Vengeful Bounty

by Jillian Kidd

  During one of Stefan’s visits with my “medicine,” he brought a tiny plastic cup with two, maybe three sips of water. My hands shook with real tremors as I grabbed his wrist, holding it steady, as he poured the liquid into my mouth.

  The taste of it filled me with life, a ray of brilliant sunlight during this dark time.

  But just as soon as the burst of energy came, it was gone, and I was left aching for water. It seemed he’d given me just enough to survive.

  *

  Sleep interwove with periods of consciousness, but the two soon began to blur. Times I thought I was awake, I’d open my eyes to find that I’d been dreaming of the empty room. So this was what it felt like to go insane.

  The camera stayed on continually, its red light blurring when I looked up at it. During one frightening moment of hallucination, it began to drip like blood.

  I shook my head.

  Only a light.

  How long had I been here?

  A day?

  Two?

  A week?

  Thoughts of death’s release frightened me, and I buried my face in my pillow to hide my tears.

  I couldn’t give in.

  I would not think of dying.

  Dying was not an option.

  I was going to find a way out.

  I had to.

  I had to survive.

  For my brother, for my father, for my dear little Rogue. For Jenny, for Jackson, for the suffering people like Leigh. For justice.

  And for me.

  So when Stefan entered the room with Roberto for my latest round of LSD Plus, I used my stores of willpower to listen carefully as they foolishly began a detailed conversation, which gave me significant information to start formulating a plan of vengeance.

  20

  “It’s been moved to Wednesday,” Roberto said. “Here is our list of attendees. Learn their names. I hear Mr. Merritt Walton is particularly attracted to redheads.”

  I felt Stefan’s eyes on me, though mine were closed. So the boys were planning on selling me Wednesday. That didn’t give me any clue as to what day it was now, nor how many days I’d been in this hell hole.

  Listen to them, I told myself. Stay alert.

  My body was so fatigued, so thirsty. So very thirsty.

  “We still doing this in New Orleans?” Stefan asked.

  “Yes. Same place.”

  “But don’t you think Bourbon Street is a little dangerous, with all the people?”

  “All the partying people,” Roberto said. “There will be five girls. We will bring them into the bar at different times, on a different man’s arm. Nobody will be able to tell the difference between her and someone who’s had too much to drink. I have already made arrangements with the owner to grant us exclusive access to the back room.”

  Oh, I wished he would’ve given me the bar’s name. But at least I had a street. And a day. My energy was returning, if only slightly. I was like a kid in a candy store—that is, if candy stores were sweaty hospital basements and the candy consisted of criminals making the cardinal mistake of saying too much in front of someone who could use it against them.

  “Where you keeping the other girls?” Stefan asked.

  “Around. You only need to worry about this one. Let me be the conductor of this symphony.”

  “With all do respect, boss, why can’t we just do this on Nando’s luxury boat, as usual? I don’t know how I feel doing it around so many people.”

  “You’re not paid to feel, Stefan. You’re paid to follow. Besides, we’re running things a little differently now. I have my own contacts, who will pay handsomely, possibly even more than Nando’s acquaintances. I am particularly excited about Mr. Walton.”

  “What’s he like?” Stefan asked.

  “I haven’t met him in person,” said Roberto. “The phone call I made was cryptic, with no image. He is an American, he has lots of money, and he wants what we have. That’s all I need to know.”

  “How do you know he’s not working for the cops?”

  “I pay certain men to find safe clients, just as I pay certain men to kidnap and keep guard over our Flowers. Do your job, Stefan. By the way, how is our little guest doing?”

  My heart quickened as I sensed Roberto leaning over me.

  “She’s pretty worn out,” Stefan said, with a hint of regret in his voice. “Do you think I could give her a little more water?”

  “Only the allotted amount,” Roberto said. “Strange… She seemed so feisty. The drugs have worked very well on her. I was hoping for a little more resistance.”

  I felt his hand slip up my thigh and rest on my nude hip.

