Secret Maneuvers

by Jessie Lane

  My eyelids felt like they had fifty pound sandbags on them, but I finally managed to drag them open. When my eyes adjusted to the dim environment, I saw something that made me wish I’d kept them shut. I was looking down at my naked body. My tangled hair hung over my shoulders, covering parts of my breasts, but my legs were spread and secured so that nothing was left to the imagination. After this, I may never shave down there again.

  Knowing there were at least two men in the room looking at me, I tried to move my hands, wanting to cover myself up, and found it impossible to do so. That might have been caused by the fact that I was tied hand and foot to a cold metal chair. Shit, I was in serious trouble here.

  Men’s laughter echoed through the small, dark room and I just knew those asshats were laughing at me. Glaring up at them from beneath my lashes, I recognized one of the men who’d taken me from the bar. He was the same man who’d whipped his dick out and waved it at me in the truck as if it was a privilege for me to see it. Regardless of my shitty circumstances upon remembering that sight, I’d realized it was definitely not a privilege. He’d give a whole new meaning to the words ‘tiddly bits’.

  Standing next to him was another man who was looking at me with a small smile on his face. His dark, exotic, good looks paired with the confidence he was oozing, probably made him a woman magnet. I, on the other hand, was repelled. Underneath that abnormally handsome exterior lurked a monster and, at the moment, that monster was looking entirely too pleased that I was tied down, helpless, and completely vulnerable before him like a sacrifice.

  Please, God, send Bobby to save me soon.

  “Our little American girl looks scared.” Turning his head to the other man he asked, “Do you think she should be scared, Luis?”

  Luis’s response of a smile was pure evil. “Si, Senor Rivera.”

  Miguel Rivera reached above his head to pull on a string, causing my eyes to go temporarily blind with spots as a bright light bulb flashed on. As I blinked furiously, trying to clear my sight, he stepped closer so that he was within reaching distance of me. Not good. My muscles locked down in anticipation of whatever he was about to do. I just had to stay strong for a little while and Bobby would come for me. The micro trackers were in the guns that had come with us, so they should know exactly where I was. I’d lived through my own personal hell growing up, surely I could survive this.

  His hand reached out slowly, tauntingly, to caress a strand of my hair. “Pretty little ATF Agent, what is your name? I need one to give your government when I tell them you are dead. That shall be their warning to stay out of my business from now on.”

  I locked down the sob of fear that threatened to escape from my chest at his declaration. He was already planning to kill me? What else should I expect, though? This was a man who had sent his thugs to rape, murder, and destroy any and every person or village that had tried to stand in his way during his expansion. Why should I be any different?

  With a surge of anger I jerked my head away from him, trying to pull my hair out of his slimy touch; loathing that any part of him had come into contact with a part of me. If I made it out of here alive, I was going to give myself a disinfectant shower of the likes this world had never seen before. The Lysol Company would have nothing on me.

  Rivera laughed at my bit of defiance. “Such a fiery spirit for one who is at my mercy. It is good for you that I like a woman who fights back. It makes things… interesting.” All of the humor drained from his face and it was then that I was given my first up close look at what a psychotic madman looked like. Eyes that were a warm, light brown with subtle hints of green were so cold they almost looked demonic, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “What is your name?” he growled.

  I sat their quietly, refusing to answer him, waiting for the repercussions of my action. I didn’t have to wait long. His hand flashed out to crack against my cheek, sending my head flying roughly to the side. Damn, he’d hit hard. The only time I’d been hit harder than that was the last night I’d seen my father and ended up fighting him off by knocking him out with the whisky bottle. My face throbbed as I looked back to him. Letting him know, as much as I could by looking him in the eye, that I refused to be broken. I almost wanted to laugh at him really. The irony that I’d been pushed around and damn near beaten to death half of my life gave me a backbone of steel against this kind of attack. So, if he wanted to stand around, slapping me, thinking he’d get his answers, then he had another thing coming.

