Love You Madly

by Ashlee Mallory

  A bed. It felt like a bed, the sheets cool against her back.

  Only he didn’t release her immediately. Instead, his face loomed above her while his hands roamed up her leg and slithered over her hip. He massaged a breast, and she fought the urge to kick him in the groin.

  “You’re going to like what I do to you, honey,” he said, his voice rough, just above a whisper. His fingers pinched her nipple, sending pain through her, but she only turned her head away from his hot fetid breath.

  “Cal? We need your help here,” someone shouted from downstairs, stopping him from making good on his promise.

  Whatever hope she’d had that Cal would think she was too out of it to escape dissolved when he grabbed each wrist and wrapped a scarf around them, binding them tight.

  He heaved himself from the bed. “I’ll see you a little later,” he promised and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

  Now she just had to wait.

  …

  Seeing the guy practically maul Meredith as he’d picked her up and carried her inside nearly killed him. But Travis knew he had to wait. Bide his time.

  In the seconds it took for the cowboy to carry Meredith into the house, he’d spotted three guys at the table inside, drinks at their side. If he was lucky, they’d have consumed enough to slow any defense they might give him. Patiently he’d hid behind a workbench as Matt drove Bonnie away, and someone came out long enough to shut the garage again.

  If Matt knew what was good for him, he’d skip town forever and quick. It wouldn’t take long for the guys to realize who’d been the leak, and Travis didn’t think the consequences would be light.

  He waited until the light inside the garage turned off before he made his way across the cement floor and up the three stairs to press his ear to the door.

  “Cal? Come on, man. Get your ass down here. We got checks to do,” someone called out. A chair squeaked as the occupant rose, and Travis made out footsteps walking farther away. Leaving two guys on the other side of the door. He waited another minute and burst into the room.

  The first guy only had time to look up in shock as Travis sliced his hand through the air and into the guy’s windpipe, cutting off any scream or warning before slamming his head against the table, effectively knocking him out.

  The other guy had risen to his feet and drawn a gun by the time Travis could turn his attention to him. He struck his leg out and kicked the guy in the wrist, hoping to disarm him before the gun could go off and all forces would descend on him. The move was successful, and the wrist cracked. Travis grabbed the guy’s outstretched arm and brought it down in another quick snap, breaking it. Then he pulled his own gun and brought the butt down on the guy’s head.

  Both were neutralized within a minute.

  Quickly, he pulled the prone bodies into the next room—a front room, from the looks of it, swathed in darkness, where they wouldn’t be easily spotted.

  Meredith was upstairs. He knew that. He passed the basement stairs, where the faint sound of music could be heard, and crept down the dark hallway. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused to listen for any approaching footsteps. He still wasn’t sure where the third guy and Cal had gone.

  Sure the way was clear, he went up and checked the first room. Empty, but the messy bed told him someone had been in it recently. He glanced into a bathroom that was also empty save for a roll of toilet paper, paper towels, and several used syringes lying on the counter.

  He found her in the next room. Alone.

  “Mer?” He slipped in and knelt next to her on the bed, loosening her restraints. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “He went back downstairs.” She sat up and rubbed her wrists, no longer encumbered. “There’s a basement.”

  “I’m heading there next, after I’ve checked the last two rooms up here. Just to be sure.”

  Meredith swung her legs off the bed and stood. “I’m coming with you.”

  No way in hell was he risking her following him to the basement, but he’d humor her for now, since as far as he could tell, the men had gone downstairs, leaving the upstairs unguarded.

  He crept to the next room and looked in. This room, like the others, was dark, with tarp- covered windows. The only light a small night-light near the floor. And empty.

  Across the hall was the last room, and certain no one was coming up the stairs, he and Meredith crossed to it and peered inside. This one…wasn’t empty.

  A still form lay on the bed. He tried the light switch, but nothing happened. Meredith’s eyes had taken longer to adjust, and when she finally realized there was someone there, she raced in, sitting on the end of the bed.

