by Angel Payne
Before she could help herself, she rolled her eyes. She bought in to that threat less than she believed the twerp would shoot her. The crew had clearly been given orders to keep her, Josie, and Rayna in well-fed, pristine condition for their new overseas owners.
But who had given those orders? The blank behind that question mark remained strangely vacant, though Sage knew it wouldn’t stay that way. King’s stateside partner was definitely on his A game, which meant that sooner or later, the slimy shit would slither out from under his rock to flaunt his triumph in orchestrating their recapture. When he did, she’d tell the bastard to find some men for his dirty work, and not the last rejects from the Seattle boy band auditions.
With that thought as encouragement, she dug a toe under the plate in front of her and upended the whole thing at Junior. The guy yelled then used the f word in at least four different ways as a slab of roast beef dropped off his crotch, leaving behind a streak of bright yellow as a souvenir.
Josie and Rayna broke into giggles. Their mirth turned to horror when the goon advanced on Sage, swinging his pistol into a wide backhand. Sage clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders, swearing she wouldn’t show this punk even a flinch of fear. She was the Hawk’s woman. Proving it right now became the sole object of her will and desire in her heart.
Nevertheless…this was going to hurt.
With a resounding thwack, a hand wrapped around Junior’s wrist. The fingers of that hand were long, elegant, and shaded like coffee with a bunch of cream.
“Temper, temper.”
Like the hand, the intervening voice was smooth yet lethal. The words were spoken with unalterable command—and an accent where street boss collided with jungle dictator.
A whole tub of ice dumped into Sage’s chest. Her heart leapt from the freezing floe and begged her throat for sanctuary. But there would be no refuge from the fear now. No safety. No more hope. The fire Garrett had given her a minute ago was now doused as thoroughly as the memory that had brought it, wiped by the monster in front of them now. A yellowed smile parted his slick lips. Cavalier confidence defined his posture.
“Well, well, well,” the man drawled. “Hello again, bitches.”
No matter how deeply she wanted to pass out or how savagely she wanted to shiver, Sage’s first concern was for Rayna. Her friend saw something extra in King that was always beyond Sage’s scope, like an extra layer of evil only certain people could view. Since the scum sucker made her skin feel invaded by maggots, she had no idea what persecution it must be for Rayna. Like the cold predator he was, King picked up on every drop of her terror, and never ceased to exploit it. Sage was certain that was why Rayna got picked for the “special” piercing back in Thailand.
It was why the asshole paced over to her now.
“My pretty kitty.” King cupped her chin with two fingers, using the hold to jerk up her head. “You are as lovely as I remember, Rayna. And I am not the only one who thinks so anymore, am I? Oh, no. I have listened to him talking to you, your big brave soldier boy.” He grinned wider and chuckled. “The glorious Zeke Hayes!” Rayna groaned and tried to wrench her face away, but King held fast. “Ohhh, little Ray-Ray, what is this? Tears for your Zekie? Well, I am not complaining. Those tears are very sexy.” He pulled her closer in order to licked his way up one side of her face. “And delicious.”
Josie’s Quaaludes picked a shitty time to wear off. The woman surged at King, a snarl turning her pixie features into demonic rage. “Leave her alone.”
King pivoted to Junior and grabbed the kid’s pistol. He swiveled the gun so the butt protruded from his fist, right before he slammed it into Jo’s jaw. Sage and Rayna cried out as Josie’s head whipped over and her body curled in pain. But the woman herself didn’t emit a sound. Sage gulped in silent admiration.
King handed the gun back to his minion. “Do not make me regret we invited you to the party, bitch.”
A slew of retorts begged to be let out, regarding the nature of Josie’s “invite” and King’s demented idea of a “party.” Sage pressed them down, more concerned about Josie herself. With a little turn, she was able to get a visual on the woman. Jo’s face was contorted with pain, but she was conscious. She had both her hands wrapped around her middle, straining outward as much as the zip ties would allow. As Sage watched, her own gut somersaulted. She blinked to re-set her objectivity, but when she accessed the woman again, the flip did an encore. Josie’s movement, so fervent and protective, combined with the remembrance of yesterday, when she’d refused all the wine samples…
Oh, hell.
