Escape From Paradise (6 page)

Everyone filed out and the man took a seat across from Colin, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Agent Abernathy,” he said as way of introduction. He motioned toward a mirrored window. “I’ve been listening, and I’m damned impressed by what I’ve heard, Mr. Douglas. We failed you.”

Colin didn’t respond. He sat back, legs out straight with his hands linked across his flat stomach. The Agent stood and opened a wall panel, hitting all switches, and then pulled a screen down over the mirrored panel.

“There. Nobody can see or hear our conversation, and we are not being recorded. Everything said now will stay between the two of us.”

Colin gave a single nod, wondering about the sudden secrecy.

“I’ve no right to ask anything of you,” Agent Abernathy continued. “But I’d like to make you an offer. A very rare sort of offer. Many laws were broken while you pursued your vigilante ways, and we’re washing your record clean of those, but I’m wondering if you’d be interested in getting paid to use your…unique skills.”

This peaked Colin’s interest. Without moving or changing his expression he said, “Go on.”

“I’m offering you the opportunity to become an undercover agent with MI-6.”

Colin laughed, but Abernathy ignored him and kept talking.

“We have an elite unit of personnel, unknown even among our own ranks. You’ve made quite a name for yourself, so you’d continue to work under the name Colin Douglas with your art as your cover story. But you would be an informant for us. It’s increasingly difficult and time consuming for our agents to infiltrate themselves the way you’ve done. They’re expected to abide by the law and follow certain protocol—all of which would not be expected of you.”

“Why would I do this for you?” Colin asked. “I don’t need the money.”

“I think we have the same agenda when it comes down to it, Mr. Douglas: justice. As one of our undercover elite there’s certain protocols you’ll have to adhere to, but you’ll have freedoms regular agents do not. You’ll be thoroughly trained in weapons and defense, but you’ll report to me and only me. Few will know of your involvement, and you’ll be paid in cash. Under the table. Aye?”

Colin probably should have asked for time to think about it, but he was good at reading people, and he knew Abernathy wasn’t blowing smoke up his arse. His offer filled Colin with visions of James Bond scenarios, which he knew was ridiculous, but it gave him a jolt of excitement nonetheless. In essence, he was being given permission to do the exact thing he planned to do anyhow—destroy the types of people who took Graham. But in this case he’d have training and additional resources at his disposal.

“Aye. And if we try this and decide it doesn’t work for us?” Colin asked.

“Then we go our separate ways. We’re not the mafia. You won’t work against your will, and nobody will attempt to take you out if you quit. But while you’re with us, we do require complete loyalty, and for the rest of your life we require the upmost secrecy. We have no leniency for traitors.”

Especially traitors not on the payroll,
Colin thought, understanding the threat clearly.

Colin half-grinned. Abernathy half-grinned. And together the men struck a deal.

I’m not sure how long it took me to break down and eat the bread but it was pathetically short. An hour maybe. I hated myself for giving in, even though that made no sense. How was I hurting anyone other than myself by not eating? I needed to choose my battles better. My body was weak from being drugged, and I really could have used that meal. I stared at the cold plate now with regret, out of hand’s reach.

My heart accelerated when I heard footsteps and male voices nearing. I sat up straighter, wary.

Marco entered with another nicely-tailored middle aged gentleman, also of Latin descent. They both looked me over and I dropped my eyes. Then they began conversing in Spanish, talking about me like an object of property.

“Attractive,” the other man said. “A blonde American would be an excellent asset if you can get her to cooperate.”

Marco grunted his agreement. “I’m afraid my son has ruined her. She may not be worth the effort. If I cannot get her to cooperate, I will need your assistance. You know that is not my particular area of expertise. I will pay kindly to have this burden removed swiftly and silently.”

My stomach sunk as the men shared a knowing look, and I struggled not to show emotion on my face. Then the other man chuckled and spoke.

