Restrained Box Set: Boston Doms Books 1-4, page 60
Using the missing girl’s name had the desired effect. The man who picked up the phone accepted the charges. “Emily? Hang on. Boss? Get over
here!”
“I don’t have much time,” Sofia said, keeping her voice a hoarse whisper.
“Don’t put the phone down. I’m…shit. I’m not Emily, but they took me too.
I’m—”
“Who is this?” A different voice, the accent thicker, the tone impatient, boomed over the line.
“I’m Nick Fairhaven’s girlfriend. I’m…I don’t know where I am. Nick…
I think they’ve arrested him.” Two men burst around the far side of the building, and Sofia’s heart stopped. “There are shipping containers, I smell the ocean, and this pay phone number is 973-55—shit.”
She dropped the phone as the first man barreled towards her. She swung the tire iron wildly. Catching him in the hip, she cried out as the impact sailed up her arms and staggered back, her foot landing on a piece of glass. As the shard dug deep into her skin, she teetered and fell as if in slow motion, her weapon clattering just out of her reach. The second man hauled her up by her arms as she screamed.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he growled as he slammed her into the wall.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, he pressed his entire body to hers, and she could only watch, helpless, as the man she’d hit limped over to her with a syringe in his hand.
“Night-night,” he said as he jabbed the needle into her neck and the world turned soft and cold and dark once more.
“Sof. Please. Wake up.” Someone shook her. “Sof?”
Blinking against the dizziness, Sofia tried to make sense of the world around her. A yellow light overhead illuminated the room, which smelled of sweat and fear. The heart-shaped face above her shimmered in and out of focus, drawn, pale, but still so familiar. “Gina?”
“Sof. I’m so sorry…” Her sister sniffled and slid her arm around Sofia’s shoulders to help her sit up. “I…should have listened to you. Rick…his name wasn’t Rick. We went out clubbing on Friday and…I woke up here!”
Sofia tried to focus on her sister’s tear-stained face. With a half-smile, she squeezed Gina’s hand. “It’s okay, baby girl.”
“It’s not!” Gina wailed. “They’re going to… sell us!”
“No. Not…if I can help it.” Sofia shook her head, and nausea flooded her.
“Oh God. I’m going to be sick.”
“Here.” Gina pressed a bottle to Sofia’s lips. Stale, cloudy water had never tasted so good. “Whatever they gave all of us…it wears off pretty quick, but don’t move around yet. Otherwise, you’ll hurl.”
“All of us?” Blinking hard, Sofia took in her surroundings. They were in some sort of long, narrow room with a toilet and sink in one corner and a door on the opposite wall. A few feet away, five other women huddled, dressed in skimpy club-appropriate attire, wearing identical expressions of fear and exhaustion. Tear-stained cheeks, stringy hair, barefoot, and curled together as if safety resided in numbers.
“Do you have any idea where we are? I mean…physically?”
“I think we’re somewhere in Jersey. Becca said she smelled Jersey as they took her out of the van,” Gina said. “But…the rest of us woke up here.”
Had she stayed on the phone long enough? Could Damian Forlano figure out where they were? Though, for all she knew, they could be miles from the pay phone.
Nick, I’m sorry.
Unable to hold her head up any longer, Sofia rested her cheek against Gina’s shoulder. She’d been so stupid. She should have confronted Gina about the drugs before her interview. Maybe then her baby sister would have been able to get away. “I found a baggie under the couch,” she murmured, whatever they’d used to subdue her causing her words to slur and her eyelids to droop. “Rick’s?”
Her sister shuddered. “Yeah. I blew it off. Told myself as long as he wasn’t asking me to get high with him, I could still have fun. He’s an asshole,” Gina said as she swiped a hand over her tear-stained cheek. “Pretty sure his real name is Anton. He works with that guy from your club.”
Sliding her arm around her sister’s waist, Sofia winced as Gina’s sequined top grazed the abrasions around her wrist. “We have to get out of here,” Sofia said softly as another wave of nausea roiled in her stomach.
