Page 94 of Thaddeus

“What?”

“You said you had a feeling. I swept the beach and the pool area. No one is out there.”

My mind raced with possibilities. Maybe she was injured and Tatiana had taken her to the hospital. Hell, maybe Emerson was in Brooks’ room watching TV with Tatiana. I jogged around the corner of the building, finding Brooks’ and Tatiana’s ocean-facing deck, and not giving the first fuck I might be waking the occupants on either side, I pounded on the door and shouted Brooks’ name.

The door flew open. Brooks appeared, weapon in hand and with a heavy scowl. “What’s wrong?”

“Emmy in there?”

“What? Why would—” He stopped short of asking and his scowl turned frightening. “Let me wake up Tatiana, we’ll meet you in your room in five.”

Brooks didn’t bother shutting the door, he simply turned and disappeared into his room, leaving me standing on his deck lost in a nightmare.

Four

Emerson

For ten years I’d thought I’d been living in hell. As it turned out, I hadn’t had the first clue what hell was.

I thought I’d known. I’d been arrogant thinking because I’d seen what the women who were being forced into sex trafficking looked like, I could understand how they felt.

I could not.

I’d thought because I’d stared into their eyes and seen the desperation, I could somehow understand the horrors they’d gone through.

I could not.

I’d thought a lot of stupid shit. As it turned out, the stupidest being I could get away with what I’d done over the last eight years unscathed.

What had Thaddeus said to me? Retribution was an ugly thing. He was wrong, too. It wasn’t ugly. It was downright horrifying, unequivocally revolting. And now I was on the receiving end of that retribution, being paid back for all the wrongs I committed.

I was beginning to understand what desperation truly was. The desolation, the cold fear that ran up your spine, the sheer terror of it.

The heart-stopping shock of being ripped from your bed in the middle of the night, or in my case off the couch where I’d fallen asleep. And the panic of a rag being shoved in your mouth as you’re taken against your will. Then the shuttering dread of waking up in an unknown location, not remembering how you got there or what had been done to you.

All of that, the shock, the panic, the dread, was only the tip of it. The beginning of a nightmare I couldn’t fully understand.

I’d woken up as I was being tossed on the metal floor of some sort of box. If I’d had to guess, I’d say it was a shipping container, but it could’ve been in the back of a big rig, though I didn’t think I was moving.

My mouth tasted like chemicals and dirt. My stomach was rolling from adrenaline, fear, and whatever they’d used to make me lose consciousness.

“Don’t fight them.” I jerked back, slamming my head on the metal wall, realizing I wasn’t alone.

“What?” I stammered.

“When they come back. Don’t fight them. It makes it worse,” the woman whispered again.

Suddenly, a soft light bathed the space, taking us from pitch black to just enough illumination I could see the woman. My eyes adjusted and I could see bruising on her face and her lip had been cut.

Shit.

I slid my gaze from her and looked around. The box wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small, either. And neither were we alone. There were more women huddled together in the corner.

Fuck.

“Who took us?” I whispered.

“Don’t know,” the woman returned.