by Leslie North
“Take your hands off me, before I remove them for you. Permanently.”
The boss laughed. Honest to God, he fucking laughed at her threat and Alex kicked him hard. She went for his nuts, but their height difference and his gut sticking out in front of him had her blow landing somewhere around his mid-thigh instead. He swore and stumbled slightly, but kept his tight grip on her arm. There’d definitely be bruises from that later, but it was the least of her concerns.
“You’re coming with me, you little bitch,” the boss said, dragging her toward the door while Hunter—who’d managed to shake off his attacker and get to his feet—was jumped from behind and tackled to the floor again. “I like you a whole lot better without that godawful wig and glasses too. You’ll fetch a nice price on the black market. Blondes always sell well.”
“Stop it!” Alex fought against him, managing to land a few hits to his head and chest, but overall she was outsized and out muscled. “Put me down!”
The boss had now picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he headed back out the front door. Neighbors were standing around pointing and whispering, but no one tried to help her. Jesus. This was like her worst nightmare come to life. Were these people so used to violence on their streets that it meant nothing to them anymore? As the boss opened the trunk of a black unmarked sedan and shoved Alex inside, she caught the eye of one of the women watching the whole thing unfold and she knew. It wasn’t that these people were immune to the violence. It was that they were scared. Scared the violence might turn on them too. So they did nothing.
Alex screamed and tried to escape as the boss slammed the trunk closed on her, leaving her in utter darkness. Where was Hunter? Was he alive? Would he rescue her in time? The yells of the boss outside, telling the crowd to go home, nothing to see here, followed by the roar of the engine and jostle as they backed out of the driveway, had her heart sinking.
The last thing Alex heard as they pulled away in a screech of tires was Hunter’s voice yelling her name from somewhere close by, then nothing as the rumble of the roadway took over everything else.
13
Think, Alex. Think.
She swallowed hard against the disorientation and adrenaline-fueled fear constricting her throat and forced herself to calm. She’d been in this situation before. Not in real life, but for one of her campy, B-list movie roles. Grit, Guns, and Glory or some other idiotic name they’d given it. The film had not even had a theatrical run, going straight to DVD, but it had taught Alex some particular skills—namely how to escape from the trunk of a car. Her character in the movie, a bimbo with a heart of gold named Glory Hill, had been abducted by the bad guys and needed to escape or be killed. Alex snorted in the dark confines of the trunk, wrinkling her nose at the hint of burning rubber, motor oil, and mildew in the air. Never would’ve guessed life would imitate art quite so closely.
Wriggling around, Alex managed to trace her sock-covered toes along the side of the trunk, feeling for the corner. In the prop vehicle they’d used for the movie, there’d been an emergency safety release lever near the rear tail light. It was a federal requirement for all vehicles made in the US after 2002. Usually they glowed in the dark, but when she squinted through the gloom, Alex didn’t see anything. Great.
The car bumped over a pothole or curb or something and knocked her head against the trunk lid. Alex cursed and rubbed her sore scalp. “Ow!”
Well, crap. Maybe this car was older than 2002. Or maybe the sex boss had ripped out the emergency release lever, considering Alex probably wasn’t the first person he’d locked in here. Her toes sank into a slight depression in the rough carpet she was laying on and she pressed harder with her foot. Must be the tail light. If she could pull the carpet away and kick the thing out, then at least she could try and alert someone that she was in here.
Sweat broke out on her forehead as she struggled to turn herself around in the tight space. Her breath echoed loud and her heart raced. Finally, Alex managed to get herself turned around so her head was facing where the taillight was, or where she thought it was. Fingers scrabbling, she tore at the carpet in that corner, desperate to get beneath it to where the tail light was.
Her mind kept looping back to Hunter. Was he still at the house? Was he okay?
