Page 43 of Ruthless Angel

With that parting remark, both men left the room. The door closed behind them, the lock on the outside clicking into place.

Rolling over onto my side, I noticed then that the window had been covered with bars. This was a prison. A holding cell.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my tongue heavy, my head swimming. “What did he give me?”

Daphne picked herself up and flung her body onto her bed. Face down in her pillow, she didn’t acknowledge me. This didn’t feel like the kind of place where one formed allies. It felt very much like an every woman for herself kind of hell.

I didn’t bother to try again. Instead I laid there and stared around my prison. A basic room big enough for the two beds and a dresser. There was no bathroom. Not even a bucket to piss in. Not that I wanted to piss in a bucket. Still, I hoped there were bathroom visits or this was going to get very bad incredibly quickly.

Whatever drug they’d given me took hold. It didn’t knock me out this time although it did make me feel loopy and confused. I didn’t think I’d even be able to sit up.

Silent tears ran down my face. When Zane had taken me, I couldn’t have imagined anything worse. This was worse. Much worse.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CLOVER

A hand on my shoulder roused me awake. I didn’t realize that I’d fallen asleep.

“Hey, wake up. If you want to eat, you better get on it before they come back for the dishes. We get half an hour. Are you hungry?” Daphne’s voice penetrated the fog in my brain.

I blinked several times as I tried to escape the haze holding me down. Slowly I sat up. Daphne retreated back to her bed where she picked up a dish of food and got busy eating. She pointed with her plastic fork to the plate on the end of my bed.

Paper plates. Plastic forks. They were trying really hard to make sure we couldn’t turn anything into a weapon.

I eyed the plate, studying the scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Breakfast. The light beyond the window confirmed that it was now daylight. The Angels definitely knew I was missing by now. I assumed they’d found my ankle monitor wherever it had been left. They wouldn’t let Brady keep me. They would look for me.

I picked up the paper plate and took a tentative bite. As much as I wanted to refuse to eat, my stomach was hollow and aching. Besides, starving myself wouldn’t help me get out of here. I didn’t care what they did to me. If I got a chance to make a run for it, I would take it.

“There’s juice too.” Daphne nodded to the glasses of orange juice on the table between our beds. “They’ll bring water bottles later when they take us to the bathroom.”

She seemed to know a lot about this place. Because I had to know, I asked, “How long have you been here?”

Daphne shrugged and pushed a lock of brown hair back from her face. “About a week now, I guess. It feels like forever.”

She was incredibly pretty. Large blue eyes and a perfect nose that even a plastic surgeon couldn’t pull off. Curves in all the right places. She wore a t-shirt and sweatpants. Dark circles under her eyes made me think she hadn’t been sleeping well here.

“Have you seen anyone else since you got here?” I chewed my eggs, barely tasting them. There were so many questions I wanted to throw at her but didn’t want to do anything to make her stop talking to me.

“There was another girl when I got here. They took her to the auction two days ago. I assume she sold since they never brought her back.” Daphne lifted her shoulder in a small shrug. “There are some guys here too. I’ve heard them. I think they’re in the next room.”

Guys huh? I guess that made sense. The sick fucks who bought and sold human beings probably liked people of all types and genders. The thought of being sold as someone’s sex slave made my skin crawl. I’d rather be dead.

A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that the Angels had treated me like their sex doll. They’d claimed me. Owned me. How was that any different?

I shoved that uncomfortable thought aside. The Angels were not good guys, but they weren’t the type of people Brady was involved with either. They’d saved me from Zane. They’d promised to protect me. Deep down, they weren’t all bad.

Maybe that was the Stockholm Syndrome talking.

“Do you know much about the auction?” Nibbling a piece of bacon, I watched Daphne pick at her eggs.

She shook her head. “All I know is that there’s a woman who dresses us, does our hair and makeup. Then they take us to wherever and sell us to some rich freak.”

“Where did they grab you from?” A sip of orange juice went down wrong, and I began to cough. Goddammit.

“I was walking home from a friend’s house. Broad daylight. It all happened so fast. You?” Despite the awkward way she held herself, Daphne seemed happy to have someone to talk to again.

“At a concert. They were looking for me though. My boyfriends pissed them off, so they came after me.” I cringed when I heard myself say boyfriends. Hopefully she wouldn’t pick up on that.

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