Something suddenly occurred to me. The FBI had come to see me because of the interview I’d given about my father. One of the agents had still been alive when Gray-eyes had pulled me out of the car. Maybe he would be able to tell the police what had happened, give a description of the car I was in now, perhaps even be able to tell them the license plate number. Of all the people who would be able to help, having an FBI agent see what had happened would surely work in my favor.
As long as he survived.
The thought put a damper on the little worm of hope that had started to wiggle around inside me, but it was still there. People had seen what had happened. The police would be looking for me. I just had to hang in there and not give up.
But as the car continued its journey, the four men not speaking to one another, I lost track of time and miles. The rear windows were blacked out, so I wasn’t able to watch any passing scenery, though I tried to keep a look out the front windshield to get an idea of where we were going. If I had the opportunity to get to a phone or to use a computer, I needed to be able to tell people where I was, or at least give them some idea of the location. America was a big place, and it was easy enough to lose people here. I didn’t want to become a lost person.
Tattooed guy finally spoke. “We’re getting closer now.”
My heart tightened. Closer to what?
“Here.” Muscles handed something back to the men beside me. The tall one took it, and my eyes widened as what it was dawned on me.
A hood.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Gray-eyes said, “but we can’t let you see where you’re going.”
I gave a muffled moan and thrashed between them, not wanting it over my head. But my hands and feet were bound, and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I couldn’t even speak to tell them no—not that I thought they would listen to me, anyway. I wondered what else I might not be able to say no to, and a shiver wracked down my spine.
Gray-eyes scowled. “Hold her still, will you?”
Busted-nose grabbed me by the shoulders, preventing my thrashing. I shook my head, but it did no good, and the material was pulled down over my face, encasing me in darkness.
Immediately, everything changed. The sound of the car engine grew muffled and I could no longer smell the leather, but instead the musty interior of the bag. I briefly wondered if this bag had been put over the heads of any other women, and then pushed the thought away. If these men were in the habit of snatching women off the streets and hadn’t been caught yet, it meant they were good at what they did. The fact they’d taken down three FBI agents wasn’t looking great for me already.
I tried to force myself to keep my breath steady. It was hot inside the bag, and with my mouth covered, it felt like I might struggle to get air. I didn’t want to panic, knowing it would make things worse. It was hard, though. The more I thought about everything, the more hopeless I started to feel.
With my face covered, keeping track of time was even harder to do. I had no way of distracting myself with spotting place names so I’d be able to give directions to someone should I manage to get hold of a phone and get someone to help me. Instead, I delved inward, to the point where I was almost in a dreamlike state, lost in the thoughts in my head, unsure if I was awake or asleep.
Finally, the car jolted to a halt, and I heard Tattooed Guy speak.
“We’re here.”
Chapter Four
I jolted wide awake, sitting up straight, my heart thumping against my ribcage.
Here.
Where was here?
The car engine cut out around me. I froze waiting for the men’s next move. The car door opened, and I felt the coolness of fresh air against the parts of my skin that were exposed—which wasn’t much—my hands, the tops of my feet. I tried to position myself so the bottom of the bag over my head gaped open. A little fresh air filtered through to my nose and cheeks. It was a small thing, but I was grateful for it. I couldn’t see anything more, however, the gap only allowing me to glimpse the rise of my breasts.
A couple of the doors slammed shut again, making me jump. I knew what was coming next, but even so, I let out a squeal when hands grabbed at my body. Strong fingers around the tops of my arms, more hands around my ankles. Struggling wouldn’t do me any good, but my body reacted, bucking and flapping like a fish left on the jetty to die.
The hands lifted me, and then I was out of the car and there was only air beneath me. I wriggled and struggled, but they carried me with ease. I heard a high pitched couple of beeps—an alarm being switched off, or perhaps one being turned on? I listened hard, trying to pick up on any other clues to my location. But there was nothing. Literally nothing. I couldn’t hear any of the sounds of a city—not traffic, or sirens, or people talking. In the city, there was no such thing as silence, but out here there was nothing. I couldn’t even hear birdsong or the rustle of leaves on a breeze.
Where the hell had they brought me?
The men half set me down, and then I was scooped up again. I felt myself passing from the outside to the interior. A door slammed shut behind me again.
“She can walk now,” came the deep voice of Muscles.
I was set back down on my feet, and then I felt tugging, and the tear of the tape that had bound my ankles together met my ears. I breathed a sigh of relief, more concerned with turning my feet in circles to ease the stiffness of my poor ankles and getting the blood back into my toes than I was about running away. Besides, I still had my mouth taped, a bag over my head, and my hands taped behind my back. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Strong arms supported me, but pushed me forward at the same time. From the bottom of the bag, I caught an expensive polished floor, but I had no other clues about my location.
We paused as another door was opened, and then I was helped down a set of wooden steps.
“We can take the tape off her mouth now,” Muscles said. Was he the guy in charge?