At last the carpet came free and out popped the emergency lever. It must’ve gotten hidden behind the carpet somehow. Alex felt a strange urge to shout a woohoo at her good luck, but stopped herself. The last thing she needed now was to draw the sex boss’s suspicions. Surprise would be key to her getting away from him. She clutched the neon green plastic lever in her damp palm and forced her rapid breath to calm. Her best bet to get out of here without breaking something would be to wait until the car stopped at a light then make a mad dash for freedom. Except she had no idea where they were or if they’d stop anytime soon.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. The sound of the tires bumping along slowed and gradually other noises drifted in—Latin pop music, shouts in Spanish and a faint odor of spices and fried corn. El Pueblo. They must be near the old historic monument and marketplace. That made sense, since the safe house Hunter had taken her to was close by. Alex guessed they’d been driving for maybe twenty minutes, which would put it at around ten-thirty, maybe eleven at the latest. The place should be crawling with people. If she got the trunk open and climbed out, she could get lost in the crowds and hopefully get away. Get back to Hunter.
The car’s brakes gave a grumpy squeak as the vehicle halted.
Her chest squeezed, her pulse tripped. This was it. Now or never.
Alex closed her eyes and pulled hard on the lever in her hand, praying she’d have enough time to get out before the light changed. Like a Jack in the Box on steroids, the trunk lid flew open and she acted on pure impulse, fumbling out of the back of the car and blindly racing away. The sun was so bright after the total darkness of the trunk that she really couldn’t see anything. Even if she could, her eyes were watering so badly it probably looked like she was crying uncontrollably. Still, Alex made her way toward the blurry, colorful shapes moving in front of her, the pavement warm on her feet through the socks. She clutched the too big sweatpants with one hand to hoist them up so she wouldn’t trip. Alex spoke minimal Spanish, enough to get by, and recognized the whispered comments of the people she passed—vieja loca, crazy lady. At least no one seemed to recognize her. She could only imagine what a mess she looked right about now, but at least she was out. Free.
Shouts issued from behind her and Alex stumbled. Oh, God. He’d seen her. The boss was after her. Running forward, she managed to duck behind a vendor cart selling tacky souvenirs to the tourists. Her vision cleared and she spotted the sex boss about twenty-five feet away, scanning the area. He had his cell phone to his ear and looked pissed as hell.
Hunter. She needed to get back to the safe house and see if he was all right. Warn him that the sex boss was still looking for them. And Bea? Oh, God. What would happen to Bea now? No way would those slaves be arriving tonight as planned, at least not at the safe house. Maybe at the club though. They’d have to find a place to stash them until the boss found a new place to hold them, right? And they were too valuable to send back. He wouldn’t want to risk exposure or losing his cash investment. Alex had spent more than enough time at Club Xcite to know money ruled in the seedy underbelly of LA’s human sex trafficking rings. Wealth would buy you just about anything in this town.
Finally, the sex boss stalked away back toward the car that still idled at the curb. Alex watched from around the corner of the cart as he slammed the trunk shut and climbed back into the vehicle, still on his phone. She didn’t breathe again until he’d pulled away in a screech of tires, horns honking behind him as he cut off several cars.
Right. Okay.
Alex straightened and adjusted her ill-fitting clothes as best she could. She gave the cart vendor a tentative smile then asked the woman in broken Spanish if she had a cell ph
one Alex could use to make a call. When she’d been abducted, she and Hunter had been ready to share a nice breakfast. One he’d cooked for her after they’d spent the night making love together. It was so sweet and nice and made her heart ache with the need to see him all the more.
She started to call for an Uber then realized she had no money. Well, guess the walk might do her good anyway. Give her time to think, as long as she didn’t run into the sex boss on the way and get taken hostage again. It wasn’t far, only a couple of miles. She usually ran five miles a day with her trainer. And yeah, she had no shoes, but as long as she kept to paved areas and side streets, she should be fine. Alex clicked the phone off and handed it back to the woman, thanking her again for her help. “Muchas gracias.”
The woman nodded slowly, eyeballing Alex’s outfit with trepidation.