“They have guns, Sof. And they took our shoes. Lauren, Emily, and Stephanie have been here more than a week. Becca came last night. We only get a couple of granola bars a day. They don’t want us strong enough to
fight.”
Sofia straightened, rubbed her temples, and took a good look at her sister.
Gina’s eyes were hollow, her cheeks sunken and dirty. A tear in her miniskirt revealed a deep bruise on her thigh.
“How many of them are there?” Trying to hold on to the hope that had burned so brightly when she’d spied the payphone, Sofia cradled one injured wrist, relieved to find at least she wasn’t bleeding anymore.
Gina’s lower lip wobbled. “At least seven. They haven’t touched us.
We’re…more valuable if we’re not…damaged.” Tears spilled over, and Sofia wrapped her baby sister in her arms and let her cry. “I should have listened to you, Sof. I should have stayed home and watched movies with you and made you breakfast and done all those things you did for me for so many years.”
“Shhh, baby girl. We’re going to get out of this somehow.” Sofia didn’t believe her own words, but she had to do…something. Anything.
Gina flinched when the lock thunked and the door swung open. The other girls whimpered and scrambled as far from the door as they could. A shadow loomed, one with spiked hair. Sofia let go of Gina and pushed to her feet, swaying a little. “Leo? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Making a shit-ton of money.” He stepped forward, the light from the single overhead bulb casting his face and his jagged hairline in dim shadows.
He had a gun in one hand, pointed right at her, and a bag in the other. “I’m sorry I had to get you involved, Sofia. But we need your boyfriend to go down for this. And your disappearance just guaranteed he’ll never breathe free air again.”
22
Sofia
A nger simmered under the surface of her fear, a red-hot prickle that displaced the nausea and dizziness that had been her constant companion since she’d regained consciousness in the trunk of the car. “What did you do to Nick?”
“He’s being charged with three counts of kidnapping. Ironclad evidence.
Especially with how much noise you made last night. Your neighbors were only too happy to confirm they heard you screaming several times. Not to mention, the photos.”
“Photos?” Sofia took a step forward, but her injured foot sent pain racing up her leg, and she crashed to her hands and knees with a whimper. Leo dropped the bag, bent, and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You’re very pretty when you’re tied up, Sofia. I didn’t think you’d have much value as inventory. But you garnered one of the highest bids of this auction. Though the damage you inflicted on yourself… tsk tsk. ”
He shoved her back and reached into his pocket. When he turned the phone around, tears burned Sofia’s eyes. She stood in her living room, her arms bound over her head, wearing only her thong. The picture was black and white, a little grainy, but the look on her face…somewhere between joy and pain. “How…?”
“Hidden camera in your ficus.” Leo shrugged. “Once you and lover boy started hanging out, I had Anton put up a camera to keep an eye on you. In
case you didn’t respond to Victor’s threats. I’d have been happy seeing that rich bastard drawn into the poker game. That alone would have been enough to cast suspicion on him. Victor would have been occupied with a new whale on the hook, and he’d have stopped obsessing over the missing security footage. But…after last night…I never knew you were so…expressive.”
Sofia slapped him. With a grunt, Leo grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet, then slammed her against the wall. Stars exploded in her vision as she whimpered. “Behavior like that won’t be tolerated by your new owner.” His thin lips curled into a smile. “You’re already banged up. What’s another bruise?”
His fingers left her hair, but before her knees buckled, he punched her in the jaw. Pain replaced every other sensation, centering just below her left eye and radiating out in endless waves. The door slammed shut as Sofia collapsed into her sister’s arms.
Gina sobbed as Sofia tried to breathe through the throbbing agony. With shaking fingers, she touched her cheek.
Please don’t be broken.
She wasn’t sure why she cared. If they didn’t get out of there soon, it wouldn’t matter. A broken bone would be the least of her problems.
“D-do you know when they’re m-moving us?” Sofia asked. “How long do we have?”
