Selling Scarlett

chapter Forty

~HUNTER~

I did it. I had sex with Libby—and it was incredible.

I clean up in the bathroom, then find a glass bowl, rinse it out, and fill it with warm water. I go search my cabinet for the softest towel I can find. As I sift through washcloths, I'm surprised to find my hands are unsteady. I’m excited. I can't wait to get back in bed with Libby.

My thoughts naturally return to our conversation about Rita. I might always blame myself, but knowing Libby doesn't—knowing she can look past it—is an unexpected gift. I'm surprised I feel better, getting it off my chest. And the Cross thing—that might be a lucky break. I felt pessimistic about it at first, but at this moment it's hard to feel anything but hopeful.

I wrap myself in a robe and grab an one for her. I'm already smiling like a moron as I push the door open. My eyes fly to the bed, eager to see Libby's face. But she's not there. I stride into my room and turn a full circle. Empty. The blinds to the right of the bed are cracked, and Libby's clothes are on the floor where I tossed them. The bedroom door is open, so I wonder if she went to another bathroom.

I stride into the hallway. “Libby?”

I look right, but there's no noise farther down the hall, toward the great room. The only thing that's to the left is the foyer. I take a few steps down the hall before I notice the blood spots on the hardwood.



*



~ELIZABETH~



Lockwood has a cloth in my mouth before I can scream. Something burns the inside of my nose, and everything goes dark.

When I come to, the first thing I notice is the dim roar of a small plane. I wince, because it makes my head throb. Why am I flying when I have such a bad headache?

My eyes snap open and I bite back a scream. I suck in a few shallow breaths through the cloth that's tied around my mouth. I listen, but hear only the plane. I see...a ceiling. It's round, of course, and not too wide. I shut my eyes again, hoping for some clarity, but there's nothing. I remember making love to Hunter...and then Lockwood was there.

Holy cow. I can't believe this really happened.

I open my eyes a little wider and look down at my body. I'm lying on a narrow cot, with my arms bound in front of me, and holy crap, I'm almost naked. I'm wearing an oversized, dirty green t-shirt, but it barely comes to my upper thigh. I register some soreness between my legs before my eyes are bouncing around the space again. I slide them to my right, I see Cross. He's lying in a recliner beside me, slumped over on his side, facing the wall. He's not moving. Seeing him so still makes me panic. I gasp, and when I do, I smell the bitter scent again. Some kind of chemical. That must be what put me out.

I turn my head a little, ignoring the skull-splitting ache, and try to get a better look at Cross. But there's nothing to see. He looks...limp. Slowly, with great effort, I turn my head to the left, hoping—no praying—I see Hunter on the bed beside me. When I don't, I feel a rush. That's a good thing, I remind myself. If Hunter was with us, who would rescue us?

And someone has to rescue us...don't they?

That's the last thing I think before the door to our room opens, and Priscilla steps in, a smile splitting her face.

“You’re on your way to Mexico,” she says.

She steps a little closer to me, and I shy away. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” She walks behind me chuckling. A moment later I feel a pinch in my upper arm, and her face, above me, starts to blur.

I don't know how much time has passed when I wake up and find myself lying on my back in a dingy motel room. Long enough to land a plane, and long enough for my stomach to cramp with hunger, despite a brain-killing headache and the stench of garbage.

I glance down at my aching body. Wrists still tied; ankles now tied. My gaze drifts up to the cracked ceiling, and then back to my body, which feels weak and strange, like I haven't moved in years. I'm lying on a twin bed, on the most disgusting pale yellow bedspread I've ever seen in all my life. Right in front of me, pushed against a cracked yellow wall, is a rickety-looking wooden table with a chipped ceramic flower vase on top. I assume based on the heat that we’ve arrived in Mexico.

God, are we really in Mexico? Part of me can still see Hunter moving over me. Taste the strawberries. How did this happen—and why?

I summon the energy to lift my head and glance over to my right, where I find Cross, lying face-down on the other bed. He looks so...still. My pulse starts pounding.

