by Cate Beauman
She sat up with a start, flipping open her laptop, typing Ethan Cooke Security, Los Angeles into her search engine. Within seconds she searched the site, studying the picture of Jerrod among several hot, muscled men all duded up in black shirts, looking broody and intimidating for the camera. Interesting but not what she wanted. She clicked again, perusing credentials, contact information, so on and so forth, then she tried Images, hoping for random shots of the office staff. Instead pictures of the occasional movie star with one of Ethan Cooke’s guards popped up, along with more group shots.
She navigated back to the contact page and picked up her phone, dialing the number given.
“Good afternoon, Ethan Cooke Security, this is Amber. How can I help you?”
“Yes, good afternoon. Can I speak with Abigail please?”
“Abigail?”
“Yes, Abby.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know an Abby, ma’am.”
“I think I must have the wrong number. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
Shelby disconnected, her eyes narrowing as she smiled. “Gottcha.” Abigail didn’t work for Ethan Cooke Security, so who the hell was she? And what the hell was her last name?
Her cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts as she glanced at the readout. Timmy. The Chief of Police would have to wait. She was busy. She pushed her phone aside and wiggled in her seat, getting comfortable as her fingers flew over the keys. It was time to piece together the story behind Jerrod’s mysterious Abigail.
~~~~
Margret clenched her teeth, biting back her whimpers as Aleksey’s fingers dug into her bicep. She quickened her pace as they walked down the long hall, hoping he might let up on the pressure if she stayed by his side. She glanced in the empty old rooms of the abandoned hospital, shuddering as Aleksey yanked her along. This place was way scarier than the filthy strip clubs and stinky stash houses she’d been bounced around in since the raids in July. Surely it was haunted or something. For the first time since her kidnapping she wished to be in a brothel.
“Let’s go!” He gripped her tighter, pulling her faster passed the endless rooms, opening the last creaky door on the left. “In.” He shoved her into the dingy space, and she careened forward, slipping, catching herself before her knees connected with the scarred, cracked tiles.
Brushing off her stinging hands, she righted herself, her eyes going wide as she focused on Dimitri standing in the center of the room, smoking his cigarette. He flashed her his cruel smile, and her heart froze.
“Ah, Little Mouse, have you missed me?”
She swallowed as fear clogged her throat, glancing around, looking for some place to hide or a way to escape. He was evil. He always hurt her when he raped her.
“You look different, Little Mouse.”
Her shoulders tensed as he tossed his cigarette to the floor and walked toward her, looking at her through narrowed eyes.
“Your hair is thin and dull.” He slid his spidery fingers along the arms of her t-shirt, brushing her skin, making her cringe.
“You are too skinny now.” He clucked his tongue, pulling on the waist of her ill-fitting jean skirt. “This life is getting to you.” He squeezed her jaw with painful pressure and kissed her cheeks, as if they were long-lost friends. “It gets to all of you eventually.” He moved his face closer to hers. “The drugs make this better. Do you like to take them?”
Her heart quickened as she stared at him, wondering whether or not she should answer.
He pinched her chin. “I asked you if you like to take the drugs?”
“No,” she whispered. She’d promised Abby she wouldn’t touch the pills and whatever else they liked to push on them. She couldn’t get away if her mind wasn’t clear.
“Why not I wonder?”
She jerked a bony shoulder.
Luka burst through the doorway, carrying a large bag of fast food. The scent of greasy fries and grilled meat immediately filled the room, making her mouth water and stomach growl. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything more than the stale peanuts and pretzels she pilfered from the bowls at the bars.
“I hear your stomach talking, Little Mouse. Do you want to have a meal?”
“Yes,” she answered, careful to keep her voice steady and level. If he knew she wanted that burger more than her next breath, she wouldn’t get it.
“Well, come on.” He gestured to the card table in the corner. “Let’s have some of this delicious food.”
She hesitated, then followed, trying to figure his angle.
“Go ahead. Take a burger. Enjoy.”
She reached in the bag, grabbing the warm wrapper, salivating like a dog. Hurrying, she unfolded the paper, taking a huge bite, fearful they would rip it away before she had a taste. Biting in again with an over-full mouth, she savored the globs of mayo and ketchup, the salty pickle and pungent onion, melding with charbroiled meat. Heaven.
“Do you like it?”
She nodded, ready for another sample as Dimitri slapped her arm, knocking the sandwich to the table. She glanced from him to the burger, tempted to reach for it despite the consequences.
“Would you like to finish and have fries too?”
She nodded again, her sheer desperation for food making her careless.
“What will you do for the rest of your meal?”
The delicious flavors soured on her tongue as she met Dimitri’s eyes.
“Take a seat, Little Mouse. I don’t want to fuck you right now; later, but not now.”
She stared at the chair.
“Sit.” He shoved her to the folding chair and took a carton of fries from the bag, setting them in front of her. “Eat.”
“No thank you.”
“Eat.”