With as much dignity as she could muster, Alex squared her shoulders and headed for the side street lining the marketplace. No way was she heading out in front again, just in case the sex boss was still cruising around trying to find her. She slinked through the crowds and disappeared down an alleyway behind a small chapel, saying a silent prayer Hunter was still at the safe house and that she wasn’t too late to salvage something from this disaster of a mission.
14
Hunter tested the ropes around his wrists, binding his arms to the chair the thugs had him tied to in the kitchen of the safe house. His ankles were bound too, the knots snug, but nothing he couldn’t break out of if he’d had the incentive and opportunity. For now, he stayed put—partly because he needed time to formulate a plan to find out where that asshole sex boss had taken Alex, and partly because he felt it was his penance.
He’d been such a fucking idiot, losing his concentration like that. But when he’d seen that filthy piece of shit’s hands on Alex, hauling her out the door, Hunter had lost it. Plain and simple. A searing, uncontrollable anger had welled inside him at the thought of anyone mistreating his woman and he’d gone ballistic.
His thoughts snagged.
My woman?
Yeah, okay. The sex with Alex had been pretty damned amazing. Incredible even. He’d never given up control like that to another person and fuck if it wasn’t freeing as hell. Until Alex, he’d never realized how tightly wound his need for control was during his daily work. The fact he could give that up and let someone else be in charge in the bedroom turned him on more than anything else ever had before.
And no, he hadn’t given much thought to what would happen between him and Alex after this mission was over. He lived and worked in Virginia. Her career depended on staying in L.A. Long distance relationships were always a struggle. Then again, he wasn’t even sure Alex wanted any kind of thing with him beyond their one night of incredible sex. Maybe to her it had just been a simple hook up. Nothing more.
His chest ached at the thought of leaving her behind once all this mess was done, walking away and never seeing her again, never smelling her sweet, lemony scent, never tasting the salt of her skin, never hearing her cry out his name as she came apart in his arms.
He cared for her, way more than was wise at this point. Hunter wasn’t exactly ready to call it love yet, but the warmth in his gut and the tingle in his blood felt like more than mere like or want. It felt deeper, stronger. He longed to know all about her, to share all about himself with her. More than just what they’d already told each other. He wanted her to meet his parents. Wanted to meet her family too. Wanted to just relax and be together for a while to see if they were truly compatible, truly meant to be together without the adrenaline rush and distractions of this case pushing them closer. And if she was the one then…
Dammit. Damn it all straight to hell and back.
Frustrated, he growled and struggled against the ropes again, loosening them a tad more. These thugs were morons. Couldn’t even tie a decent knot for fuck’s sake. If they’d been on his SEAL team, he’d have kicked their asses into shape right quick. For now though, all he could do was sit there and glower at the guard across from him, who was currently too busy texting on his phone to pay Hunter much attention. The other guard, the one he’d smashed in the face earlier, was still in the living room, sitting on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on his eye. It was the one leaning against the kitchen counters who’d struck Hunter over the head with a frying pan on the front porch as he’d stood there yelling after the car that Alex was locked inside of drove away. Yep. That had been an idiot move all around on his part.
With a resigned sigh, Hunter rolled his stiff neck and stared out through the open kitchen to the curtained windows in the living room beyond. A shadow passed in front of them and he frowned. Was someone out there? He’d not had a chance to message Loki for backup before all hell had broken loose earlier, so it couldn’t be that.
Pounding sounded on the front door and his heart stumbled.
Alex?
No. Had to be the sex boss, back again. Or maybe more of his lackey cohorts. Most likely he’d dumped Alex off somewhere then returned here to deal with Hunter himself. The thugs had not done anything more to him other than tie him up. That usually signaled some kind of interrogation to come. Hunter tested his wrists again, found the ropes loose enough to slip off without much trouble, and bit back a sinister grin. After Alex’s abduction and God knew what else once that bastard had her all to himself, Hunter was going to enjoy beating the living shit out of that guy. It was divine justice for what he’d done to Alex and every other poor soul they’d taken and sold into sexual slavery through that disgusting club of his.
