“Humor me.” Carl pushed the leather band away from the wound around Noah’s wrist and doused disinfectant over the raw skin beneath.
Noah didn’t flinch. It stung, but he’d felt far worse.
“Hi, Carl.” Jenny’s soft voice carried through the room. The vet glanced past Noah and spotted the girl sitting on one of the counters with her back to the wall, knees drawn tightly to her chest, and a small paperback in her hands. Ratty jeans and a man’s T-shirt hung on her skinny frame. Jenny Myers had come to the ranch over a year ago. She’d been young, starved, and addicted to heroin. The girl was distrustful of most people, but highly protective of those she cared about. And she cared about him. Jenny watched his back as much as he watched hers. So far, the both of them had managed to survive.
Carl smiled at Jenny. “I didn’t see you there.”
She shrugged. “I told him that it’s gonna get infected,” she said, waving the book toward Noah’s wrist.
“Oh, give it a rest, Jenny.” Noah pulled away from Carl’s grasp.
He crouched, and Baby moved into his arms. The dog had been a stray a year ago; skinny, lost, and angry at the world just like he was. Through kind words and sneaking the dog snacks, Noah had gained Baby’s trust. He buried his face in her fur, and Baby nuzzled and nipped at his hair.
“Wait, how’d you get that bruise?” The vet frowned and reached for the collar of his too-big T-shirt.
Noah twisted, avoiding Carl’s outstretched hand, and straightened the shirt’s neck, covering the marks.
“Carl!” One of Manning’s men came to the door of the large barn. Outside, the sun had risen, and the man’s frame was a halo in the doorway. “You’re needed in building three. One of the Heifers is giving birth.”
“All right, I’m coming.” Carl looked at Noah and Jenny. “We will talk about this later,” the man said before he exited the office and left the building.
Jenny closed her book and tucked it away. Slipping from the counter, she approached Noah.
“I’m leaving here,” he said flatly.
Jenny’s eyes went wide in her pale face. “How are you going to get out of here?” She clutched the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You know they only allow you out for school.”
“Then I’ll do it at school.”
“Noah,” she whimpered, wrapping her skinny arms around him. He folded her into his arms and held her tight. He wasn’t going to live like this any longer.
“Maybe someone will save us.” Her voice trembled.
“Yeah, like that will ever happen,” Noah replied bitterly, blinking his eyes against the sting of threatening tears. He’d tried that route with teachers and the police. Their boss’s pockets went deep in this backwoods Oregon community.
He released her and she caught his hand, lacing their fingers together. He couldn’t take her with him. Jenny didn’t go to school. Sometimes, she could sneak out of the compound, but most of the time, she stayed there if she wasn’t being used.
When he got out, he’d tell someone about this place and have them come back for her. He pulled Jenny with him to the back door of the building and stopped. He told Baby to stay. Having the dog in the house would be like signing Baby’s death warrant. Sneaking a look out the door, he saw that the coast looked clear.
“You never know, maybe somebody will help,” she whispered. But Noah wasn’t going to hold his breath waiting.
“I’m going to find a way out, even if it kills me.”
A sound drew his head up and the soap slipped from his fingers. He cried out when Ricky Stevenson came through the shower curtain. Noah raised his arms but was no match for the man’s savage blows. Losing his balance on the slick tub surface, he fell hard and smacked the bottom of the tub.
“Get the fuck up.” Stevenson yanked him out of the tub.
Noah could barely stand when the man ordered him to walk. Slamming him naked into a chair, his stepfather put a gun to his head.
Noah coughed, gasping for breath and blinking the water from his eyes. Rage and terror brought a rasping sound of fury from deep in his throat. A hand brutally fisted into his hair, and the gun bumped his temple.
Terrance Manning stood across the room, watching and toying with his own gun in a display of power. The message was clear, leave and you die. Manning was massive, in peak physical condition even though he was in his late forties. The man was dressed in his usual military clothing with a crew cut to match, and his cruel gaze never changed. Something cold, dark, and calculating lived inside of the drug lord, and whatever the hell that something was, it scared Noah to death.
“I want you to be strong, Noah, but I don’t want you to be stupid,” Manning said in perfect German. The man took pleasure in beating toughness into him.
Stevenson shook his head while the fisted grip forced him to answer.
“Yes, sir,” Noah said through swollen lips, still blinking water out of his eyes. He refused to respond in the language of his beloved mother.
“The sooner you know your place, the easier it will be for you. We’ve been going over this for years, Noah,” Manning said. “Trust is earned, and you have yet to earn my trust.”
“Yes, sir.” This time, the words clawed at his throat and came out raspy and raw.
Manning studied him, and then said, “Stevenson is my right hand. You, on the other hand, will become my second-in-command. I haven’t wasted all these years teaching you the business for nothing.”
Noah shuddered, holding back the need to puke. He ran one arm against his dripping nose and it came away red, blood mixed with water.
Manning stepped closer and Noah froze. Keeping his eyes cast downward, he tried to stop shaking. The man’s gaze burned into him and he dared not move an inch. Long fingers came and pinched his chin, lifting his face upward until he had no choice but to meet the man’s cruel gaze.
“Try leaving again and I will personally be forced to punish you, like last time,” Manning murmured silkily and trailed one finger over Noah’s bottom lip. “You don’t want that again, do you?”
“No, sir,” Noah whispered.
A quick glance at the clock had him hustling. Stepping from the room, he closed the door and smacked into a hard body. Noah jerked back from the man blocking his path. But his actions didn’t stop Belton Gibson from stepping forward and crowding him against the wall. The thug’s face was a mixture of lines and pockmarks. The clothes he wore stank of sweat and manure, and the man’s stale breath only added to the smell. His smile flashed tiny flecks of brown where tobacco had lodged in his teeth from his snuff habit.
“Remember this?” The gun Belton waved in Noah’s face was just as familiar as the day he had first seen it. His stomach churned.
“Get out of the way, Belton.”
“Oh, come on, boy,” the man cackled, crowding closer, using his bigger size to intimidate. “It’s the same one Manning used.”
“Move,” Noah hissed between clenched teeth.
Belton put a hand to Noah’s chest and shoved him back against the wall. Noah sucked in a quick breath. The familiar ache in his back told him the bruises from his last beating were still there.
“How about we have another performance and–” The man’s words stopped abruptly when another man stepped into the upstairs hallway.
Noah closed his eyes. Great, just fucking great.
“What the hell is going on here?” Stevenson asked, approaching with a heavy tread.
“Nothing, sir,” Belton replied, snapping to immediate attention.
Liar! Noah took advantage of the distraction to skirt around Belton, but he also paused and stood straight, his eyes forward.
“Good, then go about your duties,” Stevenson ordered, and Belton hurried away.
Noah turned and then froze when his stepfather’s cruel grip closed around his arm. He tensed but kept his gaze downward so Stevenson couldn’t see the hatred burning in his eyes.
“What did Manning tell you about fucking around with the me
n?”
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Without Warning Page 25
