Make Me, Sir

by Cherise Sinclair

  Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir

  195

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Jessica gave Gabi the number to his office.

  Another voice mail, dammit. Gabi left the same message, then deleted the phone log. “Let me try 911 again.” She punched in 9, then 1—

  “I can"t find my fucking phone!” Jang yelled in the cab.

  Gabi felt the blood drain from her face. Oh God.

  The van pulled over and stopped. Heart pounding, Gabi unsilenced the cell and slid it across the floor. It stopped beside the porta-potty. She slumped, trying to control her breathing.

  The door to the cab burst open and hit the wall with a crack that made her insides cringe. Light from the windshield highlighted Jang"s body as he stepped into the back. “Where is it, you fucking bitches?”

  Gabi mirrored Jessica"s baffled expression.

  “Fine, I"ll find it myself.” He still walked as if his balls hurt. Avoiding her feet, he yanked Gabi sideways until the restraints pulled her arms straight. The handcuffs dug into her raw wrists. He tugged at her corset unsuccessfully, cursed, and started to unhook it.

  Gabi struggled futilely, sick with revulsion. With fear. When her corset opened halfway, Jang grabbed her breast.

  When he touched her, her thoughts fragmented with terror. She couldn"t move, couldn"t breathe.

  “What"s taking so long?” Cesar stepped into the back and glared at Jang. “You asshole, I don"t have time for this crap.” Pulling out his own cell, he punched in a number…and the phone by the commode buzzed softly. “You clumsy fuck, it"s over there.”

  “Fine.” Jang squeezed Gabi"s breast viciously. “Consider this a sample for later,” he whispered and shoved her against the metal wall.

  She grunted as she hit, and tears filled her eyes. Please, someone, get us out of this.

  After retrieving his phone, Jang hit a few buttons, obviously checking the outgoing calls.

  Not moving, Gabi watched, thanking God she"d erased the numbers she"d dialed. Her head pounded; her shoulder and wrists and breast throbbed with pain.

  If he came back for her, she might cry. Her jaw clenched. No. No, she wouldn"t.

  With a shrug, he told Cesar, “We"re good.”

  “Yeah, good thing for you, fuckup.” Cesar motioned him into the cab and followed.

  “You okay?” Jessica whispered.

  Gabi nodded, grateful she wasn"t totally alone. Not that it would matter.

  Leaning her head on the wall, she stared at her wrists, at the mangled flesh and purpling bruising under the metal handcuffs. Blood smeared the metal floor.

  196

  Cherise Sinclair

  Maybe that"s why Marcus only used leather cuffs. She remembered how he"d stand close enough that her every breath brought her his masculine scent, how he"d hold her arm with a firm, warm grip while he ran a finger under the cuff to make sure it wasn"t too tight. She"d look up to see him watching her intently. His lips would curve—just barely those first few days, then more. The last two nights, he"d had a different smile: one that said he knew her, all of her—the possessive smile of a man who"d had a woman and intended to have her again.

  Each time, even though she wouldn"t move at all, she"d yearn toward him.

  Toward his possession. No longer make me, Sir, but take me, Sir.

  And now she"d never see him again.

  A slave. Would they break her? Maybe? Or maybe she"d die first, her body as mangled as her wrists, her voice gone from screaming. A shudder seized her. She wasn"t especially afraid to die. Everybody did, sooner or later. But the thought of what came before death, that someone would deliberately inflict horrible, crushing pain on her… As her hands trembled, the blood oozing from her wrists splattered on the floor.

  Okay, I’m terrified. They could so easily turn her into a panicking, mindless animal. I don’t want that again. So she"d damn well do absolutely everything she could to escape, no matter how small the chance. No point in waiting and hoping for something better to come.

  And if she managed to attract attention, then maybe—even if she died—maybe Kim or Jessica might get rescued.

  Her spine straightened. Pretty weak plan, but it helped take her another step away from losing control. I’m more than an animal.

