t put it together, but hope is a fragile thing. “You catered my last party. Got awfully cozy with Star when you thought no one was looking.”

  His gaze cut back to me and I trembled at the razor sharp malice I saw in it.

  “Isn’t that right, Star? Still planning to shoot me?” He waited for my response, but words failed me. “Bring him here.”

  The gun wavered in my hands as Hariri guided Elijah closer to our group. He had a gash on his left temple and blood streaked down the side of his face. I could feel his eyes on me, but Damien commanded my full attention.

  “Put the gun down, Star, or Hariri will blow his head off.” Damien shook his head and tsked when I hesitated to do as ordered. “I’ll count to five. One . . . Two . . . Three . . .”

 
My life I had no problem forfeiting in exchange for Damien’s, but not Elijah’s. Never Elijah’s. “Okay!”

  “Rylie, don’t—” A sucker punch to the gut silenced Elijah’s protest and made me flinch.

  Lifting my hands in surrender, I bent slowly at the waist and placed the gun on the floor.

  Boz was quick to retrieve it. “Now what?”

  He was talking about Elijah, but Damien’s focused remained locked solely on me.

  I’d woken the beast.

  “Rylie, is it?” He strode toward me, appearing completely in control, but I’d rattled him. I could see the rage bubbling beneath his finely polished surface. “I liked you better as Star.”

  He grabbed my wrist, spinning me around and wrenching my arm up behind my back until it felt as though something was going to snap. I went up on my tiptoes to ease the pain, but nothing helped. A quiet mewling sound escaped my throat and I wanted to shoot myself in the foot for being so weak.

  “Get off her!” Elijah struggled, forcing Hariri to holster his weapon in order to get a better grip on him. “Leave her alone. Rylie!”

  I bit my lip to hold back any more cries as Damien bent me forward over the hood of the van and followed me down.

  “Plan stays the same,” he told the others and then brushed his lips against my ear to whisper loud enough for all to hear, “Load her in the container with the others. The truck should be here any minute to pick them up for delivery.”

  Elijah quit fighting. He went stock-still. I thought maybe he was in shock. Then, out of nowhere, he blurred into motion, wrenching his arm from Hariri’s grasp and spinning around behind him to use the man as a human shield.

  All of which did him zero good when Boz’s weapon swung in my direction.

  Alone, either one of us might have stood a chance, but together . . . we were each other’s greatest weakness.

  “One more step and I put a bullet in her brain.”

  Elijah hesitated and I could have screamed. So I did. “Go, Elijah! Get out of here!”

  A bullet was still preferable to getting in that container.

  Damien shoved my arm higher and something popped. A wave of heat and pain washed over me unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I thought I might pass out, but I wasn’t that lucky.

  “Stop! Please.” My eyes were squeezed shut against the tears building in them, but I heard the scuffle as Elijah surrendered. “Don’t hurt her.”

  Damien released me, but I continued to lay slumped over the hood of the van, struggling to breathe through the pain. A tingling sensation raced from my shoulder to my fingers.

  “Rylie?” Elijah’s voice was the only thing to reach me through the haze of red buzzing in my brain. I forced my eyes open a sliver. He was being held by both Hariri and Boz, but he wasn’t fighting them anymore. “Are you alright?”

  I wanted to say that I was. That his sacrifice meant something. That he’d saved me somehow. That everything would be alright. But none of that was true. Tears scorching twin paths down my cheeks were my only response.

  “What do you want to do with him?” Boz gave Elijah a nasty shake and his face tightened.

  Damien looked right at me when he answered. “Kill him.”

  My whole world slammed to a stop.

  “No!” My sight splintered and the room broke apart around me like a kaleidoscope as I forced myself up, my arm swinging uselessly by my side. I turned to Damien, looking for . . . what? Mercy? The pieces of his face slowly fell back into place. “Don’t. You win, okay? I give up.”

  “Rylie, don’t,” Elijah pleaded in the background, but I tuned him out.

  “I’ll do whatever you want. Go wherever you send me. I won’t fight you. I won’t try to escape. I won’t cause any more trouble. I swear. Just let him go, and I’m yours. Please.”

  “My shining Star.” Damien’s fingers traced the curve of my cheek in a mock display of affection. “You’re so beautiful when you beg.” Then, his eyes turned cold and a ruthless slap made my ears ring.

  Or maybe it wasn’t my ears because Damien reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, black phone. “What is it?”

  His gaze sliced toward Elijah and narrowed as he listened to whatever the person on the other end was telling him.

  “It seems . . .” He hung up without another word and tucked away the phone. “. . . our little spymaster here decided to call the police before joining us.”

  A general rumble of alarm flowed through the men. More than a few obscenities were uttered.

  “What do we do?” Boz was the first to recover.

  “Finish him. Dispose of the body and get back here. Brian and I will deal with the girls.”