She picked up a soggy, cooling potato and put it in her mouth, then another and another, relishing the starchy taste, hating that fried food could sink her so low.
“While you eat you can tell me what you know about The Bitch.”
She stopped chewing, darting him a glance, and looked at the table, knowing that The Bitch was Abby.
“What do you know about her?”
She gripped her hands together in her lap, unsure of what to say.
“What do you know?” he shouted, making her jump.
“I—I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He yanked her face close to his. “The Bitch. Fawn. Abigail. You know who I mean.”
“I don’t remember her,” she lied. She thought of Abby everyday, holding on to the comforting memories of her hugs and pretty smiles and the promise that she would find a way to set her free.
Dimitri’s huge hand plowed into her face.
She cried out in pain, pressing her fingers to her split lip, whimpering as blood trickled into her mouth.
“Do you remember now?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He took aim again, knocking the chair backwards with the force of his fist to her cheekbone.
She screamed as her head hit the unforgiving floor, and she moved her bloodied palm from her tender mouth to her throbbing cheek.
“Get her up!” Dimitri yelled, pounding his hand on the table.
Aleksey rushed forward, yanking her to her feet.
The room spun in dizzying circles. Dimitri’s face blurred in front of her as she fought to keep her balance.
“Sit and tell me or I will make the pain intolerable.”
The pain was bad enough, but she was certain he could make it worse.
Aleksey shoved her back in the chair.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” she sniffled, forming her words carefully, trying to minimize the discomfort to her lip. “I’m not sure where she is.”
“What did she tell you all those times she took you into her room?”
Abby had taken care of her, risking punishment by sneaking extra peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the kitchen. Abby had entertained her, telling her sto
ries of college and walking the runways, of the exciting career she would have when they finally got away. Not once had Abby ever let her believe that she wouldn’t go home. Somewhere deep down, she still held out hope. “That she wanted to go home.”
“Home to where?”
“To Maryland.” She hated sharing any part of Abby with him; she hoped Abby would understand.
“She is not there. Where else would she go?”
Abby’s career would take her to Los Angeles, but she would die before she told him so. “She never said anything else. She always said she wanted to go home to Maryland. That’s all.”
Dimitri made a grumble in his throat as his eyes turned fierce. “You lie!” He brought his elbow down on the back of her hand resting on the table, cracking something, making her moan in agony. “You lie, little cunt!” He pushed her off her chair as she cradled her swelling fingers, crying, wishing Abby were here to hold her close and sing songs next to her ear the way she used to when the girls were being beaten and raped in the next room.
“Stand up!”
She stayed where she was, in too much pain to do as Dimitri demanded.
“Stand up!” He dragged her up by her hair, pummeling his fist into her stomach, sending her sprawling as she coughed, gasping for her breath. “You want to lie to me? You want to keep her secrets while she leaves you behind to live her life?” He kicked her in the ribs, causing her to jerk with the radiating ache. “Now I will fuck you, bitch. Now you will pay.” He pulled his pants down and got to his knees, tossing her to her back, yanking her skirt up, slamming himself into her.
She closed her eyes, blocking out his cruel, agonizing thrusts, letting her mind float as she always did when Dimitri or any of the others used her.
“You’ll come visit me in LA. We’ll go shopping, and you can be my special guest at the Lily Brand Fashion Shows.” Abby wiggled her brows, making Margret smile after she’d been crying, missing her mother.
Margret flashed to another moment when Abby forced her to dance and sing quietly until they both collapsed to the bed, laughing, despite the life they lived. And to the one and only time she saw Abby sob in despair. “I’m so sorry, Margret. I’m so sorry I had to send you to that man. I tried to go instead, but Renzo wouldn’t let me. I tried,” she repeated, and for once Margret got to be the comforter instead of the other way around as she hugged the woman who had become her big sister. “I know, Abby. I know. Tell me about the fashion shows. Tell me about the dresses you’ll make me when we’re free.” Abby’s crying quieted to jerky inhales and exhales as they huddled together in the corner of the room. I’ll make you something strapless. Probably blue to play up your eyes. We’ll do an A-line to accentuate your tiny waist…
Dimitri finished himself off with a sickening laugh and pulled her up to sitting, her ribs screaming, her head throbbing, forcing her back to reality. “I will give you one more chance to tell me what you know, Mouse. What do you know about Abigail Harris?”
“I—I don’t know anything.” Her lips trembled as tears ran down her cheeks.
He glared, grabbing her hair, shoving her back to the broken tiles as he shouted something in Russian, slamming her skull against the floor.
She tried to protect her head but it was no use. He was too strong. He rapped her head again, and she saw stars. He punched her face relentlessly, until she no longer fought to shield herself from each unbearable blow.
Dimitri’s hollering faded and the pain vanished as she thought of Abby’s big blue eyes.
“I’m going to take you away from this, Margret. I don’t know when or how, but I’m going to free us both. Promise me you believe me. Promise me you’ll never give up hope that I’m going to take you home.”