  As the truck rumbled down the road, she mentally pulled up her big-girl panties—and she really, really wished she"d worn panties rather than a thong—and turned to Jessica. “You know, I had all these great insults to use at the Shadowlands, but I forgot to yell them at Jang. Wanna hear them?”

  Jessica stared at her, then sucked in a shaky breath and grinned. “Sure. I"ll trade you some of my favorites.”

  “Cool. My favorite is: Your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory.”

  “Nah. Jang"s too stupid to get the meaning.” Jessica thought. “How about: Why don"t you check eBay and see if they have a life for sale?”

  Gabi grinned. “Not bad. Hmm—oh, I know… Is that your face or did your neck just throw up.”

  The sputter of laughter Jessica gave made Gabi"s heart lighten. It was good not to be alone.

  * * *

  In increasing frustration, Zachary watched as the FBI agents tried to find something, anything to point them in the right direction. Dammit, where would the Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir 197

  pickup happen? His fear for Jessica knotted his guts until he stood and paced the kitchen. Again.

  From the bedroom came the sound of plaintive meows. He"d been in there earlier, holding and petting the two felines while Vance searched the apartment.

  The cats wanted Gabrielle. Maybe as much as he wanted Jessica. He ran his hand through his hair, craving her so badly his arms ached. Needing to shake her silly for scaring him, to hold her and let her know what she meant to him. All he could think about was how unhappy she"d been last night. Because of him.

  He stared at his hands, useless with no target in sight. This not knowing…not being able to act…

  On the decrepit sofa, Galen had his bad leg extended. As he talked on his cell phone, his face slowly reddened with anger, and his low voice sharpened to such a cutting edge that the other person probably had blood pooling at his feet. With a low curse, the agent snapped the phone closed and called over one of the local agents.

  “Campbell, meet Rhodes at your office. Grill him for anything he saw last night.”

  “What happened to him?” Campbell asked. “Why isn"t he here? Is he okay?

  Where"s Ms. Renard?”

  Galen"s eyes had darkened to total black. “The fucking asshole says Gabrielle lost her temper and punched him. Broke his nose. He spent the night in an ER, waiting to get it set.”

  Campbell stared. “He left her and didn"t call in?”

  “What kind of training do your agents have?” Marcus snapped.

  Galen took the verbal hit without wincing. “He thought the investigation was over. Last night an agent assigned to another decoy caught a man attacking a woman behind the St. Pete club. The woman was knocked unconscious during the fight, and Thompson believed he"d got the unsub. He called Rhodes to gloat.”

  “It wasn"t the kidnapper?” Zachary asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Just a couple from the club wanting to play out a rape scenario. Once the woman woke up and explained, we released the man. But Thompson didn"t bother to call Rhodes back.”

  “So Rhodes is free and clear?” Marcus"s hands had fisted. Zachary gave him a warning look.

  “No, Marcus,” Vance said. “No matter what, he should have arranged coverage for her. We"ll deal with him later.”

  Marcus stilled and visibly forced himself to relax. “I overreacted, gentlemen.

  Please forgive me.”

  Galen gave him a thin smile. “Consider him dead meat, Marcus. You have my word.”

  Zachary turned and paced back across the room, his need to do something ratcheting up another notch. Do anything—take the car and yell their names at eve
ry corner. Dammit, Jessica.

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  Cherise Sinclair

  With the noise of the various conversations, Zachary at first didn"t hear the music coming from the bedroom. Mangione"s “Feels So Good.” His cell"s ringtone.

  “No!”

  He tore across the apartment, shoved the door open, tripping over the cats and somehow managing to kick the door shut behind him before they escaped. He grabbed his jacket from the bed and yanked the cell out of the pocket.

  The ringing stopped. No, dammit.

  He flipped the phone open. One message. He almost listened, then forced himself to return to the others before punching Play.

  “Z.” Gabrielle"s voice. Hoarse. Strained.

  “Silence!” he snapped at the others. He set it on speaker and turned the volume up.

  “He got us—me and Jessica. Taser and drugs. We"re in a big van—cargo-sized.

  A boat is picking us up at the Clearwater Docks, downtown, in about two hours.”