  “Before we take her, I’d like to sample her goods,” Roberto said, his accent growing thick. “Yes, I think I will.”

  I tried to keep my breathing steady, calm. Finally, he pulled his hand away. Stefan shifted. I wanted to open my eyes, but feigning sleep was easier than acting drugged.

  “I must leave for the evening,” Roberto said, and my body relaxed. I hadn’t realized how tense that touch had made me until then. “I have another appointment at ten. Just remember the names. I want my gentlemen callers to feel as safe as possible on that night of transaction, and if a thug like you gets arrested with their names on a list, the police are sure to go questioning them. We don’t want that.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  The sudden edge in Stefan’s voice gave me yet another edge. The resentment he held for Roberto was only growing. If I could somehow pit one man against the other, I might have an escape route.

  I could “wake up” the next time Stefan brought me a pill and beg him for water, maybe use some of my feminine charm—as much as my sweaty, sleepy body could manage. I could act the frightened child, ask him if Roberto was around. Tell him I didn’t like Roberto, that I liked him better. The guy seemed stupid enough to let his ego get filled with lies, especially if he wanted to believe them. And I knew without a doubt he wanted my body, as disgusting as the thought was. If he got close enough, maybe I could distract him long enough to get the key away from him—the key to the shackle around my foot. I knew he kept it in his pocket. I’d seen him twirl it, and the shape of it matched the shape of the keyhole. He’d go for my water; I could free my leg, and then get out of there.

  The problem was that damned door.

  And the security camera.

  I didn’t know how many TV’s Roberto had access to that were feeding him my image. For all I knew, he had a handheld transmission that he could check at any moment. And every time the door opened, I was willing to bet he got notified about it.

  Despair filled my breast.

  I didn’t have any more ideas. I was going to be sold like livestock in a street market on Wednesday. Whether that was one day away or seven, I hadn’t a clue.

  My greatest hope was in knowing that I would be able to get away from these creeps once we were around people. Stefan would think the LSD Plus was still in my system, and I’d surprise the heck out of him. Then I’d get to a phone and call for backup. Roberto and his clients would all be arrested and the other girls saved.

  But after feeling his hand on my hip, I knew what was going to happen. Before we left for New Orleans, he was going to come in here.

  And he was going to rape me.

  And I couldn’t do a thing about it.

  * * *

  The sliding door opened and hissed shut.

  On my back with the sheet around my waist, I let my half-open eyes follow Stefan’s movements as he silently stood on tiptoes, reached underneath the camera, and pressed a button. The red light started to blink. He’d paused the camera. If Roberto were to look at the transmission now, he’d see me lying on the bed, staring into space, even if I were to get up and leap around the room.

  What was Stefan up to?

  “Thinks he’s going to get you first, does he?” Stefan said, going for his pants. “This’ll be just between you and me, sweetheart. Our little joke against the boss.”


  Alarm shot adrenaline through my limbs. The scrubs fell easily from his hips, and he stood in front of me with a gun in one hand, pulling at his underwear with the other.

  This couldn’t be happening!

  I’d already accepted the fact that Roberto was going to have his way with me. But I’d be damned if Stefan would, too.

  The camera light continued to flash. With every pulse, my senses became more alert. If I had any chance of escaping unnoticed, now was the time.

  The rush of blood to my fingertips made me itch to claw his eyes out.

  Not yet, though.

  Just a little closer.

  I hadn’t had the opportunity to move around and test my strength since being chained down. I could only hope that I’d have enough to do what I was about to do. My mind raced. Nothing like formulating a last-minute plan in a matter of seconds. Good thing this wasn’t my first time doing so. Last-minute plans were sort of a Maxwell family specialty.

  Stefan pulled back the sheet, exposing me fully. He put his laser gun next to the pillow, right next to my head. His face was serious, his hands fumbling as they pushed my legs apart. I slowly raised my arm.

  Then with every ounce of willpower I had, I threw all my strength into my knee, then slammed it into his naked groin.

