“Listen for me,” Zaid said.
The gasping and screams of the two women, Hazel and her sister, were audible through the wall: Zaid’s signal. As Zaid took care of the other sister, I opened the passageway and grabbed Hazel from behind. She struggled, ripping her arms back and forth, trying to break free, and she screamed.
“You fucking monster!”
I shoved her into a headlock, and she pushed at my arms, desperate, clawing her way out. But I held her tighter. Squeezed her. No doubt making her vision darken.
“Mother-fucker,” she said in a raspy voice, “Don’t you—”
Then she went limp in my arms. I restrained her arms behind her back and her ankles together, pulling the zip ties tight.
***
“I have to pee,” Hazel said. “Do you want me to piss all over your backseat?”
There was another hour of driving before we would arrive at the clinic, where Hazel would be kept safe until Eric was dead. It was part of Zaid’s agreement with her sister; keep Hazel safe, and the sister would comply with Zaid’s demands. But my only part of the agreement was to transfer Hazel to the clinic. It was comforting to know that she’d be protected, and in a situation that was far better than the cells or the cage.
Why I cared then, I didn’t know. Perhaps it was my inclination to see people, especially the vulnerable, safeguarded.
“Excuse me?” she said, breathing through her nose. “Can I get a bathroom break?”
We always gave the prisoners the dignity of proper sanitation. But that meant breaking the zip ties.
But she could use the break. I knew I could too.
At the next rest stop, I parked, then went to the backseat and sat next to her. I closed the door. In the backseat, the scent of her sweat laced with the subtle hint of coconut filled my nostrils. I locked eyes with her.
Messy whitish hair, her turquoise eyes deep and eager. Her tank top exposing her slender shoulders.
Prisoner. She was a prisoner. Nothing more.
“I will not hesitate,” I said, putting a hand on my concealed weapon, showing her where it was. She blinked.
“I didn’t piss in the backseat yet, for fuck’s sake,” she said, rolling her eyes.
But this wasn’t a joke. “I will do whatever it takes.” Whether that meant grazing her with a bullet to stun her, or taking her life, she didn’t know. But I hoped that she understood that her life was at stake until she was in the clinic.
“Fine,” she said. She lifted her wrists, showing me the zip tie. “Follow me into the bathroom if you want. I won’t do anything.”
I cut the ties on her wrists and ankles. In the gas station, there was one unisex restroom. After checking it to make sure there were no other exits, I waited outside of the door for her to finish, and once she exited, I held her shoulder firmly, escorting her back to the car. The cashier watched us, but went back to his inventory paperwork. I was an overprotective boyfriend to any wandering eye.
I opened the car door, letting her into the backseat. With the childproof locks in place, knowing that she hadn’t once tried to escape while free at the gas station, I relaxed. That was my first mistake. But I wanted to believe that we could be civilized. Her life was being spared. Not only that, but she was under my protection. Eric, her crime lord master, would have killed her once he caught word of her escape, but inside of the clinic, she would be safe.
And once this was over, she would be free.
In the rearview mirror, I watched her slide across the seat and strap herself into the seatbelt. She leaned on the door, gazing out the window, her blue-green eyes shimmering in the sunlight. It was hard to remember that we had only left Mount Charleston before sunrise.
It had been a long night.
“Where the hell are we going anyway?” she asked.
I kept my eyes fixed on the road. The less she knew, the better off everyone was.
“Do you like road trip games?” she asked. After bitching and threatening me for hours, she wanted to play a game? I didn’t say anything. “You know I’m an addict, right?” She glared at me in the mirror. “Trust me; you don’t want me to have withdrawals back here.”
She had been in the cells for several weeks. If she was going to have withdrawals, they would have happened by now.
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror again. She was closing her eyes.