Sure enough, the thug with the ice pack got up and opened the door to the sex boss. He stomped in—short, squat, with fury in his beady little black eyes. The guy stalked right over to Hunter and kicked him hard in the shin, sending the chair he was tied to skittering back a few inches. “Who the fuck are you, huh? Who you fucking working for? Tell me now and I might let you die without torturing you first.”
As if to prove his point, the sex boss pulled out a wicked looking blade, slightly curved and razor-sharp—if the way the edge glinted in the overhead lights above was any indication.
Hunter, jaw tight against the pain throbbing through his ankle, didn’t respond.
The boss moved closer and yanked hard on Hunter’s short, buzz-cut hair, forcing his head back so his neck was exposed. The cold metal of the knife blade stung against his skin. “Ain’t so tough now are you, dumbass?” The guy snorted and glanced down at the SEAL tattoo on Hunter’s left bicep. “You’re ex-military, that much is obvious. Guess being a soldier don’t stop you from being a pussy too, huh?”
This drew a chuckle from the thug against the counter and Hunter made a mental note to break the fucker’s nose once he got out of this shit. Hard to laugh when your sinuses were filled with blood. Still, he just stared at the sex boss, meeting his gaze head on without so much as flinching. His only response was, “Fuck you.”
“Heh.” The boss pressed the blade tighter to Hunter’s neck and the knife bit into his skin. A warm drop of blood slowly trickled downward. “Shit for brains. Don’t have to be smart for them military guys to take you either, huh? Lucky you.”
No. Lucky you. If he wasn’t pretending to be tied up right now, he’d end this assclown so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him. But first he needed to find out where Alex was and what had happened to her, then he needed to find out about the slave drop that night. Was it off entirely? Would they stash the women elsewhere? And if so, where?
Apparently fed up with his lack of response, the sex boss cursed loudly then hauled off and backhanded Hunter hard across the face. The blow took the wind out of his sails for a second, but otherwise did no lasting damage. He didn’t let the boss know that though. Instead, he let his chin drop down to his chest, keeping his eyes closed, hoping that if they thought he was out cold, they might start talking.
It took all of about a minute. Not exactly a brain trust he was dealing with here.
“You hear from our trafficke
r?” the boss asked the thug in the kitchen.
“Just got a text,” the thug said. “He’s not happy about the switch.”
“Don’t give a shit if he likes it or not. Can’t have them sluts delivered here now. Place ain’t safe.” The boss hauled off and kicked Hunter again, this time in the opposite shin. Hunter bit back a nasty snarl of rage. When he got out of this chair he was going to kick this guy’s fucking ass into the next goddamned century.
“You deal with the blond or you need me to do anything?” Footsteps entered from the direction of the living room and though Hunter had his eyes closed, he recognized the voice of the thug he’d beaten earlier. “She still out in the trunk?”
“No.” There was a loud crash as glass smashed against the wall of the kitchen. The boss must’ve thrown a cup or plate or something from the sink, Hunter assumed. “She got away.”
“What?” the thug asked, his tone reflecting Hunter’s own surprise.
“She. Got. Away.” The boss bit off each word like a curse. “Are you deaf as well as stupid? Bitch got the trunk open and ran off while I was stopped at a light. I searched around trying to find her, but that El Pueblo place is swarming with fucking tourists today. Don’t worry about her. She’s dumber than a box of rocks and won’t get far on her own. Stupid twat doesn’t even have shoes on.”
Hunter’s heart both soared at the knowledge that Alex was free and sank at the knowledge that she was out there on her own, without any money or protection. She was smart, far smarter than anyone ever gave her credit for, and resourceful—given her quick knack for disguises and the way she’d concocted their master-slave plan from the start. She’d be okay. She’d be fine, because the alternative was unacceptable.