  I don’t know who was more dizzied: Stefan or me.

  The room spun after exerting so much energy after not having lifted a finger in forever.

  Stefan hissed through his teeth, his closed eyes filling with tears, and he rolled off the bed.

  My hand wrapped around the gun, and I rose to my knees, fighting the urge to sway and fall back down.

  His curled image on the floor was blurred to my eyes, but I aimed the gun, closed one eye to focus, and shot.

  Then again, and again, and again, the zipping blasts of laser smoking, the smell of charred flesh filling my nostrils. Shaking my head, I blinked his body into focus. I’d gotten him in the head, neck, chest, and shoulder. He was most definitely dead.

  I jerked forward to get the key, but the chain around my leg yanked me back.

  No!

  I was maybe a foot away from reaching his pocket, my body halfway hanging off the bed. I didn’t know how much time I had.

  “Come on, Mina!” I grunted through gritted teeth as I stretched my arm out as far as it could go without popping out of the shoulder socket.

  Shaking away another bout of dizziness, I began to pant. I was going to pass out.

  Then I grabbed the hem of his shirt, which he’d failed to take off, and pulled.

  His body normally would’ve been heavy. But at that moment, it felt as if I were trying to pull a semi truck to me. Inch. Inch. Inch. He scooted closer and closer, my brow drenched in sweat.

  Just a little closer!

  Inch. My shaking hands wrapped around the keys, and I had myself freed in a flash.

  My mind working, I fumbled with his pants he’d graciously left on the floor for me to wear. Pulling them around my waist, I cinched the drawstring tight enough to keep them from falling off me. Getting his shirt was a little more difficult. After exerting so much strength pulling it up to his neck, I thought I’d drop dead on top of him. But then I thought of Rogue and how I’d never be able to see his tail wag again. Then of my brother and father, who would most certainly mourn my unfair, early passing.

  Then of Jackson—his sky-blue eyes and the way they sparkled, as if holding some secret he fought to tell me. I wanted to know that secret.

  I pulled on the fabric. Hard.

  Stefan’s shirt free, I tossed it over my head and ran in a tumble to the door. Stopping, I stared at the thumb sensor for what seemed like days. My thumb print wouldn’t let me through. But Stefan’s…

  I pulled the laser gun out from the waistline of my commandeered scrub pants and turned to his lifeless body lying on the floor.

  Hadn’t I promised to remove his fingers during that nightmarish pelvic exam?

  I do so like to keep my promises.

  Wiping my drenched brow with the back of my arm, I managed a smile and knelt on the floor, grabbing one of his lifeless wrists.

  I shot each and every finger off his hand at the knuckle.

  Roberto would get the message. And with any luck, he might even be a little afraid.

  Taking Stefan’s severed thumb, I pressed it against the sensor, and the door opened.

  Then I ran.

  The hallway was dark, this part of the hospital closed off, except to criminals.

  Oh, if I could get my hands on whatever doctor had given Roberto access, she’d be worse off than Stefan. Straight ahead, I saw stairs. At the end, a red EXIT sign. Gasping for breath, I had to grab the handrail to pull myself up each step, one at a time. My legs felt like putty, my hands slipping their grips, sending me tumbling on the floor not once but twice. Tears stinging in my eyes, I pulled myself up and pushed against the door. It didn’t budge.

  Shaking, I pulled Stefan’s thumb out of my pocket and held it on the sensor lock for a couple seconds before losing my grip, and the door opened.

  Without sparing another moment, I dashed through a storm of rain, the cold drops nearly throwing me into shock. I licked each bit of moisture off of my skin as my bare feet, fighting numbness, padded the wet, empty green back lawn of the hospital. I turned to try to find a sign, to figure out what hospital this was. I didn’t even know if I was still in Dallas.

  The rain fell in thick, steel grey sheets, blocking my view.

  I couldn’t stay to find out. I had to escape. Cover as much ground as possible until I could find safe shelter to rest.

