Dolby(31)
Author: Maryann Jordan
Heavily Slavic-accented voices nearby were heard, but she didn’t understand what anyone was saying. After walking for what seemed like miles, she was lifted onto a metal platform, and then more hands took hold of her arms as a ramp was now underneath her feet. Going upward, she heard water slapping against the metal, and peering down, she realized she was being taken onto a huge ship. Oh God, no!
Having researched human trafficking for several books, she knew that her fate would be sealed once inside. But why? Women were often taken off the streets, campuses, or from bars where no one would notice right away. I was taken from Angela’s house in an elaborately arranged kidnapping. Nothing made sense.
Her feet halted as her body stiffened, but the arms that now held her were not gentle as they half dragged her forward. In a few more minutes, she was taken through a large doorway, and the sounds of the dock fell to the background as she was met with other muffled sounds.
Down a hall. Into an elevator. Down another hall. And then she was brought to a stop before being led through another door where it was quiet. No sounds but the breathing of the men behind her and the congo drum pounding of her heartbeat.
Another door opened in front of her, but instead of being led through, her arms were jerked back just before her hands dropped free as her zip ties were cut. Her gag was removed next, and she gulped in the air as she was pushed forward a few steps. Her hands flew to her blindfold, expecting someone to stop her from jerking it off, but with no interference, she pulled it over her head and whirled around to see only one man still standing close to her. She simply stared, fear clawing up her throat.
Blue eyes and a square jaw met her eyes first. His dark hair was trimmed close to his head. He wore a suit, although ill-fitting with his thick chest and gut, and the unmistakable gun he had holstered underneath.
He inclined his head toward her, then rumbled with a Slavic accent, “You stay. You make a sound… you cry out… you try to get away… you will die.” He lifted his hand and made a slashing motion across his throat. His lips curved maniacally as his gaze raked down her body. “But not before I have some fun.” He stepped closer, adding a final warning. “A lot of men on this ship without a woman would love to have a piece of you. If you stay quiet, they will not know you are here.”
He stepped back, turned, and closed the door. Her vision blurred again, and her chest heaved as her legs gave out from underneath her. Dropping to her hands and knees in the middle of the floor, she sucked in air. Finally, lifting her head, she stared around the small room dimly lit by a single ceiling light. A twin mattress was on the floor in the back corner.
Pushing to a stand, she braced her hand on the wall as she looked around. In the front corner was a tiled shower floor with a spigot on the wall. A portable chemical toilet was in the opposite corner.
A supply closet. She could imagine it would have had a shelving unit to hold cleaning supplies and a mop and bucket underneath the water fixture ready to be filled.
Jerking around again, she spied curtains high on the back wall and rushed forward to pull them to the side. Whatever was on the outside stayed hidden since the window was boarded over from the outside. She tried to steady her breathing as she pressed her hand against her chest. Think. Take stock of what’s happened and think!
She moved to the mattress and sat, her hands gripping the blanket on either side of her thighs. She felt certain that when Angela arrived home, she could check the security cameras and see that Marcia had been abducted. “Surely, the police will be looking,” she whispered aloud, needing the sound of her voice to feel grounded.
Jonathan shot through her mind, and her eyes widened. “Maybe… maybe Angela will find him and get him to look for me, also. If only I had a phone.”
The idea that she could steal someone’s phone if she was let out of the closet had her blowing out another breath in frustration. She tried to remember everything that she’d noticed. “Docks. A warehouse. Now on a boat. Not a boat… a ship.” Licking her lips, she squeezed her eyes shut and cast her mind back over the past half hour. “Slavic accents. Machines. Heavy lifters. Cargo ship?”
Nothing made sense, and she pounded the mattress with her fists before squeezing them together in her lap. Dropping her chin, she stared at the scars on her right wrist for a long moment before inhaling a rattling breath and letting it out in a shaky rush. “I’m not cuffed now. I’m not trapped in the dark. And I’m not being violated or dead. Whatever the hell is going on, at least I have that going for me.”
Then struck with the memories of being held in the dark with her brother, Marty, slowly dying on the floor nearby, a tear slid down her cheek.
Before she had time to meander down that horrid path, loud engines met her ears, and vibrations moved from her feet on the floor up through her body. Jerking her head upward, she waited, poised and tensed. Then she felt movement. We’re leaving port. Oh God… we’re going out to sea.
The overhead light went out, leaving her in total darkness. Clamping her hand over her mouth to still the scream that threatened to erupt, another tear rolled down her cheek.
Dolby and Rachel pulled up to the safe house, parking just outside the small house in the woods. Rachel had made little small talk for the hour-long trip. He was glad, not sure he had it in him for any conversation, considering his skin was tight and itchy with the heat of rage that had been with him for hours. He hadn’t hidden his emotions from his fellow Keepers and was both shocked and a little pissed that Carson had ordered him to go.
Angela’s car was not in sight when they arrived, but they climbed out, and he carried the provisions inside. It had been a while since he’d been there, noting the rustic decor and thinking it was probably unlike anything Angela had ever experienced. As Rachel busied herself with food, linens, and household items, he double-checked the security system. He knew it was in top-notch condition but felt the need to stay busy.
Finally, Rachel turned to him and planted her hands on her hips. “You know Carson was right.”
He remained silent, unable to trust that he wouldn’t snap, and Rachel sure as hell didn’t deserve his ire. He’d wanted to stay at the compound and work with the others to discover where the kidnappers had taken Marcia, but Carson had ordered him to go with Rachel to meet Angela.
He had all the arguments in his head—he wanted to be at the command center; he wanted to be ready to leave immediately if they found where she was being held; he wanted to be in the center of the investigation. But Carson gave him a direct order, and when he looked at the faces of the other Keepers in the room, no one countered what Carson said. And it wasn’t in him to disobey a direct order.