  Rivera held his hand out to Luis, palm up, and wiggled his fingers at the man, silently beckoning for something. Luis responded by pulling out a large hunting knife from a sheath attached to his belt and handing it to his boss. The shiny metal seemed to gleam unnaturally bright in the light, taunting me with the threat of injury. Was it wrong to start praying that if he was going to kill me, that he would do it quickly?

  Rivera pressed the tip of the knife on the skin below my left eye and it took everything in me not to flinch, which would make the situation worse. Dragging the knife down my face, the deadly point pressing hard enough to leave a mark without actually breaking the skin, his voice crooned, “All of this pretty, white skin. Unblemished. Wouldn’t you like to leave it that way?”

  The further down the knife traveled—over my jaw, down the side of my neck, over my collarbone until it stopped over my heart—it pressed harder into my skin. By the time the knife had stopped moving, he’d broken the skin with a shallow cut that had blood beading up to the surface. The rush of adrenaline and fear coursing through my body caused my skin to feel hyperaware, so that when the first trickle of blood dripped down my neck, the movement felt more like a gushing waterfall to me in my panicked state, instead of the measly drops that were actually trickling down.

  All the fear in the world wasn’t going to change the fact that I was giving this man nothing. Not my name, not even the first letter. It was likely going to be the death of me, but at least I would die knowing that I’d honored my job, and it’s training, by sticking to my guns, keeping my silence. Rivera’s jaw ticked in agitation and then he tsked at me like I was a silly, adolescent, school girl.

  “How very stupid of you, little American girl. Perhaps you think I will not really hurt you.”

  The knife slashed sideways, cutting the skin on my chest above my breasts open. A shocked scream echoed through the room and it took me a second to realize through the burning haze of pain radiating from shoulder to shoulder, that the agonizing scream had come from me.

  “Look what you made me do.” Waving the knife in front of my face, he heaved a bored sigh. “I do not wish you to be messy like this. Messy toys are not fun toys for me. Now tell me what it is I wish to know.”

  Whatever kept me tied to the chair cut into my wrists and legs as I tried to lunge at my tormentor, screaming in fury and wishing with everything in me that I could claw his eyes out of his head. “You’re not getting my name, you piece of shit!”

  Metal flashed again as it arched down towards my legs. The slash ripping open the skin on the top of my right thigh, cutting deep through the tissue almost to the bone, spilling blood freely down my leg and onto the floor. I managed to stifle my scream of agony by clenching my teeth, causing my agonized cry to sound like a half growl, which was semi-appropriate since I felt like I would tear him into chunks, like a frenzied wildcat if I managed to get my hands on him.

  The adrenaline surge that had come with the newest cut started to ebb away and my head dropped backwards to rest on my shoulders, so that I stared at the filthy ceiling that matched the filthy floor, while trying to get a hold of myself.

  “How righteous you must feel. So very proud of yourself, I see. Willing to take whatever I give you to show that you will be the good agent and not give anything away, just as they trained you to, I’m sure. I wonder… Luis, bring our little ATF Agent a visitor. The one we enjoyed time with yesterday should suffice.”

  There was a buzzing in my ears, drowning out the world arou
nd me. My breathing was ragged, labored and painful from the anxiety that was closing in on me. Making my chest tight, too tight. Pulling in air was next to impossible and my vision was beginning to haze over. Any other time in my life and this anxiety—as my mind tried to pull in on itself—would have been beyond terrifying. Instead, it was a blessing to escape the horrendous nightmare around me.

  That blessing quickly vanished when a slap to the face rocked my body and head to the side. Loud hysterical cries filled the room, but they weren’t mine. Forcing my head to look in the direction of the noise, the sight that met my eyes brought a fresh wave of terror over me. A young woman was on her knees, held there by Luis’s hand roughly holding her head so that her body was arched backwards. My heart broke because she was young. Too young. Probably fresh out of her teens, no older than her early twenties, and entirely too inexperienced in life to have to endure whatever hell she’d endured here.

