Tortured

by N. M. Catalano

  “Me?! YOU,” I stab my finger in his direction, “you’re the scum! You KIDNAPPED me! You’re a MONSTER.”

  His expression is unbothered and even. “And you’d rather spend your life married to a man who hates you?”

  His words are like a knife in my chest. I already knew the truth about how James felt about me, I saw it clearly in his eyes. To hear a complete stranger tell you your husband hates you is horrible.

  I can’t meet his gaze, I can’t let him see how much his words hurt, how much the truth hurts me. “It’s better than being sold to a Saudi Arabian as a sex slave.”

  Agonizing seconds tick past. He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t deny or confirm the accusation. I wait.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I lift my eyes to meet his, he hasn’t moved from where he stopped just inside the door. “So it’s true.”

  “James was going to sell you, yes.”

  My heart stops and the world crumbles beneath me.

  “James?” I finally croak out.

  He nods once, never breaking our stare. “I think you’ll prefer what I have planned for you instead.” There is no emotion in his tone or his eyes.

  I feel the nausea churning in my stomach again as a fresh wave of hysteria consumes me.

  I don’t see Dominic until it’s too late.

  Whack! His palm lands on my cheek and throws me back into rage. Jumping to my feet, I throw myself at him again. This time he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me backwards and successfully knocks me off my feet.

  “Just this once I will allow you the luxury of a meltdown, Sasha. Once. That time has come to an end.” His tone has turned as cold as ice.

  “I hate you,” I snarl.

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “FUCK YOU.”

  He jerks my head back and forth and I swear to God he almost snapped my neck. “Enough! I will not tolerate any more of that trashy behavior from you.” He pulls my head close so that his mouth is at my ear. “Do we understand each other?”

  I slice my eyes at him sideways. “Yes,” I hiss.

  “Good,” he pushes me away so hard, I almost fall. “Now go wash that filth from you. There are clean clothes waiting. You have a half hour.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I will drag you out of here with or without clothes. The choice is yours.”

  I clamp my mouth shut. I will not give him the honor of any more of my words.

  He deserves nothing from me.

  He turns and walks out, and when the heavy panel clicks shut after him, it’s the most powerful sound I’ve ever heard.

  I refuse to give up, to lay down and accept the fate Dominic has chosen for me. So I take a shower and scrub the past from me and let it wash away like the filth I was covered with.

  There is one thing Dominic can’t steal.

  Gringo.

  He’ll come for me. He’ll know I’m missing. He’s the only who will know that I couldn’t just leave. That I could never leave him. He’ll look for me.

  Please Gringo, help me!

  Fresh tears fall from my eyes. Sorrow pierces my heart. Today was supposed to be a new beginning. I was going to surprise Gringo with my divorce. This was supposed to be the first day of the rest of our lives. We were finally able to be together.

  It hurts! It hurts so much!

  I shake the hopelessness from me. No, I won’t give up. I CAN’T.

  I finish in the shower, and when I pull on the leggings and the oversized shirt and ready to push my feet into the slip-on shoes, Dominic comes back.

  “Good, you’re ready. Time to leave.” He holds his hand out for me.

  I jerk back. “Leave? What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a plane waiting Sasha. We have to go.”

  Panic grips me again knowing if I get on that plane, I’ll never be free. Gringo will never find me. I’ll be completely gone.

  “Wait, no, not yet,” I need to buy some time. I have to find a way to give Gringo time to find me. Because he’ll come, I know he’s going to come!

  My thoughts are racing trying to latch on to something I can do to stall.

  There’s only one way I know how.

  I pull the shirt from my body. Dominic doesn’t flinch.

  Please!

  I take both my breasts in my hands. “I’ll do anything you want.” Cliché but it’s all I can think of.

  “Put your shirt back on, Sasha. It’s time to go.” He takes a step toward me.

  I scurry up the bed until my back hits the wall. “No, not yet.” I sound desperate.

