Devastated

by EM BROWN

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bataar didn’t have to say anything before Ben knew that something was wrong. Bataar wouldn’t knock on Ben’s hotel room at this hour of night unless he had something important to say.

  “Chin’s been shot,” Bataar informed. “And Moe’s not answering his phone.”

  Ben felt his veins turn cold. “Kimani.”

  Bataar was silent for one second too long. This had just gone from bad to worse.

  “Chin managed to get in his car to tail Jake,” Bataar continued, “but he had to pull over because he was losing too much blood.”

  Ben felt a vein explode. “So we don’t know where she is?!”

  “Bill’s on his way to Kimani’s home, which is where Moe’s cell locater is signaling, and Chin already called 9-1-1,” Bataar said, rubbing his jaw.

  Shit. A flight back to San Francisco would take at least two and a half hours.

  “Your jet is being readied,” Bataar said.

  Not bothering to pack, Ben grabbed his mobile, threw on his shoes, and strode out. A gun meant this wasn’t about a little act of intimidation. Fucking Jake!

  “We had two guys at the scene, and we couldn’t stop Jake?” Ben thundered.

  “Vince was there. And Chin didn’t think he needed to have his piece on him.”

  Ben took a breath to keep his blood pressure from going through the roof. He had to keep his emotions in check if he was going to think clearly. “How was she?”

  “A little banged up. Chin couldn’t tell for sure.”

  “How far did he follow Jake?”

  “Somewhere outside Santa Rosa.”

  Sonoma County. Where could they be headed?

  “The cabin,” Ben answered himself out loud. “That’s probably where they’re headed. Call the Trinity County Sherriff’s office. And have Bill meet up with us.”

  “What about Moe?”

  “The emergency responders can help him more than Bill can. We’re going to need a car to meet us at Weaverville in case we can’t get one at this hour.”

  Flying into Weaverville would be shorter than flying into San Francisco. Ben only hoped he could get there in time.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Kimani stood at the edge of a pier overlooking dark ocean waters beneath a moonless sky. Rope encircled her body, pinning her arms to her sides and her legs together.

  “Come on, pet,” Ben called to her from where he treaded water.

  She observed the choppy waves with doubt.

  “Don’t make me come and get you,” he warned.

  She looked from the water into his eyes, which she desperately tried to read, but they were also dark. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t explain that she couldn’t swim when she was all tied up. She supposed it was obvious.

  Ben continued to tread water. He seemed at ease, but then, he didn’t have his hands tied.

  Though she couldn’t tell in the dark, it seemed his expression softened.

  “Trust me.”

  With the grip of fear still about her, she jumped.

  Water splashed over her. She coughed. Her head hurt.

  “Wakey, wakey, slut.”

  Kimani opened her eyes. She wanted to wipe away the droplets in her eyes, but rope still bound her. She felt wet, but she wasn’t in the ocean.

  A hand slapped the side of her face. Had she drowned? Was Ben trying to revive her?

  “I said to wake the fuck up, slut!”

  She felt thumbs at her eyes, pulling her eyelids up.

  The face of Jake Whitehurst came into view.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  She tried to turn her head away from the faint spray of his spit, but he caught her jaw roughly.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled, slapping her once more.

  Her mind started to piece together her situation, and it wasn’t good. She remembered being accosted on her front doorstep, a scuffle, darkness, the hum of a car, her immobility. She had been dreaming just now but awoke to a nightmare.

  “You’re such a bad slut,” he spit. “All that time with Benji boy, and you haven’t learned a damn thing. Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe he was the pussy. Is that right?”

  Despite the throbbing of her head, she was able to focus on Jake and take in her surroundings. She was tied to a chair. They seemed to be alone. Where?

  She recognized the windowless room with the single lightbulb overhead. It was where she and her peers from the Scarlet Auction had slept. Jake’s cabin in Trinity County.

  She tried to stifle the panic rising in her throat. Even if she could escape outside, there wouldn’t be anyone to run to for miles.

  Where was her cellphone? Where was his? She looked him over but didn’t see anything.

  “Checking me out, slut?” he asked with a grin. “This is what a real Dom looks like. I’m gonna show you how it’s really done.”

  She wondered if it was still night or had it turned to day? If the latter, then Marissa would have noticed her missing. Maybe she would have called the police, but would they consider her a missing person if it hadn’t been twenty-four hours yet?

  She couldn’t count on anyone coming to her aid. She had no idea what Jake intended, if he just meant to bully her or if he was capable of murder, but she had to stall him somehow.

  “What happened?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

  “So you’re incompetent and stupid. Man, you people were better off on the plantations.”

  She regretted the times she had called Ben an asshole. Jake Whitehurst and his kind were the real assholes.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t like what I said?” he sneered. “It’s what the majority of this country believes, even if they’re too nice to say it out loud. So you go right on and do your protesting shit. The truth is—people don’t give a rat’s ass.”

  Stay calm, Kimani. You just want to make it out alive.

  “What is it you want, Jake?” she asked, subtly trying to test out her bonds and see if there was a loose end somewhere.