“Not sure she deserves it after what she did to my nose.”
Internally, I gave a smile of triumph that I’d managed to hurt the tall one who’d first tried to grab me.
“I don’t know,” came the southern drawl of Gray-eyes, “I think losing the tape should be her reward.”
There was a smack and a yell of annoyance, though I heard humor in their tone as well. I wasn’t sure if they were serious or messing with each other. I didn’t care either way. I just wanted the damned tape off my mouth.
To my relief, a hand, though I couldn’t be sure who it belonged to, reached up under the hood. Fingers snagged the side of the tape, and with one fast motion, tore it from my lips.
I cried out as heat flared through my skin where the tape had been torn away. Any fine hairs must have been ripped out by the roots, and I didn’t think I’d need to get an upper lip wax any time soon, if I even lived long enough to worry about such a thing.
“Please,” I said, my voice croaky from emotion and lack of use, “take the bag off as well.”
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Gray-eyes growled. “We’re gonna leave you here to have a little think for awhile first.”
Confusion raced through me. “What? Think about what?”
“Come on,” Muscles said, and I realized he was talking to the other men. “Let’s give her some time to get comfortable.”
“No, wait!”
I didn’t know why I didn’t want them to go. I should. I should have wanted them to get the hell away from me so I never had to see them again. But the idea of being left in this unknown place, helpless, unable to see and with my hands tied, filled me with terror.
Footsteps paced away from me, and then a door slammed shut. The small amount of light that had penetrated the bottom of the hood vanished. At the top of the stairs, a lock jammed into place. Those motherfuckers had just shut me down here in the dark.
Anger lodged like a hot stone in the center of my chest. I didn’t know why I was here or what they were going to do with me, but I wasn’t going to play n
icely. A part of me wanted to sit on the ground and cry, but I clung to my anger, knowing it would be more productive than feeling sorry for myself. If I failed to get free, that was when I’d allow myself to cry.
The bag or hood, or whatever it was over my head wasn’t tied on. If I leaned over far enough, I might be able to shake it from my head.
I bent at the waist and hung my head, as though I was drying my hair upside down, and tried to shake the bag off. But with my hands tied behind my back, my balance was unstable and I staggered forward, almost losing my balance to bring me crashing down on my own face. I might have broken Busted’s nose, but I didn’t want to break my own as well. Knocking myself unconscious also wasn’t too high on my wish list.
Instead, I lowered myself to my knees, and tried the leaning forward trick from lower. I figured it wouldn’t cause such damage if I was to fall. I shook my head, and then used my shoulders to try to push the bag from each side of my face. I shook my head again then placed my face against the ground, using the floor to scrape the material away. Inch by inch, I edged it higher, until finally I gave one final shake and the bag fell from my head.
I sat back on my heels, panting, and blinking in the dark. It took a moment for my eyes to get used to the lack of light—not that I had much anyway with the bag over my head. The only illumination was via a shaft of light under the door at the top of the stairs. My natural reaction was to want to be closer to it, to climb back up and sit with my face pressed against the door like a dog waiting for its owner to return, but I held myself back. I needed to check out the space I was in, see if there was any other way out of here, or if there was a chance they’d left something down here which I could use as a weapon.
Gradually, my eyes grew used to the dim light, and I was able to make out more of my surroundings. The floor beneath me was hard and cold, some kind of polished concrete. From what I could see, the rest of the room seemed to be a converted cellar.
My blood ran cold.
A double bed took prime position in the middle of the room. If an inanimate object could hold the promise of a threat, that was what it did. On the back wall was a second door, which I assumed led to a bathroom. Everything appeared comfortable enough, but it had obviously been converted for a reason. There were no windows, and a lock on the door.
The space had been created to keep someone in, and I assumed, for some length of time. I might not be the first, but right now, that someone was me.
What would they do with me, these men? And why had they picked me? Had I stumbled upon a sex slave gang? I’d read about it happening all the time in the papers, and online, how the sex slave trade was still very much a thing, and that girls were taken all the time and sold on. But why would they choose me? And why take on a whole team of FBI to get to me? Surely there were easier ways of taking someone.
I guessed I’d probably find out soon enough, but in the meantime I wasn’t just going to sit here and wait. I needed to be ready when they came, and right now the biggest thing holding me back, other than the locked door, was that my hands were still bound. I’d managed to get the hood off, now I needed to free my wrists.
Awkwardly, not realizing before how much it helped to have hands free to get to your feet, I stood. For once, I was happy about the darkness. I didn’t know if they had cameras down here, but, unless they were night vision ones, which I doubted, the bad light would hide me. I glanced around, trying to spot something I might use to help to free my hands. There wasn’t much in here—the bed, the dresser, a table with a chair facing it. I went to the adjoining door and pushed it open with my shoulder. It was even darker in here, the light filtering beneath the door at the top of the stairs too far away to reach. I squinted, my mind piecing together the shapes in front of me. A toilet, a sink, a free-standing shower with a screen door. No bath. None of these things would help me get my hands free.