  There were a lot of things that fell under the ‘too’ category for the girl. Too skinny. I could count every bone in her chest all the way down to her jutting hip bones. The only spare flesh she seemed to have on her body was the little bit of fat that consisted of her breasts and buttocks.

  Too scarred. Bright, fresh, red scars overlapped older pink or white ones all over her body. Some were raised and puckered, as if she’d been cut too many times to count by a knife and then poorly sewn up. Other scars were finer and almost strategically placed, as if done in a pattern by a whip or flogger.

  Too broken. Those green eyes of hers were dead and empty as she looked back at me. She might be sobbing, but it was a practiced reaction to whatever it was that she knew was coming. The heart and soul of the woman had long since died and fled its capture. All that was left was the physical shell that hadn’t weakened enough to die yet, but wasn’t far from it.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this girl was proof that Miguel Rivera had, in fact, expanded into the human trafficking business in some manner. It also didn’t take a genius to know that whatever she’d somehow managed to survive, I didn’t want to go through.

  Rivera stepped into my view of the girl. “Let’s see if you are still willing to stay silent when it’s an innocent person being harmed for your lack of answers, eh? Or will you play the hero to save her?”

  Rivera went to stand in front of the girl, but maneuvered himself, the girl and Luis so that the three of them stood in profile in front of me. He unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, barking something at Luis as the girl tried to struggle against the hands holding her. Pushing his pants over his hips, the exotically beautiful drug lord transformed into the hideous beast he truly was by taking his dick in hand, using his other hand to pry the struggling redhead’s lips apart, and then shoving himself so far down her throat that she was forced to gag as her airway was cut off.

  Repulsed and horrified by what was taking place, I turned my head and closed my eyes to block it out, but the monster wouldn’t let me.

  “Ah, ah, ah, little agent.” His words grunt-like from his ongoing actions. “If you do not keep your eyes on us, then I will give her a new cut for every minute that you look away.”

  Reluctantly pulling my eyes upwards, I forced myself to watch the atrocity being performed in front of me. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch this poor girl be abused for the sake of keeping my mouth shut. The sounds of her choking, being used, were going to haunt me until the day I died. Opening my mouth to shout my name and stop this, I didn’t get the first syllable out before the room’s door slammed open behind the trio.

  Please God, let that be help.

  Help hadn’t arrived, though. Another form of hell apparently had.

  Rivera and his thug took one look at the amazon beauty that stood glaring at them from the doorway, hands fisted on her shapely hips, and then dismissed her. It seemed surreal to have her standing there, looking like she’d just come from a lady’s luncheon, when in reality she was interrupting the type of brutal assault that probably took place here every day.

  The woman seemed furious as she rattled something off in Spanish that I’d never have a hope in hell of understanding. Her hands were waving around in the air as she yelled at Rivera, pointing at him and Luis with the poor girl still struggling between them. The two men were still blatantly ignoring her and, since I’d decided to focus on the dark haired brunette woman dressed in a finely tailored navy blue sheath dress instead of the atrocity, I caught the look flash across the woman’s face as she looked at all of us before her. Despair. She might be furious at Rivera, but she was more upset about the girl being used and the two men were oblivious to it.

  She yelled something at Rivera again and he seemed to snap. He lunged for her, grabbing her by the hair roughly, and she started to struggle as he dragged her over towards me. All of this felt like a scene from some horror movie I would cover my eyes from, but the horror in the room wouldn’t let me look away or close my eyes. He pushed the once perfectly coifed woman to her knees just inches from me and laughed. His pants were still hanging carelessly around his hips, but the look on his face as he pulled the woman’s head back as far as it could bend said this was business as usual for him. He could care less about exposing himself in front of us like this because he held the power and obviously that power got him off.

  “What will it be, little American agent? Shall I start with this one now, too, or will you tell me what I want to know?” He cranked the woman’s head back farther, laughing when she cried out in pain.