  He smirked, which made him look even nastier, even though someone who didn’t know him would consider him extremely good-looking. “I want that blow job you owe me.”

  She tried not recoil in disgust. “I owe you a blow job?”

  He unzipped his black jeans and pulled out his penis. “You were lucky Claire was up to the task that first night. I got cheated.”

  Kimani tried not to look at his dick because doing so made her stomach turn over. “Ben wanted his money back?”

  “Surprisingly, he didn’t ask for it back. Probably thought he owed it to me for breaking Vince’s arm. But two hundred thousand dollars doesn’t come close to making up for what I had to go through.”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re the victim?”

  “Yeah. Some bitch sports agent found out I pled out on an assault charge and pulled that MeToo shit, telling people I attack women. I lost two potential clients on account of cunts like her. And you. Women like you are so fucked up. You dig BDSM and rape fantasies, but when it happens for real, you wanna make men pay for your own messed-up shit. Deep down you want it, but you buy into that feminist shit that you’re not supposed to, so you take it out on men. So, hell yeah, I’m the victim here!”

  There was no use explaining to someone like Jake the difference between fantasy and reality, or that BDSM done right involved a lot of consent.

  Jake stroked his cock to semi-erectness. “So this blow job is on behalf of all men who have had to put up with cunts like you.”

  Keep him talking.

  “Are you saying all men are innocent?”

  “They haven’t been proven guilty. But these days, they’re automatically guilty just because some stupid slut says a guy put the moves on her.”

  “That didn’t happen with the most recent Supreme Court nomination. He was presumed innocent by a majority of the Senate.”

  “Yeah, but he got raked over the coals. Someo
ne owes him a helluva blow job.”

  His penis was inches from her face.

  Lord, please don’t make me have to taste his junk.

  As if in answer to her prayer, there was a knock at the door.

  “What?” Jake growled.

  “Claire’s here,” Vince said from the other side.

  “What the fuck?”

  “She said you told her you’d be at the lake this weekend, and she decided to surprise you.”

  “Fuck! I never confirmed to her I was going.” Jake stuffed his penis back in his jeans and went to open the door. “She drive herself up? What the hell?”

  Vince didn’t bother looking over at Kimani. “What should I do with her?”

  “Fuck. I fucking hate blonds.”

  Jake stepped out and slammed the door behind him. Kimani heard him stomping up the stairs.

  Claire was here! She wasn’t alone with Jake. Kimani felt a ray of hope. Though Claire hadn’t proved too helpful last time, her presence was better than none.

  Kimani could see a lot of anger and hate in Jake. Was it enough to be deadly? She had to assume the possibility was there. Either way, she had to get out of here before discovering the answer.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “The cops said they didn’t find anyone at the cabin,” Bataar said.

  They were in Ben’s jet en route to Weaverville.

  “Jake must not have made it there yet,” Ben said. “Have them go back.”

  Shit. A lot could happen before the sheriff’s deputy made it back to the cabin. If they even agreed to go check again.

  As Bataar waited for the county sheriff’s office to pick up his call, he added, “Bill’s been driving nearly a hundred miles an hour, but we’ll still beat him there. He’ll meet us at the cabin.”

  Bataar had secured a car, having found a saloon in Weaverville that was open and bribing the owner with a thousand dollars if he could meet them at the airport and let them borrow his car.

  Ben prayed he was right that Jake was headed to his lakeside cabin. Because if he wasn’t...or he didn’t make it on time...

  Chapter Thirty

  Twenty or so minutes had passed by, and Kimani had come up with nothing, no strategy for escape. She had spent a good part of her time trying to assess how much danger she was in and trying not to panic. She knew Jake could get violent, and after what he had been through, he probably hated her now more than ever.

  But she did have one helpful thought—if she could get her hands free, she stood a better chance. And maybe the only way she could do that was to play the part he wanted. Appease him long enough to catch him off guard.

  She shuddered. She’d rather eat vomit than have to pander to Jake, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

  She looked around the room to see if anything could be used as a weapon but found nothing. At least she had a strategy now.

  “Time for nappy hoes to be fed,” Jake announced as he entered and closed the door behind him.

  She knew what he intended for a meal and wanted to retch. Noticing he had a scotch in hand, she wondered how much he’d had to drink, and if his drinking was a good thing or a bad thing. The alcohol could impair him or it could make him more violent and lose control.

  She also noticed that the lock hadn’t actually engaged and the door slid open a crack.

  Excitement shot up her spine. She prayed Jake didn’t notice. Maybe she could scream for help? Maybe Claire was in the cabin and could hear her? But if not, she would only upset Jake, and who knew what he might do. She decided to keep the screaming in her back pocket until she had a better assessment of whether or not it could be useful.

  “Let’s see how good you give head,” Jake snickered. “You got them big-ass lips. Maybe they’re good for something.”

  Unzipping his fly with one hand, he pulled out his penis and stroked himself.

  How was she going to get him to untie her? she wondered. Was there a way to delay the blow job he wanted?

  He smeared the tip of his penis over her lips, and her whole body recoiled in horror. She suppressed painful feelings of helplessness and violation. She needed to do what she needed to do.

