Indulgence (350 page)

Stolen

Through the haze of sleep, I felt hands on me. Cold and
rough. I thought for a fleeting moment that it might have been Kyle.

Then, I remembered our break up.

It had happened weeks ago, but maybe that part was the
dream. My memory was fucked and I couldn’t latch onto a thought long enough to
ride it out of the fog.

“Did you make a decision?” Kyle asked.

I rolled over and pulled the comforter up to my neck. I
had decided that I didn’t want to make a decision—mostly that I didn’t
appreciate him trying to force me into a decision when I had told him time
after time that I didn’t want him moving into my apartment even after six
months together.

“You can barely afford the place anyway since your sister
moved out. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal unless you don’t want to be
together.”

I did, and yet, the threat of him leaving seemed like a
relief…
.

Hands groped and pulled—rough against my skin and digging
into muscle and bone. Too many hands. The bits of memory faded as I tried to
retreat from the onslaught. My back pressed into a hard surface beneath me, and
my nostrils filled with the smell of musk and damp stale air.

I had no idea where I was, or how I’d gotten there.

I kicked and gasped, trying to get back to the surface where
reality lurked. It shimmered in the distance, just out of reach, like the sun
on the surface of the water during a dive.

A hand latched onto my hair and held my head back. My
eyelids were finally freed from the sticky muck that held me in
semi-consciousness, and I opened them to find myself staring up into unfamiliar
eyes.

I only held his gaze for a few seconds—if that—but it seemed
like it lasted for hours as my brain fought to categorize the details. Its
useless attempt to understand what was going on.

The man clutching my hair had vivid green eyes, but they may
as well have been black given the emotionless void they displayed. His hair was
shaggy, brown with a mix of grey, the same colors that stood out in his unkempt
stubble.

As if he needed any help looking rough.

He exhaled and his breath settled over my face, reeking of
booze and cigarettes. The smell made me queasy, but I didn’t have time to dwell
on that, as another set of hands tugged at my jeans.

My gaze traveled around the room, taking in the small crowd.
At least half a dozen men surrounded the table where they had me spread out
like a holiday feast. All dressed differently, from ragged tank tops to
well-fitting dark button-down shirts, they all projected an air of unchecked
danger. Necks marked with tattoos, hands covered in callouses and scars.
Scruffy faces accented their sneers and smirks, as they stood above me staring
down with eyes starved of humanity and full of lust.

Apparently, they didn’t expect me to put up a fight, because
aside from the hand tangled in my hair, no one seemed concerned with keeping a
tight grip on me. Probably because they outnumbered me, and I assumed they
would have no problem beating the crap out of me if I struggled.

They’d downright enjoy it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t fully consider how that scenario
would play out. I bucked and managed to knee the one pulling on my waistband in
the face. He grunted, but I can’t imagine I inflicted as much pain as did his
retaliatory blow to my ribs. I sucked in air and rolled, curling around the
injury and gasping for each painful breath as the sickening throb exacerbated
my confusion.

This couldn’t be happening. All I wanted to do was curl into
a ball and protect my body, but their hands kept me splayed. Helpless. I
jerked, pulled, and squirmed with every bit of strength I had, but a five and a
half foot girl against a circle of rabid men was a hopeless battle.

And, with my defense, I had broken the dam on their
violence. Seven pairs of hands turned on me, spreading me across the table.
Bony hands squeezed my arms and legs, and adrenaline took over my judgment.

I screamed and a hand clamped down over my mouth,
half-covering my nose as well. Every time someone moved the wrong way, his hand
slid up, cutting off my air completely. I clamped my mouth closed, not letting
another sound escape in hopes that he’d get bored of holding my mouth closed.

Where ever I had ended up, all I knew was that I didn’t want
to die in some dank concrete room at the hand of a group of ruffians. I’d just
started living my life. I made it out of the small town to find a place where I
wasn’t constantly answering to someone about every decision I made. At sixteen,
I had dyed my hair blue and our minister told me I was going to hell.

Well, I had found it, but I doubted this is what he’d had in
mind.

