Page 64 of Fighting for Tawny

Tawny feigned sleep. She lay in her bunk in the second bunkhouse for the past two nights, tense and anxious, waiting for Whitcomb and Macintosh to make a move. She’d felt their eyes on her more often during the past forty-eight hours and knew she’d been targeted. She assumed they would use chloroform to knock her out while she slept.

They did not.

One of them jabbed her in the thigh with a needle. Then nothing…

Muffled voices…jostling… Her body as heavy as lead, unable to move her arms or legs, unable to open her eyes even for a moment…

Sinking. Drowning. Helpless to cry out. Helpless to think. Brain on fire…

A sharp pain in her side caused her to groan. Another and another forced her to consciousness. Though difficult, Tawny opened her eyes. She blinked as her vision adjusted to the darkness illuminated by a weak, single bulb. Her senses began to relay information to her sluggish brain.

She lay curled on a cot. Spring coils in the mattress poked her ribs. She smelled blood, sweat, and urine. Bile rose in her throat, and she gagged around a dirty piece of cloth stuffed in her mouth. Zip ties secured her wrists and ankles. Tawny noted the adobe walls and a single window. Outside, a quarter moon shone.

Fully awake now, she sensed someone else in the room with her. She flipped to her other side and winced from excruciating pain. Her ribs were bruised, if not cracked. Tawny focused on a pair of military-grade boots. Her gaze traveled upward past camouflage cargo pants and an olive-colored T-shirt and landed on a cruel face with sharp angles, dark, emotionless eyes, a thin mouth, a mustache, and a short beard covering his chin.

Her captor spoke to her in English with a thick Mexican accent. “You are now the property of the Network. We own you. We can do what we like with you. To you.” He licked his lips. Lust darkened his eyes even more.

Tawny braced herself for his sexual assault. With her wrists bound behind her back, there wasn’t much she could do to stop him except thrash on the cot and use her zip-tied legs as a defense.

“No. Not her. Not until I’ve broken her.”

Whitcomb moved out of the shadows into her line of vision. She spoke, but the words sounded like gobbledygook. He let out a chuckle and yanked the cloth from her mouth. Tawny sucked in great gulps of air and gasped in pain.

“Sorry about that. My friend here was a little overzealous and might have broken your ribs.” Whitcomb’s thumb caressed her dry, cracked lips. “You were saying?”

Tawny bit his thumb. He jerked back and slapped her. “I said you’re a fuckin’ asshole.”

He slapped her again. Her head snapped to one side, and she shook off the sting in her cheeks.

“You’re too soft. I’ll teach this mouthy bitch a lesson she won’t soon forget.”

Whitcomb ignored him. “Do you know what’s about to happen?”

“Let me guess. You and your buddy will take turns raping me before you sell me to the highest bidder.”

Whitcomb laughed. “You’re only partially correct. You’re not being trafficked, though that might not be such a bad idea in the future. No. You’re carrying drugs for us.”

“This is so cliché. Drugs, huh? Well, forget it. I’m not doing your dirty work for you. You might as well sell me.”

“Oh, you’ll do it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.” Whitcomb snapped his fingers at his companion. He left and returned with Yolanda. They’d bound her with chains that clanked loudly when she moved.

Tawny drew in a sharp breath. She’d been badly beaten. Her face and eyes were swollen and covered in bloody abrasions and dark, ugly bruises. But her defiant expression raised hope.

“You’ll do it for Yolanda. Because if you don’t, Pedro will slit her throat, and you’ll watch her bleed to death right in front of you.”

Yolanda cried, “Don’t do it, Tawny!”

Pedro smashed his fist into her mouth. She spat blood and teeth. “Fuck! I just had dental work done!”

He pulled a twelve-inch serrated knife from a utility belt around his waist and held it against Yolanda’s throat. It drew blood.

“Okay,” Tawny capitulated. “Okay, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt her anymore.”

“Excellent. We’ll be back. Sit tight.” Whitcomb chuckled at his clever joke.

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