Location unknown
At some point during the drive, I either passed out or the stupid goon drugged me. I’m not sure which. The last thing I remember was we were speeding away from Charleston. I feel like shit and have no idea where I am or how much time has lapsed from when I was taken. What I do know is I’m no longer in the SUV. My hands and feet are bound and there’s a gag in my mouth. There’s no point in screaming as the room I’m in is pitch black save a small glimmer of light coming through the bottom of the door. Not enough to provide sufficient light to actually visualize anything but I can make out the bottom of the door at least.
I attempt to wiggle my arms and ankles. All I manage to accomplish is producing the grating sound of the chair I’m in scooting across the floor an inch or two.
“Who’s there?” A familiar female voice calls out. Rosie. If only I could reply.
If I could free my hands or remove this gag out of my mouth, we’d stand a chance of getting out of here before Hound comes swooping in to save me. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate him doing so, it’s just Carlos is a shoot first and ask questions later kind of man.
I’d prefer Hound and I both to be in one piece when I’m reunited with him.
I start jerking my body, rocking the legs of the chair.
“Can you speak?” Rosie croaks, not sounding all too hot herself. She’s alive though and that’s what matters currently. The rest is a future problem. My focus right now is finding us a way the hell out of here.
I use what strength I have and rock the chair harder hoping to break the binds around my wrists. Next thing I know I’m tilting sideways without the power to right myself before I completely topple over landing on my side roughly. I cry out as my shoulder connects with the unforgiving hard floor followed by my head. The positive is I seem to be free of the chair and the force broke whatever restraints were holding my ankles hostage. I wait to figure out if I made enough noise for anyone to come investigate, but I hear nothing outside of my racing pulse. At least I can move around the room and hopefully find a light switch and Rosie.
I start moving slowly, to avoid tripping or bumping into things though the room seems to be empty. Using the shoulder that didn’t take a hit to the floor I rub against my cheek while shaking my head. My effort to loosen the gag enough that it falls around my neck isn’t in vain.
I swallow a sweet breath of relief. “Rosie,” I hiss. “It’s me. Karma.”
“What? How’d you get here?”
“Sanchez sent his goons after me. Are you okay?”
“I’ve had worse. He hits like a bitch.”
“Keep talking.” I move toward the sound of her voice, hoping we can work together to free my hands.
“Prick grabbed me out of my fuckin’ bed. One minute I was asleep and the next thing I knew there was a needle in my neck, and I woke up here.”
I walk straight into her chair. Her wrists are tied to the arms of the chair. She can wiggle her fingers but that’s about it. “Do you know if there’s any weapons in here?”
“No. Just us and the chairs that I recall.”
Shit. I try to untie her, but I can’t see what I’m doing and its difficult to maneuver with my hands behind my back. Maybe I can use a piece of the broken chair to create enough friction to get my hands free.
Adrenaline pulses through my veins. There are only two things on my mind. Escape and survival.
My shoe makes contact with the broken chair. Squatting isn’t easy but I manage to drop down into a crouching position. Without warning the door is thrown open and the light is switched on. On instinct I close my eyes avoiding the bright light until I’m able to adjust to the change.
“Boss requires your presence in his office.” A different goon in a suit hauls me to my feet as my gaze meets Rosie’s. I’ll get us out of here if it’s the last thing I do. I study him, hoping he’s armed. If I can get my hands on his gun maybe I can shoot the asshole and our way out of here. Granted it’s a weak plan considering I have the unfortunate luck of my hands still being secured behind me.
He jerks me around and I wince. Pain radiates in my shoulder where I hit the stupid floor.
I take one last glance at Rosie. She’s been beaten. Tortured. Yet she has the courage to smile at me. Tears sting in the creases of my eyes. She’s here because of me. I’d swap places with her if I could. Take her pain. Make this all go away.
I’m led up a set of stairs and down a hallway that opens into a kitchen. I eye the set of knives next to the butcher’s block wishing I could discreetly get my hands on one and plunge the blade into this man’s throat. A quick look to the windows reveals it’s daylight. Possibly midday. The goon shoves me into an office where Carlos Sanchez sits behind a desk puffing on a cigar.
His lips curl into a cruel smile.
“Glad to have you back. See that she bathes then return her to me.”
His henchman drags me to a bedroom then into a bathroom. He nods to the shower.
“You planning to wash my ass, big guy? Kinda hard to do the task with my hounds bound.”
He doesn’t speak but twists me around and proceeds to undo the cord that’s wrapped around my wrists. The second my skin breathes I massage the tender red marks. I look back at this jerk over my shoulder and he nudges my shoulder, propelling me toward the shower.
“You gonna watch?”
His response is folding his arms over his chest, and I take that as confirmation.
“Whatever,” I huff. What do I care if he sees my naked ass? “Do I at least get a towel?”
He grunts and opens a cabinet.
“Gee thanks. Do you even speak?”
He opens his mouth wide revealing that he has no tongue.
A shiver passes through me, and I wonder what he did to warrant such a devastating punishment. I reach past him to grab what I need for a shower. Sure, I’d love to be escaping but until the perfect opportunity arises, I’ll play along.