Desiree
Semiconscious, I drifted, the dream world attempting to release me. Where was I? Was I in motion? As far as I could tell, I was on the back seat of a vehicle. There was a big beefy man sitting next to me who had his head thrown back against the seat. He appeared to be sleeping. My head was right at his thick lap, so any sudden movements on my part would disturb him. I made out two shadows in the front seat, mouth-breathers.
I had stupidly handed myself to another dangerous group in my silly attempt to get away from the Vallin brothers. Was this my life now? To be a permanent captive? The most unsettling thing about the situation was I didn’t know if I was being held captive because of something the Vallins had done or something the Evans had done.
The men drove in silence: no chatting, no radio. There was no real sound but the rubber kissing the highway, the roar of the engine, and their heavy breathing. Thankfully, my hands weren’t bound and a sack hadn’t been thrown over my head. I remained still, pretending to be asleep as my gaze found nothing but darkness outside the window. Who were these men, and where were they taking me?
After foolishly rolling my car window down for the approaching man I’d assumed was one of Arjen’s guards, the barrel of a silenced pistol had been shoved in my face. The man proceeded to reach into my window and had snatched my door open. To my dismay, another of his friends was standing on the passenger side of my car, his gun also aimed at my head.
The man had reached in and unstrapped my seatbelt as the man at the passenger side kept me in line with his gun.
After exiting the car, a rag soaked with what must have been chloroform was pressed over my mouth and nose. I had no recollection of how long I had been out. Now, here I was, hours, maybe a day later, being driven to an unknown place.
Memories of the first time I had been kidnapped surfaced. It had never been reported to the cops. It happened a week after my thirteenth birthday. I had been taken from my own bedroom, a sack thrown over my head and tossed onto the dirty metal floor of a van. Fear had consumed me so forcefully, I had pissed myself.
The men that had taken me weren’t enemies, but known associates of my father, wanting a hundred-thousand in cash from him for my return. Instead of cash, my father and his men had traded bullets with the crew. It was by sheer luck that I hadn’t been killed in the hail of bullets being exchanged.
The decisions my father had made that day to get me back could have gotten me killed, even with the overwhelming number of men he had recruited for the task that had overpowered the three-men holding me for ransom.
Of all the places they could have stashed me, I was tied up in the basement of one of my captor’s grandmother’s house. The grandmother had been the one to call and alert my father of my whereabouts. He had compensated her well for damaging her home as well as for taking the life of her grandson. The woman had happily taken her payment and almost seemed relieved her grandson was dead. From that day forward, I accepted the harsh reality I was being raised in.
I listened and allowed my eyes to roam, searching for anything familiar: sounds, landmarks, and road signs. The stuffy recycled air inside the car indicated that we had been driving for a while.
A few scatterings of light started to pop up, and I kept my eyes peeled for any clues as to where I was. Like a green and white beacon, the headlights caught a large interstate sign across the road. Mexico? Not New Mexico, but we were heading for Mexico. The sign revealed we were fifteen miles from Juarez. How long had I been knocked out?
The men hadn’t harmed me, yet, but the strong sense that danger surrounded me sent currents of electricity through my nerves. The closer we got to our final destination, the faster those currents sped up.
I didn’t believe my father knew anyone in Mexico, so it had to have been one of the Vallin’s enemies. Why take me?
Arjen believed Khane had devalued me, so would he even entertain the idea of finding me now? I believed with all my heart that Khane would come for me, but considering where I was headed, the search could take weeks if not months. This group had managed to transport me over six hundred miles away from where they had taken me?
How was I going to get through whatever I was about to face in whatever part of Mexico I would end up in? Maybe, if I behaved and didn’t give them any trouble, they wouldn’t have a reason to hurt me.
I decided to take a chance and sat up, my weak arms trembling under the weight of my sluggish body. The crinkling of the seat alerted my movement as I rose with caution. The click of a gun sounded, sending a strong charge of fear through me. I froze, halfway up.
“I won’t cause any trouble,” I choked out, my throat so raw and dry, it ached like an open wound.
Since I had been taken before, I knew the routine. I also knew what I was about to say would likely get me laughed at.
“I have to use the bathroom. Badly.” The movement had awakened the ache in my screaming bladder.
“If you give us a reason to, we will knock you back out,” the man sitting next to me informed, his voice stern.
“No trouble,” I replied and eased the rest of the way up in the seat. A quick peek at the dash clock showed 4:02 in the morning. We had literally been traveling all night. I sat stiffly, with my back flush against the seat, attempting to put more pressure on my lower body, since my pee sat at the tip of my urethra sphincter, attempting to force its way out.
“Next stop,” the co-driver ordered from the front seat towards the driver. Thankfully, they hadn’t denied my request for a bathroom break because my bladder trembled with the need to be relieved. The prickling irritation was crawling up and down my legs.
Five heart-pounding, butt-clenching, leg-shaking minutes later, the driver was finally pulling into the darkest, most unsafe-looking gas station off the highway. He drove up to the pump, climbed out, and prepared to pump gas.
The guy next to me exited and called in after me. “Let’s go.” I followed through his open door. My trembling legs barely functioned, but I forced them to get me to where I needed to go. The windy darkness surrounding the place pulsed with an edge of danger that had me believing I was safer in the vehicle with my unknown captors.
Any chance of escaping was dashed away because the man stayed within arm’s reach of me and followed me into the ladies’ room like he belonged. He waited at the sink, his hand at his side near his pistol, in case I tried anything.
I held the lopsided door to my stall closed for privacy as I hovered and soothed my bladder on wobbly legs. Relief at releasing my swollen bladder caused me to exhale a sigh despite the company hanging out in the bathroom with me.
His gaze followed when I exited, washed my hands, and was desperate enough to take a sip of water from the dirty sink. When we stepped out, I noticed the man from the passenger front seat standing outside the door to deter anyone from entering the bathroom while I had been inside.
We headed back to the vehicle in a group. The looming men in their dark suits walked on either side of me. There was no one around that would consider my situation strange and report it to someone. We all climbed back into what I noticed was a dark gray Range Rover. The windows were tinted an intense dark shade.