I turned and went back into the bedroom, trying not to feel disheartened. I went to the dresser and twisted my body slightly, rubbing my elbow against the corner. It wasn’t as sharp as I would have liked, unlike metal or glass, but it was the best I had.
The height of the dresser meant I had to bend at the knees so the place where the tape was wrapped around my wrists hit the sharp corner. I tried to twist at the same time, looking over my shoulder to make sure I was getting the right place. I felt the corner dig into the tape and then I moved my hands up and down, trying to create a sawing motion. My shoulders ached within seconds, and my thighs burned from squatting, but I ignored the discomfort. I didn’t know how much time I had. Those men could be back here at any moment, and I didn’t know what would happen to me then. From my surroundings, I assumed they planned on keeping me here for some time, but I was only guessing. They could easily move me on, and the fear of the unknown was even worse.
My breathing came hard, and though the room was cool, beads of sweat burst on my upper lip and across my temples. The salt stung my skin where they’d torn the tape from my mouth, so I wiped my face on my shoulder, hoping to get rid of some of the sweat.
It felt as though I’d been doing this forever. It wasn’t going to work. The tape was too strong, the corner of the wood not sharp enough. I’d need to try something else, but, as far as I could see, I didn’t have any other options.
Suddenly, something popped, and my wrists felt looser. My heart lifted in hope. I didn’t think I’d been doing any good, but a piece of the tape must have given way. I still had more binding my wrists, but it had been working!
With renewed vigor spurred on by my small success, I got back to work. My muscles screamed under the pressure of the awkward angle, and I knew I’d be stiff the following day, but it didn’t seem like such a big deal under the circumstances.
A second piece of tape snapped, and I was able to pull my hands farther apart. With the extra movement, I pulled and wiggled my hands and wrists, creating more space between them. The tape was tougher and clung to my skin, but finally I was able to tug the last piece away.
I was free.
Chapter Five
I allowed myself a moment to breathe then pulled my arms around to the front of my body, wiggling my fingers to get the blood back into them, and rolling my shoulders to ease my strained muscles. The relief at no longer being tied up made me want to cry, but I blinked back the tears. I was frightened that if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
My thoughts went to Aunt Sarah. Would she have noticed I was missing yet? Would the shootout on the street have been reported and linked to me? Would one of the agents visit her at home and tell her I’d been abducted? I wasn’t even sure what time of day it was, and if she’d have even finished work yet. Aunt Sarah and I had shared a rocky relationship, but she was all I had, and I hated to think of her worrying about me.
With my aching legs, I shuffled over to sit on the edge of the bed. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes for a moment. A part of me was tempted to lie down on the softness of the mattress, place my head on the pillow, and go to sleep. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about my current situation. It was a form of running away, of burying my head in the sand, and I couldn’t do that. I’d managed to free myself from the hood and tape, now I just had to figure out what to do next. Besides, I didn’t like being on the bed. The possibilities of what might happen to me there made my blood run cold.
I forced myself back to my feet and made my way over to the stairs. From the light under the door, I couldn’t see any shadows, so I didn’t think there was anyone on the other side. I was pretty sure I’d heard them lock it, but I had to try the handle to make sure. I’d be kicking myself if I sat down here, assuming the door to be locked when it wasn’t.
Poised for any creaks or groans from the wood that might give me away, I slowly crept up the staircase. I reached the top without further incident then paused once more, listening hard for any sign of anyone on the other side.
There was nothing.
I knew the movement of the door handle would
also give me away, but I didn’t have any choice on that matter. I’d have to twist it to see if it was locked.
I reached out and then paused. I could hear voices, male and low. They didn’t sound as though they were getting any closer, and in my head I pictured the men sitting in a room a little distance away. I listened hard, trying to make out what they were saying, hoping to get a clue about my location or even what they wanted with me. I picked up on fragments of sentences, none of them making much sense.
“... can’t until we ...”
A different voice. “... won’t be happy if he thinks you’ve ...”
It faded out for a moment then someone else spoke. “She might not even know ...”
Were they talking about me? Know what?
The sound of chairs scraping across the floor made me leap to my feet. Shit. Were they coming?
Leaving the door handle untouched, I scrambled back down the stairs, my heart racing, panic filling me with adrenaline. I knew I’d be in trouble if they saw I’d removed the hood and gotten myself free from the tape. They’d tie me back up again, and the thought of it filled me with dread.
Acting quickly, I snatched the hood from where I’d left it on the floor and pulled it half over my head, enough that it was on, but still left my eyes free.
I heard the catch of the lock being opened. I was so scared, I thought I might throw up. Terror filled me, but I managed to spot where I’d dropped the torn tape and grabbed it. I dropped to the floor, sitting up against the wall, and pulled the hood fully over my face, before shoving my hands behind my back, holding the torn tape, and praying they wouldn’t notice.
Hacking Darkness Page 3