  Dark hair. Definitely a girl.

  The stillness of the form didn’t bode well. He couldn’t risk Meredith unraveling. Especially if…

  As if reading his thoughts, Meredith looked up at him, fear in her eyes, and he grabbed his phone from his pocket. Using the brightness of the screen, he lit the room. And the figure on the bed.

  She had a young face that was probably once pretty but now in death was robbed of innocence and life.

  Meredith drew in her breath as she leaned forward, clutching her stomach, breathing becoming shallow. But the girl’s hair was almost black, silky, unlike the light brown of Meredith’s daughter.

  She finally spoke. “It’s not her.” Her voice rang hollow. No emotion.

  The eyes that looked up in eerie silence were odd in color, clearly holding no life. From the makeshift tourniquet around the arm, he was certain it had been an OD. Drugging the girls, ensuring their compliance with a drug-induced state of euphoria certainly would have benefits to an enterprise like this. But as evidenced by the poor girl before them, it also had its risks.

  Travis had needed proof that something illegal was going on here. The girl alone might not be enough to prove his entire theory, but her death warranted a call. She needed to be taken care of. “Mer? You still have your phone?”

  She pulled out the phone, still tucked in her cleavage, and held it up.

  “I’m going to take a look in the basement. You call the police. Report her death.” His voice turned hard. He couldn’t have her follow him. “And stay here.”

  Meredith turned to look at the girl. “Okay. I’ll stay with her. Go find Darcy.”

  He didn’t hesitate and turned to retrace his steps all the way back until he reached the landing to the basement. There was a closed door at the bottom of the stairs, preventing him from knowing what he was about to walk into.

  The music grew louder as he reached the bottom and stopped at the door, straining his ears to hear beyond the door and the music.

  Rutting. That’s the best way to describe what he heard. And whimpering.

  A hot, angry rage surged through him. His gun in his hand, he opened the door and was embraced by more darkness.

  He shut the door quietly behind him and waited, his eyes adjusting again. A dim light threw a little brightness farther on down the empty hall. But the hall turned right and extended farther, to where he didn’t know. Maybe that’s where the last two guys were now.

  The sounds, though, the rutting, were coming from behind a sheet to his left. The whole hallway was a makeshift motel almost, with sheets strewn over rope to make doorways. He pushed the sheets to his left open, his gun at the ready.

  A guy with a flabby white ass was gyrating over a young girl with bright blond hair who was staring up with glazed eyes. She was barely even conscious. The pervert hadn’t yet noticed Travis’s presence behind him.

  Trying to still the force of violence that simmered inside, Travis stepped in and slammed his gun into the guy’s skull, feeling little satisfaction as he stilled and then dropped like a stone. Disgusted, Travis pushed the body off the girl, trying to see if she was okay. Her eyes closed, and she moved her head back and forth, almost as if in sleep. She couldn’t walk. But at least she couldn’t be raped again in the time it would take for the police to arrive.

  Outside
the curtain, he heard the quiet murmuring of two men. The sounds were moving closer, so Travis waited.

  “Two johns left. It’s almost twelve, nearly curfew. We’ll give them another fifteen and clear them out. Then I’m going to give the li’l brunette upstairs a ride. Did you see the ass on her? Almost as full and ripe as those tits. You want to join me?”

  “If Lance sent her over, I wouldn’t touch her if I were you. She must be saved for something big, probably tomorrow night’s sale. It’s your ass if you mess it up.”

  The other man snorted. “Well, it don’t hurt to touch. Wonder why they’re waiting so long. They usually like all the merchandise sold and shipped by nightfall. Seems risky to wait so long.”

  “It’s because he’s got some big fancy function tomorrow. Can’t have the auction until after. Then we’ll all get our cut and can haul ass.”

  They passed by and Travis barely managed to restrain the urge to put a bullet in both guys’ brains now. But sanity returned, and he waited until their footsteps were on the stairs. He was certain another guard had to be around down here somewhere, though. They wouldn’t leave their “merchandise” unattended. He’d have to be careful.

