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Chapter 12
Addie
The man led us to the same aisle way Tamson and I had initially camped out at. Our supplies, which we had organized, were now shoved into duffle bags the assholes had brought. Three other men stood in a haphazard semi-circle. When we appeared, their laughter cut off and six eyes burned a hole through my forehead. Tam’s arm tightened around my waist marginally.
“Shawn,” the largest one demanded. “Who are they?”
The man who had led us here, Shawn I presumed, gestured towards us vaguely.
“Tamson and his bitch.”
I gritted my teeth together in a conscious effort to keep from screaming as fury ignited in my chest. Or biting. Both options were appealing.
The second man, this one with flaming red hair and dark eyes, appraised me calculatingly. The third glanced between the four of us warily. I couldn’t define the expression on his face.
Shawn nudged Tamson forward, inadvertently dragging me along as well. I stumbled over my own two feet, only Tam’s arm keeping me upright.
“Tell Greg what you told me,” Shawn said. The largest man, Greg, raised a brow. It was surprisingly thin and delicate on his face, a contrast to his scruffy beard and mane of black hair. If I was in any other circumstance, I would’ve laughed. As of now, I could only hope that my word vomit wouldn’t get me killed by unintentionally insulting the scary man’s eyebrows.
“It’s simple.” Tam’s calm words pulled me out of my thoughts. His body was relaxed, the underlying tension I had seen only minutes earlier completely diminishing from his face. He looked as if he was in his element.
For the umpteenth time, panic began to take root overwhelming even the anger. It was a diminutive seed, barely beginning to grow into a full-blown tree, but it was enough to make my body tremble. The knife in my waistband had never felt so heavy. So damning.
“You have weapons. I need weapons.” He shrugged. “I want to make a trade.”
Greg’s eyes moved slowly from Tam’s face to my own. His eyes lit up, and his gaze did a slow perusal of my body. I felt dirty under his stare, as if someone had thrown a bucket of mud over my head. I wanted nothing more than to shower and rid myself of the disgusting sensation his mere gaze evoked.
“Would be hotter if she wasn’t in those man clothes,” he said after a moment of silence. “Why don’t we see what she looks like without them?”
For the first time, I felt Tam tense underneath me. It was the merest flex of muscles, there and gone too quickly for me to be certain. His hand slowly moved up my ribs, to my neck, before roughly pulling my head to the side. Despite the initial sting, I didn’t whimper. I wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction.
“Now now. Don’t be hasty. She’s still mine as of now.” His nose brushed the sensitive skin of my neck, followed quickly by something wet. His tongue. It trailed down to my collarbone, alternating between tiny nips and kisses. My body instinctively leaned into his embrace. I told myself that I was acting, that I was playing a character, but I knew I was lying to myself.
“See how willing she is?” Tamson whispered, his breathing stirring my hair. His hand slowly released me, one finger at a time, and a shuddering breath escaped me. He was magnetic. It was impossible for me not to gravitate towards him.
The four men looked on with various expressions. Shawn and Greg regarded us - me - with lust, Ginger looked annoyed, and Guy 4 appeared positively horrified.
Tam slid into a lawn chair that had been brought out and pulled me into his lap.
“You know,” Greg began conversationally. He too moved towards a chair opposite us. “We could just kill you and keep the bitch for ourselves.”
A pounding resonated in my ears. My fingernails dug into Tam’s legs. If he felt any pain from my grip, he didn’t show it. Instead, he flashed Greg a cold smile. Perhaps a smirk would be a better description. He looked positively devious and almost terrifying at that moment.
“You could,” he agreed, and I mentally began berating him. You don’t just tell the bad guy that he could kill you. I wasn’t an expert or anything, but I was pretty sure that was a big no in the “How to Survive Psychos” handbook.
“Or…” he continued on, oblivious to my thoughts. “I can tell you where I keep my other willing ladies at. Fair trade. You get some. I get some.” When the guys only looked at him, Tam nodded towards the glass door. Where Bikini’s body was still visible. The various cars still in the parking lot were beginning to corrode away. The paint chipped in irregular shapes, highlighting how sulfuric and acidic the rain actually was. How much longer until the rain broke through the roof of this store? How much longer until it made the cars unusable? I wasn’t an expert on acid rain, though now I wished I had studied it in extensive detail. That, and other natural disasters. From what I remembered during my brief course on environmental studies, acid rain impacted the immune system of an individual. It didn’t burn away flesh. What exactly were we dealing with? And how would we survive an enemy we didn’t understand?
All of my studies involving taxes and business law really paid off (said no one ever).
“She was one of my girls. I sent the others back a while ago, but I kept two with me for company,” Tam was saying dogmatically. His hand leisurely stroked circles into my stomach through my shirt, a clear indication what he meant by the term company.
I couldn’t help but feel disgusted by the way he used that dead girl as a prop for his twisted story. But, at the same time, I couldn’t help but note that I was still unaware of her name. Lacey, perhaps. Or Missy. One of those two.
The disgust turned inward, towards myself.
“She didn’t make it,” Tam said with another shrug.
Greg, surprisingly, turned towards Guy 4 for confirmation.