Abby’s gentle words and sweet smile filled her mind as Dimitri’s cruel hands stole her last breath.
Chapter Fourteen
Abby spread fresh wood shavings around the last of the stalls, breathing in the cedar scent as she hummed along with the country music Mary liked to listen to while they worked. She paused, glancing up when Mary and Caleb Conroy stepped inside with the paperwork Mary signed off on every other day before Caleb drove off with the milk supply.
“…sure would be nice to see you there, Mary.” He took off his dingy cap, blotting at the sweat on his ruddy face despite the cool temperatures of the barn.
“It’s doubtful, Caleb. I don’t have time for such foolishness. I have a farm to run.” She turned the page over, picked up a pen, and signed her name.
“Sure would be nice to see you,” he repeated, setting his hat back on his balding head, squirming. “The O’Neils put on a nice party.”
Nibbling her lip, Abby watched poor Caleb fumble about, struggling to ask Mary on a date.
“Chuck and his band are going to play.” He cleared his throat as Mary handed him the sheet.
“I’m sure you’ll have a fine time, Caleb.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. He was blowing it with his forehead wiping and cap fiddling. Unable to stand in for another second, she leaned her rake against the wall and stepped out. “Did I hear something about a party?”
Mary turned, and Caleb stood up straight.
“Good afternoon, Abby.”
She smiled at Caleb. “Good afternoon. I had no idea you were a party animal.”
He pinked up. “Oh, I’m not. I was just wondering if Mary here was planning to attend the O’Neil’s annual barn dance.”
“A barn dance? I love to dance. Mary, we should go.”
Caleb perked up. “It’s a fine time—a live band, refreshments, lots of square dancing and stuff.” He pulled off his hat again and set it back in place as he cleared his throat for the second time.
Abby beamed. “Fun. What do you say, Mary?” She gave her a gentle poke to the side with her elbow. “I’ve never been to a barn dance, and I’ve never square danced before. We can do-si-do the night away.” She wiggled her brows.
Mary folded the quality card Caleb had handed off. “I don’t know, Abby.”
“You work so hard. I think we’d have a good time.”
Mary stared at her in her jeans and plaid coat, her hair up in a tight ponytail. The no-nonsense woman was in desperate need of a night out on the town. “I don’t have anything to wear to a barn dance.”
She grinned, sensing Mary was on the fence. “We’ll go shopping. We can go to the department store.”
“Now don’t start thinking you’re going to be dressing me up like some slick fashion plate.” She shoved her hands in her pockets the same way Jerrod always did. “I’ll leave the fancy clothes to you.”
Abby shook her head soberly, even though she had every intention of ‘slicking’ Mary up. There were a few dresses she remembered seeing on her own trip into town a couple weeks ago that would work very well. “No, certainly not.”
“I’d rather just go to the thrift shop.”
Her brows furrowed as her plans to smooth-talk Mary into the blue number she had in mind disintegrated. “The thrift shop?”
“There’s nothing wrong with used clothes.”
She smiled, liking the idea after all. She would take a few tired items and make them into something new. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Okay, I’ll go. But just for a little while.”
She threw her arms around Mary and winked at Caleb. “We’re going to have such a good time.” She eased back. “So, when’s the dance?”
“Saturday,” Caleb chimed in.
“Saturday?” She had four days to make big things happen.
“If that’s too short notice—”
“It’s definitely not,” Abby reassured, understanding that Mary was already looking for a way to back out. “We’ll go to town today, if that works for you.”
“I think I can find some time.”
“Perfect.”
Mary glanced at her practical blue sports watch. “In fact, we should probably go pretty soon. I don’t want to fall behind with the house chores.
”
“I’d like to change first, then I’ll be ready. And I’ll help with the house chores when we get home.”
“I’ll finish up in here with Caleb. I’ll meet you inside in about twenty minutes.”
She nodded. “See you Saturday, Caleb.”
“Bye now,” he said.
Abby turned, grinning her triumph as she made her way down the row of stalls to the exit. She rarely played matchmaker, but Mary and Caleb had the potential to be an incredibly cute couple. Mary needed someone with a gentle, sweet side to chip away at all of that serious, and Caleb fit the bill.
She closed the barn door behind her, doing a victory wiggle despite the harsh winds, pausing when she spotted Jerrod sending a nail into one of the upstairs shutters on the house. He shoved his hammer in the tool belt hanging on his hip and descended the ladder from heart-stopping heights as she moved along the short path. He jumped down, skipping the last four rungs as she reached the back steps.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She took the stairs inside with Jerrod following.
“All finished up?”
“Until this evening.” She toed off her boots and hung her jacket on the rung, turned, and almost slammed into him as he settled his coat next to hers. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” He moved to the left as she did.
They both moved to the right.
She stopped. “Go ahead.”
“You first.”
Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she couldn’t head upstairs and avoid an awkward encounter no matter how much she wanted to. “Thanks.” She skirted around him, making her way to the refrigerator.
Jerrod followed, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms at his chest. “How’d it go this morning?”