As if Jo could hear that silent outburst, she raised her gaze. A flash of understanding passed between them. Sage returned Josie’s desperate stare by looking to her belly and back up to her eyes, giving her a steady nod of promise. She’d do everything in her power to keep Garrett’s unborn cousin safe.
“King.”
She barked it at the asshole like an order. Though Junior’s stare widened with shock, King rotated toward her with an expression of mild amusement. It wasn’t the first time she’d dared to speak to him like this. It also wasn’t the first time she expected to pay the consequences. She just prayed the penalty would be fast and brutal, not one of King’s leisurely mental torments. The bastard knew her weaknesses as thoroughly as he knew Rayna’s, which meant that when he really wanted to inflict damage, he bypassed the needles and the pistol whippings in favor of drilling a straight into her psyche. And damn it, King’s gaze glittered with the eager excitement that he was ready to do just that.
“My darling Sage.” He loomed over her, reaching to stroke the top of her head. “I have so missed our little discussions. What do you wish to talk about today? The weather? The yummy wine you drank yesterday?” His hand stilled. “The fact that your fiancé will likely kill himself searching for you?”
Sage jerked her head away. Well, tried. King had anticipated the move, and still gripped enough of her hair that her action tore a small chunk out of her scalp. A pained snarl ripped free but she clamped it short. “Actually, I’m wondering how your ass is feeling, buddy.”
His snicker punched the air over her head. “Oh? And why is that?”
She smirked. “Couldn’t have been comfortable, buying your freedom by letting every prison guard in Bangkok screw you twice.”
To her bewilderment, King didn’t tear out more of her hair. He actually stepped away as his body rocked back on a chortle. “Ah ha! I understand now!”
Sage glared up through her hair. “That you’re a cock-loving coward who can’t make a living at anything but selling people?”
The delighted expression never left King’s face. He cocked his head playfully at her. “Ohhh, you really are in the dark, my sweet.” He clucked his tongue. “Poor little women. Your soldier boys certainly like keeping secrets, don’t they?”
Sage’s gaze flew to Rayna before she could stop it. Her friend’s face was covered in confusion, and she was certain she returned the mirror treatment on that.
She lashed her stare back to King. “What the hell are you talking about?”
King rocked on his heels like a kid who held all the candy. “I hate to smash your fantasy about my ass in a Bangkok jail…” He touched a finger to his chin. “Well, maybe I don’t.”
Sage scowled. “What?”
“They still call it extradition here, do they not?”
She felt her forehead scrunch harder. “You were extradited to the States? You were extradited here?”
“Mmmm…in a sense, yes.”
“Oh, for the love of—yes or no, King?”
He preceded his reply with that maddening chuckle again. “To your government and to your sweet soldier boys, the answer to that would be yes.”
Sage supplied the conclusion he never gave. “But…?”
King straightened his gaze. A strange benevolence entered his regard of her, almost a gentle pity. It terrified Sage more than any look the man had ever wielded. She pressed herself dee
per into the pillows as he went on, “Lord Byron said it best, I believe. ‘Happiness was born a twin.’ And you know, my sweets, that happiness is doubled when the hospital misfiles a twin’s birth certificate. Do you know what happens then? You get to grow up as one person. You only have to attend half the school, deal with half the beatings of your drunk mother, half the murder attempts from the crack addict who calls himself your stepfather.” The moment of compassion passed. The man’s face twisted back into its sadistic leer. “And yet, you can get into twice the trouble, and make twice the money from it.”
Sage didn’t cower in the pillows for long. Her spine straightened as blocks of comprehension stacked up her spine. Every one of them was made of a special concrete called horror. “Are you…saying…”
His lips twitched. “Come on, come on. You almost have it, don’t you?”