  “Come on, slut,” he said, “you know you want it. Nothing better than a big white cock, right?”

  If it weren’t for the grave situation she was in, she might have retorted that it was complexes around big white cocks that led to so many problems in the world, both current and historical.

  “What’s the matter?” Jake snarled. “You like small chinky dicks better?”

  She stared at his member. Her stomach churned.

  “Can I at least go to the bathroom first?” she asked. “I haven’t gone since—”

  In the split second it took for her to see his fist raised, she reacted, twisting her body to try to get away from his punch. It glanced off her cheek, and the floor struck her other cheek when she fell over.

  “Jake, would you want—”

  Through the haze of pain, Kimani heard, then saw Claire at the threshold.

  Claire stared at them with a puzzled expression.

  “I thought you were taking a fucking bath,” Jake growled.

  “I came to see if you wanted to take one with me,” Claire replied, still dumbfounded by what she had stumbled across.

  “Claire, call 9-1-1!” Kimani told her.

  Claire blinked several times, then turned to head back upstairs. She must have heard the panic in Kimani’s voice. But Jake had covered the distance and, grabbing Claire by the hair, dragged her into the room.

  “You stupid bitch,” Jake spat, shaking her. “I never told you to come up here! But since you’re here, I’ll let you have the first taste.”

  After pushing her to her knees, he wagged his penis in front of her.

  “Go on, slut.”

  Claire started to tear up. He smacked her hard across the face, then took a sip of the drink he still held.

  “What’s the matter with you bitches?” he asked. He grabbed her long golden hair again to pull her back up to her knees. “Open up, Slut #1. Or were you Slut #2?”

  Crying, Claire was trembling too hard to do much. He pinched her nose, forcing her to breathe through her mouth, and shoved himself into her. She gagged immediately.

  “Stupid fucking bitch,” he muttered before hitting her and knocking her to the floor.

  She cried harder.

  “Look,” Kimani said to Jake, “I’ll do whatever the hell you want. You want me to suck you off? I’ll suck you off real good. Just don’t hurt us.”

  Jake smiled. “Now that’s more like it.”

  “You want to see what I can do with my hands while I go down on you? Guys like it when I tug their balls at the same time I suck their cock. I finger the perineum nice and good. And it’s fucking amazing with a finger up your ass at the same time. You ever feel how good that is?”

  Jake contemplated the idea. “You better not try anything or I’ll beat the shit out of you both.”

  Claire sobbed louder.

  Jake turned to her. “Shut up!”

  Still holding his scotch somehow, he loosened the rope enough for Kimani to get out. He pulled her to her knees and presented his dick.

  “This better be as good as you say it is,” he spat.

  She glanced over at Claire, who had curled into a fetal position. She was on her own, Kimani assessed.

  “Get on with it, bitch, or I’ll rip these braids off your head,” Jake threatened, grabbing her hair.

  She took a hold of his member, contemplating the wisdom of biting it. Maybe if she got him to the point of coming and bit him then, he wouldn’t be able to react fast enough to hit her.

  Trying not to wonder if he had any STDs, she wrapped her lips over his tip. She watched him take a sip of his drink—and had an idea. She came off his penis and loosened her hold...

  When he lowered his drink, she shoved the pad of her palm to the bottom of the glass, splashing the contents into his face. />
  He roared when the alcohol stung his eyes. As he rubbed them, she ran to the chair, picked it up, and slammed it into him, knocking him to the ground.

  “Run!” Kimani yelled at Claire.

  Claire managed to scramble to her feet. Kimani turned and slammed into something hard.

  Vince.

  “What the hell—” he began.

  He grabbed Kimani and pulled out his gun. Claire screamed.

  When he looked in her direction, Kimani, recalling a self-defense move, stepped closer to Vince and head-butted him in the chin.

  He stumbled backward. His hand hit the doorframe, dislodging the gun, which skidded over to Claire’s feet.

  “Pick it up!” Kimani cried.

  Though shaking violently, Claire got the gun, pointing it at Vince as he scrambled toward her.

  “Give me the gun, sweetheart,” Vince said. “You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Kimani ran over to Claire and tried to take the gun, but Claire’s hands seemed frozen in place, so she put her hands over Claire’s. Adrenaline flowed in her veins.

  At any moment, Claire might accidentally pull the trigger. Hell, at any moment, she might do the same.

  “I want a phone,” Kimani said to the two men. “Which of you two has a phone?”

  “There’s no cell coverage here,” Jake sneered from where he half knelt.

  “Bullshit.” She remembered having made a call on Ben’s cellphone.

  While she contemplated whether or not she and Claire should just make a run for it, she heard tires squealing outside. Was it the police? But how would they know to come? Did Jake have more than Vince working for him?

  Thinking it might be the latter, Kimani grabbed Claire. “Let’s go!”

  She managed to take the gun from Claire as they dashed up the stairs, with Jake and Vince not far behind.

  The front door to the cabin swung open. Kimani brought the gun up.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she exclaimed.

  She found herself looking into the end of another gun barrel.

  “Kimani!”

  Ben? Was she hearing correctly?