“C-cross?” As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn't spoken aloud. I lie there for a minute, tense, worried that Priscilla or Lockwood will burst through the warped wood door. When no one does, I try to sit up. Maybe if I kick and strain enough, I can get myself untied. Unfortunately, I find that with my arms tied in front of me and my legs bound, plus the effects of whatever drug I've been given, I have no balance. I can barely even get my shoulders off the mattress.

I press my hands together and try to get some slack in the dirty rope that's squeezing my wrists. No luck.

Oh shit. Now I start to panic. What's going to happen to us? Is Cross okay? Where is Hunter? Even thinking about him makes tears spring into my eyes. I need him so much right now. What if he can't find us?

If he can't find us, I tell myself sternly, you will save the day. You don't need a man to save you. Hunter may have no idea how to reach us; I can't wait for him. If I can just get Cross awake, he and I can try to come up with a plan. In the meantime, I shut my eyes and try to figure out Priscilla and Lockwood's game. Is Cross's dad in on it? Surely not. He and Cross don't get along, but I can't imagine him wanting to hurt his own son. So it's just Priscilla and Lockwood.

I take a deep breath and glance around the room once more. I cast my eyes on Cross, looking desperately for the rise and fall of his shoulders. He's breathing, thank God, but his face seems to be pressed into a pillow. I think about the monitors Nanette had to take off of him for our field trip today. One was for his pulse, the other for his blood oxygen saturation. I forgot what the other one monitored. Nanette said he really didn't need them anymore. He's doing extraordinarily well, but that was before this. What if the drugs he got today make him go back into his coma?

I inhale deeply. Positive thoughts, Elizabeth. You'll find a way out of this. I can't really vanish into Mexico—can I?

I hear a creaking sound, and before I can think to play dead, Lockwood strolls through the door. He's wearing dirty-looking brown workman's pants and a gray button-up shirt. He's got on some kind of big, floppy cowboy hat, which shields most of his sunken-cheeked face. I also notice he's wearing a gun on his belt.

Of course.

Belatedly, I want to shut my eyes, but his gaze is already on me. “What do you think?” He spreads his arms out. “You like your comfy little Mexican hideaway?”

I swallow back a string of curse words. I need to appear calm or he might put me back to sleep. “My wrists hurt,” I answer.

“I didn't ask about your wrists. I asked about your room.” He looks up at the cracked ceiling. “Believe it or not, this is big shit in Mexico.”

“Where are we?” I ask him.

He grins, looking genuinely amused. “You think I'm telling you? All you need to know is this is where we sell 'em. You'll fetch a good price. He may, too,” he says, nodding at Cross's broad back. “He's got nice blue eyes.”

Hearing this news, I feel nothing. Maybe I'm in shock. The only thought I have is that I want to get more information from him. Not want to, have to. I have to stay in control if I want to get away. I try a simple statement. “You killed Sarabelle.”

“Only because I had to,” Lockwood says, hooking his thumbs through his belt-loops. “I was gonna take her here to market but she got too frisky. Conniving little p-ssy. Acted like she was going to give me head and bit my cock.” He grimaces, fondling himself, and I grit my teeth. “Sarabelle, she wasn't like the last one, little Miss Lucky.”

When he says her name, I remember it. She was the escort who went missing a little while before Sarabelle. I raise my eyebrows and paste on a surprised, slightly impressed look. “You took Ginnifer Lucky, too?”

Lockwood nods, standing up a little taller. “She fetched a good price. But you…well, they're paying better these days. All that drug money.” He grins, revealing stained teeth.

I try my best to keep my disgust off my face. I want to sound curious, keep him talking but not make him mad. “You're the one behind Missy King, too, aren't you?”

At the mention of her name, his eyes dance. “Missy? Yeah, I sold her. She's still in country, actually. Somewhere,” he says, grinning. “She was a good f*ck, that little Missy. Spirited. Gave the governor trouble, that's what happened to that little lady. Bet she's keeping some Mexican drug lord real happy.”