“Tomorrow.” One of the other girls—Emily—snatched the bag Leo dropped and tore into it. “Only four bars. We’ll have to share.”
Sofia pushed up on an elbow. “Can they hear us in here? Does anyone know?”
“I don’t think so.” Gina shook her head. “I screamed a lot the first day.”
“Everyone screams their first day,” a quiet voice said from the corner.
“Except you.” The woman’s gray gaze met Sofia’s. Though she was dirty and looked like she hadn’t eaten in a week, fire burned in the depths of her eyes.
“You’re stronger.”
“I got away once,” Sofia said as she held up her hands. “Leo’s one guy.
Yes, one guy with a gun. But unless all seven of them are waiting outside that door, we’ve got a chance.” Struggling to her feet, Sofia limped over to the narrow door. The deadbolt looked solid, and she thought she’d heard a chain rattle before the door had opened. No one’s strong enough to break the door down. Keep looking.
Heading for the corner with the toilet and sink, Sofia peered up into the
darkness near the ceiling. Pipes disappeared into cheap drywall at least fifteen feet up. “Too high to reach,” she murmured. Even if they stood on the sink, and she didn’t think anyone was steady enough to do that. They’d have to think their way out of this. She nodded towards the bag in Emily’s hands. “I don’t need food. If we want to get out of here, we need to make sure the weakest eat the most. Because we’re going to have to fight. And run.”
Back at her sister’s side, Sofia sat cross-legged and twined her fingers with Gina’s as she swept her gaze over the other girls. “Tell me everything you know about their patterns.”
Nick
Slamming his hand down on the table in front of him as much as he could with the cuffs locked to a metal hasp in the center of the old, scarred metal top, Nick swore. “Bloody hell, we’ve been over this five times already!”
“Mr. Fairhaven, if you expect to ever get out of this room, you’ll answer our questions.”
“You’ve kept me here for over three hours without my lawyer. I know my rights, Detective. I demand to be allowed to call Ben Hetherington immediately.” Nick shoved at the table, and the detective stood with his hand on his weapon. “For fuck’s sake. Do you honestly think you’re in any danger in this room?” Nick asked, trying not to roll his eyes as he lifted his bound hands. “I’m cuffed to a fucking table.”
“Can’t be too careful,” Detective Sampson said, holding up one finger.
“You have a reputation for violence. An altercation at your office two years ago.”
“Where a loan shark came after me. Not the other way around. I didn’t throw a single punch.”
The detective cocked his head as he added a second finger. “Ms. Oliviera screamed several times last night—when you were beating her.”
“Beating her? I’ve never—” He shut his mouth. Trying to explain to the
detective that Sofia had been screaming in ecstasy would get him nowhere.
“And resisting arrest.” A third finger rose, the detective’s middle one, and Nick’s anger boiled over.
“Let me remind you of the facts, Detective. Your officers manhandled me during the arrest, and I have the bruises to prove it. I did not resist. I can demonstrate a consistent pattern of harassment following the night I saved Emily Norse from her assailant at Bound. If you expect to have a career at all when this is over, you’ll give me my goddamned phone call.”
Detective Sampson puffed out his chest. His lips curved into a knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be the one who has to worry about a career, Fairhaven. Your choices are going to be limited to the laundry, the prison library, and kitchen duty.”
A rap on the glass startled the detective, and he glared at the two-way mirror. Another rap, this one more insistent, and the man almost snarled.
“Don’t move,” he admonished Nick.
“As if I could.”
Alone, Nick clenched his hands into fists. They’d taken his watch, along with his wallet, keys, and the one-month chip he ached to have in his hands right now. He only knew the time because he’d glanced at the detective’s watch when the man had rolled up his sleeves. Three and a half hours since he’d walked into Sofia’s apartment. How long before then had she been taken? An hour? Two? He tried to remember when he’d texted her. Not long after noon.
What was he going to do if he couldn’t get her back? If she’d fallen victim to the traffickers—he shook his head as he stopped himself. If? He had no illusions that she was anywhere else. Unless whoever had taken her had killed her.
