Page 121 of Ink's Devil

Like the rest of the house the room I’m shown into is clean, tidy and well-furnished. The windows though are locked securely, I know as George checked and pocketed the key. There’s an en-suite bathroom, and a bed which would look comfortable in any other situation. All I see when I look at it though is George and/or another man forcing me down on it and me being raped.

George sees me staring down at the comforter and palms his crotch. As I look up in horror, he mouths, ‘Soon’, then, thank goodness, he disappears out of the door. I’m not surprised to hear a key turn in the lock.

As soon as the door closes behind him, instead of relief, my body starts to betray me. My eyes lose focus, a wave of heat floods through me making me sweat. I feel nauseous and dizzy, as though I’m about to faint. My breath comes in fast pants and my heart races.

I sink to the bed before I fall to the floor and, with my head in my hands, try to force myself to slow my breathing. I fight with the feeling that I’m dying, one half of my brain trying to rationally explain that I’m not, the other half swearing I am.

In, out, I breathe.Slow, slow,I tell myself. Making my lungs expand and deflate to a regular rhythm instructed by the sane side of my brain.

Gradually, my panic begins to subside, and then the tears start. Everything is overwhelming me. One minute I was enjoying life with my new boyfriend, looking forward to seeing him again. Then, because of my vain attempt to save my brother, he was arrested, and Connor died despite my efforts to keep him alive. Now I’ve been kidnapped, and I’m beginning to realise, even if the drugs are returned to him, Phil won’t let me go. Everything with him is about making a profit, and I hate to think how he could make one from me.

Will I ever see my home and Mom again?

Will George get his chance to carry out his threat?

No, no. I can’t think of that.

My body, if not my mind, calmer, I view my prison. The only upside is it’s probably more pleasant than the one where Ink is detained, but four walls you can’t escape from means I’m as much a prisoner as he is. The thought crosses my mind that I might have had a more pleasant future if I’d turned myself into the police. At least there’d be some authority I could appeal to if I was mistreated. Here there is none.

I lie on the bed. To say I spend the night with one eye open is an understatement. In fact, I have both. I stay fully clothed, wanting nothing to make me feel more vulnerable than I already am. There’s nothing I can use as a weapon conveniently left lying around, and even if there was, I don’t think it would be something I’d use. There’re easily enough men here who could overpower me and taking them on would only end up with me being hurt. From what I’ve seen, the men here would love the chance to manhandle me. I’ll have to use my brains to escape, not the brawn I don’t have.Why do I run and not work out?Sure, my legs are strong, but I’ve no impressive muscles anywhere else.

When dawn breaks, I use the facilities but do little more than splash my face, wash my hands and clean my teeth with the toiletries provided. I’d love a shower, but I’m not getting naked when there’s no lock on the bathroom door.

A short while after I’m ready for the day, I hear a key turning and the catch on the door opening. Trepidation floods through me, though it’s not one of the men. I notice with relief, it's a pretty Hispanic girl. She looks like she’s in her late teens or early twenties.

Would she help? Perhaps.

“Can you get a message to someone for me?” I ask quickly as she crosses the room and places a breakfast tray on the table by the window.

“No hablo inglés,”she tells me. Then repeats so there can be no mistake, “No English.”

And I don’t speak Spanish. Well, I suppose that would have been too easy. She was probably chosen as the person to deliver my food on purpose so there would be no chance for communication.

She leaves, I don’t stop her. For want of anything other to do, I go to the tray. There are pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage links, together with syrup and a variety of sauces and condiments. There’s orange juice and a pot of coffee. It looks like a breakfast for the condemned man or woman for that matter.

I’ve no appetite, but unsure when I’ll be able to eat again, I nibble on a pancake. I eye the orange juice and sniff it. Then scoff at myself. Why would Phil drug me if he wants me to talk?But what if he can get his hands on a truth serum?Oh, for goodness’ sake. All the films I’ve seen suggest that has to be injected.

As I eat, I stare out the window. Phil’s done well for himself with his ill-gotten gains. The grounds of this place are spectacular. A man comes into view pushing a wheelbarrow. He’s another Hispanic. Somehow, I suspect Phil’s workers aren’t legal and probably paid far less than minimum wage.

I have no watch, no phone. There’s no television in the room. I have no idea of the time, but it seems disproportionately long before the door opens. Again, it’s George.

I’m not going to cower or show my fear, though inside I’m trembling.

“Back on escort duty?” I ask snidely. “Haven’t you got a proper job to do?”

He grabs hold of my hair as I go to walk past him, yanking on it hard. “I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head. Otherwise, you’ll find something between your lips which will mean you won’t be able to talk.”

I smile sweetly. “Put that cock near my mouth and I’ll bite it off.” I give him my back and make my own way to the stairs, hoping he’s never heard of a dental gag—something I’d read about in a book. But I doubt George is one for reading.

“This way,” he corrects as I head for the room I’d met my father in the night before.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ink

“Iwant to fuckin’ go now. Hit them under the cover of darkness.” I slam my fisted hand down onto the table. I’ve been a free man for an hour now and already I’m sick to death of just hanging around.

I’d had no idea what I was going to say when I first saw Beth. Clearly my reaction would depend on her own. What I wanted to do was dispense with words and simply pull her close and take her mouth while pulling her ass against my pelvis, leaving her in no doubt of my physical feelings toward her. Then, I’d comfort her about the death of her brother, and, in time, tell her she was mine. My only worry had been her reaction. Would she push me away as she thinks I hate her? Or, would she understand?

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