Page 81 of Unhinged Cravings
“I know what I said, but there’s no sense in reattaching it if I’m just going to take it back off again. You three touched my girl. I plan to take a part of you for every look and every touch.” I stalked closer and stooped before him. “And if any of you dared put your cock near her, I will cut it off inch by inch and feed it to you.”
An embarrassing whimper came from him, along with a puddle of piss. “You picked the wrong business, Chad,” I said as I walked away. “You should have stuck with modeling.”
Greyson was at the computer console on the other end of the room, Den over his shoulder.
“Fuck,” he muttered, “there’s an entire database on here of all their buyers.”
“Who doesn’t lock their computer and their files?” Raines asked, joining us. “Nice job with the finger. I would have taken the entire hand, but the finger move had finesse.”
I shook my head before responding to Greyson, “Novices who think they can run a business better than me.” I leaned over Greyson as screens and names swept by. He stopped on a browser window, expanding it to reveal the name and dollar amount along with a delivery address. To anyone else, it looked like a simple furniture purchase. Only the ten million dollars wired as payment would have aroused suspicion.
“Ten million to get a piece of Cade Slaughter,” Raines muttered. “That’s impressive.”
“They’ll have stayed on back roads to avoid province police. If I take the highways, the destination is only two hours from here. I can catch them.” I tucked my gun in my waistband and turned to go when Greyson’s hand encompassed my shoulder.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
Den stepped behind him. “As am I.” His shirt was off, and he was wrapping a bandage around his stomach where blood ran from his side. “And I want a piece of the assholes who took her.”
I blinked. “You’re wounded.”
“So are you,” he returned. I rolled my shoulder in response, glad the bullet hadn’t hit anything important.
“We’ll stay here and clean up,” Brinks said, ending the debate.
I didn’t care to waste more time. I gave Mason a curt nod and stalked away with one thing on my mind: hunting down that truck and saving Ava.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
AVA
My mind flittered in and out of consciousness. My body was stiff and shaking uncontrollably. It was cold, but my anxiety had me sweating and my teeth chattered at the chill that wouldn’t leave. I kept telling myself I was no longer a teenager locked in the basement, no longer a child easily frightened with an overactive imagination. That there were no monsters. But that was a lie. There were monsters. These men were prime examples. And they were shipping me off like I was a piece of property and not a person. To be owned when I didn’t want to be owned. Another lie. I wanted Emerson to own me because I knew I was safe with him, that he would treat me like I was valuable, not a thing to be traded.
I wanted to go back to the prior night when he was bringing me to ecstasy, worshiping me like I was his goddess. Tears came again, and I fought them for only a few seconds. If I was going to cry, now was the time. I wouldn’t let these men see me cry. They didn’t deserve to see my tears or my fear. I wouldn’t let them break me.
There was constant movement, rumbling under me like I was in a vehicle, and more tears spilled as I realized Emerson wouldn’tfind me now. Not with me locked away like this, on my way to a life that would be worse than anything I had experienced as a child. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare, and I would wake up soon to find Emerson’s arms around me. I hadn’t taken my medicine. That was all it was. A nightmare.
I continued to tell myself that, to convince myself that none of this was real, but the longer I did, the less confident my words became.
A jarring motion sent my body crashing hard into the side of the box and pain shooting up my arm. The vehicle had stopped, and my heart hammered. Fear shredded any remnants of positivity. The man who had bought me was out there and panic collapsed over me, stealing the air from my lungs and sending me into terror mode. I screamed and scraped, a final adrenaline surge flooding through me. I pounded my knuckles against the wood until they were bloody. What remained of my voice was a high-pitched squeak, but I kept screaming. Promising myself that I would fight this, that I would not let this man have me without a battle and if he killed me, then it was better than what he could do to me.
A loud rattling sound broke through the constant hum of the vehicle, and I heard shouting. Every instinct kicked in and I pounded more, screaming and crying. Terror seized me at the thought of what was coming, but the shouting escalated, raised and familiar. My fear changed to desperation, and I continued to fight against the restraint of the box, my screams raw screeches.
“Cut the unit!” I knew that voice and with it, an ache swelled in my chest. “I hear something!”
The hum stopped, and I screamed so loud my voice cracked. I hit the wood with my knees, ignoring how the skin split further, determined they would find me.
“Back here!”
Emerson. I recognized the low baritone of his voice, the emotion in it. He’d found me. Tears rushed from me as I yelled for him. Sounds of screeches and tumbling until my box shook. Ipounded and bellowed until light streamed in at my head and hands pulled me out, enveloping me into arms I knew too well. I clutched at his shirt and inhaled his scent, letting his arms curl me into his body.
“Shh, I’ve got you, wildcat,” he said, never letting go. Someone put a heavy blanket over me, but I didn’t lift my head. My tears were flowing too freely, my body shaking too severely to do anything but cling to Emerson.
He stood and carried me. He tried to hand me to someone else at some point, but I clutched at him, curling further into his hold, and he relented. I felt him sit then drop down, the landing shaking me, but still he didn’t let go. Hushed voices spoke, and I thought I recognized my uncle’s voice. The soothing motion of a car and his embrace lulled me to sleep, exhaustion sweeping through me as the last of my adrenaline slipped away.
Splashesof consciousness mingled with a sleep so heavy I couldn’t ignore it. Each time I came to, an oppressive fog weighed on me, but just beyond it, I sensed Emerson’s presence. A calm in the storm that pulled me back under each time. There were times when I opened my eyes and his worried face came into focus. When I sensed his touch on my face before whatever drugs they had given me stole me away. Those lucid moments were short but enough for me to realize that the trauma had been so bad they had needed to give me sedatives.
Reality came and went, but Emerson was the steady beacon that kept me reaching back through the fog. I needed to stay conscious long enough to let him know I would be all right. That just knowing he was there, that I was safe now because of him, was enough to assuage the damage. When the darkness began to abate again, I fought to stay aware. A ragged breath filled mythroat, and I sat up, only to have Emerson wrap me into his arms and lower me back to the bed. I opened my eyes fully to see him there.
