“Yes, sir!” If King threw a winning lottery ticket back down the stairs, the kid wouldn’t have grinned wider. He waited long enough for King to close the hatch and then yanked out a dagger that was strapped to his calf. He grinned wide and paced straight to Sage. “Might as well start with my favorite slut.”
As the kid started slashing apart her clothes, Josie gave her fingers a squeeze. “Stay strong. We’re right here with you, Sage. We’re right here.”
Sage jammed her eyes shut, struggling to hold back the reply she longed to blurt at the woman.
But why can’t I be anywhere but here?
* * *
The question refused to leave her mind. Like a sloppy-drunk party guest who kept hitting the replay button on a bad breakup song, the words were a reminder of where she really was, of the tunnel into which her life was headed. Even after she’d seen her clothes in a torn puddle on the floor. Even after the stylists had coated her in makeup and then pushed her into a corset and panties. Even after she’d been piled into a limousine with Josie, Rayna, and three bodyguards, the words echoed in a haunting refrain.
Why…why…why…
Anywhere but here…anywhere, please.
During the drive, she fixed her gaze on the black glass of the limo’s tinted window, trying to conjure where Garrett and Zeke were by now. They would have called Franzen and likely been able to convince the CO that King was involved with this shit. Maybe after that, the guy had approved a team and they were halfway to Bangkok by now.
The black pane made it so easy to conjure the contrast of Garrett’s rugged, golden handsomeness as the team flew through the night. The wind lifting his tawny hair off his forehead. The smoky determination in his long-lashed blues. His long nose leading the eye to the angles of his mouth, undoubtedly tilted up at one end as he contemplated slitting open King’s throat this time around.
After that, the image went fuzzy. Tears had a way of doing that, even to fantasies.
She tilted her head back. Forced away the sting with a determined sniff. These assholes weren’t going to get the extra brass ring of her sorrow. Like always, it stayed inside. Deep inside. Pushed to a place where they couldn’t touch it or her. They could pound their bodies as deep into hers as they wanted, but from the moment she stepped out of this limousine, they’d never claim her as a person. Sage Weston would cease to exist—and now it was by her choice, not theirs.
All too soon, that moment arrived.
Sage’s instincts, along with the feel of the road, told her they’d gone over the 520 bridge and into Medina—the land of Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, Charles Simonyi, and other people who sucked different air than the rest of humanity. Sure enough, the driver slowed the car before stylized steel gates that glistened in the misty night. When they slid back, they rolled up a driveway that likely doubled as the landing strip for the owner’s private jet. A diamond-shaped reflecting pool in front of the house had a lighted fountain that looked like a giant steel cheese curl.
When the limo stopped, the henchmen got out first. During the two seconds they were alone inside the car, Rayna let out a harsh, heavy sob. “Fuck! Sage, I don’t know if I can do this!”
“Of course you can.” Josie ripped the words into her. They weren’t a surprise. From the moment King had gone battering ram on her face with the SIG, the woman had changed from nurturing mama hen into savage mama tiger. “You’ll do this, Rayna, and anything else it takes to stay alive. Look, I know you’ve both had it with having to tow this line, but you don’t have a choice. I won’t give you one. If we have any chance of finding a way out of this, we need to work together. We have to keep our senses keen and our eyes open. Agreed?”
Sage joined her friend in returning the woman’s tough love with a fast nod. Senses keen. Eyes open. She could do this. She could—
Shit.
“Eyes open” was deleted from the options list pretty fast.
One moment, she was tottering on the stone driveway in her mile-high heels. The next, Junior the Henchman was leaning over her, fitting a soft leather blindfold over her eyes and the bridge of her nose.
Forget about equilibrium. She felt herself falling over but had no idea if she was about to crack open the front or back of her skull. Lanky arms caught her, and she picked up on Junior’s distinct scent of chicken wings and sweaty T-shirt. She had no choice about having to inhale the stuff for a few minutes more. Not if she intended to keep at least half her promise to Josie now.
Senses keen. Senses keen. Senses keen.
With the mantra embedded in her instinct, she tried to stay upright in the damn heels while listening, smelling, or hearing any element of their surroundings that could help their chances at breaking for an escape. As she suspected, the mansion was on the water. Lake Washington was more placid than the depths of Elliott Bay, but she still heard boats rubbing against a dock and ducks honking at each other. Before they got to the front door of the big house, Junior pulled her off to the left, around a corner, and down a slight incline. The wind, filled with more mist, hit her with more force. They were being led closer to the water, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on where the boat keys were kept.
Junior finally pulled her to a stop. Heavier footsteps approached behind them. The spicy smell of a clove cigarette swirled with the mist. Cologne joined that combination. It was smooth, not an in-your-face American scent.
The new arrivals to the party were definitely foreign. And definitely staring at her. The weight of their rearview inspection pressed on her bare shoulders and upper back, but she straightened her spine and forced her head to stay high. She wouldn’t bend for these animals. Not unless they made her, damn it.
A door opened, and King’s distinct laughter danced out into the night. “Gentlemen! Welcome! I trust you had no trouble with the directions?”
“They were flawless.” A refined baritone voice gave the words, though its slight European accent brought out every note of wickedness in the follow-up. “Everything so far is impeccable.”
Sage barely resisted the urge to jab him in the leg, or worse, with one of her stilt heels. At the moment, her balance was more important to keep intact.
“I am so glad you think so,” King replied. “Please come in. I think you will be pleased with these facilities. We have made certain they provide all the equipment for you to exercise your special tastes.”
A few feet to her right, a choked gasp cut the air. Rayna was letting the fear get to her. Her outburst was followed by a sharp smack. Rayna cried out louder.
“Knock it off, bitch!” her henchman commanded.
This exchange took place as the Europeans filed inside the building. King apparently traded places with them, because his was the next voice to slice the air. The bastard wasn’t happy.
“You twit! What did I say about hitting them?”
Rayna’s guard fumed aloud. If Sage was a mind reader, she’d likely find the guy debating about how to point out that King had violated that rule already, and the evidence was plastered across the left side of Josie’s face.
The henchman finally protested, “She was about to scream.”
“Then let’s handle the challenge, shall we?” King shifted as if taking something from each of the guards. No. Wrong perception. Sage found out just how wrong in the next second. The asshole had been giving them all something. “Fasten the bits well. If any of them slip, I’ll have your balls for it.”