by Oliver, Tess
My sense of time is still weak, but it seems we've been driving for only fifteen minutes when the van comes to a full stop. We never hit smooth pavement, which means we aren't on a road or highway yet.
The door slides open automatically. I peek outside. The sky above is chalky black but filled with stars. The moon is nowhere to be seen, but there is enough reflection from the headlights to illuminate the landscape. Desert. Sand, scraggly bushes and a few cacti. My heart pumps and adrenaline brings me to full attention when I consider the possibility that I'm about to be murdered in the middle of nowhere. Alarmingly, the main thought running through my head is that Kane had so few feelings for me he had no qualms ordering my execution.
The only sound is coming from the engine of the van until a computerized voice comes through the speaker overhead.
"Good night and good-bye, Miss Smith." A sob of relief tumbles out. It seems death wasn't on the menu. It only makes the reality that I'm being dropped phoneless and penniless into the middle of nowhere a bit easier to accept. My mind circles right back to the same dreadful reality that he didn't order my execution but he rather liked the idea of me dying slowly in the middle of the desert.
The chilled night air envelops me the second I step out of the van. The door slides shut. I stand in disbelief as I watch it roll away, kicking up a ghostly dust cloud as it heads back to wherever the hell I just came from.
I wrap my arms around myself for warmth and to ease the pain that is growing in intensity. As my eyes adjust to the natural darkness of nightfall, I can see the silhouette of low mountains in the distance. My sense of direction is no use to me when I don't know my point of origin. I can only guess that I'm somewhere between the California and Nevada border, but it's only a wild guess. The first sounds I hear are tiny feet scurrying through dried brush.
I hug myself tighter. The tiny feet remind me that there are much bigger feet as well. I quickly think back to my elementary school habitat units. Coyotes, they are the biggest predator I can think of in the desert habitat. I stupidly decide I'm better off here than in the forest where there are bears and mountain lions. Or are mountain lions a desert predator too? I shake the idea of being prey out of my head. I'm skin and bones. The four-legged hunters would probably scoff and decide I'm not worth the chase. Not that the chase would be long. I'm at the weakest state I've ever been. Athletic, strong, tough Angie has been replaced by frail, silly, gullible Tawny who actually believed Kane would never do anything to hurt her. Instead he picked the most insidious way to kill off his Sweet Sin.
Tears fill my eyes but I wipe them quickly away. Dad was right. They only make me weak. And right now, I need more than ever to channel tough, strong Angie. Otherwise, the vultures will be having a feast by morning.
18
Maddox
Feeling a little like James Bond but without the British accent, I grab the asthma inhaler that instead of medicine contains a tiny tracking device. I rethink the Bond moment. The inhaler just isn't his style. The second I climb out of the Porsche, the same black limo that served as an interview location, pulls into the empty industrial lot. It's an abandoned complex at the end of town. It's fallen into disrepair and is waiting for a demo crew to raze it to the ground.
The limousine pulls up and the door opens. A big guy who doesn't need to be wearing a badge to assure me he's a bodyguard motions for me to put my hands on the car for a search. I bite my tongue to avoid losing my new membership into Freestone's club. He pulls the inhaler out of my pocket and holds it up in question.
"Yeah, hey this is kind of embarrassing so if you could keep it just between us," I add a friendly wink. "Whenever I get a little too, you know, excited. I sometimes get an asthma attack. So I really need to bring that along. Hope that's all right." I reach for it. He pulls his hand back and throws the inhaler and its handy little tracking device. It rolls under the Porsche.
"Wow man, not cool. What if I have an asthma attack?"
"There's a well stocked pharmacy at the club."
"Oh, shit, well, yeah, guess that works then." I glance back at the white and silver canister sitting quietly under the car. "Hey, is the car all right here for the night? It's kind of a sketchy place."
"You've got insurance, don't ya?" He asks before motioning me into the limo with his giant hand.
