Page 1 of Twisted Revelations

1

Laura

After trading the cuffs for zip-ties, those musty motherfuckers tossed me into their trunk like I was a bag of month-old trash. With my hands clipped together behind me and my feet zip-tied, I couldn’t kick or break myself free.

At five-foot-two and a hundred and five pounds, I didn’t appear to be a threat to anyone, and I prayed my size had fooled the two who’d taken me. If they gave me an inch, I’d take a mile and make their lives a living hell.

The rough, scratchy sack they’d tossed over my head made breathing difficult, but I managed, sucking in dust and recycled air. On a sigh, I rested my head against a spare tire as a large chunk of metal poked into my side and joined the potholes in making my ride a miserable one.

When the crush of pebbles sounded, and the engine idled down, my head lifted, straining to listen for clues to where I was. My ears perked when the vehicle came to a complete stop. Aside from car exhaust, there weren’t any noticeable scents.

I’d accepted they were taking me to face my impending rape, torture, or murder. Possibly all three. Why? Who were they? It had to have something to do with the people who had been chasing Megan. We hadn’t heard from her since the tattooed, pretend detective had come searching for her months ago before she’d gone missing.

The trunk release disengaged before it popped open and the barrel of a gun was shoved into my face. My lips pursed like the two men shining a bright light in my face were bothering me. One produced a pocketknife and cut both sets of my zip-ties.

He gripped my shoulder and yanked me from the cramped space. When my feet connected with the ground, I lifted and stomped my foot into his Achilles tendon, causing the man to stumble. He fought to stay upright, his weakened leg wobbling, but he managed to keep me in his bruising grip.

Since he’d been kind enough to keep me in an upright position, it gave me the opportunity to introduce my knee to his dick. All the air in his lungs burst from his open mouth on impact, forcing him to release the hold he had on me.

Fortunately, his friend had started out ahead of us, confident I was under control. While Mr. Hurt Dick struggled through his pain, I took off and managed a full sprint. My feet ate up the concrete as I ran in a zigzag pattern, hoping to dodge a bullet.

“Fuck!” I screamed into the night as a big hand grasped the back of my shirt and twisted. I was lifted from the ground with ease and tossed across a sturdy shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Limp Dick’s long-legged friend had chased me down.

“Put me down, you dick-faced bastard. I’m not telling you shit. I’m going to make you kill me first,” I barked, meaning every word.

“As you wish, little cunt. I’m going to shut that smart mouth of yours up.”

“Why don’t you eat a smelly dick and chase it down with a glass of rat poison?”

Although my view was upside down, it didn’t stop me from scanning my surroundings. We were in an industrial area surrounded by warehouses.

The man carrying me laughed at my comments, his back level with my inverted view. If my arms were long enough, I’d kidney punch his ass just to see how far I could make his back arch. The limping man walking next to us slowed and leaned closer, staring down at me with a teasing smirk on his face.

“What the fuck are you looking at? Walking around scaring people, looking like a popped pimple.” My comments caused the one carrying me to rumble with laughter.

The partner I’d lobbed the insult at snickered while holding the door open to allow us in as I squirmed, kicked, and bucked like a raging bull. My attempts were useless against the man’s strength, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

My foot became caught in the man’s shirt, and I attempted to rip it from his body.

Smack!

A loud whack came across the back of my thighs. The heavy-handed lick infuriated me further, and a burst of strength allowed me the inch I needed to sink my teeth into his back.

Immediately, my body was whipped through the air, and my back struck the hard floor, knocking the oxygen from my lungs. My body heaved to catch my next breath as my inflamed tailbone throbbed with unrelenting pain.

When a big fist came flying at my head, I dodged it in the nick of time. The impact of the jerk’s fist when it struck the concrete floor sent a small vibration through my body. His cursing shouts of pain followed the fleshy whack. Hopefully, he’d broken his hand.

The one thing that stopped me from introducing his nuts to the bottom of my Nike’s was the sound of the metallic click. Douche number two had aimed his pistol at my forehead, and his serious expression indicated his readiness to kill me.

“Calm down before I blow a hole through your forehead,” his strained voice warned. Since I was content with my forehead being intact, I stalled my attempts to kick their asses—for now.

The one I’d bitten gripped my shoulder, attempting to rip it from the socket as he lifted me from the floor and shoved me into a standing position. I didn’t help, making him work.

He shoved me deeper into the warehouse. The scent of oil mixed with armpit musk hit me in the face before curling my nose hairs. Wooden crates stood against the dimly-lit interior, stacked nearly to the ceiling.

My gaze brushed past a small forklift and a yellow pallet jack. White packing peanuts littered the floor and floated against the shift in the air our movement created.

We’d taken three turns through a maze of wall-high crates before reaching a black door that stood out against the plain, concrete gray walls. The one with the firm grip on my arm used my body to bump the cracked door the rest of the way open.

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