  “Sasha,” there’s almost amusement in Dominic’s voice. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know about your boyfriend, Gabriel, or do you call him Gringo?” He smirks at me.

  The color has drained from my face.

  “I know what he’s capable of. I truly doubt you have any idea of what that is.”

  Shock floods me.

  “That’s why we’re leaving. Right. Now.” He’s right in front of me. He latches on to my wrist and drags me from the bed.

  “NOOOOOOO,” I scream and fall to the floor. I wrap my legs around his ankles and almost, ALMOST, knock him down. My heart soars. But it’s short lived.

  “Tsk, tsk, you had to make this difficult,” he reaches into his pocket, pins me down, and smothers my face with another foul smelling cloth.

  That’s the last thing I remember.

  CHAPTER 21

  Gringo

  We took two vehicles. Me and Rock are in Rock’s truck, Snake and Bull in Bull’s. Snake sent the message we’d established to indicate we’re on the move and will meet back at the vehicles. We knew then he was safe. Me, Bull, and Rock see Snake breaking through the woods ahead of us, we’re almost at the meet-up point. All of us are unstrapping our assault rifles and our clips without slowing our strides. Snake’s got one of the trucks started and is opening the large tool boxes in both the beds for us to close our weapons in.

  If we get stopped once we get back to town, we don’t need to look like fucking Rambo and shit.

  Bull jumps into the driver’s seat after unloading his gear…and buckles himself in. Jesus fucking shit!

  Rock dumps his weapons in the black utility box in the back of his truck and gets behind the wheel as I lock up our box and Snake gets the other.

  “You good?” I ask him breathing heavily.

  He fucking smirks, “Dude, you wish you were as good as me,” and winks.

  “Get in the fucking truck, man!” I snarl, laugh, what the fuck ever.

  It’s good to have the prick back.

  The sun is crawling up the horizon. It’s brisk, cool, and clear, perfect for anyone to see us barreling out from the old dirt road that was forgotten by the world a long time ago. We’re still on mill property, although as far as anyone we’ve spoken to can recall, they’d made no use of it this far out. I grab the government issued binoculars from the glove compartment and press them to my eyes. Being part of The Program has its perks, the toys are a big one.

  “Anything?” Rock asks tightly as he maneuvers the four-wheel drive through the ruts in the dirt road. About another mile ahead we’ll hit the pavement that will lead us back to civilization.

  “Nope,” I keep looking for anything, any movement, a flash of something, sunshine glinting off metal, anything that might tell us we’re not alone out here.

  “What the fuck was all that shit?” Rock jerks the wheel to miss a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.

  Yeah, what exactly was all of that?

  “I’m not sure, but it sure as hell isn’t for Girl Scout cookies.”

  Rock grunts. “Unless they’re going to put Anthrax in them. That was some serious equipment.”

  “I would have to agree with you.” As much as it fucking sucks.

  Neither one of us speaks as we turn onto the empty stretch of road on the outskirts of town. No one’s around. Riverbend isn’t populated, not anymore, my guess is since this facility closed up and all the jobs it provided
went with it, this section is virtually desolate.

  “Funny how they already moved into the place. Fucking balls the size of China. The deal, as far as I know, hasn’t been finalized yet,” I slide my Glock from its holster. Just in case.

  “That they have. Looks they’ve been there a while, too,” Rock replies casually as he takes a look in the rear view mirror to see if anyone’s following us.

  “I agree,” I murmur. “From what I gather, there’s one partner who’s refusing to sell their share. Apparently the powers that be are confident they can be persuaded,” the last word hangs in the air.

  A long stretch of silence is measured by the lines in the road, you can practically hear them thump by.

  “This shit is big, Gringo.” Rock calls out the shit we just witnessed in the facility.

  “Yeah it is,” I breathe out heavily, hating it.

  Hating that Sasha is wrapped up in the middle of this entire clusterfuck situation. That’s she’s been used her entire fucking life. Just like Summer.