  I pushed through a row of hedges, the sharp branches scraping bleeding cuts into my arms, legs, and face. Blood ran down my cheeks like tears.

  Horns honked madly at me, and car headlights threatened to blind me as I ran like an idiot across a busy street.

  I ran, and I ran. Until I could run no more.

  When my legs felt as if they would burn to the ground from fatigue, I stopped at a park bench and collapsed, never having felt so exhausted in my life. The pouring rain had lightened into a drizzle. I let it patter against my upturned face, my wet hair falling down behind the bench. I didn’t have the strength to stuff it in my shirt. If I was found, I was found. I could go no more.

  My body began to shake; the cuts on my body from the hedges throbbed. I felt warm blood ooze from the soles of my feet and knew from the needle-like pain when I shifted them that they were cut up, too. Probably from dashing across the asphalt road. Yeah, probably.

  With my chest heaving, I released tears of anxiety. Spasms of shivers took my legs uncontrollably in their grip. I leaned back and closed my eyes, begging for relief, even if it did mean death.

  Beneath closed lids, I suddenly sensed bright lights behind me.

  I heard the roar of a car engine.

  The slam of a car door.

  Feet padding the wet grass in slushy steps.

  Barely hanging onto consciousness, I heard someone say my name.

  “Mina!” said a familiar voice. “Is that you? I nearly ran over you back there! What—”

  Strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

  “Mina! What’s happened to you?” Panic in his voice. “Tell me what’s happened!”

  I willed enough strength into my eyelids to lift them. Jackson’s sky-blue eyes darted back and forth from my face to my obviously marred body.

  “Jackson,” I breathed, falling against his chest.

  My face clenched as tears flooded from my eyes.

  “We have to get you to a hospital!” he said.

  “No!” I cried. “No, no, no! No hospital!” My throat tightened, and I shook my head, letting him see the seriousness in my eyes. “Take me somewhere safe, not a hospital! I was just in a hospital!”

  “Okay, no hospital. Um—m—my house? I—is that okay? We’ll be safe there!”

  I nodded and looked down. The ground shifted, swirled.

  “Mina, will you
talk to me?” he asked, cradling my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes again.

  I winced from the pain, and he pulled back, his hands faintly quivering as he looked at the blood now smeared on his palms.

  “Please tell me what happened,” he whispered, tears wavering on his voice.

  I shook my head, biting my lower lip. I couldn’t tell him. Not now. Roberto could be right around the corner, ready to come out and shoot both of us. We couldn’t waste any time.

  “Somewhere safe,” I said.

  I reached up a trembling hand and touched the hard line of his jaw, unable to quench my tears. He covered my hand with both of his. All remaining strength seeped out of my limbs.

  “Please,” I breathed, “somewhere safe…”

  21

  I fell into a dreamlike state—a hazy half consciousness orchestrated by the kindness of Jackson Kincade.

  His urgent voice on the phone to DeMarcus echoed mutedly in my ears as I curled up in the backseat of his car. Jackson told him to come over, to stand guard outside of his house. He didn’t give an explanation and apparently didn’t need to, their bond of trust having grown deep over the years.

  I was vaguely aware of going through security gates then being pulled into Jackson’s arms as he carried me inside. My eyes shut, I didn’t see the elaborate doors of his house just yet, nor did I behold the curving staircase he used to carefully yet urgently take me up to the second floor.

  My head bobbing, I felt a plush bathroom rug underneath me, and I leaned back against cool wall tile. The sweet sound of rushing water filled my ears, the air perfumed with its mist. Slowly, I felt the sopping wet clothes I’d stolen from Stefan being peeled away ever so gently, and I was lowered into a steaming bath.

  For a moment I was jolted into total awareness, and I formed my shaking hands into cups to bring the water to my desperately thirsty lips. Jackson cautioned me about going easy, and I gripped the sides of the tub, allowing the small but potent amount of water I’d swallowed to bring healing bliss to my parched body.