by Sykes, Julia
“Don’t,” I whispered desperately, losing some ground. Memories of being touched by strangers’ hands, of being violated against my will as I was unable to fight, danced across my mind.
Not again, not again. “Please, don’t…”
His soft laugh was cold and pitiless at my ear as his fingers closed hard on my nipple. I sucked in a ragged breath, clinging to my determination not to scream. I had endured worse pain than this. I had experienced worse pain than this and enjoyed it.
But no matter what I told myself, this was infinitely, inconceivably, more agonizing. I was being hurt against my will, and that made this horribly different from Clayton’s carnal torment.
The man wasn’t satisfied. He had told me he was going to make me scream, and he wasn’t going to relent until I did. The realization made my blood freeze in my veins.
No, Rose, I ordered myself. Don’t give in. Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream...
His fingernails dug viciously into my tender flesh, but I gulped back the sound of my pain. The loud, strangled sound that did manage to escape me seemed to goad my tormenter on.
“You can do better than that.” The way his hot breath played across my neck in a perverse, twisted echo of what Clayton did to me made my stomach turn. I felt traitorous tears stinging at the corners of my eyes.
He dug in his fingernails harder, breaking the skin as he twisted ruthlessly. My agonized scream was ripped from my throat, brutal and unstoppable. My knees gave out as the force of the pain made bright lights pop behind my eyes. I sagged against the man, and I hated the sound of my wracking sobs.
“I’m coming back for you, Rosie. I promise.” Greg’s voice wavered with his own tears.
“No,” I managed to gasp out. “Don’t come ba -”
Pain exploded across my cheek again, cutting off my words. I could have sworn I felt my brain rattle against my skull, and my abused face throbbed. My captor released me, and I hit the ground hard, unable to catch myself. Through my watering eyes, I saw Jorje slip the camera phone into Greg’s pocket before he pulled a black cloth sack over his head. “So you can’t lead the FBI back here,” he growled.
The horrible, bleak reality of my situation came crashing down on me: Clayton had no idea where I was, and Greg wasn’t going to get a chance to figure it out. No one was coming to save me. No matter how desperately they might want to. My life and Greg’s hung in the balance. And I was going to have to endure far worse abuse before it was all over. I prayed Clayton wouldn’t give in to their demands. After these men were finished with me, I was as good as dead anyway. I knew I wouldn’t be able to come back from that.
Jorje gripped Greg’s upper arm and dragged him away. Blindly, my brother tripped up the stairs as he was led up out of what I could now tell was a basement. The concrete block walls were thick. No one would be able to hear me scream for help.
Once my brother was out of my sight, the man’s attention turned back on me. The twisted lust in his eyes made me cringe, but I couldn’t so much as scoot away from him with my hands bound as they were. I hated the terrified whimper that escaped me as he roughly turned me onto my back. He crouched beside me and lowered his face to mine, his fingers gripping my jaw hard. I hissed in pain as they dug into my rapidly-bruising flesh. But the horror of that was nothing compared to the disgust that tore through me when his hot, wet tongue licked its way up my cheek.
“It’s just you and me now, chica,” he said softly. “And Jorje. And we have you for as long as it takes for your Clayton to give us what we want.” His grin was twisted, rictus. “I hope he takes a while.”
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes to stream down my temples, mingling with the sheen of terror-induced sweat that had broken out on my body.
The door at the top of the stairs banged open. “What the fuck are you doing, Ramirez?” An accented, angry voice demanded as the unfamiliar man descended the stairs.
My molester – Ramirez – jerked away from me to face the intruder. “Get out of here, Santiago, this is Furiosos territory,” he snarled. “Go back to your Muertos. This is none of your fucking business.”
Santiago’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms across his chest, his stance hard. “It is our business if you’re going to fuck the rest of us over. We might be allies, but if you bring the fury of the FBI down on us, we will gut every one of you. I know you found a narc and are trying to manipulate the FBI into turning over the rest of them.”
“How do you know that?” Ramirez asked suspiciously.
“We might be allies, but that doesn’t mean we’re not watching you, muchacho.” He imbued the word with as much venom as he could, clearly communicating the tenuousness of their alliance. I prayed they would tear each other apart before Ramirez could hurt me any more.
“What does she have to do with it?” Santiago jerked his chin in my direction.
Ramirez scowled, clearly pissed at his interference, but he decided to talk. “She’s fucking one of the FBI agents. We sent him a little message with her brother, and he’s going to give us the names of the snitches.” He leered at me. “I’m just having a little fun before I have to give her back to him. That’ll teach them not to fuck with the Latin Kings.”
“Maldito idiota,” Santiago cursed. “If you damage her any more than you already have, it will only teach them that they have to eradicate us. We’re gaining ground and getting rich. They don’t have the resources to stop us. But if you mutilate this girl, this city is going to be crawling with so many FBI agents that we won’t be able to hide.”
Ramirez frowned, mulling over this information.
Please, I prayed, a spark of hope daring to flicker to life in my chest. Please, listen to him.
“What the fuck is this Muerto doing here?” Jorje demanded as he returned.