  Exactly like Summer.

  I believe the difference is they consider Sasha an insignificant commodity, expendable, to be used up and thrown out.

  FUCK THAT. I am NOT letting that happen to her.

  This fucking stops now!

  When we get back, I’m going to find her and get her the fuck out of here. I don’t give a shit if I have to jeopardize the secrecy of the mission. I could give two fucks if what we know about James is hung out like yesterday’s filthy laundry.

  He is filthy. The entire situation is the worst cesspool of the civilized world. Every fucking one of them should be tortured horribly, but allowed to live so it could be done over and over again. Like fucking Groundhog Day.

  But James, the lowlife scumbag, is protected. Although he’s merely a pawn on a massive chess board, to which I’m not sure we’ll ever know how fucking huge it actually is, his part is significant, at least here. Everything he’s orchestrated, and I mean everything from the moment he probably grew his first pubic hair, has been part of a master plan. The master plan it seems is coming to fruition. According to what’s in the mill anyway.

  “What did you see in there on your side?” I ask Rock.

  He gives me a sideways glance. “They looked like cells.”

  Four fucking words hit me like a punch in the nuts. They were talking about Saudi Arabia and a gift. I recall Sasha’s words from the night James made her suck him off in front of Dominic.

  “Son of a bitch!” I snarl.

  “Yeah, human fucking trafficking,” Rock’s words are filled with the same hatred I feel.

  “Please tell me they didn’t look like they’ve been used.”

  “No,” he shakes his head. “But they appear like they’re preparing to.” He cuts his eyes at me again. “Four of them to be precise.”

  “MOTHER FUCKER!” I plow a fist into the dash.

  “Yeah,” he whispers darkly as his hands tighten on the steering wheel like it was someone’s fucking neck. “What did you see?”

  “Crates. A shit ton of them. Some old, some new. German. I got pictures.”

  “Goddamn,” he whispers again through clenched teeth.

  I look over at him. It makes perfect fucking sense now! “The mill property juts up to the river…”

  “Yeah, it does. That’s what made it such a big deal back in the day. Perfect for…,” his words trail off as a wicked smile curves his lips.

  “For shipping, in and out,” I finish his sentence and nod. “They could take the tributaries and whatever the hell else is there through the swamps, no one would see a damn thing, until they finally got out into the ocean. Come and fucking go without a trace.” The perfect plan of powerful psychotics.

  Rock’s eyes are fixed on the road in front of him as we continue to haul ass not giving a shit about cops. “Fucking cells. German crates. What the fuck are they planning in there?”

  “We might get a better clue when the information on the sides of the crates is translated.”

  I hope.

  And I can’t touch James. I’m not supposed to touch a hair on his pretty head.

  At least, as far as I’m concerned, for the time being. When the shitstorm hits and the proverbial cat’s out of the bag, the guy is mine. Not for his part in the situation, but what he did to Sasha, how fucked up he was to Sasha.

  It’s payback time, and I’m a fucking master.

  But we were given direct orders.

  “You think they’re going to be pissed?” I ask Rock.

  “I know they’re going to be pissed. But we had no choice. Innocent civilians are in danger. Aside from whatever the fuck they plan on unleashing in the world,” he laughs.

  They’re going to be even more pissed off when I take Sasha out of the equation.

  Fuck them.

  Fuck that.

  Our mission had changed.

  Initially we’d been ordered to retrieve Summer and return her to her father. Or so that’s how it seemed on the surface.

  The man is powerful and rich. But from what we can determine from the new directive, he’s ruffled the feathers of some of his so-called friends.

  The original order was a test. Yes, he’d hired us, but there were other more powerful people pulling the strings behind the scenes.

  The test was not actually for us, but for Mr. Hollingsworth, Summer’s father. Apparently he failed, because they’re sights are set on bigger things. Things that must be coming together at the mill.

  We’d been ordered to make a sweep to assess the situation.

