Page 26 of Defending Van

It was a hard admission because it had been a mistake on his part to be honest, even if there hadn't seemed like another viable option, because life had told him that any mistake, no matter how small, could be punished. “Yeah, she outright asked. I was worried that if I didn't tell her who I was, she would have told the others. Makayla can keep it to herself, but the others can't.”

“It’s okay that you told her, Van,” Falcon assured him. “If I didn't trust you to make split-second decisions, I wouldn't have hired you. I wasn't there, I haven’t met her. If you think telling her was the right move, then it was.”

Making this admission was even harder. “I don’t know how to handle her. Even knowing the truth, she’s still going to try to get herself out. She’s not going to sit and wait to be saved. Next time she tries to escape, she might not be so lucky.”

And the thought of Makayla Adair dead affected him a whole lot more than it should.

Chapter

Ten

August 28th

12:08 P.M.

“Lunch time,” William announced in a voice that Makayla found far too cheerful, as the door to the room swung open.

Deacon and Josh were with him, and they carried six trays between the three of them. It didn’t take much for her to guess which one was hers. So far, the other women had been fairly amenable to anything asked of them, and just as they’d been informed, that meant they were earning themselves “privileges”.

Not that she considered a blanket, pillow, and food a privilege.

Anyway, four of the trays—she already knew they were for Bethany, Crystal, Tammy, and Debra—held a reasonably sized salad sandwich, along with a piece of fruit, and a bottle of water. One of the other trays had a smaller sandwich, looked like ham and cheese, no fruit, and a glass of water. That one would be for Cecilia, who had been more compliant than she had but not as compliant as the others.

The final tray held a slice of plain bread and a tiny glass of water. That one was hers.

If she’d get down on her knees and beg for it.

If the same pattern as the last couple of days held, she would be denied lunch for noncompliance, but given breakfast and dinner, because they didn't want her to die, since she was supposed to make them a lot of money. It was a good thing that she’d long since learned to handle hunger pains. Who knew that one day she’d actually be grateful for being starved several times throughout her childhood?

Already, the four women were on their knees, waiting for their food. It didn't surprise her that people could be conditioned so quickly to do anything to avoid pain, to buy themselves the smallest scraps of affection, she’d seen it growing up in foster care. There were kids who would do anything their foster parents demanded, more than was asked of them, just to gain the position of favorite. Not that it ever earned them anything genuine, and certainly not the love and acceptance that they craved.

Just like these women wouldn't earn what they really wanted, their freedom.

“You going to cooperate today, one four six?” Josh asked as he set Cecilia’s tray down in front of her, who moved into position much more slowly than the others.

“What do you think, Josh?” she asked.

His brows immediately formed a V as he scowled at her. They hated both when she used their names and when she didn't complain about them assigning her a number. But she didn't care what they thought, they could only punish her for one thing at a time anyway, so annoying them didn't really change anything.

“Guess you like to go hungry then,” he snapped like that was a good comeback.

“Guess you're deliberately obtuse,” she replied calmly from her bed. “We all know I’m starving. I'm just not prepared to compromise my principles for food. I do understand that you don’t get principles, though, Josh.”

“You’ve been told not to call us by our names,” he hissed. She’d already figured out that he was the youngest and least experienced of the men and by far the easiest to annoy. What made it even more fun was that the others always laughed at him, taunting him when he fell for her very obvious attempts to bother him.

“And you’ve been told not to call me by a number, guess neither of us are great listeners.”

“Maybe I should just cut your tongue right out of your mouth, then you can't call me anything,” Josh whined.

“Maybe you could, but I doubt it would be a good financial decision, since I can't imagine one of the sick perverts who are your customers would appreciate damaged goods. If they find cutting out a tongue a turn on, I'm sure they’ll do it themselves. Besides, that wouldn't stop me thinking it,” she said, smiling sweetly.

Deacon and William laughed, and Josh went bright red. Throwing her tray across the room, shattering both the glass and the plate, he stormed toward her.

Tammy let out a shriek, and Debra began to cry at the loud sounds before apologizing over and over again for violating the rules and making a sound. Cecilia’s gaze snapped to hers when Josh roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.

Giving a surreptitious nod, Makayla readied herself for the fight of her life. She’d been waiting to be taken out of this room again, and finally it was going to happen. Wherever she was taken, she wasn't going to hesitate to look for a way to use it to her advantage. It was even better that Josh was going to be the one with her, because his inexperience gave her an edge.

“I'm sick of your attitude,” Josh growled as he yanked her across the room. “You think you're better than us, but I'm going to make you crack. Everybody cracks eventually.”