Page 463 of Cheaters: A Dark Romance Anthology

We’ve been moved by car and then a van – thrown in the back and hidden amongst crates and boxes. A bottle of water and a lukewarm burger and fries were chucked in after us at one point. That’s when two other girls joined us. They didn’t look scared like Miri, and my instincts told me not to talk with them.

We were in the van for hours. Cold and uncomfortable. Miri and I shared the tasteless food, but there had been limited food, so it did the job. My nerves over what might happen next kept the hunger at bay.

The girls didn’t talk much, and they didn’t look scared.

That set my nerves on edge even more.

When we were eventually let out of the van, we were on a ferry being led to a small cabin with two beds. “Shhh,” the man warned, locking us in with the other two girls.

It was a tiny box with no windows, but had a bathroom we all used before huddling on each of the beds. Miri had a vacant look in her eyes, and I silently begged for her to snap out of it, but I wouldn’t talk with ears listening.

The other girls whispered together, but they didn’t speak of fear or worry. They spoke in Danish about a new job that would pay more than what they got in Copenhagen. A way out, apparently, but out of what?

The roll of the boat on the sea made it hard to stay awake. I couldn’t remember when I slept for more than a few minutes, but every time my eyes shut, I was terrified of what I might wake up to.

When the ferry finally arrives at our destination, the men pull us from the cabin. Miri and I follow the other girls, and the thugs escorting us keep us in check. It’s dark and raining when we emerge from the boat. The clothes we’ve been in for days do nothing to protect us from the rain. It soaks us in minutes as we’re led through the port area, and I scan for clues as to where we are. Everything is in English, and for a moment, I’m relieved. But we don’t follow the same path as the rest of the passengers.

The man in charge of us heads in a different direction, and while clinging to Miri, I look around for a chance to escape. To run. Something. The heavy weight of a hand on my shoulder reminds me that my options are limited and every movement is watched.

A man in uniform opens a gate for us, and I spy an exchange of something between the men before we’re led through. Another boat. This time much smaller, more like a fishing boat. It has a small, covered bridge where another man emerges.

“Come on. We have an appointment to keep,” he shouts in English.

He keeps undercover, but we can all see the gun he holds in his hand as we’re marched on board. I see four other girls already sitting in the pouring rain, and we find a space on the wooden bench and huddle together.

“Where are we going?” Miri asks, looking up at me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back as fear grips at my heart.

The water is rough, and the smell of seaweed and salt claws in my nose. Time and distance slip from my mind. All I can focus on is the cold and wet. Miri shivers against me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing to anyone that our luck changes course.

Soon, the noise of the engine changes, and the rock of the boat shifts. The night is blacker here. We’re not at a big port like when we came off the ferry. There aren’t many lights. This is darker, and the dread in my stomach tells me we’ve reached our destination. A line of shadows on the dock waits for us, and the ever-present men who picked us from the street in Copenhagen pull us to stand.

I look to the dock as a metal bridge is locked into place.

The cherry glow of a man smoking a cigarette pulls my attention, but I can’t see his face.

Miri and I wait until the other girls move forward, and then it’s our turn.

Our turn to meet our fate.

Chapter Three

JACKSON

The boat stops at the small jetty and two guys haul a rope until it comes in silently. A waft of smoke slips past my nose, Dragon making his presence felt around me. He came with me, unable to leave me to do this on my own. Maybe he’s just keeping an eye on his merchandise rather than thinking I’m incapable. I guess I’d do the same considering the amount of money this is worth to me, let alone them.

Four girls come off first, all of them looking like they could use a good meal and some showering. And then another two get pushed through the dark area around them. I walk forward, trying to get a good look at the type of product we’ve got here. They’re mostly fit and pretty, or will be when they get cleaned up.

Another girl gets pulled harshly, and the one behind her spins on the guy trying to shove them towards us. She doesn’t fight, just braces herself between the guy and the first girl, her arm going around the smaller one. She gets three strides up the steps and glances at me, a frown deeply embedded, and then trips on something. My hand goes down to help her up the last few steps. It’s small, her hand. Makes me question what the fuck I’m doing for a few seconds, and that feeling only intensifies when she stares at me for too long.

Deep brown eyes – soulful.

Elfin features.

Just the way I like them.

I drop the hand and back off a few steps, body turning for the cars instead of dwelling on attraction. I don’t need that kind of connection. They’ll all be pretty in their own way. Girls don’t get taken, or chosen, for this kind of venture unless they suit the criteria. Slim. Well put together. Maybe they’ve got some debt to pay off. Or maybe they’re just runaways looking to make a living. Either way, their plight means nothing to me. They’re just a commodity I can sell.

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