She was too amazed to bother with getting riled. “Are you saying that you have an identical twin…and he’s now sitting in prison instead of you?”
King shrugged with such ease, he earned an approving grin from Junior. “It was my turn for the detention spa last time. Besides, Mua knows that his little vacation will be over in…” – he glanced at his watch – “about twelve hours.” He swept his smile back across the bed. “Until then, my special bitches, we have a busy afternoon ahead. Are you ready for your fun?”
Josie lifted her head. Her jaw looked like a face painting job splashed in rain, dark reds and fuchsias smeared across her skin. “Sorry. I don’t think my bruises match my cruise wardrobe.”
King walked over and pushed a couple of fingers into the darkest part of the woman’s injury. When Josie whimpered, he smiled. “The colors are quite lovely, my dear. I am certain we shall find something nice for you to wear with them. And do not worry your pretty head about appropriate cruise wear. We shall be on land for your festivities this evening.”
From the corner of her eye, Sage caught Rayna’s head jerking back up. She copied the move. “What do you mean?”
King gave them a silken smile. “You, my sweetlingss, have caught the eye of some domestic buyers. They are in town tonight, and have cleared their schedules for a sampling party.” He spread his hands, nearly celebratory about it. “It is exciting, yes? My more extreme clientele are usually the kind who enjoy the feel and taste of foreign pussy for their romps, but these collectors are more interested in domestic fare. Their timing could not be more perfect.”
Sage got off a snarky glower. “Because you’ve got a bad boys leather party on the calendar for tomorrow night?”
King shook his head and chuckled. “Because your sweet soldier boys will be on planes bound for Bangkok tonight, rattling their swords and screaming about saving you, though all the while, you are disappearing from right under their feet.” He laughed again, but the expression faded as he issued his next words. “You know what they say about karma, bitches. And now your oh-so-special soldiers will reap everything they have sown of it with the King.”
The bastard finished that off by turning his back on them. Rayna and Josie joined Sage in her glowering silence, but she could feel their silent, terrified, helpless screams as loud as the din in her own soul. The only relief for the torment was fantasizing that her palms could shoot fire, and she incinerated the monster before he took another step. Certainly before he called back his parting instruction to Junior.
“The stylists will be here to prep them soon. Cut those clothes off all three of them. Make sure that they shower.”
If King threw a winning lottery ticket back down the stairs, the kid wouldn’t have grinned wider. “Yes, sir!” As soon as King closed the hatch, Junior leaned over and yanked out a dagger that was strapped to his calf. He grinned wide as he paced straight to Sage. “Might as well start with my favorite slut.”
As the kid started slashing apart her clothes, Josie gave her fingers a squeeze. “Stay strong. We’re right here with you, Sage. We’re right here.”
Sage jammed her eyes shut, struggling to hold back the reply she longed to blurt at the woman.
But why can’t I be anywhere but here?
* * * * *
The question refused to leave her mind. Like a sloppy-drunk party guest who kept hitting the replay button on a bad breakup song, the words were a reminder of where she really was, of the tunnel into which her life was headed. Even after she’d seen her clothes in a torn puddle on the floor, even after the stylists had coated her in makeup then pushed her into a corset and panties, even after she’d been piled into a limousine with Josie, Rayna, and three bodyguards, the words echoed in a haunting refrain.
Why…why…why…
Anywhere but here…anywhere, please.
During the drive, she fixed her gaze on the black glass of the limo’s tinted window, trying to conjure where Garrett and Zeke were by now. They would have called Franzen, and likely been able to convince the CO that King was involved with this shit. Maybe after that, the guy had approved a team and they were loaded into a Chinook, halfway to Bangkok by now.
The black pane made it so easy to conjure the contrast of Garrett’s rugged, golden handsomeness as the team flew through the night. The wind lifting his tawny hair off his strong forehead. The smoky determination in his long-lashed blues. His long nose, leading the eye down to the angles of his mouth, which was undoubtedly tilted up at one end as he contemplated slitting open King’s throat this time around.
