“You too, beautiful,” he replies, then claps his hands. “Shall we get this going?” he asks. “I can’t wait to join our families.”
“Have some patience,” Heath tells him, then heads for the yacht.
Like moths to a flame, everyone follows. The woman falls into step beside him, while the guard who’d been carrying me lifts me again and starts walking after them. Dylan is right behind me, being escorted by two guards, while Delta is being walked beside him.
Behind all of us, a small army of armed men ensures we don’t take a single step out of line.
Venom stings my veins as my stomach rolls with every step toward the floating death trap. There will be no quick getaway. Not once we hit the water. We’ll be trapped.
Lord, where are You? Please don’t let us die here.
We walk up a ramp and onto the top level of the yacht. There are at least a dozen loungers surrounding a small round pool. A man wearing a captain’s hat stands in the doorway that likely leads to where they steer the boat. He falls into step beside us.
“Everything ready?” Heath asks him.
“Yes, Mr. Slater. We are prepped and ready for our voyage.”
“Good. I want anchors up in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain veers off to the right while Heath’s girlfriend stops beside a lounger and removes her dress, revealing a black bikini beneath. She takes a seat on a lounger.
“See you soon, cowboy,” she calls out to Dylan.
Anger momentarily pushes past the fear. I glare back at her, and she smiles at me, completely unthreatened.
An armed guard pulls open a door and steps aside as Heath descends a set of steps. We follow, and the walls close in around us, with only dim light to keep us occupied.
I turn to watch Dylan. His eyes are wide, his body tense. He pauses at the top of the stairs, clearly terrified. Is he reliving his past? The worst moments of his life? His gaze meets mine.
It’s okay, I want to tell him. But I can’t bring attention to it, or it’ll just be another tool in Heath’s twisted toolbox. God, please help him.
The guards shove him down the first step, and he takes a deep breath, eyes closed. By the time he opens them again, he’s calmer and takes the rest of the steps one at a time.
Once we reach the bottom, Heath pushes open a door to the left, and the guards drag us inside. The guard drops me on a cot toward the right, then quickly shackles my wrist to the wall. The metal is cold on my skin. Cold and tight.
Dylan is held standing in the center of the room, one guard on either side of him.
Above his head, there are two shackles bolted to the ceiling.
No.
“Do you understand your place yet?” Heath asks him.
Dylan doesn’t respond.
Heath rams his fist into Dylan’s gut. He grunts but maintains eye contact with Heath, something that only makes our captor angry.
He hits him again.
Once more, Dylan barely reacts.
I thrash against the chains bolting me to the wall. “No! Stop it! Leave him alone!”
Heath hits Dylan again, then turns to me and smiles. “Oh, little dove, if this bothers you, then I hate to see what you’ll think later.” He hits Dylan again, this time slamming his fist into Dylan’s chin.
Dylan straightens and grins at him, blood dripping down from his lip. “There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done,” he replies. “I lived through that hell once. I’ll do it again.”
“There is so much more I can do. I’m far more imaginative than most.”
