Page 7 of Sheltering Hollis

My eyes locked with his. He enjoyed this, my fear. I could tell from the bulge in his pants that he was hard as he handed me the cup. “Now you can get down. Don’t spill a drop.”

“Is there a bathroom?” I asked hesitantly, trying not to look at him. Maybe there was a window that I could climb through.

Both men laughed. “Like I’d let you out of my sight, you dumb whore.” He pointed to the corner. “Get it in the cup.”

Oh my god. To my horror, fresh tears filled my eyes as my shaking fingers clasped the cup, and my eyes darted to the corner he pointed to. Just when the humiliation wasn’t complete, he wanted me to pee in front of them. I wasn’t sure I could.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Gregor growled as I shuffled to the area he pointed. The men leered as I went, ensuring I knew they were watching.

Huddling in the corner, I turned my back and positioned the cup. Luckily, I had to pee, so I pushed it snugly against my body. These assholes knew nothing about women, their anatomy, or how hard it was to pee in a cup. Fuckers. Staring at the wall, I thought about a faucet and peed a tiny bit, feeling the cup get warm and my cheeks flush. Like an automaton, I returned the sample to the doctor.

“Results in a few hours like always,” the doctor told him.

Gregor was looking at me with far too much interest for my liking. I could only hope to delay the inevitable at this point. They were traffickers, that was obvious.

“Fine,” Gregor said. “I’ll get you your cut after I talk to Makarovich.”

“Don’t damage her. He wouldn’t like that,” the doctor said to Gregor pointedly. “Unless you want to wipe her from the books. It could be an accident.” He licked his lips, his tongue swiping the corners as he stepped closer.

“No, these bitches are worth too much. This one, I think, will fetch a top price. Some fucker will buy her,” Gregor said, stopping him. “Although,” he eyed me consideringly. “Doesn’t mean her mouth can’t suck some cock.” He rubbed himself while he said it, and I felt a dawning horror.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

I kept the chant going the whole time Gregor pulled me from the table. The doctor eyed me consideringly.

“Let me start this, and I’ll be back.”

He pointed a finger at Gregor as I was shoved to my knees onto the hard concrete floor.

“Don’t start without me. I want to watch,” he leered.

“Jesus,” Gregor said. “Well, hurry the fuck up then.” He looked over at me as the doctor dashed out of the room, one hand on his gun. “You’re going to suck my cock like I want. Understood?”

I nodded and cast my eyes down. Starting over my list of colors, I scrambled as I tried to blank out what was about to happen. Blue? Red? I hiccupped as my breathing accelerated, trying not to look at the man in front of me, the zipper coming down. Black? Black was a crow’s feather, night.

I’m okay. It’s okay.

The doctor returned to the room, practically skipping, pulling up a stool to watch.

Black was a silent scream.

I’m not okay.

“Back up,” Gregor growled at him until the doctor rolled back a little. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. I almost gagged.

Tears streaming, knees aching as Gregor pressed his hand to my throat, I repeated …

I’m okay.

Even when I was finally pulled out of the room, I couldn’t believe it was real. Later, as I huddled on the concrete floor of a warehouse with other women, I realized that the nightmare had only just begun.

SIX

Dimitri

It wasn’t a surprise that Colombia was hot and humid, that sticky kind of damp that made my clothes cling to my skin in an unpleasant way that I hated. One of the reasons that I enjoyed Arizona was that it was dry. While I loved the heat, I despised the rain. Give me the desert with its vistas of painted sky and cactus. Fuck all these mosquitos and rainforests, especially in a suit. I had no idea why the Bratva were expected to be in a suit. Whoever came up with that tradition should be skinned alive— twice. I missed my jeans and t-shirts, Arizona, and most of all, my motorcycle.

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