That thought makes my stomach church. “What's the point of selling Cross and I? People will notice we’re gone. If you need the money that badly, I recently came into some—”

He interrupts me with a coarse laugh. “I was disappointed to see the deal was already done.” I really might be sick this time. I clench my legs together and ignore the humiliation I feel. So far, the shirt's still covering my goods, but if I move, it won't be. This is a man who raped Sarabelle. “You would have fetched a much higher price yesterday.”

“I have money!” I say desperately.

He snickers. “We're moving you two downstream because you're all up in our business. And I do mean business. Tail like yours goes for high dollar.” He grins, like he's proud of himself, and I squeeze my legs a even closer together.

Lockwood is definitely leering at me. He walks a little closer to my bed, so when Priscilla strolls through the door, I actually feel almost glad.

“How's our prince and princess?” she asks.

Lockwood's dark eyes rove over her body, clad in a skin-tight black dress, before he glances back at me. “This one's a Curious Cassie.”

I scowl at Priscilla. “I can't believe you help him sell women into sex slavery.”

She laughs. “You over-estimate my moral code, darlin'. Besides, sex with strangers isn't as bad as you think.”

“It is when you’re forced to do it!”

She gives me a patronizing grin. “I guess you’ll find out.”

“I just don't understand,” I say evenly. “What’s in this for you?”

“You should know I’m not in it for the money,” she chides. “In fact, I’m usually not involved in Michael's extracurriculars at all. But this situation needed some tidying up.”

“I used to work for that kid’s dad,” Lockwood says, pointing at Cross. “Missy was his mistress before she started wanting too much. I had worked for him in security, and then I moved to Vegas to work in the porn biz. Priscilla wanted the governor and after a night of drinkin' she and I got the idea. It was really more my idea,” he says with a little nod. “The governor asked me to take care of it, and, like that—” he snaps “—a new enterprise was born.”

“I never liked her anyway,” Priscilla says. She rolls her eyes, like Missy was such a twat, and I realize she’s psycho. They both are.

“But you dated!” I exclaim to Lockwood.

“More like f*cked.” He shrugs. “It made it even easier to get her across the border. She never knew what was coming.”

“And after that, Governor Carlson got to be with me,” Priscilla says.

“He didn't stay with you,” I point out.

“Yes he did.” She grins. “He just got better at sneaking around.”

I don’t know what to do with this information. I glance at Cross, glad he’s still asleep, and then a horrible thought occurs to me. “His father doesn’t know about this, does he?”

Priscilla shakes her head. “Definitely not, but if he did, I’m not sure he’d try to stop me. I’ve got enough dirt on him to fill the Grand Canyon.”

I need time to process all of this, but time I do not have.

“Why is Hunter involved?”

She shrugs. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, really.” She knocks Lockwood with her hip, and I want to vomit. “Besides, it's Michael's fault, not mine. I have restraint. He doesn't. When he heard what I did to your cocky little poker player, he made a rash decision, and then I had to cover for him. If he gets charged with something, it could lead back to Carlson.”

As Priscilla explains things to me, Lockwood pulls her dress aside and kisses her breasts. “Oh, hell yeah.”

He starts to hump her, and she steps back, leaving him panting like a horny dog. “Do you know what time it is?” she asks him.

“We've still got an hour,” he says.

“Until what?” I nearly shriek.

Priscilla smiles. “Don't you like surprises?”

Lockwood laces his fingers through hers, and together they leave the room. Cross is still asleep. My mind is racing. I can't believe what Cross's father did. I can’t believe Priscilla is such a monster. I can’t believe we’re trapped here. Everything about this situation is horrible.

Hunter. Where are you?

I try to wake up Cross. I call his name, I try to talk to him, I even since Katy Perry songs. He hates Katy Perry. I'm thrilled when, after only a few minutes, he rolls onto his back, giving me a full view of his unbound hands. Why didn't they tie him? His eyes flutter at the ceiling, and he grimaces like he's in pain.

“Cross?”

He moans, then rolls back on his stomach. Crap!

I hear Priscilla's voice outside and she comes back in, holding a bottle opener. She opens a cooler on the other side of Cross's bed and pulls out a bottle of beer.

“What did you give him?” I ask as she opens it.

