“Who are you?” I whisper, standing, facing him.
He takes out a handkerchief from his inner pocket and mops his face, frowning at the cloth. He smooths his hair back. “Your man stole from me, so I returned the slight and took from him. I will enjoy defiling you and returning you to him broken, and battered, perhaps even filled with my bastard.”
“What man, you sick asshole! I don’t have a man!” Even if Stone comes to mind. My head jerks when he slaps me. Crying out, I hold my cheek; the throbbing it left behind leaves me groaning in pain. My hair is ripped back, and he pulls me closer, getting right into my face. His warm breath fans my face. He smells like oranges. He drags his slimy tongue up my cheek, and when he laughs. I want to vomit at the slimy feel of his saliva on my skin.
“I told you about your mouth, and you’re a lying whore. I know all about you Camryn Whitter. Park.” My eyes widen as I realize he knows my real name. “You think you can hide. My men are everywhere. I bet your father would pay a lot of money to get you back. Or your brother. You are worth a great deal of money, my dear. Maybe I’ll ransom you. Just for fun. I don’t need their money, but I’ll enjoy taunting them. Then when I get the money and they think you’re safe, I’ll send your rotting body back to your family and your man once I’ve had my fill.”
Fear paralyzes me at his words. I don’t hear hesitation, but certainty. Whoever this man is, he is serious. I try to pull away, but the grip on my hair tightens. I feel his hands travel down between my breasts, between my legs, and he grabs me cruelly.He releases me, and I sink to the bed. My knees feel weak, and my skin crawls from his touch. He straightens his suit and turns to Cara. I forgot she was even there.
“I want her bathed. She stinks of his smell.I want his cum washed off.”
With that, he leaves, opening the door and walking out. I wipe his spit off my skin with my sleeve, simultaneously grossed out and terrified.
Cara leaves the wall, and I slump on the bed, shaking. She sets down the tray on the floor. “We need to hurry. He won’t want to be kept waiting.”
I look at her, tears coming down my face. Frustrated, I dash them away, hating that this bastard is making me feel so helpless.
She goes back to pick up the basket and takes out a towel, a washcloth, soap, and a razor. I stare at them, confused.
“Do you need help undressing?” Her voice is urgent.
“Undressing?”
“Please. You must hurry. You made him angry. He will beat you and then me.”
Her words bring me up short. “Beat you? Why would he hurt you?”
She shakes her head and mumbles under her breath. “Please.”
I want to refuse and stay clothed, despite what that asshole says, but her fear hits me in the chest. She’s so young, and she’s pregnant. “How far along are you?”
“I am close. Almost 38 weeks.” She walks to the sink, her long shapeless dress moving stiffly.
“Is the father of your baby here? With you?”
She turns from the steaming water, seemingly unfazed by the temperature. “He is here.”
“Is he one of the men?”
She washes the washcloth and returns, spreading out the towel. She pulls out the razor and the shaving cream. “No. El Jefe is the father.”
My eyes bug out. “That monster is the father of your baby?” My stomach revolts at the idea of that man fathering a child.
“Shhh. He is watching.” Her lips move like a ventriloquist. She motions slightly with her chin to the cameras. I ignore her precaution and ask, needing to confirm what I think. Her face is too young. She’s too young. “How old are you?”
“I am 15.”
“Jesus.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
“How long have you been here?”
“Five years.”
I gasp. “You were 10?”
“Yes. I was 10 when they took me, but I am lucky. I only belong to El Jefe. The other men do not use me.”
She was 10 years old when that bastard first raped her.Swallowing back down the food that is threatening to come back up, I continue. “How many children have you had?”