  He checked the girl again. Short blond hair. Maybe nineteen. Twenty.

  Not Darcy.

  He stepped over the guy out cold on the floor and pushed the sheets aside to the next room. Another girl. Alone. He crept close and placed his hand to her neck. Warm. She was sleeping. Also not Darcy.

  He went through two more rooms before he reached one where soft grunts told him he’d found the other john. This time he must not have been as stealthy, because the guy turned and barked, “Get the hell out, man.”

  Travis slammed his hand into the guy’s nose. The guy howled in pain and dropped to the floor, holding his hands over the blood now pouring out, not about to put up a fight.

  But it was too late, as there was a shout from upstairs and footsteps barreling back down the stairs just as a guy dived inside headfirst and caught Travis in the gut. They slammed into the wall behind him, and for a moment Travis saw stars as his head hit the cement wall.

  Damn. There went his element of surprise.

  …

  Meredith struggled to remember the address where they were to relay to the 9-1-1 operator and then stayed on the line for what felt like forever as they confirmed her location. All the while, she stared at the still figure on the bed, her heart aching for the girl and whatever she’d been put through. What if it had been Darcy?

  The shouting down below sent her heart racing and, despite the responder’s request that she stay on the line, Meredith hung up and went to the door, trying to hear what was happening.

  She risked a peek, only to see Cal, the guy who had carried her, racing back up. She quickly hid behind the door, as he bounded into the room where he’d deposited her. Crap. He wasn’t going to stop until he found her. She looked around for somewhere to hide, but other than the bed, there was nothing but a closet. And that would be the first place he’d look.

  She dropped to her knees. It would be tight, but she could probably slink under the bed. Slowly, feet first, she inched back until she was flat on her belly, looking out from under the bed. From here she had a clear view of the door.

  She waited.

  The seconds went by, and she heard the flurry down the hall as he ripped through the remaining rooms. Why didn’t she have a weapon? A knife at least? Something she could use. Her cell phone hardly seemed enough.

  Then he was there. His boots were all she could see as he strode in, slamming his hand against a wall as he passed it. At the bed, he stopped, probably looking down at the dead girl. Meredith held her breath, hoping he couldn’t hear the beating of her heart—it felt so loud thrumming in her ears.

  He walked a few steps away, pulling the closet door open with such force it careened into the wall and she flinched. He thrashed about inside until, satisfied she wasn’t there, he came back out and flew out of the room.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief.

  She was safe. The entire house felt silent now, and she wondered what Travis was doing, if he’d found Darcy, if she was safe—

  The boots returned, and before she could blink, Cal had crossed the room and bent down. Meeting her gaze.

  “Didn’t think you were going to get away, did you?”

  Then he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her out.

  …

  The last conscious guy was determined to hold out. Travis eyed the restraints this scum had likely used on dozens of girls before and used them to wrap around the guy’s wrists.

  The man chuckled. “What, you think you can make me talk? I got nothing to lose.”

  “Wrong.” Travis shot the guy in the shoulder. But other than sucking air in a little tighter and grimacing, he didn’t say anything. “You’re going to tell me about this sale you and your buddy were talking about. Where it’s at. Who the guy in charge is.”

  He didn’t respond, looking stubbornly away from Travis.

  Travis put a bullet in the guy’s left knee. This time he howled in pain.

  “You’ll be lucky if they manage to put that kneecap back together. So don’t screw with me again. Now…” Travis aimed the gun in the direction of the guy’s groin. “Tell me what you know or I’ll make sure you lose the physical capacity to screw anyone again.”

  Man, the puns were rolling off his tongue now, like some bad B movie, but the guy didn’t seem to even appreciate them, as he actually shook. Whether from pain or fear, Travis didn’t know or care.

  “I don’t know the guy. I don’t. Never met him.”

  “Let’s start with what you do you know. And speak fast. I’m not feeling particularly patient.”

