Groaning to myself in despair, I began pacing the small room in an attempt to work the drugs out of my system and regain the use of my stiff muscles. Once moving, a warm tingling sensation trickled through my body and the heavy fog on my brain began to thin out. More and more, I had been noticing that I no longer required the same adrenaline push to engage my healing ability; it just seemed to be acting on its own when needed.
With my head a little clearer, I ran a quick mental analysis of what sort of crap I had landed in. I could clearly remember seeing Sergei before my world had gone dark, so at least I had a starting point. He was involved in the human trafficking ring that the guys had been investigating, which certainly didn’t bode well for my immediate future, but I had a strong suspicion this was linked to my abilities. Or, more specifically, those who might want to use my abilities. Before Dupree’s death, she had made mention of others who were pursuing the same goal as her, so it wouldn’t surprise me if this kidnapping was somehow linked.
I turned back to the door and yanked hard on the handle, putting all of my superhuman strength into it. It didn’t move an inch. Damn thing must be reinforced steel or something.
I tried the same thing on the bars of the window, but it was high enough up that I struggled to get a good angle and eventually gave up in frustration.
Not stupid enough to get caught napping, I instead began running my body through some of the martial arts warm-up drills that Cole had hammered into me for months. As I moved, my mind wandered, and I found that the foreboding sense of dread I had felt before getting kidnapped had been replaced with an almost painful ache in my chest. I paused in my movements to rub the heel of my hand over my heart where the pain seemed to be coming from, but it made no difference.
Great. That would be just my luck to get kidnapped and die of a heart attack.
Before I could examine the weird feeling any further, the silence of my prison was broken by the heavy thud of boots coming down the corridor and the grinding screech of the rusty lock turning. My heart raced, but I prepared myself for a fight, standing light on my feet with my fists curled in preparation. This was exactly what Cole had been training me for.
The heavy steel door groaned open, and the light from the hallway outlined an imposing figure filling the frame. He stepped inside the tiny room, and I wasted no time launching myself at him, desperate to fight my way free. The huge man was caught off guard, probably not expecting such a fight, and I connected a powerful punch square into his gut, knocking him backwards into the wall opposite my cell.
I darted out of the cell using my superhuman speed and took off down the corridor without so much as glancing at the man or looking to see if he had backup.
Stupid, Kit!
My body jolted painfully to a stop before I had made it even half a dozen steps. I hit the floor hard as my dehydrated frame convulsed with shock after shock of electricity while my muscles locked tight.
I lay on the cold and dirty floor, totally helpless as the current pulsed through me and a heavy steel-capped boot kicked me savagely in the side. The owner of the boot spat something incomprehensible at me in another language, proudly brandishing the stun gun he had just shot me with. Fucking bastard.
Bending down, he yanked my paralyzed body off the floor and threw me over his broad shoulder, causing waves of pain to crash through my freshly electrocuted form as he sauntered down the corridor, whistling like a psychopath.
4
By the time my escort and I’d arrived at another room, the effects of the stun gun had all but worn off and I was ready for another fight. After dumping me on the cold concrete, he very wisely stepped out of my immediate reach and pointed his godforsaken Taser gun at me in warning. Fuck, I hate those things.
He spat something at me in his harsh language, and I stared at him blankly, still none the wiser on what he was trying to tell me. Not that I really gave a crap; it wasn’t like I was sticking around to chat. The second I saw an opportunity, I was getting the hell out of here.
He repeated himself in a louder voice, jerking his Taser toward the pile of fabric on the ground near where I had landed.
“Look, buddy,” I tried to reason with him, “I have no idea what you're saying, and repeating it louder won't change that.” Unless I suddenly developed a skill for picking up languages… That would be cool.
“He say, ‘Get dressed, whore, or I shoot you again,’” a small voice said in broken English from behind me, and I jumped in fright. Glancing around the room, I noticed for the first time that I wasn't alone with Captain Stun Gun.
The girl who had spoken couldn't have been more than fifteen, and she was dressed like a, well, like a whore. A painted-on, red minidress just barely covered her torso, while a lacy garter belt held up the quintessential thigh-high stockings. Topped off with six-inch, platform stripper heels, the overall effect looked like a little girl on her way to a “Pimps 'n' Hoes” dress-up party. No prizes for guessing what she'd be dressed as. I looked around at the other occupants in the room and found them all dressed to attend the same party. I had a sneaking suspicion I would end up in a similar outfit before I found my escape opportunity.
“What do you mean, ‘get dressed’?” I demanded, “I'm already wearing clothes.” I indicated the filthy v-neck and jeans that I was still wearing from when I had been abducted. I briefly wondered what had happened to my jumpsuit. Had it been left behind? Maybe the guys had found it and realized I’d been taken? I could only hope so.
“No. You must change.” She shook her head and pointed to the clothing with a shaking finger, her face pale. She had yet to make eye contact with me at all, her gaze steadfastly glued to the floor, but the tension in her frail shoulders spoke volumes about what might happen.
I glanced over at the man in charge and found him watching us intently, and when he caught my eye, he buzzed a few jolts of electricity from his Taser, a sick grin on his ugly face. Behind him in the corridor, I could see the shadows of several more men. I looked around the room once more. Not a single person would make eye contact with me, and I swallowed back the nervousness rising in my throat.
“Please,” the young girl implored, “please, just do it.” The terrified crackle in her voice made me think she had seen what happened when someone refused to cooperate. I took another look at the guard with the Taser, and at his backup in the corridor, and made the decision to bide my time. For now.
I gingerly lifted the garments from the floor and wrinkled my nose in disgust at the pleather micro-miniskirt and halterneck bustier. Under the burning gaze of the man holding the Taser, I changed into the offensive outfit as quickly as possible. The young girl who had spoken helped me adjust the cleverly placed Velcro tabs in order to make the tiny garments fit. As she leaned in close to help me do up the joke of an outfit, I eagerly seized the opportunity to try and get some answers.