“Then that’s why they have her. How much would they have to hurt her before you were willing to talk? How long could you hold out against her cries?”
Chapter Five
June
The trip on the plane didn’t last long.
It’s not better to be on a boat.
I never thought I’d say that. Being in a plane crash was my worst nightmare until I was actually in a plane crash with Carter Morelli, and then it became something that happened to me—the first thing in a long list of things that would happen before we could be rescued.
This is not a rescue.
“Can I have a drink?” I ask.
A grunt.
I’m assuming that means no.
He looks like the youngest, this one who’s been assigned to babysit their captive. He’s strong and surly, with messy dark hair. And a scowl that looks more for show.
I watch as he takes a swallow from a dented half-empty plastic water bottle.
He’s also young. Maybe even a teenager. Does it make it better that he couldn’t have that much experience doing bad things? Or does it make it scarier that he’s already so deep?
“I’m so thirsty.” I lick my lips, which are parched. “Please.”
He hesitates for another moment.
“One sip,” I say on a soft exhale.
He takes a step, close enough that I can see the pale scruff on his jaw. He holds the plastic rim to my lips. Cool water pours onto my tongue. I swallow with greed.
Some of it spills down my chin.
It drops onto my dress, leaving a dark stain on the fabric.
He glances at it, the space between my breasts, before looking away.
I swallow hard. The other men have been making their lust apparent. The young one has been more furtive, but the desire is unmistakable. Which means the danger is just as real.
The sip of water was about more than a drink. It was about seeing if I could get something from him, even if he didn’t want to give it at first. It was about seeing if he’d budge.
About testing the boundaries of this prison.
At least when it comes to my guards.
The physical boundaries are apparent. My hands are tied behind my back with some kind of smooth rope. It’s cutting into my skin. The muscles in my arms ache.
Wind off the ocean sends a few more strands of hair into my face. I can’t brush them away. Irritation is easier to think about. I didn’t count on being annoyed by the small things.
I’d let my hair get into my face without thinking if it meant getting a great shot, but this?
This feels like adding an insult to injury.
To future injury, judging by the other men on the boat.
One of them looks like he was dishonorably discharged from the military and became a mercenary because it sounded like the fun thing to do. He has eyes like a snake but still wears a buzzcut. His posture and sharp movements say he’s the leader.
One of them has slate-gray eyes and a mouth like a wire hanger. It twists on his face while he watches me. I pretend not to notice that he’s very interested in seeing me awkwardly sip out of a water bottle with my hands tied. He has muscles like the rest, and he keeps wetting his lip with his tongue. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck pull tight. He definitely wants to do lecherous things to me, but he got injured in the fight. The blood has dried, but it’s clearly bothering him. He winces every time he uses his arm.
I pull back from the bottle, and the dark-haired young guy twists the top back on.
“Where are we going?”
The lecherous, snake-faced man grins, but the leader watches with interest. My handler’s shoulders tense. I don’t think this is the first time they’ve tested him.
His mouth presses into a thin line, and he holds the water bottle tighter in one hand. “Your boyfriend isn’t coming to find you if that’s why you’re asking.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
A smirk. “That why he freaked out and started throwing punches?”
At the last second, Theo changed his mind about handing me over. It was a sight to see. It’s easier, actually, to think of the graceful, dangerous whirlwind of Theo’s body than it is to dwell on the rough rope around my wrists or the burly men stalking around the deck of the boat.
It’s easier until my heart clenches with confusion. I shouldn’t be confused, really. What happened is that he sold me out.
Deciding against it when he saw the men…
Well, I shouldn’t forgive him for that.
I shouldn’t keep searching for an explanation.
He’s like the homeless woman I profiled. Theo seemed isolated and innocent. He didn’t seem safe, exactly. No man that tall and beautiful could be completely innocent.
I just didn’t think he’d hand me over.
I’ll have plenty of time to repent. I can’t say the same for you.
“Whatever,” says the man standing over me now. “You don’t need to know where we’re going.”
“Maybe not, but it would be nice if you’d tell me anyway.”
He smirks. It doesn’t look very natural. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Would you like it better if he gagged you?” the lecherous one says.
“No.”
“Then shut the hell up.”
The young one’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t like the other guy’s tone. Could be a sign that he’d be more willing to help me, but he’s not the safest bet.
He works on this boat, after all.
Then again, he’s my best option unless Carter shows up.
I might never see Theo again.
My heart gives a strange, sad thump at the thought of never seeing Theo again.
Is it because he smelled so good, or because he felt so good inside me? I could tell Carter had more experience in bed. Lots of experience. Theo hardly had any, so we had that in common. There wasn’t a lot of pretense about him.
I thought there wasn’t a lot of pretense about him. Then that mess happened on the beach.
We turn around the curve of the island, and another dock comes into view. How far can we be from the last one?
How far can we be from Carter? There’s no way that I’ll be able to get away from these men by myself. Three armed, experienced mercenaries against one captive photographer? Not likely. Even if I do manage to find some tiny weakness to exploit, if I can somehow, through a great stretch of my imagination, turn one man against the other, it would never amount to escape. The only thing I can hope for is delay. Stay alive long enough for Carter to find me.
Because Carter will find me. Of that much I’m sure.
How can I be so sure? Carter might consider me lost.
The flight wasn’t very long. We landed on one side of it, where the men uncovered a boat tied to a sturdy, weathered dock and loaded me onto it like cargo.
The one who’s driving the boat—a guy who’s been silent pretty much the entire time, a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes—steers toward the dock.
It’s a relief when the other men stop watching me to help tie up the boat.
The ringleader stabs a finger in my direction, and the younger one comes back, eyeing me like I’m a piece of cargo.
“I could just stay here,” I offer.
“Hell, no,” he says. Then he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.