She craned her neck to see whatever she could out the window.
Gas station. He was standing near her head, pumping gas.
She blew a long breath out her nose and then struggled to investigate the ties around her wrists. Hell, maybe she could even get her ankles up to her hands and untie them first.
She wasn’t quite that limber, however. Nor did she want to be caught wiggling around in the seat. For now, she was safe. He would have to cup his face down close to the glass to see her through the tinted window, but she had no doubt at all he would make good on his promise and kill her without collecting the second half of his windfall if she gave him a reason.
What he didn’t know was that she would probably rather take a risk and go against her uncle in a fight than be turned over to the men who’d paid him to kidnap her. The thought of what those people might do made her shudder deeply to her bones.
Was there any hope at all Spencer could find her or lead anyone to her? She doubted it. The hacker didn’t have any idea any longer where Blue Cell had their headquarters or even any of their outposts. The apartment Spencer had been working out of was undoubtedly wiped clean of any evidence it ever housed a covert government agency within five minutes of Spencer escaping.
Seconds ticked by. Bianca flinched when Jorge locked all the doors remotely, the click followed by the beep making her breath catch. And then he walked away from the car. She assumed he’d gone inside, either to pay or grab something to eat or drink or use the bathroom.
Was he insane? She already knew the answer to that question. He’d been certifiable for her entire life.
Taking the opportunity, she wiggled around until she was seated instead of lying down. Sweat beaded all over her forehead from the effort and the fear as she scanned the area, trying to figure out where she was and perhaps make eye contact with someone out the front windshield.
Every few seconds, her gaze darted back to the convenience store entrance to see if Jorge might reemerge. She took in the name of the gas station and then glanced around the intersection, attempting to ascertain what town they were in and how large it was.
Nothing stood out. A few fast food restaurants. Another gas station. A strip mall. Where the hell are we?
Judging by the sun, it was midday. She hadn’t been asleep very long. A few hours.
Bianca looked around frantically, wondering if she could open the door to the car from the inside and fall out onto the ground if she had to. She started to bounce that direction, but the handle was several inches too high for her to easily get ahold of it with her bound hands.
And besides, Jorge was jogging back from the convenience store.
Her heart sank as she lowered herself once again onto the seat, fighting the tears. She did not want him to see her cry.
Seconds later, Jorge was back in the SUV, door slammed, seatbelt on, pulling away from the station. She heard the distinctive snap of the top of a beverage can followed by the fizzy swish that filled the air. And then Jorge was downing the beverage.
A glance up confirmed her fear. It wasn’t a soda. It was a beer. How many had he purchased? The only thing worse than Jorge Gonzales on a regular day was drunk Jorge Gonzales any day.
The gag in her mouth was soaked with her saliva now, and it was running down her chin. She fought it futilely, nearly gagging on the bad taste of it in her mouth and the way her tongue was trapped in the back. Her wrists were chaffing from the ropes binding them together and the effort she’d exuded to sit up temporarily. Her ankles were also bound with rope that was digging into her skin. She had no shoes or socks.
When a phone rang, she flinched.
Jorge answered it, holding the receiver to his ear with one hand. “Hello… Yeah, I’m ten minutes out… Yep.” He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, smirking. “She won’t be any trouble for you.”
Bianca swallowed. Please, God. Get me out of this mess.
Ten minutes. Ten short minutes until she arrived somewhere far worse than her current fate. And then what? What did these people want? No one understood yet what the goal was of this Blue Cell group. It made no sense at all.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. She would need her strength. Every ounce of energy.
Until the SUV pulled to a stop ten minutes later, she hadn’t realized she’d been biting the gag so hard her jaw hurt. Before Jorge opened the driver’s door, the rear passenger door was yanked open and someone large loomed over her. She only got a glimpse before he tugged a black cloth bag over her head.
And then real panic set in. She tried to breathe through her nose, but every inhale drew the material tight against her nostrils. As she was dragged from the car and tossed over the man’s shoulder, she fought.
An enormous hand landed hard on her ass, shocking her and sending warning bells up her spine. She hadn’t been spanked in many years. And the only man who’d ever done so had been Jorge. Had he been the one to strike her again?
Her ears were ringing, and every sound was muffled inside the hood. People were arguing. At least three men. Jorge was one of them.
“Fine. Suit yourself,” another man finally said, and then they were moving.
Pain radiated up her arms as she was jostled against this enormous man’s shoulder. Her legs jutted out. Her butt was on fire from the strike of his hand. And she still couldn’t catch a full breath. The only air she was getting was coming in from the bottom of the loose material.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She would be dead if she panicked.
Slow deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
A door slammed. A heavy one she thought was probably metal. Stairs. They were descending. Shit.
There was an echo, the sound of the inside of a stairwell that had no carpet. How many feet could she hear? She thought three sets. One was probably Jorge’s.
Another door. It squeaked. She bit down on the gag. Fear filled her like never before in her life. Nothing compared to this level of anxiety. At least when Jorge had beaten her, she’d known what to expect.