  Zachary heard a whisper. Jessica"s voice saying something about tattoos. His heart thumped hard enough to hurt. She was alive.

  Gabi"s message continued, “Two men. They call each other Cesar and Jang.

  Jang has gang tattoos covering his arms. Don"t call this number back. It"s their phone.”

  Silence.

  Galen was already on the phone, barking orders. Vance had his cell out but paused to look at Marcus and Z. “Most women would be in hysterics. Those two are keeping it together. Thinking. Give me a brat any day.” He handed Zachary a slip of paper with a number scrawled on it. “Forward the message to this number for a sound analysis. I doubt we"ll get anything useful, but we"ll try.”

  Zachary nodded.

  Marcus tapped his fingers on the table for a second. Then he glanced at Zachary and lowered his voice. “I"m not waiting for them to say I can"t help. I"m leaving now.”

  Zachary checked the agents, occupied with their planning. “I"ll drive.”

  Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir

  199

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chuffing mufflers, whining motors, the screech of brakes. A car horn. Gabi knew they"d reached the city. The van slowed, sped up, slowed, jarring the cuffs on her wrists, making them burn. More blood trickled down her arm.

  Jang stepped into the cargo section, leaving the door open. Holding a rag and a roll of duct tape, he walked over to her.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs. They were in the city, people around.

  Probably going too fast for anyone to hear them. Still… Don’t miss a chance. We’ll die anyway. She screamed as loud as she could, and Jessica joined her a second later.

  He backhanded Gabi. Her head snapped back, her cheek flaring with pain.

  Then he kicked Jessica in the stomach. Her groan made him laugh before he turned back to Gabi.

  “Watch the merchandise, asshole,” Cesar yelled.

  Her face on fire with pain, Gabi struggled, jamming her shoulder against him, trying to knock him away. Jang seized her jaw and forced her mouth open. He stuffed a filthy rag in. Despite her attempts to head butt him, he got several strips of duct tape across her face, muffling her completely. When he stood up, she managed to twist far and fast enough to kick his knee. He shouted and staggered back.

  With a filthy curse, he evaded her feet and slapped her hard to the floor. Her head struck, a hammer blow reverberating in her brain.

  His boot caught her in the ribs. A firebomb of pain burst through her. She retched and choked, unable to inhale.

  “If you puke with a gag on, you"ll die, bitch.” He watched for a second, grinning, then cuffed her hands behind her back.

  Too dizzy to sit up, Gabi lay on her side, lungs heaving for air. Don’t throw up.

  She could only breathe though her nose. I’m suffocating… Stars filled her vision.

  Slow breath. Slow breath. More stars wheeled in the black sky. Helpless.

  Jang had moved to Jessica, but Gabi couldn"t help. She heard a thud and a high cry of pain, then footsteps. Gabi lay still, heart rate easing as she drew air in.

  Carefully. Don’t panic.

  A few minutes later, the van pulled to a halt, and the engine stopped.

  “The boat here?” Jang asked.

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  Cherise Sinclair

  “They haven"t called yet. The storm probably slowed them down. At least the rain will cut down the number of people on the docks.”

  We’re at the docks. Once on a boat, there"d be no escape. God. Gabi"s fear rose until she strangled with it, but she pushed it away. If she panicked, she"d die.

  Think, stupid. Could she get to her feet?

  “Box the redhead first,” Cesar said.

  “No fucking ankle cuffs, remember?”

  “Hell.” Cesar narrowed his eyes and stared a second. “Use duct tape and the chain. Hogtie them.”

  “Got it.” Jang turned to Gabi. Too nauseated to fight back, she lay still as he did a couple of turns of duct tape around her ankles. He used the chain to secure her feet close to the handcuffs. “Done.”

  She tried to wiggle, tried to move, and had to force panic down again. Jessica met her gaze, and she gave Gabi a sharp nod. Not giving up yet. Neither would Gabi.

  “One little trip left, chickies, and then you can scream yourselves blue,” Cesar said from the driver"s seat.

  You bastard.

  “We gonna have some time before the boat shows?” Jang asked.