"Yeah sure." Hopefully Clark purchased the liability insurance to go with the car rental. It would take me a long fucking time to pay the department back for a lost Porsche.
I'm more than surprised to find that I'm alone in the limo. I relax back in the comfortable seat. The big guy leans in. "We'll be at the airport in thirty minutes. If you push the green button on the panel the wet bar comes out. Help yourself to the drinks."
"Airport? We're not driving to the club?"
"It's a short flight. The other members will meet us there." He shuts the door before I can ask anything else. Our plan to track the journey to the underground entrance is thwarted. I'm on my own.
I sit back to absorb what's about to happen. I'm about to enter the Lace Underground. There are a million questions running through my head. Will I find Ten? Will I even see her? If I don't see her, what the hell is my plan? How do I get to her without setting off alarms? And if I do find her am I prepared for it? I need to be ready for anything. Maybe a sampling from the wet bar is a good idea.
19
Angie
After what seems like hours alone in the desert, my resolve to toughen up crumbles like a dry cookie. I'm certain I haven't been wandering the sand and dust for longer than forty or fifty minutes, but it feels like an eternity in cactus and prickly bush hell. I'm so numb from the cold my teeth clack together wildly, creating a drumbeat in my aching head. What a silly idiot I was thinking that Freestone had a decent, humane side to him. The parties, the gifts for the women who are living on the streets, the nice extravagant living quarters for the women who work in the club, it was all just sugar coating on a bitter, poisonous center. Now he has shown who he truly is, and at the same time, it's been a fresh slap in my face. His intense lust, the obsession, it was all an act. I am as disposable to him as an empty cup you throw out the window on a road trip. I'm more angry at myself for giving a damn and feeling hurt by the betrayal than I am about getting myself in the situation in the first place.
I try not to think about Blake. If he suffered the same fate, then it was totally my fault. I have to push that anguishing reality out of my head.
For the third time during my aimless wandering through the parched landscape I hear a noise that I'm certain cannot just be a mouse or lizard. And for the third time, I convince myself to ignore it. It won't help me to start worrying about creatures with fangs and claws following me around in the dark just waiting for me to collapse in surrender.
Somehow, I'd brilliantly decided to travel parallel with the mountains in the distance mostly to keep me from going in circles, but when I stumble over the same empty soda bottle that I tripped over five hundred yards back, I realize my plan failed.
My feeling of hopeless despair has almost surpassed the physical misery I'm suffering from withdrawals and the frigid cold. Three wishes. I start a round of mind games to keep myself from full blown panic. What would I wish for right now? A warm parka coat. A head and body clear of drugs. And a fucking compass. Who am I kidding? I wouldn't know how to use it if I had one. I couldn't even keep parallel with a stationery mountain range.
The tiny ants have started their marching parade up the right leg of my jeans. I'm beyond miserable so I allow myself a good scratch. I yank up the jeans and rub my skin hard only to discover it's not invisible ants. It's the real thing, the big red biting kind. I glance down to discover that my sandal is sitting on the top of an anthill. The critters are swarming my feet and my legs in anger.
"Shit! Fuck! Shit!" There is no water to plunge into so my only course of action is to run and jump and shake the little monsters loose. The prickly feeling on my skin turns to a burning sensation. Te
ars sting my eyes as the cold biting night air chills my face and nose.
I continue to run blindly, now fueled more by anger and the fear of imminent death than the painful ant bites. My foot falls forward and lands in a deep natural rut in the dry earth. I fly forward and land hard on my hands and knees. Sharp plant debris skewers my palms and knees. The horrifying memory of the near rape suddenly overwhelms me. The panic attack I'd worked so hard to stay ahead of catches up and consumes me. Catching my breath is impossible and tiny dots dance in my vision. I push to my feet but the entire landscape swirls around me. I drop back to my sore knees and curl myself into a small, shivering ball. I close my eyes to concentrate on slowing my breath, filling my lungs, but each attempt falls short and I'm sure I'll never get enough oxygen again.