  What we haven’t been able to figure out is who ordered it? The good guys or the bad guys?

  We still don’t know.

  As far as I’m concerned, they are the bad guys because they’re talking about gifts for Saudi Arabians, and they’ve got cells, not rooms, but cells ready to accommodate occupants. Four according to Rock.

  Sasha, Summer, Raven, and Gwendolyn. We’d been warned.

  Maybe someone’s got a hard-on for us. Maybe we pissed someone off, which happens frequently. Maybe, just maybe, these guys are playing both sides. Which would be fucking normal.

  The truth is we just don’t know. Not yet.

  But we’re going to find out.

  As we get closer to town, we pass a few cars, not many but enough to remind us whoever is truly behind this could make themselves known at any moment, whatever this really is. Bull is up our ass right behind us. We stay close. At. All. Times.

  The first traffic light which says we’re coming up to the city limits, all six blocks of it, comes into view. We don’t seem to have a tail.

  Strange. Very fucking strange.

  Neither of us say anything until we’re in the parking lot of the shopping center where Summer’s coffee shop and the tattoo parlor is. We can see the regular customers are already there, along with Summer’s and Gwendolyn’s car. I can feel Rock relax slightly beside me, just like me.

  Business as usual.

  Thank fuck.

  Everything on the surface appears normal. Unless you know what to look for.

  Hawk’s old Chevy truck is parked right next to Summer’s car. Beside it is Raven’s piece of shit. Who am I to knock it though? Apparently the thing has kept the tough little broad a few steps ahead of all the bad guys she’s pissed off all of her life. Go fucking figure.

  I can’t stop the surge of anger that rips through me though.

  All my boys are here. Safe. Snake is home.

  But Sasha is not here. I haven’t been able to get in touch with her and it’s driving me fucking insane. She hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts. That’s not like her. At. All. Usually she’s blowing up my phone. And I love it because she feels close.

  It feels like she needs me.

  We park and I practically run into the coffee shop. Rock is right behind me.

  The place is full of familiar faces. Mrs. Merriweather, is at her table. But she’s not knitting, the needles and shit are lying
on the table forgotten. Summer comes running out from behind the counter and jumps into Rock’s arms. Raven stalks over to Snake and slaps him across the face. He grabs her with a hand to the back of her neck and shoves her tight against him, and practically fucks her mouth. Gwendolyn looks like to she wants to cry and laugh at the same time staring right at Bull. She sprints around the corner, straight to Bull.

  “Fuck this,” Bull grumbles like the beast he is and pulls her into his arms.

  I’m left standing alone.

  There’s a room full of fucking people, and not one of them is the only person I want to see.

  I need to see.

  Her face, her fucking smart, demanding mouth.

  Her goddamn scent.

  She’s not here.

  Of course she’s not here. I knew she wouldn’t be here.

  But I had hoped.

  I turn to walk out.

  “Gringo.” It’s Hawk.

  “Get the fuck out of my way,” I growl.

  His face is expressionless. Stone fucking cold.

  Dread engulfs me.

  Hawk doesn’t say anything; he just hands me an envelope. I don’t want to take it. I don’t know what it is, but I’m certain if I do, there’s no turning back.

  “What is it,” I say quietly, still not taking it.

  “Some girl named Millicent brought it by.”

  James’ fucking secretary.

  I’m fucking shaking as I slowly take the innocuous slip of paper from Hawk. I open it like I’m handling a goddamn bomb, sliding the sheet of crisp white paper from the envelope and lifting each corner carefully and precisely. When there aren’t any more pieces I can use to stall with, my eyes rake over the black letters.

  ATTENTION

  One down.

  Do not look for her.

  If you do,

  She’s dead.

  Three more to go.

  To Be Continued…

  I hope you enjoyed this emotionally gripping story. If you did, please take a moment to go to your retailer and leave an honest review. Word of the mouth is the greatest way to help indie authors.