The man holding her leaned forward, and she was slammed onto her knees on the ground. She wobbled in every direction, dizzy and disoriented. He held her shoulders for a moment as if to steady her, though she wondered why he would give a single fuck if she fell on her face.
Whispering. Three voices still?
She focused on breathing, small shallow breaths now that seemed to provide her with more oxygen if she tipped her head forward to create a sliver of space at the base of the hood and didn’t draw in breaths that were deep enough or rapid enough to flatten the material to her nose.
Someone grabbed the back of her T-shirt, gave it a sharp pull that caused it to rip up the center of her back, and hauled it up her body.
Instinctively, she screamed into the gag, a muffled sound that came out garbled and made her nearly choke. What the fuck? The idea of being raped had never crossed her mind. She’d visualized many scenarios, all of them ended with her dead. None of them included sexual assault.
“Fuck, man. You’re right. She’s a mess.” The man who’d yanked her shirt up to her neck was now holding it at the base of her skull, his hand pressing her head forward. Apparently, not everyone could see her scars well enough, however, because the guy twisted his hand in her hair and held the wad of her shirt and hair, tipping her precariously forward so she was no longer able to support herself. He was holding her up by the hair.
And Jorge was laughing. “Told you. This bitch can take a beating. If you want information from her, you’ll have to strike her hard.”
Information? Another chill climbed up her body. What information? She didn’t have any fucking information. What did these guys think she might know?
Someone stepped in front of her and yanked the hood up over her nose. He didn’t remove it, but she heard the tear of tape and then it was roughly wrapped around her eyes, holding the hood in place. At least her nose was uncovered now. She took a deep breath in.
But what about Jorge? Wouldn’t he do the job himself even if the others didn’t?
The gag was yanked out of her mouth next, and she started coughing. More relief, but it was short-lived. As she tried to work the kinks out of her jaw, someone slapped her hard across the face, knocking the breath out of her once again.
“Do I have your attention, bitch?” The deep menacing voice came from a face inches away from hers. Someone had leaned down to get right in front of her. His spittle hit her in the cheeks. He smelled of cigarettes and stale coffee.
After several seconds, he stood.
She squirmed. There was no way to stop herself. She was being held up by the hair and her T-shirt that nearly strangled her. Her arms were still wrenched uncomfortably at her back. If the man let go, she would fall on her face.
“So, here’s how this is going to go.” The same voice spoke again. It was moving back and forth in front of her, pacing perhaps. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. Simple. If you refuse to cooperate, Jorge here will add to the stripes on your back. It would appear he’s good at it.” The man fucking chuckled. Like this was a game.
The guy holding her laughed also, his body shaking enough to scare the hell out of her as he jerked her around by the neck. “I would have been happy to rough her up myself, but I have to agree with you. This bitch has obviously responded well to Jorge in the past. Might as well let him do the honors. Fuck, I’d be willing to chip in some of my cut for this mission just to watch. My balls are drawing up tight at the thought of watching welts form on her body.”
So much panic. She couldn’t breathe. She wished for darkness. An end to this insanity. She was going to hyperventilate, and that would be a godsend if she passed out from it. In fact, she held her breath intentionally at the thought.
Another slap across the face made her gasp. “Do not fuck with me, bitch.”
Tears stung her eyes. Tears she had held back from the moment Jorge had grabbed her. They were trapped under the material and the tape, but they leaked out anyway.
Her face was on fire from the two hard slaps. Her shoulders were killing her wrenched at her back. Her knees ached from the concrete.
Death would be welcome.
But it wasn’t in the cards yet.
The man pacing in front of her spoke again. “We know you work for Project DEEP. We know your team is scattered all over the country right now. We need to know where your people are located.”
She gasped. Lucky for her, or perhaps for her team, she couldn’t even tell anyone where Grayson was currently located. She didn’t have the foggiest notion about anyone else. Montana was a big state. That was all she knew about them. This wasn’t what these assholes wanted to hear, though. So, she had a problem.
Another slap.
She stiffened this time, making the strike hurt worse than the first two. “I don’t know,” she stuttered through the pain. “I have no idea. We’re all on our own.”
“Not good enough.”
She knew what was coming next a split second before it happened. She knew because she would never forget the sound of a whip sailing through the air just before it struck her skin.
When it hit, her entire body was braced for the strike. The pain was instant and intense. Memories of identical pain swam to the surface as she pursed her lips and let her body slide into a space she hadn’t been for a decade. Two decades by Jorge’s clock.
There was no doubt who had struck her. He hadn’t changed a bit. He also didn’t bother warming up to the main event either. He’d swung that whip hard, so hard that she could feel the blood as it oozed out and ran down her back. With her arms bound just above her butt, he’d had no choice but to strike her below her shoulders.
A new sensation, however, was the sting of the stripes he’d made across her triceps in the process.
“You want to talk yet, bitch? Or you want your uncle to continue whipping you?”
She struggled to get her lips to part, but they wouldn’t cooperate.
