Page 5 of Captivated with Them

My stomach tightened with anxiety. If Joe Nettie walked, I was a dead person. He would have seen me standing up there and listened to my testimony. Even if he didn’t go down because of it, it was the ultimate betrayal, and I would pay. Before all of this, I might have conceded that perhaps it was for the best, and my existence would simply wink out of this world as though I’d never even been here. But now I had others to think about. Kodee, Dillon, and Ryan had been dragged into this sorry mess, and if Nettie walked, he’d make sure the guys were killed, too. They’d killed Nettie’s men back at the cabin, and even though the Capellos had been the ones to kill those who’d tracked us to the forest, the blame would most likely be directed at the guys.

Right now, other than doing what the Capello brothers wanted and getting Nettie sent down, and then hoping they just let us all go, I couldn’t see any way out of this.

Was there any possibility of me finding Dillon before then? He might not even have been brought here with me and was perhaps locked up somewhere else. It wasn’t as if I had free run of the house, either. I’d proven myself to be untrustworthy when I’d absconded with the guys, and I had no doubt that the Capello brothers and their men would be watching my every move.

Perhaps a month ago, I would have given in and accepted my fate, but being with Kodee and the others had shown me a different kind of life. They’d given me hope—something I’d never had before—and even after everything had gone so wrong for us, I hadn’t given up on that hope.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor, and then rid myself of my jeans. Knowing this wasn’t the kind of dress I could wear a bra with, I reluctantly unclipped that as well. I lifted the dress I’d been told to wear off the hanger and slipped it on, wriggling the material down over my body.

The silver straps were barely there, the front cut so low it skimmed the tops of my nipples. Though the skirt was long and brushed my feet, the slit up the back stopped barely below my ass. I knew exactly why this dress had been chosen—it was perfectly cut to allow a groping hand to slip up the back, giving access to anyone who wanted to get a feel of the inside of my thighs, or backside, or pussy. The thought sent a shudder of revulsion through me.

For once, I was thankful not to have been blessed in the chest area. My small breasts already almost spilled from the flimsy material of the dress, and I imagined if I was much curvier, it wouldn’t cover me up at all. The shoes I’d been given were also strappy, the heels several inches high and needle thin. I’d grown up being forced to wear ridiculous shoes—for some reason, it was something men seemed to like, though I couldn’t imagine why any woman would willingly wear them—so I could walk in them easily enough. It occurred to me that the heel of the pumps would make a pretty dangerous weapon. If it was aimed in the right way, with enough strength, it could easily take out an eye.

But a shoe was never going to be much of a weapon against a loaded gun.

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