“Interfering,” Ramirez snapped. My heart dropped as I watched his expression turn stony. Now that his friend had rejoined him, he wasn’t going to be seen backing down. He spat on the floor. “Just because you can’t get your dick hard enough to fuck a woman doesn’t mean you can tell us not to,” he flung the insult at Santiago.
The man’s fists clenched angrily. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Ramirez?” He demanded.
My tormentor smiled at him cruelly. “It means you can’t even fuck your own wife. Everyone knows she whores around to find some satisfaction.”
His face contorted with rage, Santiago launched himself at Ramirez, shoving him back against the wall hard enough that I heard his head crack at the impact. “That’s a lie,” he hissed, his expression murderous.
Ramirez just laughed. “I saw her when I went to drag my Ana Lucia home from a club. She was rubbing up against every man in there like a bitch in heat. She wants what your limp dick can’t give her.”
Santiago snarled and wrapped his hands around Ramirez’s throat. But Jorje was there in an instant, pressing the tip of his switchblade against Santiago’s kidney. “You should leave now, mi amigo. Or you won’t be leaving at all.”
Santiago’s expression was still livid, all of his muscles tense with the effort of reining in his violent urges, but he backed off, releasing Ramirez. He turned and headed for the stairs. The only man who might have protected me was going to leave me here.
“You should think about what I said,” he called back over his shoulder. “Hurting her won’t do any of us any favors. And if the FBI comes down on us, the alliance between Los Furiosos and Los Muertos is over. I’ll be sure to personally be the one who rips your hearts out.”
With that threat hanging in the air, he disappeared. The shattering of my heart at his absence was all the more painful for the hope I had allowed myself to indulge in.
Ramirez was looking down at me again, but his expression was pensive this time. “You know,” he finally said to his friend, “I hate that hijo de puta, but he has a point. Maybe we should at least give them an hour to send Baker back to us. If they stall longer than that, we can send Vaughn anothe
r little movie.”
I held my breath as I waited for Jorje’s answer. Please please please…
After a long moment, he nodded his agreement. All of the air left my lungs in a rush as I heaved a sigh of relief. I still had no idea how I was going to get out of this, but at least I had some time to formulate a plan now.
Ramirez clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Let’s grab a beer,” he said as he turned from me. I almost wept with joy as they walked away from me and slammed the door behind them at the top of the stairs. I heard the lock click back, but I refused to allow myself to be disheartened at the sound. Without their terrifying presence, it would be easier to think.
Unfortunately, my mind turned in circles as I realized again just how hopeless my situation was. I couldn’t dare to hope that anyone could find me. How could they possibly? Clayton had been sitting in the coffee shop when they had taken me; there was no way he would have been able to get to a vehicle in time to follow them. And Greg obviously hadn’t been allowed to see where we had been taken. He wouldn’t be able to find his way back to this hellhole. I started to cry again. It was going to be either Greg or me who died today. And I hoped it would be me. I wouldn’t be able to live with the weight of my guilt if he traded his life for mine. Even though Clayton shared almost everything with me, I didn’t have any information on the FBI’s informants. I didn’t possess any bargaining chips to talk my way out of this.
A horrible thought struck me. I shied away from it at first, unable to contemplate it. But the longer I lay there, my muscles growing stiff from lack of movement, the more the idea insistently pressed at my conscious mind. I did have something they wanted: my body.
They could take me unwillingly at any time if they chose to, and there would be nothing I could do to stop them. But if I offered myself to them, if I could please them enough, maybe they would let Greg go. Maybe they would decide to keep me, and that would buy Clayton some time to find me.
I had been with lots of strange men before. This would be no different. If I accepted them, it might not hurt as badly. If it was consensual, it might not destroy my soul.
By the time I heard them coming back for me, I had made my decision. This was my only hope. That thought made me want to laugh hollowly. What kind of hope was this?
But this way, I could survive it. I would survive it. And I would get Greg out alive as well.
I swallowed hard as they approached me, bracing myself. There was a third man with them this time. No, not a man. More of a boy. He was probably close to Greg’s age. The hard, cruel lines of that young face made my heart twist.
“Your hour’s up,” Ramirez informed me coldly. “Vaughn obviously needs some more motivation.”
I could see that the boy had a camera phone, and I knew both Ramirez and Jorje planned to take me, to torment Clayton with the images of them raping me.
Rape. I shuddered at the word. I couldn’t let that happen.
As Ramirez crouched beside me, I saw the light of the camera turn on. They were ready to put on a cruel, brutal show.
“Wait,” I gasped, my voice high and thin. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself so I could speak rationally. “I want to offer you a deal,” I said quickly.
Ramirez’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know something? If you’ve been holding back on us, your brother will suffer before he dies.”
“No!” I said quickly. “But I can give you something else. If you’ll take the information from Greg and then let him go, I’ll stay with you willingly. I’ll…” I almost choked on the words. “I’ll give myself to you.”
Ramirez was still frowning, but there was an intrigued spark in his eyes. “And why would I agree to that when I could fuck you at any time without your consent?”
