Make Me, Sir
Page 53

His mouth twisted in an ugly grin as he stared at Gabi, his gaze lingering on her breasts. “Cesar knows I like it when bitches scream.”
Her heart hammering, Gabi stared past him and out the van door. Oaks with hanging moss, thick underbrush, a dirt road. Silent except for the dripping of water from the trees and a few bird calls. She glanced at Jessica and saw her unhappy comprehension. No one would come to investigate their screams.
The man called Cesar stepped into the van and pulled the door down behind him. Dyed blonde hair, mud brown eyes, just under six feet, and thickly muscled.
He wore overalls with an appliance store brand. “I don’t like cleaning up my van when you chickies piss in your clothes, so use the porta-potty now. You won’t get another chance till you’re on the boat.”
“What’s going on? Where are we?” Jessica asked, her voice shaking slightly.
Cesar snorted. “Always the same questions. You’re getting sold to buyers who will appreciate your special…qualities.”
“Now?” Fear combined with the nausea from the drugs, and Gabi’s stomach roiled. How much time do we have?
“Soon enough. A boat’ll pick you up in downtown Clearwater in a couple of hours. We’ll be on our way in a bit.”
“Then what?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” He glanced at the other man. “Jang, one at a time. I’ll cover.” He patted the Taser holstered on his belt.
When Jang pulled a key from his jeans pocket, Gabi saw the outline of a cell phone. Her nostrils flared as if she could scent hope. A phone.
“You first, bitch.” When his eyes raked over her, Gabi’s skin crawled. “We gonna have us some fun on the drive. I am, at least. You’re gonna scream.” He grabbed her wrists and shoved his other hand in her corset.
Without thinking, she kicked him in the balls as hard as she could.
He made a horrible high-pitched sound as he staggered sideways. His legs gave out, dropping him to his knees as he clutched his groin, gagging and sucking air.
Gabi pulled her legs back, the momentary sense of victory eclipsed by fear. Then she raised her chin. She’d pay for kicking him…but it had been worth it.
When Jang moaned, the other guy gave a nasty laugh. “You forget we divided the cuffs so each bitch got one set? Legs are free, you fucking idiot. Now move it.”
Jang pushed to his feet, his gait unsteady, his face pale. He detoured around her legs. Before she could move, he grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the side of the van.
Pain ripped through her head in a searing explosion. Her stomach turned over, and she gagged.
“Shit.” Jang released her and stepped away hastily.
“Fuckhead.” Cesar made a sound of disgust. “It still stinks from the last one puking her guts out. Just let her piss and lock her back up.”
Growling, Jang unlocked one cuff, yanked the chain free, and hefted her to her feet. He shoved her toward the portable toilet.
She let herself stagger, which wasn’t hard considering she felt dizzier than hell. Turning to sit on the commode, she deliberately fell forward, knocking into him. As he staggered back, he grabbed her upper arms. With Jang's body blocking the other man’s view, Gabi thumped her head on his chest to divert his attention, and slid her hand into his pocket.
Her fingers closed around the phone.
She dropped onto the toilet, hiding the phone in her hand and hunching over her stomach as if she needed to throw up. And if her head got any worse, she might. After a quick breath, she lifted her head and glared at Jessica. “What are you staring at, you loser? This is all your fault.”
Both men turned to look at Jessica.
The blonde’s mouth dropped open.
Hell. Catching Jessica’s gaze, Gabi mouthed, Yell.
Jessica blinked. But she caught on fast. “My fault? You’re the skanky bitch who tried to steal my man.” She yanked at her restraints.
While the men’s attention was on Jessica, Gabi shoved the phone into her corset, hiding it between her breasts. Then, taking her time, trying to get her stomach to settle, she did her business, humiliated at the sound.
Still walking bowlegged, Jang hauled Gabi off the toilet, locked her back up, and gave Jessica a turn.
Leaning back, Gabi watched under her lashes, praying no one called Jang’s phone. She figured, no matter how dumb he was, he might notice if ringing noises came from her breasts. To her relief, they simply chained Jessica up, walked to the front, and shut the door to the cab section behind them.
The engine started with a rumble, and the van pulled out.
Gabi frowned. The door between the cargo section and the cab held a tiny window. They could see into the back, but probably not easily since the only light came from that window. Why have a door at all?
