Page 49 of Ruthless

Chapter 19

Ginger

It was getting late. I didn’t know how long we'd been driving, but it had been long enough for me to know that we'd left Daytona. I remained on the floor, uncomfortable, cramped, and surrounded by discarded fast food trash and cups, listening to Daryl and Jack's inane conversation about nothing, things that I didn't understand and that I didn't want to understand. I wasn't naïve to what went on in the world, I watched the news and I'd heard talk in the bars that I'd worked in. I wasn't exactly surrounded by upstanding citizens. But it was the kind of talk you closed your ears to because you didn't want to know. I minded my own business and did my job.

I understood, from the news, enough about human trafficking to know that people disappeared and were sold into prostitution or as sex slaves. Some were sold into labor, where they were treated like prisoners. The stories were in the news every day, but for it to be happening this close to home was frightening. It made it seem more real. I didn't want to become another news story about a woman who just disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again. If Clark had taken me I was certain that's what would have happened.

Was being turned over to a motorcycle club as payment a better option? I shuddered, remembering what it had been like with the Red Devils. If Rebel hadn’t been there, and I hadn't been promised to him, my life would have turned out much differently. I probably wouldn't have been alive today. Those men had been brutal and cruel to their women, treating them as nothing but sex objects to use and abuse. I hadn't had anything to compare it to, but Rebel had been decent to me, as decent as he could have been without giving himself away. I hadn't known that at the time, though.

I wondered if he was looking for me, if he even knew that I was missing. I thought about Della, and how bad she'd looked when we'd left her. Tears filled my eyes. God, I prayed that Rebel had returned to my apartment and discovered her, that she was in the hospital now and being treated. I loved her like a sister. I pinned my gaze on the back of Daryl's head, hating him with everything inside me. Drugs had changed him, and in a relatively short period of time. I wondered what had started him down that road to begin with.

"Fuck, I need a hit," I heard him say to Jack. He ran his hand through his messy hair. I could see that he was shaking.

"Me, too, but we don't have time for that."

"We don't have the money, either. Shit." He looked back at me. "Maybe we can work out a deal with Wicked."

Jack snorted. "There's no 'we', asshole. I'm just along for the ride, you're the one who owes him money. You'll be lucky if he takes her as payment for what you owe."

"I still can't believe Clark wouldn't take her for a grand. I know something big is going on tonight. He could have unloaded her right away, recouped his investment and more."

Jack shrugged. "Who knows what his reasons were."

I closed my eyes, wishing that I could close my ears. As long as I was trapped in this car there was no chance for escape.

"I gotta take a piss."

Those words sent a shot of excitement through me. Unless they just pulled over to the side of the road, this could be the chance that I’d been waiting for. I moved slightly, stifling a moan as the stiffness of my aching muscles protested.

"Gotta get gas anyway," Daryl surprised me by adding.

"With what money?" Jack scoffed.

Daryl's answering laugh held little humor. "I took Della's debit card." He sounded so proud of himself. "She won't be needing it."

Bastard!

I knew that the chances of a successful escape doubled if both of them were out of the car. It wouldn't be easy, since it was only a two-door car. I would have to move fast, somehow climb into the front seat and be out the door before either of them could make a move on me. And with a little luck, Daryl would stop at a busy station.

I felt the car slow down and make a turn, all but holding my breath as Daryl pulled up against a pump and turned off the car. He turned toward Jack. "I'll wait here while you take a leak. Then get gas."

"Yeah, probably not a good idea to leave our pretty passenger alone," Jack greed, opening the door and exiting the vehicle.

No! No! No! Shit! I hadn't expected this. With dread, I watched Jack shut his door. What was I going to do now? My window of opportunity had suddenly narrowed. I lay there quietly, my mind swimming with possible escape scenarios. None of them excluded my having to get into the front seat for success. As the minutes ticked by, Daryl made a phone call.

"Hey, Wicked, man, yeah I'm on my way?" He was apparently cut off. "Ah, yeah, about the money. No, no, I don't have it, but?" A few seconds of silence followed. "Listen, man, if I was trying to get out of paying you I wouldn't be coming?" He muttered a swear word under his breath and grew quiet. I slowly uncurled from the floor and began to straighten up behind him so that he couldn't see me. "I was hoping we could work out a deal, man. I have something you might be interested in." I could hear the desperation in his tone.

When I was high enough to see outside, I took in our surroundings. We were at a Circle K, but that was all I knew. There were restaurants and businesses all around, even a hospital across the street, but I wasn't familiar with the area. Two other drivers had stopped to get gas, too. One was walking toward the store, staring down at something in his hand as he walked, the other was filling his jeep and talking to the woman that was hanging out of his passenger side window. I didn't see Jack anywhere.

Daryl was still talking to Wicked, although he was doing more listening than talking. He seemed to have forgotten all about me, and I decided that it was time to make a move. It would have to be quick and precise or I was screwed, because I was only going to get one chance. I sucked in several deep breaths to work up my courage and snuck up the back of Daryl's seat, still not sure what I was going to do until the very moment that I was doing it. His head was bent forward slightly as he listened on his phone. That gave me an idea, and I moved swiftly, grabbing him by the back of the head and slamming him face first into the steering wheel. He went surprisingly easy, so I knew that I'd caught him by surprise.

The thickening thud was music to my ears. His grunt barely registered as I crawled over the back of the seat and into the front. In the little time that it took, Daryl was already sitting back, slightly stunned from the impact, and reaching up for his bloody nose.

"What the fuck . . . you bitch!"

He began to turn toward me. I grabbed the phone that was still in his hand and smashed it against the side of his temple, reaching for the door handle with my other hand at the same time.

"Son of a bitch!" I heard him swear again as he reached out blindly for me.

---