“Because Santiago was right. If you piss off the FBI by not holding up your end of the deal, they will destroy you. But if you show my brother mercy, you won’t have to trade me for him. You… You can keep me.”
He cocked his head at me. “And what’s to stop me from doing that anyway if I decide I like your cunt?”
“Because I would fight you the whole time. If you agree to let Greg walk away unharmed, I’ll make you feel good.”
He grinned, and his fist tangled in my hair. He pulled me up sharply, and I cried out as some of the platinum strands parted company with my scalp. “I think we’ll need a demonstration before we can agree to that,” he said menacingly.
Fear spiked through me when he pulled out a knife, but he reached behind me and cut the cable tie that secured my wrists together. I hissed in pain as the plastic was pulled out of my torn skin.
“I want to see what you have to offer. Strip.”
My hands were shaking madly, but I forced myself to comply, tearing at my clothes in order to get it over with as quickly as possible.
“No,” Ramirez barked out. “Slow. Sexy. Make me believe you want our cocks.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to mentally take myself out of the room and immerse myself in a memory in order to get through this. My first thought was of Clayton, of the hungry look in his eyes when he stared at my naked body.
But that thought almost made me break down. I was betraying him by offering myself to these men. And if they decided to send him the recording of my shameful behavior…
No. I couldn’t think about that now, or I would collapse to the floor and my anguish would claim me.
Instead, I drew on my years of experience of flirting, of luring men in like the Siren that Penny had named me to be. But I longed to be a lioness in that moment. Still, I was able to fall back into my practiced movements, swaying my hips as I slowly peeled off my clothes.
My skin was freezing, and it wasn’t from the cool air that hit my exposed body. I cried out in shock and my eyes flew open as Jorje’s hands closed around my arms. The cable tie that he used to secure me this time was tightened even more cruelly than the first.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hating the way my voice quavered.
Ramirez pointed at the red lines on his cheek. “I’m not stupid. Your claws are staying sheathed.”
Jorje’s hands wrapped around my front, and I shuddered as he gripped my breasts. “Her tits are small, but they feel nice,” he remarked, as though he was appraising cattle for purchase.
I agreed to this. This is consensual, this is consensual, I told myself over and over again. But if that was true, then why did I feel so dirty?
I had a moment to register Ramirez’s merciless expression before he brutally drove two fingers inside of me. I screamed at the violation and the pain. My sex was bone dry and tight from my lack of arousal.
But it wasn’t enough for Ramirez. “You really are a slut, aren’t you?” He asked. “I hope your ass is tighter than your cunt.”
Slut.
A defeated sob was torn from me as I realized I wasn’t at all in control here. They were going to hurt me. But I had to pull it together, I had to try. Greg’s life depended on me getting through this.
Chapter 18
Ramirez pulled his fingers out of me, but I didn’t have a moment to experience any relief. Jorje’s hands were on my shoulders, shoving me down so that I fell hard on my knees. He grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head back sharply.
“I want to see how good she sucks cock,” he said to his friend. My stomach churned as Ramirez unzipped his pants and pulled his erection free.
Absorb the pain, I ordered myself desperately. Embrace it. You can get through this. Clayton showed you how.
But my joy from the pain he had given me had come from my ecstatic, willing submission to him.
You are willing. You are. You agreed to this.
Ramirez gripped my jaw, his fingers pressing against it viciously so that my mouth was forced open.
“Impress me,” he growled.
I tried to brace myself, but my mind rebelled. This was so profoundly wrong. I had told myself I was doing this for my own survi
val, but I knew I wouldn’t make it through this. Even if my body lived on, my soul would be destroyed so thoroughly that even Clayton wouldn’t be able to piece it back together.
Ramirez’s attention was jerked from me as the sound of shouting and heavy footsteps thundered above us.
“ROSE! Rose, where are you?!” Clayton bellowed.
I wanted to cry out his name, but Ramirez’s grip on my jaw prevented me from forming a coherent word. Instead, I screamed as loudly as I could, the shrill, harsh sound echoing around the confined space.
My heart leapt as Clayton appeared at the top of the stairs, his face contorted with the unbridled ferocity of his fury. His enraged roar and two gunshots rent the air. I heard my captors’ high, agonized screams, and something warm and wet splattered across my cheek.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jorje and Ramirez crumple to the floor, writhing in agony. But all I could focus on was Clayton. He looked so angry. My betrayal burned through me, searing my flesh from the inside out. Clayton could see it now. And he would never be able to un-see it.
Slut.
“What the fuck did you do?!” Sharon asked, sounding alarmed. “They were unarmed!”
“They had knives, Silverman,” Smith said coolly, his tone daring her say otherwise.
“Right,” she nodded grimly in agreement.
Clayton was advancing on me, his expression thunderous. I fell back on my bound hands as I tried to scramble away from him, cringing. Oh, god, he had seen me allow those other men to touch me. I knew when he struck me this time, it wouldn’t be meant for my benefit.
The furious light left his eyes instantly, replaced by concern and fear. “It’s just me, Rose,” he said soothingly as he bent to gather me up in his arms. “Don’t be afraid.” His voice sounded pained.
I began to cry as the taint on my skin touched him. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”