A sound behind me scares the breath right into me with a shuddering gasp. But I hold it deep in my lungs, not wanting to let it go, sure the sound of my exhale will alert whatever creature is stalking me. Not that it would be hard for any seasoned desert predator to find me since I'm out in the open. I'm frozen solid to the spot. It dawns on me that I might very well be sitting on the place on earth where I will take my last breath. I briefly conjure up a scenario where the department lays a tiny bronze plaque to mark the spot and preserve the memory of Detective Angie Tennyson. Maybe Maddox and his new perfectly perfect wife will stop by to bring flowers and pay respects. I'm sure Tiffany is a pink carnation type. She just seems like it. This new game of matching people to flower preferences takes my mind off my certain demise for a second until the desert landscape falls deadly quiet. I don't need to be a nature expert to conclude that a big, treacherous flesh eating creature is out on the hunt, and all the other animals have run for their burrows and rocks.
I have no burrow, only my own body that I have curled around me like an armadillo. But my skin and mostly fleshless bones will hardly afford me the protection of a plated shell. Do I get up and run, hoping whatever it is will not give chase? Or do I play dead, hoping the predator prefers live prey to carrion?
Dizziness, nausea and the deep dark feeling of impending death sink down on me like a heavy weight. I find myself wishing for a release from the nightmare, something only a quick death will bring. A shuffling sound behind me makes me pull my arms in tighter. My limbs are nearly numb from lack of movement.
A large shadow falls over me. I shut my eyes and wait for the end.
"Come, my desert mouse, let's get you home."
I try to reason whether or not mirages can come in the form of sound. I'm desperate and sure death is just moments away yet I'm imaging the deep, seductive and confident tone I've grown to love and to loathe during the last few months.
I feel movement next to me but haven't pulled myself from my makeshift shell yet. Warm breath brushes against my skin, contrasting boldly with the cold night air. "You've had enough and so have I."
I uncurl my shoulders and loosen my arms. My hands and face tingle with numbness as I turn my head toward him. He's crouched down next to me. There's just enough concern in his blue eyes to make me almost believe he might have been worried about me. But I know that's not the case. I should lash out, strike him, scream at him. Instead, I tumble into sobs.
He pushes up to standing and lowers his hand for me to take. I push it away but regret my decision when I try to follow and push to my feet. My knees are wet noodles. I sway forward, landing directly against his hard, unforgiving chest. Instantly, the scent and warmth of him melts my anger. My chest is heavy with relief.
I balance against him as he pulls off his big warm coat and wraps it around me. The gesture and the instant relief of warmth produce another round of tears. He swipes them brusquely away with his thumb.
The blood is circulating through my limbs again. The warm coat has helped clear my head. I'm able to stand on my own.
"You left me out here to die." My voice is hoarse from the cold.
Kane shakes his head. "Never." He pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Come get us."
I'm feeling stronger each passing second, mostly from knowing that I'm no longer in danger of being eaten by something with ugly fangs and sharp claws but also because I'm tucked in a warm coat that oozes his body heat.
I move my arm in a circle. "I could have been eaten alive. In fact, I was nearly eaten to the bone by piranha style red ants."
"Yes. Shit, fuck, shit," he mimics. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone rid themselves of ants by running."
"You were watching? You were the big, menacing predator stalking me in the shadows?"
He takes my hand. "Apparently my stalking skills aren't as good as I imagined. Yes, that was me watching you walk in big circles."
Headlights temporarily blind me as the black van travels toward us, mowing down low, bristly shrubs in its path. I pull my hand from his grasp, nowhere near ready to forgive him.
I pull the large coat tighter around me. "So you're not sending me away?"
He turns to look at me as the vehicle makes its way to us. The headlights illuminate his features, the serious set of his mouth as he gazes at me. "Do you want to leave me?"
I'm not expecting the question. Even more, I'm not expecting the search for an answer. It should be a fast and resounding yes. That's what it should be. "I don't know," I say quietly. "All I know right now is that I want out of this desert."