Threats, insults, and random profanity echoed against the
cinder block walls of the room and roared in my head propelling my struggle.

One of my shoes slipped off, giving me an opening. As that
attacker attempted to readjust his grip, I straightened my leg quickly, hitting
him square in the chest. He grunted and took a step back, then slammed my
flailing leg against the table. The impact sent a bolt of pain up my body and
for a brief moment I stilled, letting the pain radiate through me and then
pushing it to the back of my awareness.

I sunk back into my mind, trying to distance myself from the
pain. I couldn’t believe it was real. How quickly I had gone from planning to
have dinner with my friends to being groped in some dank basement by a group of
disgusting bastards.

They must have thought that my pause meant I was giving up, because
the one holding my arm loosened his grip and I slipped free again, this time,
planting a punch to the nose of another attacker. It took him a second to shake
it off, but I was instantly restrained again by yet another. The man I’d punch
snarled and ripped open my shirt, then pulled a knife from his pocket and
flipped it open.

The room went quiet, and I froze, watching the silver tip of
the blade move closer to my sternum.

Then, a single voice rose from the back of the room. “What
the hell breed of trouble are you lot causing?”

The knife jerked away, slipping below the edge of the table
and out of sight. I twisted my neck to figure out who they’d all stopped to
stare at. Another man, dressed in dark jeans and a black tank top stood above
us at the top of a metal stairway that connected to a catwalk running along the
top of the back wall.

I almost regretted the interruption as it allowed the pain
from every injury to rise to the surface and penetrate my body. Each breath
became a struggle between managing my need for air against the sharp stab of
pain every time my chest expanded. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. It had
to be a dream—the most fucked up dream I could ever imagine, but as long as I
could wake up, everything would be fine.

Another man appeared on the catwalk, stopping just short of
the stairs. He was also wearing black, but unlike the other men, he looked like
he was groomed for a formal occasion in his tailored suit.

“The customers will hear the racket,” the man wearing the
suit grumbled, straightening his tie.

The racket
? I thought. They were holding down a girl
in ripped clothes, for goodness’ sake, and he was concerned with the noise. My
hope that the two new men were part of some rescue party eroded and turned into
a useless lump in my gut.

“As if they aren’t used to it,” Green Eyes replied with a
snort of laughter. “Besides, everyone is at least two levels up right now.”

“You never answered Kirk’s question,” Suit said, leaning
against the railing in a pose that resembled some kind of power shot you’d see
of an executive in a Fortune 500 magazine.

I squeaked as Green Eyes gripped my hair harder. “We need
new meat, and conveniently, the butcher dropped this one off.”

Suit shook his head and looked to the man he’d referred to
as Kirk. “Take care of this.”

Kirk rolled his neck and started down the stairs. “We didn’t
order new meat, and I don’t trust unscheduled deliveries.”

One of the other men leaned against the table, pressing his
weight into my wrist, and I gasped, waiting for it to snap. He kept his body
casual, as if he had no idea what he was doing, but then he looked down at me
and winked. “It’s been months since we’ve had any fun breaking a new girl,” the
man leaning on my wrist said. “So, Gabe picked her up.”

Green Eyes scowled across me at the other man, while taking
out his frustration on my scalp. I assumed that he was Gabe, and he didn’t
appreciate the other man calling him out for the transgression.

My vision clouded, leaving me lightheaded and nauseous. I
closed my eyes for a second—not daring to let the monsters out of my sight
longer than that.

Everyone except Gabe loosened their holds and stepped away
from the table. But the threat of pain hadn’t diminished from their eyes.

Pain sliced through my chest as I tried to inhale, and I
silently pleaded for the new man to save me, even though he seemed concerned
with everything except my well-being. At least with him in the room, the attack
had ceased, but at any moment, he could leave or, even worse, simply join in
and I’d stand no chance.

They all watched me, taking in my every flinch. Drinking in
my pain and fear.

Kirk stood over the head of the table, leaning against it to
look me in the eyes until I dropped my gaze away.

