Page 5 of Fervent
I skidded to a stop, letting out a squeaky cry as they pulled me toward a creek. “Please, no!”
“The fuck? It’s just a little water. What? You scared of getting your pretty toes wet?”
Oh God. I swallowed the hysteria about to choke me, determined to cross the creek without having a total meltdown. It was a ridiculous reaction, as the water would barely reach past my ankles. I swallowed hard, preparing myself. They couldn’t find out about my phobia—it would only give them more ammunition against me.
Upon the first contact with the icy stream, my feet ached clear to my bones. I wore nothing but a tank top and panties, and water splashed my calves like pin-pricks as we trekked to the other side. A hill rose on my right, trapping me between the creek and hillside as they propelled me downward, deeper into the woods.
The hike seemed endless. My legs ached for rest, but when we slowed, I wished to keep moving because stopping would mean it was over. I stiffened, expecting a bullet to the head, figuring they’d dragged me out here to kill me and discard my body. A sob bubbled up but caught in my throat. I hadn’t said goodbye to Rafe. We were going to die out here, and I hadn’t even told him goodbye. There was so much I hadn’t said to him, and now I’d never get the chance.
“Wh-why are you doing this?” I asked again, the words laced with high-pitched terror. If they planned to kill me, I wanted to know why.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Vinnie complained to his brother, completely ignoring my question. “It’s fuckin’ cold out here.”
“Chill out. I’m looking for the latch.”
From the corner of my eye, I spied Vinnie’s tall frame, bordering on lanky. His brother was the opposite. He intimidated with huge muscles and arms sleeved in tats. He pushed ferns and moss aside to reveal a door in the side of the hill.
What the hell? Who had an entrance in the middle of a forest?
Vinnie pushed me against the steel door, face first, and wrenched my arms behind me as Muscle Guy entered a code into the keypad near the handle. A beep sounded and the door opened. They shoved me inside and down a short flight of stairs made of stone. We halted under an arch, at the mouth of a hallway. I shook, teeth clinking together as chills wracked my half-naked body. A long row of lights illuminated a tunnel that seemed to go on indefinitely.
What is this place?I didn’t dare voice the question. They flanked my sides and pulled me down the passage, my feet dragging and stirring up dust. Mustiness flared in my nostrils, making breathing difficult. It reminded me of Rafe’s wine cellar, except these walls were made of deteriorating stone and brick.
We moved deeper into the tunnel and eventually passed several doors, all shut to prying eyes, though chilling noises filtered through some of them. Moans. Screeching cries. Masculine voices that iced my blood. The unmistakablethwack-thwackof instruments on flesh, not unlike the sound of Rafe’s paddle on my ass weeks ago.
My limbs trembled, threatening to give out completely. “Wh-where are you taking me?”
“For a little chit-chat with the boss.”
“Who? What does he want with me? Where’s Rafe?”
“Bitch has a lot of questions, huh?” Muscle Guy let out a harsh laugh. He flanked my right, baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, his eyes hidden behind dark shades, and dug the gun into my side. “Be quiet and keep moving.”
That was the last any of us spoke.
But something about Muscle Guy—with his black and orange Beavers hat and intense stare I sensed behind the dark glasses—licked at a memory, and it came back with such startling clarity, I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. He’d been on that busy street the day Zach called me from outside the restaurant. Even my brother had noticed him noticing me.
The shock still hadn’t abated by the time we neared the end of the tunnel to face the last door. My feet ached from the long walk, and I shuffled them nervously.
“I’ll take her in,” Vinnie said, his fingers biting into my arm. “Wait out here.”
“Yep.” Muscle Guy slid the gun into his waistband and leaned against the wall, crossing his beefy arms.
Vinnie reached for the knob, and I squeezed my hands into fists. Whatever waited behind that door couldn’t be worse than what I’d already been through. He shoved me into a room that was vastly different from the tunnel. The stone floor chilled the soles of my feet, but it was smooth and free of dirt. So were the neat brick walls that housed shelves of antiques. Another set of shelves held rope and other restraint devices, filming equipment, DVDs, and whips and paddles. My gaze veered to the fine art displayed on the walls. I’d bet a safe hid behind one of the paintings.
I forced my attention on the rest of the room. A large area rug covered the center where an oversized oak desk sat next to an odd piece of furniture that looked like a tall ottoman, though it had a restraint system and four wooden legs.
The air thickened with a musky vibe that could only be described as sexually deviant, especially considering the row of black and white photos hanging on the wall behind the desk. They were large, the size of posters, and all of them featured the same blonde in various poses of humiliation. I swallowed past the lump of dread in my throat, fixated on the signs of distress and fear on her stunning face. The grimace of pain, the open-mouthed cries that resembled screams of agony rather than ecstasy.
“What is this place?” I whispered, my throat too tight to manage anything else.
Vinnie shoved me into a chair facing the desk and stood nearby, his gun pressed to my head. From the corner of my eye, I saw him dig out a cell and punch in a number.
“The package is here, boss.”
And that was that. Five little words, and I was merely a possession. Not long after, a door to the left opened, and a man I thought I’d never see again stepped into this crazy room that didn’t make any sense.
Or maybe it made perfect sense and I just didn’t want to admit it.