The image went fuzzy after that. Tears had a way of doing that, even to fantasies.
Sage tilted back her head and forced back the sting, sniffing determinedly. These assholes weren’t going to get the extra brass ring of her sorrow. Like always, it stayed inside. Deep inside. Pushed to a place where they couldn’t touch it or her. They could pound their bodies as deep into hers as they wanted, but from the moment she stepped out of this limousine, they’d never claim her as a person. Sage Weston would cease to exist—and now it was by her choice, not theirs.
All too soon, that moment arrived.
Sage’s instincts, along with the feel of the road, told her they’d gone over the 520 Bridge and into Medina: the land of Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, Charles Simonyi, and other people who sucked different air than what the rest of humanity breathed. Sure enough, the driver slowed the car up to a pair of massive, stylized steel gates that glistened in the misty night. When they slid back, they rolled up a driveway that likely doubled as the landing strip for the owner’s private jet. A diamond-shaped reflecting pool in front of the house had a lighted fountain that looked like a giant steel cheese curl.
When the limo stopped, the henchmen got out first. During the two seconds they were alone inside the car, Rayna let out a harsh, heavy sob. “Fuck! Sage, I don’t know if I can do this!”
“Of course you can.” Josie ripped the words into her. They weren’t a surprise. From the moment King had gone battering ram on her face with the SIG, the woman had changed from nurturing mama hen into savage mama tiger. “You’ll do this, Rayna, and anything else it takes to stay alive. Look, I know you’ve both had it with having to tow this line, but you don’t have a choice. I won’t give you one. If we have any chance of finding a way out of this, we need to work together. We have to keep our senses keen and our eyes open. Agreed?”
Sage joined her friend in returning the woman’s tough love with a fast nod. Senses keen. Eyes open. She could do this. She could—
Shit.
“Eyes open” was deleted from the options list pretty fast. .
One moment, she was tottering on the stone driveway in her mile-high heels. The next, Junior the Henchman was leaning over her, fitting a soft leather blindfold over her eyes and the bridge of her nose.
Sage’s equilibrium swam. She felt herself falling over but had no idea if she was about to crack open the front or back end of her skull. Lanky arms caught her, and she picked up on Junior’s distinct scent of chicken wings and sweaty T-shirt. She had no choice about having to inhale the stuff for a few minutes more. Not if she
intended to keep at least half her promise to Josie now.
Senses keen. Senses keen. Senses keen.
With the mantra embedded in her instinct, she tried to stay upright in the damn heelss while listening, smelling, or hearing any element of their surroundings that could help their chances at breaking for an escape. As she suspected, the mansion was on the water. Lake Washington was more placid than the depths of Elliott Bay, but she still heard boats rubbing against a dock and ducks honking at each other. Before they got to the front door of the big house, Junior pulled her off to the left, around a corner, down a slight incline. The wind hit her with more force, filled with more mist. They were being led closer to the water, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on where the boat keys were kept.
Junior finally pulled her to a stop. Heavier footsteps approached behind them. The spicy smell of a clove cigarette swirled with the mist. Cologne joined that combination. It was smooth, not an in-your-face American scent.
The new arrivals to the party were definitely foreign. And definitely staring at her. The weight of their rearview inspection pressed on her bare shoulders and upper back, but Sage straightened her spine and forced her head to stay high. She wouldn’t bend for these animals. Not unless they made her, damn it.
A door opened, and King’s distinct laughter danced out into the night. “Gentlemen! Welcome! I trust you had no trouble with the directions?”
“They were flawless.” A refined baritone voice gave the words, though its slight European accent brought out every note of wickedness in the follow-up. “Everything so far is impeccable.”
Sage barely resisted the urge to jab him in the leg, or worse, with one of her stilt heels. At the moment, her balance was more important to keep intact.
“I am so glad you think so,” King replied. “Please come in. I think you will be pleased with these facilities. We have made certain they provide all the equipment for you to exercise your special tastes.”