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I vaguely recognized the voice as Tits Stepanova. She managed the Lucky Lopez Strip Club & Bar, located in the Green Zone. But that wasn’t how I knew her. She was Dealio’s old lady, and he was one of the Black Jacks I’d gotten acquainted with when they first snatched me. She came by once in a while to fix up the girls when customers got a little too rough with us.
“Look that good, do I?” I said in a voice that was more of a painful croak.
“Worse than Dealio said.” The shock in her voice told me I looked worse than I had twenty-four hours ago when I last took a look at myself in the mirror. “What the fuck were you thinking, trying to run away?”
I guess she’d never been held prisoner for any dick to fuck or beat on 24/7. Otherwise, she’d know the answer to that question. “What would you have me do, Tits? Stick around like a good little whore? I couldn’t. I can’t.” I didn’t want her to know this, because she’d take it back to management, but hell, if I had the energy, I might have made another run for it. Either I’d find the freedom I desired or the next beating would take my life. Which actually sounded better than freedom right now.
“No,” she sighed and pushed the door closed with a soft click. “I’m just surprised you were so bold, Blue Eyes.”
The nickname brought a smile to my face. Tits knew exactly who I was. I’d seen the flare of recognition in her eyes when she fixed me up after that first, brutal gang bang. Instead of calling me out, though, she called me Blue Eyes. “It wasn’t bold, it was survival instinct.”
“I hope that instinct is still in there, because we gotta get you out of here before they kill you.” There was worry in her voice that drew my attention, and I sat up. Quickly.
Too quickly. “Ow!” The pain in my side sent me falling backwards until the mattress springs poked at my back. “Why, Polina?”
She growled as her voice came closer. “Don’t ever call me that! I told you to call me Tits.” Her voice calmed and she added, “Can you sit up? Slower this time, Blue Eyes.”
I nodded and pushed myself up, breathing deeply to avoid screaming in pain and drawing the nosy ears of the other girls who would sell me out in a heartbeat to save themselves.
“Sorry, Tits. I forgot.”
She wasn’t supposed to get too close to the girls, and I didn’t want to get her in trouble for her kindness.
“So, what did I do?”
“Don’t know,” she said, appraising my wounds. “But some shit’s going to go down at the club tonight and your name was mentioned. More than once.”
Tits scanned the room and shook her head as she pulled a pair of jeans from her oversized purse. “Put these on.” She tossed a sweatshirt on the bed beside me and I slowly started to move.
“I thought that place was owned by the Ashby dude, Jasper?”
Tits nodded when she came from the bathroom with a wet towel.
“It is and there’s some bachelor party going on tonight, so the Black Jacks are outside, watching. Waiting.”
Her words barely registered, but I nodded, my focus on my struggle to lift one leg into the jeans.
“Shit. This isn’t working,” I said. But I knew it had to work; this was my chance to get away. To make a real escape from this life . I wouldn’t blow it because of uncooperative limbs. Because of pain. “Fuck!”
“I’ve got it,” she said. Tits kneeled in front of me and slid the denim up my legs like my nanny used to do when I was a little girl. “What the fuck happened to you, Blue Eyes?”
I shrugged at the concern in her eyes and let out a bitter laugh. “After Blade beat the fucking shit out of me while he fucked me, I got the privilege of having the sickest, psycho men in the world brutalize my body.”
I hadn’t moved from the bed in hours and as Tits motioned for me to stand; I realized why.
“Shit, honey. Can you even walk?”
No. “Are you really going to get me out of here?”
She looked at me, her expression truly worried and gravely serious as she turned her attention to fastening the jeans riding low at my hips. “Yes. Absolutely, but it has to be now, so can you walk?”
“I’ll do my best. Thank you, Tits.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she groaned, struggling to get the sweatshirt over my head. “We might both end up dead before we leave the parking lot.” She tucked the sweatshirt in the waistband to keep the pants from falling off my narrow, bony hips. “Ready?”
No, but I said, “Fuck yes, I’m ready.”