  “Noooo!” Tears choked me as screams tore up my throat. “Elijah! No!”

  Boz bent at the waist and a small, black object slipped from his back pocket, the clatter masked by my wailing. No one appeared to notice, but when he stood again and turned to shove Elijah ahead of him, his foot slid back, sending the item skidding silently across the cement where it bumped into my sneaker.

  “Rylie!” Elijah’s feet dragged over the floor as they hauled him toward a red Exit sign glowing in the corner.

  My knees buckled and Damien lost his grip, but it did me no good. I sank to the cold hard floor, a lifeless corpse, watching her soul being dragged away.

  .

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  “What about this one?” Brian’s boot nudged my knee.

  “Leave her.” Damien’s tone was laced with ice. “She’s not going anywhere. She has nowhere left to go, do you, Star? I’ll deal with her.”

  He’d deal with me? The way he dealt with Elijah? The way he was dealing with the other girls? Rounding them up and herding them toward the vans.

  Brian moved along, unlocking cuffs and pointing them at the vehicles. They went without argument. The gun tucked into his waistband might’ve had something to do with it, but mostly they didn’t put up a fight because they had no more fight left in them.

  My injured arm lay uselessly in my lap. Pressing my fingers together one at a time confirmed that each of the tips had gone numb. That probably wasn’t a good sign. My other palm glided methodically over the rough flooring, seeking something to ground myself.

  All these women . . . Elijah . . . there has to be something I can—

  Textured plastic brushed against my thumb. Thick and black inlaid on a silver metal frame about the size of my palm. I flipped it over and found a small, round button. A quiet snick accompanied the flash of a blade.

  One-by-one, the women climbed into the vans. All except for the short blonde at the end. The instant the cuff left her wrist she took a wild swing at Damien. Even with the full force of her body weight behind the assault it did little good, but I admired her for it. There she was, unarmed and outnumbered, and still she fought to defend herself. I had a knife. And the element of surprise.

  Shutting the damn thing with one hand proved impossible, so I slid it into my pocket, blade open, as I stood and hoped for the best.

  Damien snatched the girl’s wrist and pinned it to the wall with enough force to cause her to cry out. I couldn’t hear what vile words he whispered to her, but tears smeared the grime on her face.

  My gaze shifted from them to the door in the rear corner of the building and back again. Damien was distracted. Brain had disappeared into one of the vans. I could make a break for it. The odds weren’t great, but they were better than nothing. There was a chance Elijah was still alive. Maybe I could—

  “Ahh-ah-ah-ah.” Damien held the sobbing, terrified girl by the throat. “Please. I’m soooorry. Plea—.” Her pleas sputtered away, replaced by horrible gasping noises.

  Her hands pulled at his wrist, swatted at his face, shoved at his shoulders. None of it affected him. He took his time, using his free hand to fondle her breast while she struggled in his grasp.

  An image of her dangling from a dragon’s claws flashed through my mind and I shuddered. It was an im
age I knew would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life if I didn’t do something.

  The exit sign glowed, beckoning me. I turned away. Elijah, forgive me. I’m sorry.

  “Damien? Sir?” The interruption drew his ire in my direction.

  “Star.” A layer of frost coated his eyes, but beneath it . . . He hadn’t stopped touching the girl and lust heated his gaze.

  “I . . .” What the hell am I doing? Wide, wet eyes pleaded with me. Dammit. “I don’t want . . .” My eyes darted between him and the gaping black hole that was the back of the van. Closer, I need to get closer. “Please, sir, don’t send me away.” I shuffled closer and his grip on the girl eased. “I’m sorry. Please. Let me make it up to you.” I probably would have dropped to my knees and crawled if it would have closed the distance between us any faster, but with only one arm it was impossible. “I can be good for you. Let me show you.”

  “We don’t have time for this shit. The cops are on their way.” Brian glared at me, but Damien dismissed his concern.

  His eyes traced the curves of my figure. Even buried beneath a sweater, he knew every last one of them and managed to make me feel as though I stood before him stark naked.

  “They’re at least ten minutes out.” Damien shoved the girl—retching and sputtering—into Brian’s arms. “Put her in the fucking van. I’ll deal with this. You won’t take more than ten minutes now, will you, my shining Star?”

  I almost retched. “N-no, sir.”

  “Such a good girl when you want to be.” Heat burned into the base of my spine where Damien’s hand urged me around the shipping container. “Desperation does funny things to people. And you are desperate, aren’t you? How does it feel, Star? How does it feel knowing your boyfriend is out there taking his last breath while you’re in here . . . with me?”

  Any response I might have had for him got trapped behind the knot of emotion clogging my throat. A clang echoed through the massive space as my back was slammed against the side of the container and millions of white-hot needles stabbed at my shoulder. Damien’s laugh had a hard, ugly edge to it.