“Always a lover, not a fighter.” He clapped Marco on the shoulder. “When have I ever denied you services, friend? Eh? If the girl is unusable, she will disappear and never be found.”

Terror slid like a cool knife down my spine.

I was glad I hadn’t eaten the full meal because I might have lost it then. This man was obviously some sort of criminal business partner who did the dirty work for Marco. The way they spoke so callously of ending my life left no doubt that they’d kill me without reservation. I worked hard not to react. To control my breathing and facial expressions as the men looked me over.

The nameless man said, “You should test her out. Don’t let her get too comfortable. The sooner you begin training her, the better.”

Marco ran his thumb over his lips in thought, then nodded, calling out, “Luis!”

A moment later a slightly younger man with longer hair entered the room.

“Sí, Señor Ruiz?” His voice was eager, and when he glanced over and saw me he stilled, a look of interest in his eyes.

“I need you to test out this girl so I may see if she’s trainable,” Marco explained in Spanish. “Be careful. Fernando fucked her last night. And she only speaks English.”

Luis nodded and wet his lips, stepping toward me, popping open the button on his pants.

No. Oh, God, no. This was not happening. Luis’s body language became seductive as he moved toward me, and I couldn’t help but pull my legs toward my body.

He sat on the edge of the bed next to me and spoke gently.

“You are very pretty.” His dark eyes roamed my face. He wasn’t bad looking, but I was still repulsed by his touch. Looks meant nothing to me after falling for Fernando’s ruse. When Luis reached out to touch my cheek I went stiff and forced myself not to pull away. I would not react to any of his touches.

“That’s it,” he said with false gentleness. “You be good, an’ I make you feel good, yeah?” He spoke softly and sweetly, but it wasn’t real. It was like someone trying to lure an animal who might bite.

I had a choice to make. Failing this test would mean death. Passing would mean sexual slavery. Both options were inconceivable. If I fought against this, how would they choose to kill me? How long would it take? I’d never been good with pain. The very idea of that man attempting to take the life from my body filled me with an almost paralyzing fear. I wanted to be the tough kind of person who could choose death, but everything inside me screamed to live. So when Luis gently pulled my ankle, I let him.

He straightened both my legs and grasped my waist, lowering my body to a laying position with my hand outstretched above my head, still cuffed to the headboard. I tried to drape my other arm over my eyes, but Luis lifted it and stretched it up along side the bound arm. He murmured sweet things, which he probably thought were very soothing, as he unbuttoned my skirt and pulled it down my legs along with my underwear. I pressed my knees together.

My heart was working overtime now, and my breaths were too short.

“Muéstranos las tetas,” Marco’s partner said.
Show us her tits.

Remaining gentle, Luis pushed my shirt up. I had on a strapless bra, so he slid his hands behind my back and easily unclasped it. I whimpered and turned my face to the wall when I was exposed to the men.

“Too small,” the man said in Spanish. “She’ll need implants.”

Luis took my breasts in both his hands and kneaded them.

“Demasiado pequeño?”
Too small?
Marco asked.

Luis answered in Spanish, his voice lower than before. “Nah. A nice little palmful. Firm.”

I was a full B-cup, and I couldn’t help but feel resentful as they picked apart my appearance like a farm animal for sale.

“We have big-breasted women,” Marco explained. “Might be nice to have a natural, smaller girl.”

The other man laughed. “Put her in some pigtails and a school girl uniform and you’ll have a best seller.”

They both chuckled, but as Luis leaned down and took one of my nipples in his mouth, making me accidentally gasp with surprise, they quieted. I refused to enjoy the feel of his mouth on me. No matter how kind he was being, knowing those men were watching made me tense and sick. I couldn’t relax.

When I felt Luis’s weight lift off the bed I made the mistake of looking to see what was going on. He was stripping. Naked. Hard.

Marco stood with his arms crossed, watching critically, while his friend leered. I wished so much they would leave. Especially my would-be murderer.