She shrugs. “A tranquilizer. Not everyone has a good reaction to it.”

“What do you mean, not everyone has a good reaction?!” I've managed to sit halfway up now. I jerk against the binds around my wrists. I want to slap her.

With another shrug and not a glance my way, Priscilla saunters out of the room. “Cross,” I call.

He moans. “Cross, wake up! Please!”

But he doesn't move or say another word. Why did I take him with me to Hunter's house? He said he wanted to see the outside world, and I didn't think it would take longer than an hour. I try not to feel too guilty, though. That was my first chance to have sex. So what if I took it? It's not my fault a crazy guy kidnapped us.

I push my breath out. Suck in another one.

It's okay. At least I won’t die a virgin.

I laugh out loud. Only for a second, but it’s enough to draw Lockwood’s attention. He saunters back sans hat, giving me a full view of his rotten, shit-eating grin.

I glare at him. “What's happening in an hour?”

“The buyers are coming.”

“To get me and Cross?”

He shrugs. “Maybe just you. Depends on if they want a guy.”

“And if they don't?”

“Maybe I'll cook him and eat him.” I can feel the blood drain from my face. Lockwood bursts out laughing. It's jerky and gaspy, and makes him sound kind of like a choking bird. “Naw. Naw. That's not the plan.”

“You tried to kill him, didn't you? That's why you didn't tie his hands.” Horror washes through me as I realize this makes sense.

He nods. “Nothing personal. But he knows things he shouldn’t.”

“How do you know he knows?” I challenge.

“His father told Priscilla. She don't keep secrets for anybody.”

Of course. Freakin' Priscilla. Oh my God, I want to slap that bitch.

From somewhere behind me, I hear a clock ticking. I guess it's mounted on the wall. “How much longer?” I ask Lockwood. It's kind of ridiculous to ask, but I figure why not.

His gaze drifts over my head. “Looks like about thirty-seven minutes, seniorita.”

I shut my eyes, and a minute later, I hear a rustling in the cooler, followed by his footsteps and the closing of the door.

Holy cow. This is really about to happen. I'm really getting sold! Not my V-card; me. I strain my abs and get myself half-sitting. I pull against the binds so hard my wrists sport blood-red lines. I've got to do something!

As I work my wrists against the rope, the ticking of the clock threatens to drive me crazy.

Try as I might, I just can't undo the freakin’ knot! It's complicated and tight.

I wiggle my ankles. Nothing.

I'm lying there, praying and trying to regulate my breathing, when I hear a moan. My eyes flip open. “Cross!”

He sits up, looking dazed, and I think I might pass out from glee.

“Cross,” I hiss, trying harder to be quiet. “Come untie me!”

He blinks at me, and my heart sinks as I realize he's not really seeing me.

“Cross,” I whisper. “It's me—Lizzy! I need your help!”

He blinks, the slack look on his face never changing as he rolls his shoulder. Squinting, he looks slowly around the room. “I feel...stiff.” His voice is croaky. His eyes wander over the ceiling and the walls, and then finally to me. They widen. “Lizzy?” He flinches as he notices my binds, and I can see some of the stupor fading. “What the hell is going on?”

“You don't remember?”

He frowns. “I fell asleep, waiting for you.” He looks around the room again, but I hiss. “Cross! Come and untie me! I'll explain later, but you have to untie your feet and then help me!”

He swallows as he blinks down at his feet. He leans over, placing one palm on his ankle, and I urge him, “C'mon! You've gotta move fast!”

“Okay.” He gives me a concerned look while his fingers grapple with the rope. “Damn,” he mutters, “I'm thirsty.”

“I'm so sorry, Cross. But Priscilla Heat and Jim Gunn have us!”

His eyes bug out. “Holy f*ck.” He grits his teeth and goes harder at the ropes on his ankles. “Where are we?” he asks while he works.

“Mexico.”

“Are we getting sold or something? Because that would be unbelievable.”

I nod. “I really think we are. Except you...” I'm about to speculate on why they didn't feel a need to tie Cross's hands when the door opens again, and a tall Mexican man walks in.