The man in front of her grabbed her chin. She rocked forward, her knees threatening to slide out from under her. If that happened, she might choke to death on her shirt. It was already cutting off her blood supply and threatening to make her black out. Anything that took her out of this world would be welcome.
Jorge spoke, his laughter grating on her nerves with every syllable. “Might take a few strikes to get her to talk. It’s always been apparent to me that she enjoys being beaten.”
What the fuck? He was truly deranged.
The man yanked harder on her chin. “There’s a government bunker in New Mexico. Where are those people?”
She swallowed. “I don’t know. I swear to you I have no idea. That’s all I know. New Mexico.”
He jerked on her chin, drawing it upward. “Not good enough. We’re not stupid. We know where the fucking bunker is. What we need to know is where the inhabitants went.”
Went? “What… Do… You… Mean?” She gasped after each word, fighting the darkness threatening to consume her while at the same time willing it to take her away.
He squeezed tighter, gripping her so hard it seemed like he might break her jaw with his grip. “Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me. Where did your fucking team go when they left the bunker?”
“I…”
“Do it,” he shouted.
Another whish through the air, and then the blow. Harder this time. She thought her heart stopped. So much pain. It engulfed her and threatened to make her pass out. She was so close to oblivion.
Voices hung on the edges of her consciousness, but they were muffled now. Dim. Indecipherable. And she didn’t care. Maybe another strike hit her across the back, but she blanked it out, not even flinching.
A loud scream of frustration reached into her at the same time the man holding her by the neck let go. The last thing she knew was that she was falling forward. She was going to hit the concrete with her face. Before she made contact, everything went black.
Chapter 15
Grayson’s tires squealed loudly as he rounded the last corner to his destination. There were three black SUVs parked ahead of him next to an abandoned warehouse.
“I’m here,” Grayson shouted toward the phone.
“Get it together, Grayson.” Dade’s voice was elevated but calm. “We’ve got four men already inside the building. They arrived less than a minute ago.”
Grayson pulled the Corolla to a stop next to the assortment of larger vehicles, grabbed the phone, put it to his ear, and jumped from the car. He palmed the gun and held it in his hand as he raced for the door. “Call you back.”
Before Dade could respond, Grayson hung up. He swore he could hear his friend cussing through the dropped connection.
Grayson opened the heavy door slowly, listening for sounds. When he heard nothing, he slid inside. He found himself standing in a stairwell, and he glanced up and down as he tried to decide if he should climb or descend.
A loud crash followed by gunshots sent him rushing down the stairs, two at a time. He landed hard on the bottom, having skipped the last several steps in favor of jumping.
Shouting and more gunshots came through the door right in front of him.
He took a breath, ducked low, and pulled it open.
The first thing he saw was Bianca’s body on the ground. He only knew it was her by her dark hair and the size of her small body. He gritted his teeth and prayed to God she was alive. From his vantage point, it was a long shot. She wasn’t moving. Blood was running all down her naked back. Her head was covered in something black. Her wrists were bound at her back. Her position was too awkward for her to be conscious.
Please. Oh God. Please.
He jerked his gaze around the room, lifting his gun as he pushed the door wider. A few people were sh
outing. He assumed they were the good guys.
“Put your guns down.”
“Hands where I can see them.”
“Drop your weapon, asshole.”
The moment Grayson rose to his feet and pushed the door open farther, someone grabbed it from behind and jerked it all the way open. A man slammed into Grayson in a scramble to get to the stairs, knocking Grayson back so hard he was forced into the railing.
The man was Hispanic and the look in his eye was crazed. He lifted his gun and aimed it at Grayson. “Back the fuck up, asshole.”
A shot went off behind the man, making his eyes go wide as he reached for the back of his thigh. “Fuck.” He lifted his gun again, aiming it at Grayson.
Grayson swung his arm through the air, knocking the guy’s elbow as hard as he could, but not managing to get him to drop the weapon. Instead, the guy grew even angrier, his face turning dark, his eyes wide pools of hatred.
When he slowly lifted the gun back to center, aiming it at Grayson’s head, Grayson pulled the trigger, shooting the man in the chest.
His eyes went wider as he staggered backwards, finally dropping the gun while clutching his chest. He fell through the door, stumbling until he landed on his ass and collapsed. His gaze was still on Grayson as he took two final breaths.
Grayson quickly jerked his attention toward Bianca, finding her body in a slightly different position and moving. His heart started beating again. She was alive.
Marginally aware that the room was no longer filled with gunfire and shouting, Grayson lurched forward and dropped to his knees at Bianca’s back. He winced when he saw her naked skin marred with bloody welts. Her arms too.
The moment he set his hands on her, she screamed, jerking away from him. She had no idea who was touching her.
He leaned down as he worked the blindfold over her eyes. “Baby, it’s me. You’re okay.”
She struggled for another moment, but as soon as he had her eyes uncovered and she focused on his face, she stopped flailing. Her eyes were wide with terror and confusion. Her mouth hung open. Her lips were cracked and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth.
Reviving Bianca Page 15