The van reaches us and Kane opens the door. I nearly fall inside onto the seats. I'm still cocooned in his coat and don't see myself giving it up anytime soon. I curl up in the corner and watch him through heavy lids. The newfound warmth and security allows the exhaustion to take over.
Kane slides onto the seat across the way and opens a panel. He pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to me. I take several gulps but wince at the pain that's slowly taking over my entire head. The overhead lights are dim but they feel like lightning streaks in my eyes. Through lashes, I see the glint of a silver needle.
"Yes or no?" he asks.
It takes me no time to decide. I'm in agony from the top of my head to my freezing toes. I drop the coat off my shoulder and push up my sleeve. I can't explain why, I don't know if it's shame or if it's just too hard to look at him when he's so close but I don't lift my eyes. I turn to face the opaque window as he shoots the nectar into my veins. It warms and comforts me from the inside as his coat did from the outside. The tension and pain in my muscles and head lessen. Soon the drug will work its magic to erase any of the harsh, bad memories of the night. As much as I want Kane to sit with me so I can curl against him, I don't ask. I push the idea out of my head.
"If you think you were teaching me a lesson tonight"—my words stretch longer—"It worked." A yawn pauses my words. "But only for tonight. I still hate you, sometimes. Especially tonight." I shrink back into the warmth. "But not your coat. I love this coat."
I lean back with a sigh that borders on a moan. My eyes drift shut and I fall into a deep sleep.
20
Maddox
The whole thing is as strange as it is expected. The clandestine journey to the compound. Rich men feeding their fantasies in a secret club that's filled with all the usual luxuries, gourmet food, expensive booze, posh furniture and tempting young women. The leather cuffs and barely there lingerie caught me off guard at first but the women seemed completely at ease walking around in skimpy panties. Some were totally naked with the exception of the kinky leather cuffs and anklets. No real surprises but one major disappointment. There was no sign of Ten.
I played along with the whole thing, admittedly having a better time than I should have. There wasn't any noticeable networking happening between the big shots and rich important men in the room. They might have belonged to a secret brotherhood of sorts but it was obvious they were there for only one thing. As the other members peeled away with their prospective partners for the night, it became clear that I was going to be expected to do the same.
I had more than my share of special invites, including one woman who said she loved it
rough and kinky. As much fun as rough and kinky sounded, I pretended to be too overwhelmed with my choices to decide.
One pert blonde wearing a lacy pink pair of panties and nothing else and whose name I think is Cathy stands up in front of the couch where I've been sipping booze with a woman on each side of me and a naked woman sitting directly on my lap. "Well, newbie, you're not going to leave all of us brokenhearted are you? At least make one girl's night. The caravan is going to be leaving in an hour, and you haven't even had a kiss."
The bodyguard who's been stationed at one end of the room pulls out his phone and walks out to take the call. I lift my arms and drop them around the women on each side of me. Cathy drops to the floor in front of me and rests her arms on my knees. The woman in my lap, Eve, I think, gives her a bit of a curled-lip sneer but it's ignored. I am the last male in the room and it feels like the first break of the evening. I can talk freely to the women.
"So what's your thing?" Eve punctuates her question with a tongue kiss of my ear.
"My thing?" I ask. Something tells me just about anything goes down here in the Lace Underground.
"She means what kind of girl do you like?" the woman on my right clarifies.
I force down an embarrassed smile. "Oh that, thought you meant—Right. What kind of girl?" A new opportunity rose. I was sitting with two blondes, a brunette and a woman with bleached white hair. "First of all, the reason I'm still sitting here is because all of you are drop dead beautiful."
This earns me a round of smiles. I glance toward the door. The bodyguard hasn't returned yet. "I'll tell ya all a little secret. Kind of corny but when I was eight I had a huge crush on my third grade teacher, Miss Rimple. And she had this awesome red hair. So I guess when you ask me what my thing is, I'd have to say red hair."
