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No, it can’t be!
I fumble with the handle, but when the window opens, the heat wafts over me. The symphony of birds and insects shrouds my brain in utter panic.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? The resort’s built on a private island that belongs to Mr. Belington. And since you saw why we don’t need to bound you, we can start with your grooming routine. Welcome to Pleasure Island.”
For a while, I struggle to make sense, but then it punches me straight into the guts. My entire body starts to quiver. Even my teeth rattle from the force. Before the fear could take me under, she slaps me so hard, I collapse on the floor.
“Get in the bathtub, or I will ask the guards to help you,” she barks a threat at me.
“Don’t,” I choke, raising my palm up to stop her from doing just that. Not waiting for her next threat, I start peeling the black lacy bodice sticking to my sweaty skin.
It’s clear to me that Pleasure Island is a human trafficking resort. And whatever is happening here . . . might break me.
Somehow, I manage to strip the offending piece of underwear someone put me in without my knowledge.
She is right, though. I can’t lose it. Not yet. Not when there is a chance my kids are here too.
She curls her lip at me, seeing my scars and a few tattoos I braved to do after the car crash like I repulse her.
“Scrub yourself clean. This is the last time you receive such kindness without earning it.”
Once water envelops me into its comforting embrace, my chest bur
st into a torrent of sobs. She watches me without any sympathy. Her ruthless gaze tells me she’s used to handling people. At least she lets me cry as if she knows I need it to accept my situation. And I do.
After I finish, she forces me in a flowy aquamarine summer dress with a high slit. She does my makeup and pushes sandals into my hands. Open toe flats she laces around my upper calf. I don’t fight her. While she straps them on, I scan my surroundings. Count windows and exits, and go through mental lists of what I need to know to be able to escape.
Where the hell I am? Has anyone noticed I’m missing? I hold back a whimper, thinking about my children. Did they catch them too, or was it a lie to make me comply?
I don’t dare to ask or show any distress. I bet I’m about to find out. And whatever it is, it might break me or give me the strength to fight. I just need to hang in there until my family realizes we’re gone.
Breathe, just keep breathing, don’t let panic settle in.
When the doors open, two armed men escort me down the corridor. Lucas once told me about a captive his Marine Corps failed to retrieve during the mission. Perhaps that’s why it stuck with me since my brother-in-law rarely talks about his work. We were training, and he was in the mood to make a point.
Observe your surroundings and your captors, count them, their patrolling patterns, and how well they are prepared. Keep track of time. Look around, are there cameras in place, a lock on the door or other security precautions? Bond with your captor, establish a relationship, be smart, don’t challenge them, don’t beg.
My skin coats in goose bumps as his words echo in my brain like a creepy warning from the past. I swallow my trepidation and keep looking around. It’s a huge mansion, with pillars and the pool, plush furniture, and cameras everywhere.
I’m led into an airy room on the ground floor with an inside pool and seating area, which has decadent, vibrant colors and patterns to enhance the space. Eight guards stationed around the room stand still like statues. A guard from behind me barks an order in a language I can’t decipher. And they usher out three naked women kneeling in the center of the room.
A guard nudges my shoulder, pointing his gun at me. I raise my hands to placate him and take a seat when he indicates where he wants me. My gaze soothes my handler, who followed us here, but she leaves me without a single word but a heartless look on her face.
Carved wooden double doors open, and Lester Belington strides into the room like he owns the world. His cruel gaze full of evil intent locks on me.
“I told you we’re going to meet again, Mrs. Cade.” He stops just a few feet away.
Keeping a lock on my emotions, I push myself to my feet. Drawing in tiny breaths, I keep my mouth shut even if I feel sick from worrying about my kids. His lips stretch into a mocking smile and then into a frown when I don’t react the way I should.
“I must admit, you fascinate me, Mrs. Cade. May I call you Cassandra?”
Not trusting my voice, I nod, digging my nails in my palms to curb my need to claw his eyes out.
“Most women if woken up as captives, would have had a panic attack, cried, begged, but not you.” He sounds impressed, even turned on by my restraint.
The way he analyzes me like he wants to figure me out makes me believe he loves to break strong and resilient women, take control of them. And I just presented him with a challenge. Shit!
“Please, take a seat.”