Nick yanked at the cuffs, knowing he’d get nowhere, but unable to sit still a moment longer. What the hell was he going to do? The longer he sat here, the greater the chance that he’d never see Sofia again.
“Detective!” He jerked his hands again, rocking the table. “I demand to be able to call my lawyer. Right bloody now!”
The door slammed open, and Ben’s tall frame filled the doorway. “Nick, don’t say another word.”
“The hell I won’t. They have—”
Ben held up his hand. “I know. Sit there for five more minutes without incriminating yourself and you’ll walk out of the station with me. Say another
word, and I can’t guarantee shit.”
Appropriately chastised, Nick flopped back in the chair and tried to slow his heart rate from somewhere approximating Usain Bolt’s running cadence.
What the hell was going on?
Ben was as good as his word. Not more than five minutes later, Detective Sampson stalked back into the room, murderous rage pinching his rat-like features as he unlocked Nick’s cuffs. “If you step a single toe out of line, you’re going to be washing prison bedding for the rest of your life.”
“Detective, do you have a foot fetish?” Nick bared his teeth in a vague approximation of a smile as he passed the man he’d rather pummel into the ground than ever speak to again.
Ben jabbed Nick in the ribs as the two men headed for the station doors.
“You’re either living under a charmed star or you’ve got the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met,” he whispered.
“The latter.” Nick ran a hand through his hair, the reddened flesh at his wrists not even the start of the penance he’d owe if he couldn’t save Sofia.
“How did you know?”
“Just wait.” Ben led Nick down the precinct steps and gestured to an idling Mercedes with tinted windows. “Get in the back.”
Ben slid into the passenger seat while Nick flung open the rear door, then stared, slack-jawed, at the man lounging in the back seat.
Damian Forlano angled his head, a grim set to his jaw. “Well, don’t just stand there, Nick. Get in. Your Sofia doesn’t have a lot of time.”
23
Nick
Damian handed Nick a phone. “Play the message.” As the car sped away from the precinct, Sofia’s voice came over the speaker.
“I’m…I don’t know where I am. Nick…I think they’ve arrested him. There are shipping containers all around me, I smell the ocean, and this pay phone number is 973-55—shit.”
As the sounds of a scuffle followed by Sofia’s scream filled the car, Nick squeezed the phone hard enough he felt the plastic crack. “Where is she?”
Damian eased the phone from Nick’s hand. “My guys tracked that pay phone prefix to the Port Newark Container Terminal in New Jersey. There are a dozen phones over about two hundred acres, but only a quarter of the terminal’s deserted enough that no one would have heard her scream.”
“Call the New Jersey police—” Anger flared, white-hot, when Damian shook his head. “Why the fuck not?”
“Did you forget where you were a few minutes ago? Also, a ‘thank you’
is in order.” Damian leaned forward and said something to the driver in Italian before turning back to Nick. “Your Sofia is the only reason you’re not still stuck in that interrogation room. I can’t tell you how many cops Victor has in his back pocket, but you’re lucky I have more. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have seen your lawyer until at least tomorrow, and the girls would probably be halfway to Minsk.”
Nick sank against the rich leather seat. “I can’t let her be…” He couldn’t
say the words, couldn’t imagine what they could be doing to her at this very moment. His hands shook as he pulled the one-month coin from his pocket.
Ben had retrieved the confiscated items before pulling him out of interrogation. Spinning the coin over one knuckle to the next and then back again, he found a small measure of sanity. “Please, Damian. Help me get her back. She’s…I love her.”
“A blind man could see that.” Damian checked his watch. “We’ll be at Norwood Airport in twenty minutes. I have a private plane waiting to take us to New Jersey. Five of my men will join us.”
“I want one more.” Nick had never felt this alone. Not even the very first day he went to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting. “Cal Pritchard. He’s a police lieutenant. A friend.”
Damian arched a brow. “Are you willing to bet your life—Sofia’s life—
on any member of the police force at this moment?”