  “You think your dick"s going to work by then?” Cesar gave a nasty laugh.

  Jang touched his crotch gingerly and growled something foul.

  Please let his cock stay limp. She stared at his crotch. As long as she was wishing, let it rot and fall off too. Please.

  Cesar stepped into the cargo area, sliding a pistol into one overall pocket. He pulled the washing machine labels off the sides of the box, leaving only THIS SIDE

  UP markings. “Let"s get her loaded.”

  He grabbed Gabi under the shoulders, Jang grabbed under her thighs, and they hefted her up. They lowered her most of the way into the box, then dropped her the last couple of feet, knocking the air out of her. Lights danced in her vision until she managed a breath.

  “Tape it shut?” Jang asked, leering down at her, lips pulled back to show yellowing teeth.

  I’m so glad I kicked your balls into your throat.

  “Slap on a couple of strips to keep the top closed. I don"t want to fuck around with peeling tape off between loads.”

  The flaps shut, leaving her in darkness. Her heart hammered, and blood pounded in her veins so loudly she barely heard Jang apply the tape to the top.

  “Fucking shitheads, if they got delayed, they should have called.” Cesar"s voice came faintly through the box.

  Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir

  201

  Take your time, boat. Gabi arched backward until her spine felt as if it would snap, and managed to touch the duct tape wrapped around her ankles. She inched a finger along the tape, swearing silently. The chain holding her wrists to her ankles had rolled much of the tape over, rendering it untearable. Dammit. I only need an inch or two—and a little time.

  A cell phone rang. “Yeah.” Cesar"s voice. “Got it. Be right there.”

  “They"re here?”

  “Tying up now,” Cesar said, satisfaction thick in his voice.

  Boots thumped into the cargo area, and Gabi heard the rattle as the back of the van slid up.

  “Get the ramp. I"ll take her and tell them I got an extra,” Cesar said. “Have Blondie ready to go for when I get back.”

  Dammit. Gabi wanted to groan—she"d just found an uncurled area of the duct tape. She ripped at it.

  The box tilted, dislodging her grip. They"d put it onto the hand trolley, Gabi realized. She frantically tried again as things scraped on the box—straps securing it. The floor of the box came up, sliding her sideways, as the trolly thumped down the ramp. She heard a metal
lic rattle as someone pulled the van door down.

  Soft tapping noises confused her. Rain? She twisted to reach the tape again.

  The cart rolled erratically, ruining her grip.

  Eventually the grating of wheels on the street changed, and she heard the lapping of water. They"d reached the dock.

  God, she was out of time. The cart bumped over something, tilting slightly, and she blinked. Maybe…

  Motion stopped. Low voices.

  Gabi squirmed until her feet faced forward, then rolled over her cuffed hands to hit the side of the box with her knees and head. The cart rocked slightly. She rolled back to thump harder into the other side.

  The box dented. Cesar cursed.

  * * *

  The Clearwater Downtown Docks were way too big. Cursing under his breath, Marcus wiped rain out of his eyes. Thunder rumbled, drowning out the hum of traffic on the Memorial Causeway Bridge that loomed high over the waterside. He could feel time disappearing, and his gut knotted more with each unrecoverable minute. How the hell was he supposed to differentiate a boat doing the pickup from an innocent one? Despite the weather, the place was busy—mostly Sunday sailors and those that knew a good rainstorm helped fishing.

  A yacht chugged away in a billow of blue-gray smoke. He stiffened. What if Gabi was on board? If they were too late?

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  He saw Vance and other agents on the adjacent docks. He and Z had already been prowling the wharf when the FBI had arrived. Accepting the inevitable, Vance had given them assignments. Z to the south parking lot, another agent to the north to search for the cargo van among the daunting number of vehicles. After seeing the size of the waterfront, Galen had gotten back in his car to call in the Clearwater police.

  Glancing at craft after craft, Marcus kept walking. At the end slip, two men in dark green slickers and jeans finished tying up their fishing boat. One stepped onto the dock and leaned against a concrete post, arms folded.