Her stomach twisted. Probably so no one on the street could look through the windshield and see the handcuffed women. Her breath hitched. No. Can’t panic now.
“What’s with all the acting?” Jessica whispered. She must not have seen Gabi pick his pocket.
If you’re watching from the other side, Danny—thank you for the lessons.
“I got his cell.” Head splitting with pain, Gabi fumbled around the restrictions of the short length of chain and handcuffs, finally managing to fish the phone out of her corset. She punched in 911. Busy.
Tried again. Busy.
Dammit all. She put in Rhodes’s number. No answer. “I don’t remember Galen’s number. Give me Z’s number.”
Jessica reeled off a number. No one answered, and Gabi used voice mail, trying to be clear. Kidnapped. Clearwater. Docks. Cargo van.
“Describe the guys—tell them about the tattoos,” Jessica whispered. Gabi did and finished, telling him not to call the cell’s number. She put it on silent too…just in case.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Jessica gave Gabi the number to his office.
Another voice mail, dammit. Gabi left the same message, then deleted the phone log. “Let me try 911 again.” She punched in 9, then 1—
“I can’t find my fucking phone!” Jang yelled in the cab.
Gabi felt the blood drain from her face. Oh God.
The van pulled over and stopped. Heart pounding, Gabi unsilenced the cell and slid it across the floor. It stopped beside the porta-potty. She slumped, trying to control her breathing.
The door to the cab burst open and hit the wall with a crack that made her insides cringe. Light from the windshield highlighted Jang’s body as he stepped into the back. “Where is it, you fucking bitches?”
Gabi mirrored Jessica’s baffled expression.
“Fine, I’ll find it myself.” He still walked as if his balls hurt. Avoiding her feet, he yanked Gabi sideways until the restraints pulled her arms straight. The handcuffs dug into her raw wrists. He tugged at her corset unsuccessfully, cursed, and started to unhook it.
Gabi struggled futilely, sick with revulsion. With fear. When her corset opened halfway, Jang grabbed her breast.
When he touched her, her thoughts fragmented with terror. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“What’s taking so long?” Cesar stepped into the back and glared at Jang. “You asshole, I don’t have time for this crap.” Pulling out his own cell, he punched in a number…and the phone by the commode buzzed softly. “You clumsy fuck, it’s over there.”
“Fine.” Jang squeezed Gabi’s breast viciously. “Consider this a sample for later,” he whispered and shoved her against the metal wall.
She grunted as she hit, and tears filled her eyes. Please, someone, get us out of this.
After retrieving his phone, Jang hit a few buttons, obviously checking the outgoing calls.
Not moving, Gabi watched, thanking God she’d erased the numbers she’d dialed. Her head pounded; her shoulder and wrists and breast throbbed with pain. If he came back for her, she might cry. Her jaw clenched. No. No, she wouldn’t.
With a shrug, he told Cesar, “We’re good.”
“Yeah, good thing for you, fuckup.” Cesar motioned him into the cab and followed.
“You okay?” Jessica whispered.
Gabi nodded, grateful she wasn’t totally alone. Not that it would matter.
Leaning her head on the wall, she stared at her wrists, at the mangled flesh and purpling bruising under the metal handcuffs. Blood smeared the metal floor.
Maybe that’s why Marcus only used leather cuffs. She remembered how he’d stand close enough that her every breath brought her his masculine scent, how he’d hold her arm with a firm, warm grip while he ran a finger under the cuff to make sure it wasn’t too tight. She’d look up to see him watching her intently. His lips would curve—just barely those first few days, then more. The last two nights, he’d had a different smile: one that said he knew her, all of her—the possessive smile of a man who’d had a woman and intended to have her again.
Each time, even though she wouldn’t move at all, she’d yearn toward him. Toward his possession. No longer make me, Sir, but take me, Sir.
And now she’d never see him again.
A slave. Would they break her? Maybe? Or maybe she’d die first, her body as mangled as her wrists, her voice gone from screaming. A shudder seized her. She wasn’t especially afraid to die. Everybody did, sooner or later. But the thought of what came before death, that someone would deliberately inflict horrible, crushing pain on her… As her hands trembled, the blood oozing from her wrists splattered on the floor.