“There’s a reason it has been a while,” Kirk’s words were
smooth and calm. “You all are sloppy and when you break the rules, we end up
with women that are of no use to us.” He closed his hand around Gabe’s arm, and
the hand in my hair jerked, then released. I looked up again, catching another
glimpse of Kirk’s blue-grey eyes.

“We can’t release her,” Gabe growled, “so just go back
upstairs to your work and let us have our fun.”

Can’t release her
? The air caught in my chest,
hardened, and refused to move. There was a good chance I wasn’t making it out
of this basement. The craziest thing I’d ever done was ride some insane roller
coaster at Cedar Point—and now that seemed like no big deal. I’d never been out
of the country. Never played with my unborn niece.

Never made amends with my parents and sister since our continued
fighting began almost eight months earlier.

“You’re right,” Kirk said, his voice low and calm for
someone who had just agreed that I could never be set free. There wasn’t a hint
of acknowledgment that he’d just sealed my fate with two simple words. Life
would go on for him—business as usual. “Why the hell should you be rewarded for
breaking the rules? Remember how things work. You make a mess, I have to clean
it up—I’d rather start now than wait for the mess to get bigger.”

“How things work….” Gabe chuckled and looked around at his
crew. “Seven against one is how things currently work, or are you counting on
two for your side? She is feisty.”

The group of men followed Gabe’s lead, many of them crossing
their arms, or raising their hands in preparation of a fight, but before they
could make a serious move, Kirk grabbed one by the neck. “You’re right, Gabe,
she is feisty. She managed to inflict at least one bloody nose, and I imagine a
few other injuries. So what makes you think I’m scared of a crew who can’t even
manage to wrangle a single girl?”

The man in Kirk’s grasp, stuttered, “We were…having…fun.”

“Game’s over.” With one shove, Kirk sent the man stumbling
backward, “And if you do want to try me, remember that even if you win, I’ll be
counting on the boss’ gun to your head afterward. I believe you all are
supposed to be working tonight, yet you smell wasted, and you’re down here
causing trouble. Either find a productive way to use the rest of your day or
I’ll send you to the dregs.”

They all took a step away, watching Gabe for their next
move. He shook his head and started toward the stairs until Kirk caught him by
the shoulder, “You and I will have a long discussion later, Gabe.”

Gabe shook him off and the men emptied out of the room,
leaving me barely covered and laying on a table under Kirk’s gaze. The coldness
of the room hit me for the first time, clawing against my sweat-moistened skin,
and causing me to shiver.

“Sit up,” Kirk said. His voice was even colder than the air.

I hugged my shirt to my chest as I obeyed, then I quickly
angled myself so he was no longer behind me. He was tall and sculpted with hard
muscles, but from where I sat, he didn’t look any less scary than the rest of
them. His face had a hint of stubble around his chin, but he looked far more
groomed than the clods he’d just run off. Tattoos ran down both of his arms,
but my attention fell to the tribal snake that wrapped around his right
forearm.

“Please,” I whispered without looking up. Despite his
agreement with Gabe that I couldn’t be released, I hoped that he would take
pity since the other men were gone. Holding on to a hopeless desire was far
better than concentrating on the other images that hammered through my
brain—all of the other things he could do now that he had me to himself.

He walked around the table without acknowledging the request
and picked up my discarded shoe. Then, he slid off my other shoe—tossing both
effortlessly into a trash can in the corner.

My heart sank, and I searched his eyes for something I could
latch onto, some shred of compassion, a hint of hope. His face didn’t hold the
brutality of the others’, but it had its own carved sternness. The anger
burning inside of him was almost palpable, and now that the direct cause of
that anger was gone, I was left to fill in.

He took me by the arm. “You can walk?”

I wasn’t sure it was a question, but I nodded, and he guided
me off the table without loosening his iron grip on my arm. When we reached the
stairs, I noticed the others hadn’t fully dispersed; a few loitered on the end
of the catwalk near a side entrance. But with one look from Kirk, they scowled
and disappeared into the next room.