“He won’t talk.” Certainty underscored the words. “Right, Carter?”
Carter eyed the stranger as if fearful to take his gaze off him. “Right.”
She wondered what he’d said to Carter.
With a nod the stranger turned and melted into the woods.
“You dumb bitch,” Carter said. His face was pale, either from pain or the stranger’s whispered warning.
Drawing in a steady breath to dilute the adrenaline, she moved toward Cooper and untied his tracking line. “I’m dumb? Who’s the one cuffed to the tree?”
Carter tugged at the cuffs. He spoke in a low, gruff tone. “I’m going to kill you!”
Ignoring Carter, she inspected his leg. It was oozing blood, but his makeshift tourniquet had stopped most of the bleeding. “Where are the other girls you’re running?”
Carter shifted, wincing as his leg rubbed the tree. “I don’t have any damn girls.”
“One’s in the hospital now. Where are the others?”
He rolled his head from side to side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She rose, staring at his leg and knotting her brow as if pondering. “That tourniquet ought to do you until the deputies arrive.”
“When are they gonna be here?” He glanced toward the thick woods, which were growing darker by the moment.
“Don’t know,” she lied. “Could be all night. And I hear it’s going to rain.” An owl hooted. “Other than the black bears, the animals should leave you alone as long as you don’t fall asleep.”
The metal cuffs chewed into the bark as he again struggled to get free. “You can’t leave me here!”
“Where are the girls?”
“Fuck you.”
She turned back toward Cooper. “Have a good evening, Mr. Carter. Don’t let the mosquitos bite.”
CHAPTER TWO
Tuesday, September 13, 1:00 a.m.
Cigar smoke. The clink of poker chips. Soft music. Men arguing.
The pungent scent was the first to reach below the medicated haze and tug Vicky toward consciousness. Nose wrinkling, she coughed as smoke puffed across her face.
“Wake up.”
Fatigue weighed heavily, coaxing her back toward the darkness where it was safe, warm, and quiet. It had been weeks since she had slept well. Jax kept her awake working night after night, having her make nice to whoever had money. To sleep on a soft cushion with no one touching her was a luxury. To surrender to the light felt cruel.
“Wake up!”
Sleep’s iron hold loosened as she clung to it. She did not want to wake up. Awake meant a return to the streets and the dimming hope Jax loved her. But to resist tempted Jax’s temper, and nobody wanted him mad. Jax’s other girl, Jo-Jo, was always pushing him, and her back talk had earned her a couple of beatings.
More smoke blew against her face, seeping and slithering up her nostrils, prying her free from the safety and security of the darkness.
She coughed again, stumbling unwillingly toward consciousness as her eyes opened. Grimacing, she raised her hand like a shield as a halfhearted offer came automatically. “You want to party? I like to party.”
“Wake up. Please.” Another voice. Another man.
A deeply rooted survival instinct chased away the fatigue. Where was she?
She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Pain split and cracked through her skull as if one of Jax’s fists had struck her. Drawing in a breath, she lowered her hand and focused on her surroundings.
The room was bathed in ivories and creams. Gilded trims. Lights glistening in crystal. Every detail in the room screamed expensive. Uptown. Not like the truck stop motels, her normal territory. The truckers she knew. Quick. Easy. But this . . . this was not good. God, where had Jax sent her?
She pressed trembling fingers to her forehead, rooting for her last clear memory. She had been with Jax and Jo-Jo. She and Jo-Jo were surprised when he took them to the diner and bought burgers, extra fries, and large sodas. The girls were so hungry they didn’t think beyond the food. Toward the end of the meal, a guy joined them in the booth. A friend of Jax’s.
Memories reached out, grabbing hold of the present. And then, in a blink, she remembered. The friend’s name was Kevin. He was tall, well dressed, with gold cuff links and buffed nails. Dark-brown hair was cut short and slicked back, emphasizing blue eyes. She remembered thinking he didn’t look like a Kevin.
Jax, looking a little nervous, ordered him coffee as if he were the grand host. As Kevin sipped the dark, bitter brew, he asked her and Jo-Jo questions. What’s your name? Where’re you from? The guy needed conversation. Not all the johns liked to talk, but this one did. Jax quickly grew tired of the questions and cut off her last answer.
“Which one do you want?”
Kevin sat back in the booth, studying her face as he tapped a nervous finger against the table. “She has the right look. How much?”
“Two grand.”
No one had ever paid that kind of money for her before and she expected Kevin to laugh. But he wasn’t put off by the price and handed Jax a handful of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. “There’s a little more. I’ll need her a few extra hours.”
Vicky shifted, nervous. Men paid that kind of money when they wanted something different, and she worried what that meant.
Jax grinned, his gold tooth winking in the light. “Sure. But I want her back in twenty-four hours.”
“Right.” Kevin’s gaze dropped to his cup of coffee. He offered her another soda, but Jax said she’d had enough. Jax hustled them all out of the booth and the diner. Kevin opened the front door of a sleek black car and waited for her to settle inside. She nestled into the car’s front seat. When he slid behind the wheel she reached for his crotch, but he brushed her hand away.
“I thought you wanted to party,” she said.
“No.”
That unexpected twist revved her fears.
Kevin gripped the steering wheel, but smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you fixed up. Hair. Nails. A new dress.”
“Okay, sure.” She didn’t argue, fearing he’d tell Jax if she did.
“You’ll like the dress.”
“Sure.”
Later, after her nails and hair were styled, he watched her slip on the yellow dress at his hotel room. The material was soft and silky. As he handed her a glass of champagne, his smile was mild. She started to relax. And then it all went black.
Struggling now to sit, she realized she still wore the yellow dress, as well as gold teardrop earrings and silver high-heeled shoes. She wasn’t bleeding, hurting, or sore. What the hell?
“Is she awake?” the old man asked.
“Yes, she’s awake.” The second voice was familiar. Kevin.
“Where am I?” she asked. Her words rumbled in her head, crashing into the sides of her skull. “What did you do to me?”
Kevin shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nothing. You’ve been sleeping.”
“Good, she’s focusing,” the old man said. “It’s important she’s aware.”