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Chapter 1
Layla Alexander
I don’t know what’s real anymore and what’s not. The voice in my head is screaming hysterically, and my mind is fractured into so many pieces I can’t count them all. Everything around me is utter chaos. I hear the other girls screaming, crying, begging for the men to stop. But they don’t. And the screams continue.
As I lie chained to a metal cot, naked and bruised, all I can do is concentrate on trying to breathe through my nose. I feel sick, but there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up. It’s for the best, because the one who likes to choke me shoved a ball gag in my mouth to shut me up. If I vomit, I’ll likely choke to death.
I know why they gagged me and hid me away in this windowless storage room. It’s because, even though I haven’t been raped like all those other girls—they said I’m worth a lot more untouched—I’m the one who screams the loudest.
The door opens, letting in a shaft of blinding light. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.It’s him. I can smell him, vile and sour. My stomach churns.
He climbs onto the cot and rubs himself against me. And then he wraps his fingers around my throat and squeezes until bursts of light start flashing behind my eyelids.
I can’t breathe.
Maybe this time is it. Maybe this time I won’t come to.
The last thing I register is a painful prick on my arm. The room begins to spin, and then I—
Chapter 2
Jason Miller
Eight o’clock Saturday night, right on time, I show up at Tank’s Pub downtown. A quick glance around the bar tells me I’m the first to arrive, so I grab a table with a good view of the large flatscreen that’s replaying last week’s baseball game.
A gorgeous blue-eyed blonde in a tight T-shirt stops by the table to take my drink order. “Hi. I’m Robyn.” She points to her name tag, which is positioned right over top a very large breast. Kinda hard to miss. “What can I get you?”
I automatically glance at the door to see if any of the others have shown up yet, but no. It’s just me at the moment. “Whatever you’ve got on draft is fine. Thanks.”
She smiles at me, tilting her head slightly as she wraps a strand of curly shoulder-length hair around an index finger. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Her heated gaze roams down my arms. Since I’m wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, there’s a lot of skin exposed. Some girls really go for tattoos, some don’t. This one clearly does.
“I like your ink,” she says. “You work out a lot, don’t you?”
“A bit. Thanks.”
“So, is there anything else I can get you?” She lets the question hang in the air. The inuendo in her voice is thick enough to cut with a knife.
I smile. “Just the beer, thanks.”
She purses her lips. “Let me know if you change your mind. I get off at midnight.”
Just as she’s walking away, her lush hips sashaying in skin-tight blue jeans, I feel a pair of strong hands clamp down on my shoulders.
“Jason!” says a familiar voice from behind me. “Don’t start the party without us.”
I glance back at Liam McIntyre, who pats my shoulders as he nods toward the retreating figure of the server. “Who’s your friend?”
Miguel and Philip are right behind him. Looks like the gang’s all here.
“She’s not my friend,” I say as the three of them take their seats.
“I’ll bet you wish she was,” Miguel says with a grin.
Philip laughs as he nudges Miguel with his elbow. “I’ll bet you do, too.”
“But not you,” Liam says to Philip. “Because you’resavingyourselffor Haley.”