  Unable to stomach anymore of the nightmare, a tear slipped down my face. My mind and body were numb from what I’d seen so far and probably from the blood loss, too. Going through interrogation training in a classroom and living through it were two different things. Slice me up like a piece of meat, I didn’t care, but what they were doing to these women, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Annabelle Roberts. My name is Annabelle Roberts.” My breath hitched as I pleaded, “Please stop hurting them now.”

  Rivera smirked. Shaking the woman he was holding, he snarled at me, “Do you know who this is Annabelle? This puta is mi esposa. My wife. The mama of one of my hijos.” He wrapped his free hand around the front of her throat and squeezed, cutting off her airway and screams. “She thinks that just because she birthed me a son, she has the power to tell me what to do.” Looking from his wife to me, he asked, “Do you think that I care about my wife enough to let her boss me around like I’m some weak, little, errand boy?”

  I shook my head as I watched his fingers tighten on her skin. Digging into the fragile windpipe brutally. At this point, I would do almost anything to make it all stop. Between what they’d done to the tiny redhead, who was now softly weeping in the background, and Rivera’s wife, I couldn’t handle anymore. Sitting here, tied down and defenseless, bleeding from my cuts, and unable to help them in any way, was killing me.

  “Such a smart woman you are, Annabelle.” He moved his hand from her throat where an angry red mark was left behind and used that hand to grab her chin. “In fact, I grow tired of this wife. She forgets how easily a woman can be replaced to give me sons.”

  His hands jerked her head quickly in two directions, as a loud pop filled the room, and then he let go of his wife, whose limp body fell sideways to the floor. He’d snapped her neck. His own fucking wife and the mother of one of his children, and he’d snapped her neck like he was a spoiled, little boy who was tired of playing with a toy. Fresh despair washed over me as I stared down at her body in a state of shock. Her body had fallen so close to me that her face was now laying in a small pool of my blood and the sight of it turned my stomach, causing me to gag.

  A sharp slap to the face brought my attention back to Rivera who was now standing next to me, staring down with a cold, deadly smile on his face. “We go back to our game, Annabelle. You will watch what Luis and I do to our juguete, or I will start carving her up in small pieces to feed to my guard dogs. Once we are finished, you will finis
h answering my questions or I will continue carving on you.”

  Then I watched in a numb state of terror as the two men did things to that young woman that will scar me for the rest of my life, much worse than the cuts on my body ever would.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bobby

  “The signal had stopped and held position for the last hour just south of Monterrey. It looks like we’re heading into an area just outside of the Cumbres de Monterrey. It’s a national park outside of the city. I have a hard time believing, though, that they’d keep guns or drugs stashed so close to an area with high civilian traffic.” Chase scratched his chin as he looked up from his laptop screen. It was his tell when he was in deep think mode. “You think they’re just making a temporary stop?”

  Riley didn’t bother to look up from where he was concentrating on double checking his weapons and gear to make sure he was ready when the chopper arrived to pick them up, which should be any minute. The man was basically OCD about checking, rechecking and quadruple checking anything and everything on his person before he left for a mission. “I agree. Rivera may be ballsy, but he’s not going to stash his merchandise that close to a national park, or the city of Monterrey for that matter. Even if he’s bought some people off on the local Police Force, there’s no way he could buy off the entire department. It’s the second richest city in Mexico. They’re not desperate for drug money and more interested in making a name in big busts. A bust on Rivera would be the stuff dreams are made of for those guys.”

  Belle had been missing now for seven hours. I’d had to call Sheriff Jenkins to track down Seth so that I could stay with the team as we started planning her extraction. It grated my nerves to have to ask the man for help when it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’d be more than willing to do anything to lure Belle away from me, but Teagan wasn’t here and I didn’t know who else to turn to for help. There was also the seriously sad fact that that man knew my son better than I did. All feelings aside, the facts were that I knew I could trust the man to find Seth and keep him safe until I could bring his mother home.