  The guy was sweating now and tried his bonds one last time before speaking. “Every few months, we get a call. That we’re back in business again, you know, recruiting girls. They all come here first for…examination. Some stay, but most go. I don’t know where, I swear. At the end of the one- to two-week period, they’re sold. And we all get a take in the profits.”

  “What do you do with the girls here when you’re—” Travis sneered and almost spit out the words. “When you have no further need for them?”

  “This guy Carlos usually buys them from us. Pays”—he stopped as a spasm of pain shook him—“five thousand a girl. He runs his own permanent business down south.”

  Travis grabbed the photo from his pocket. He’d checked all eight rooms for any signs of Darcy. Seven girls, all drugged up on God knew what. But no Darcy. “This girl. Where is she?”

  He blinked and squinted at the picture for a minute. “She wasn’t here long. Just long enough for us to contact the boss, let him know she’d arrived. They took her to another place to wait f-for the sale.”

  Travis leaned down and pressed the gun against the guy’s package. “Where?”

  The guy squirmed, trying to get away despite whatever pain it caused him from his bleeding leg. “I told you! Shit. The less we know the better. All I know is the sale goes down tomorrow. I don’t know where. We never do. They change. It’s usually held by seven, maybe eight, and the girls are sent off with the buyer. But the boss has some big party thing to go to, so we’re delaying it until midnight.”

  Travis looked at him another moment, meeting the guy’s wide, panicked eyes. It was likely as good as he was going to get. With a smile, he fired the gun. And missed. Intentionally.

  The spread of urine gave Travis a little satisfaction, but not as much as when he clocked the guy with the butt of the gun and he crumpled over.

  Travis had to find Meredith and get out of here. He did a head account. Four guys. He’d taken out, in one way or another, four guys. One was missing. The goddamn cowboy.

  Who’d had a hard-on for Meredith since he’d seen her.

  Damn it. He raced to the stairs. If that guy did anything to her, he wouldn’t get any warnings before Travis fired.

  …

  H
e’d dragged her across the room as she kicked and screamed, trying to loosen his grip on her. But the son of a bitch was stronger than she’d given him credit, and her fight had done little to deter him. She’d been helpless then, pinned against the wall, her wrists held painfully above her head. Trying to figure out how she could distract him when the inescapable sound of a gun firing had them both whipping their heads to the door.

  “What the—” he started.

  Not wasting a moment, Meredith took advantage of his confusion and brought her knee up and into his groin. The guy bent forward and Meredith used the inertia to bring her wrists down, breaking his hold. Still clutching her cell phone, she smashed it against the guy’s nose.

  He fell back, moaning and holding his hands protectively over his groin.

  The sound of sirens approaching reached her at the same moment that Travis burst into the room.

  He looked down at the pathetic lump on the floor, disbelief and relief on his face.

  Meredith was shaking, her body suddenly cold. That shot…

  “What happened? Did you find Darcy?”

  The pained expression that crossed his face didn’t bode well, and her stomach lurched. His warm arms wrapped around her just as her knees went out from under her.

  She let him hold her as he explained what he knew until the cops came in and the whole place turned to chaos.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was close to two in the morning before Meems pulled her Jeep into Meredith’s driveway to drop them off. With her car stolen and Bonnie probably halfway to Mexico, Travis had called the irritatingly adorable and brilliant computer genius to pick them up, certain that she would probably be awake and willing to help.

  Meredith nearly had to bite off her tongue to stop from asking him how he knew the hours the woman kept. It wasn’t her business. He could take up with whomever he wanted.

  At least, that was the lie she was telling herself.

  Fortunately, through her fatigue, disappointment, and irrational jealousy, Meredith had the wherewithal not to take it all out on the woman. Even when every instinct begged her to snap when Meems had asked the ridiculous question of how Meredith was feeling. Instead, she’d managed to smile and politely respond that she’d been better as she slipped in the backseat, even though that had to qualify as the world’s biggest understatement.