Fleeting Moments(66)

“Well?” Josh barks.

“Please, I don’t know. I just wanted to get out.”

“You’re a liar!” he snarls, grabbing my arm. “You’re lying. This is some sort of trap.”

“No,” I plead, jerking my arm from his grip and pressing my back against the fence. I wrap the USB into the bracelet and shove it through the wire. It balances on it, and I can only hope that it’s going to hold so that when I do what I’m about to do next, it’ll draw attention to this spot and they’ll find it.

Then I take a deep breath and risk everything.

“Help!” I scream in the loudest, shrillest voice I can muster.

The light shines our way.

Josh raises a hand and lands a punch across my right cheekbone so hard my world goes black.

***

I wake facedown on a bed with my arms bound behind my back. I know immediately where I am, and I know the danger I’m in. I know it down to my very soul. I try to move, but I can’t—I just can’t. Tears well up and I turn my head to the side and see Josh sitting by the bed, staring at me. One of my eyes feels as though it’s swelling closed, and there’s a dull throb in my head that reminds me of his savage punch.

“You made a big mistake.”

I swallow down my tears and croak, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why did they send you in here?” he demands.

“They didn’t,” I protest.

“They did!” he roars. “Why?”

“They just want to know what you’re doing.”

“I searched you. Where’s the recording device?”

My heart pounds, but I don’t flinch. “What device?”

“They wouldn’t have sent you in without one.”

I narrow my eyes. “They did.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well if you’ve searched me, you’ll clearly see I don’t have one.”

“You’re a poor liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

He stands and slams his hand down on the bedside table next to me. “Where is it?” he roars.

“I don’t have one.”

He reaches down, curling his fist into my hair and jerking my head back. I scream in agony as my body is wrenched into a painful position. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know,” I scream. “I don’t have anything.”

“You’re going to pay for this,” he snarls, leaning down close. “You’re going to suffer for this mistake.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I try again, but even I don’t believe me.

He raises a hand and clicks his fingers. “Mathew, call in eight men. This girl needs to be purified.”

Purified? What the hell does that mean?

“Let me go,” I scream, trying to get my knees up beneath me.

Someone takes my legs and jerks them down, tying them to the bed. Josh forces my face into the pillow so hard I can hardly breathe, then he jerks my dress up over my waist. No. God. No.

“No,” I scream into the pillow. “No, please.”

His hand comes down over my bottom so hard the slap radiates through the tent. I bite the pillow to stop my shriek of pain. I keep trying to fight, thrashing my body as best I can, but I have nothing, I can’t fight when I’m restrained like this. Josh’s hand goes back to my hair, and he jerks my head back again. “You’re going to wish you didn’t do this. Mathew, you can go first.”

Go first.

No.

“Please,” I beg. “Please, don’t.”

Fear unlike anything I’ve ever felt gets trapped in my throat, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t move. I’m helpless and he’s got all the control. I wish I’d never come in here. Heath was right—this was a deadly and stupid idea. What did I think I was going to achieve? Who did I think I was going to fool? Tears run down my cheeks and soak the bed, and I plead over and over for them to stop.

They don’t listen.

Someone touches my spine, running a calloused hand down until they reach my bottom. I beg and plead, my voice hoarse, but there’s no point—it’s as if they can’t hear me. The sound of a belt buckle undoing can be heard, then I feel his pants brush my legs as they are drop to the ground. Vomit rises in my throat and fear prickles my skin as I internally plead for a miracle, for something to come along and stop this moment, this awful, life-altering moment.

My prayers are answered.

Shouts can be heard in the distance and the presence of the vile man behind me disappears. My skin is left cool and exposed as frantic voices can be heard around me—Josh’s mostly. I hear the word “cops” and then “Heath,” before they all disappear out of the tent, leaving me tied and alone.

“You need a warrant!” I hear someone shout. “This is private land.”

Sirens fill the space, and my tears turn to broken sobs.

The tent flaps, and a familiar voice rasps, “Jesus Christ.”

“Tank?” I croak.

“I’m going to pull your dress down and cover you up,” he says, his voice hard and icy. “I’m sorry.”

He quickly covers me with my dress and then makes light work of untying me. The second I’m up, I throw myself into his arms. He catches me. I don’t think he wants to, but he has no choice the way I lurch towards him. His arm goes around my waist, and I shove my face into his chest.