“So what are we going to do?” I said.
“They only … they only untie us when they’re raping us,” Courtney said, the words hiccupping out of her. “Gavin, he likes … he likes to make you do stuff, but he still holds a knife. Brian, sometimes he sets the gun down.”
“Gavin’s taking me next time.” I couldn’t breathe, struggled to push the words past the lump in my throat.
“I can try to get the gun from Brian,” Dani said. “Shoot him, then go after Gavin. If Brian takes you, Courtney, you have to try for the gun.”
“Okay.” Her tears had calmed. Her body shuddered as she took a few ragged breaths.
“What if Brian takes me?” I said. “I don’t know where Gavin’s room is.”
“It’s another storage room, like this one, but it’s at the front of the warehouse. Shoot him right away.”
“What if Gavin hears the shot?”
“Even if we only kill one of them, I’ll be happy,” Dani said.
We didn’t talk about what might happen if our plan failed.
CHAPTER TEN
They’d brought Kentucky Fried Chicken and fries and coleslaw, untied our wrists so we could eat. We tore into the chicken, gnawing off greasy bite after bite, almost gagging, our mouths were so full, but none of us were able to slow down or stop our moans of relief. I hadn’t eaten meat in years but I didn’t even think about that now, didn’t care. We sucked back the coleslaw, eating it straight from the container, shoved french fries in our mouths.
Brian was leaning against the wall, tapping his gun barrel against his cowboy boots, smiling at me. “Think I’ll take my girlfriend again tonight.” I was shocked—I thought for sure I was going with Gavin.
“Screw you—it’s my turn,” Gavin said.
Brian’s face was cold. “You can have her when I say you can have her.” He pointed the gun at Dani and Courtney. “Take one of them.”
“Fine.” Gavin jerked Courtney up from the floor and dragged her away.
Brian took a step toward me.
“Please,” Dani said. “She’s really sore. I’ll do whatever you want.”
He smiled. “So will she.”
He grabbed me and pulled me up. I didn’t look at Dani, scared I’d reveal something and Brian would sense we had a plan, but I could feel her panic.
In the other room, he started to turn me around. If I was facedown I wouldn’t be able to reach the gun, and my hands were still tied. I thought quickly.
“What if … what if I give you a blow job instead?”
I was terrified, my throat tight. I tried not to think about it, tried to just focus on the plan.
He was quiet for a second. I braced for his rage.
“Yeah, all right.” He spun me around and pushed me down on my knees in front of him, started to unbuckle his pants with one hand.
“Can you sit on the bed?” I said. “I can reach easier. And I need my hands.” I was sick at the thought of touching him, touching it.
“Whatever makes it better for you, sweetheart.” He united my hands, stood to unzip his pants, then sat on the edge of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and closing his eyes.
I knelt in front of him, took a breath, and put my mouth around him, just the top part. I almost gagged, squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to think about anything, his fleshy taste, his man smell. He gripped the back of my head, pushed my head closer to him, forcing me to swallow more. I gagged again, dry-heaved.
His eyes shot open and he held the rifle to my temple, the cold metal pressing hard. Then he slid the safety off.
“You bite me and I’ll blow your brains out.”
I nodded. He kept his eyes open, watching me. Finally he closed them, his hand hard on the back of my head. I tried to focus on breathing through my nose. He was moaning, his hand tight in my hair. His other hand was getting relaxed on the gun. I reached out slowly, touched the barrel, and pulled it from him, moving my mouth away and stumbling to my feet in one quick rush.
His hand whipped out, knocking the rifle away before I could pull the trigger. I scrambled after it. He kicked my legs out from under me and I hit the floor hard. His hands were on my legs, yanking me back.
I grabbed at a broken bit of crate on the floor, turned, and thrust it at his eye. At the last second he batted my hand away and instead of the stake going through his eyeball, it gouged his cheek. He let out a yell.
I pulled my legs free, crawled forward a foot, and grabbed the stock of the gun. He was gripping my ankles, trying to drag me backward. I couldn’t get enough space to shoot him, couldn’t spin the rifle around. I flipped on my side and with both hands on the gun hit him hard in the temple with the butt. He faltered. I hit him again. A thud.