Luis’s weight dipped the bed once again and I began to pant with fear. I couldn’t seem to control it. I pulled at the cuffs, whimpering.

Calm down, Angela,
I scolded myself.

“Shh.” Luis bent and kissed my neck, taking my breast in his hand again. He pulled away long enough to wet two fingers with his saliva and bring them down to my center. “Open your legs,” he said softly.

In that moment, as I gave in to save my life, I felt far more broken than I had in my drug-induced state when Fernando forced me. Because I had fought him. And now I was allowing it. I’d never been more disgusted with myself than I was when I let my knees fall open and Luis touch me with his wet fingers. He climbed on top of me, seeming pleased with my cooperation. But even with the moisture from his fingers I was too dry.

He pushed in and I bit my lips against a cry. Tears fell as he worked his way in and out, shushing me quietly, until I was finally wet enough for him to really move.

“Ah, pretty girl,” he said, wiping my tears as he moved above me. “Why you cry when a man make love to you?”

I closed my eyes. This was not making love. I was being raped for the second time in a day’s span, and even though the physical pain had mostly passed, there were layers upon layers of mental anguish in its place.

I didn’t cry anymore. I wanted him to get this over with. He enjoyed my body, running his hand from my wrist down to my waist, then bending to suck my nipple again. In other circumstances I might have enjoyed his ministrations, but here, like this, they made me ill.

“Bueno,” I heard Marco say. Apparently he was happy with my cooperation. Asshole.

My eyes stayed closed.
Please hurry
, I silently begged.

Then Marco’s evil friend said in Spanish, “Let’s see how she reacts to the back trap.”

Back trap? What the hell was that? My eyes opened and Luis was looking right at me. He was sweating a little now.

“I gonna make you feel good,” he said. “Okay?”

I was too uneasy to respond. Staying inside me, he hiked up one of my knees and reached around, squeezing my ass. Then he lifted that hand and stuck his middle finger in his mouth, wetting it. Reaching around again I felt his fingers roam down to the crack of my body and press against my anus. The tip of his middle finger slipped in and I cried out, bucking upward. Nobody had ever touched me there, and it felt like the worst kind of violation.

The disgusting man by the door laughed at my reaction.

“Shh,” Luis murmured. “You relax, baby, and feel good.”

“No,” I whispered. It was horrible and demeaning, but he didn’t seem to be able to push his finger any deeper from that angle so I stopped fighting.

With his finger half inside my ass, he began moving faster, breathing harder, getting closer. A single thought crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but say it.

“I’m not on birth control!”

“Don’t worry,” Marco said. “He will pull out.”

Less than two minutes later he did. I was so relieved when Luis finally came on my stomach that I wanted to cry again. He gave me a smile, as if to say “good job” and I felt an overwhelming gratefulness toward him. I was experiencing genuine gratitude toward a man for not being violent when he violated me…how fucked up was that?

Luis dressed and left the room with a nod from Marco. I didn’t like the way the other man was staring at me now. Or the fact that he was obviously hard inside his slacks, and not afraid to rub himself in front of others.

“Perla!” Marco called.

She must have been nearby because she came at once, bowing her head to him and saying, “Sí, Amo.” The word surprised me. It was almost a loving, worshipful way of saying “Owner.”

“Take señor Hernandez to the Atlantic room and see to his needs,” he said in Spanish.

Perla, beautiful with her bronzed skin and shiny black hair, led Mr. Hernandez away with a sway of her hips. He gave me one last lascivious glance before leaving. How was Perla not afraid of him?

When Marco came to my side I was trembling from the aftereffects of the encounter. He unlocked my handcuff and said, “It’s time to clean you up.”

I pulled my shirt down over my breasts. Taking me by the wrist, Marco led me to the bathroom inside the room and let me go, but he made no move to leave. He gave the toilet a pointed look. I unwound toilet paper and cleaned off my stomach, then flushed it and looked at Marco again.