Page 5 of Ravaged With You

The harsh word registered on his senses even as another round of fiery blows assaulted his face. Not English, but he understood it. How? How could he understand?

He was here—but where was here? He’d been captured—but by whom?

More beatings, more pain, more blackness and red pain until something in him seemed to snap and he forced his eyes open and saw his captors. Four tall men, bulky and scarred, and one woman standing behind them, dark hair falling past her shoulders, stunningly beautiful despite a face marred by hatred and disgust.

“Ah, there he is,” the woman said, and now he knew. Romanian. “We knew that you were in there somewhere, Mr. Cooper.”

Memories crashed back. The two flight attendants on a humanitarian mission, training other airline personnel how to detect and help suspected human trafficking victims. And the other woman, a deep-cover SOC agent who’d been taken hostage along with them.

Lisa. The woman he’d been dating on and off for the last two years. A woman whose laughter had reminded him that there was joy in the world despite the horrors he saw in his work.

His work … Him … Charlie Cooper.

He’d been assigned to get them out. Him and his team. Now all captured. Now all dead except for him and the women trapped in chains and cages.

It was up to him to save them all.

“You did not think we would kill you, did you? The last man standing? That is some sort of honor, I think. It has bought you time.” The woman smiled, a beautiful face on a soul of pure evil. “We will kill you eventually, of course. But not so soon. You have caused us much trouble. We will play before we kill, and you will be sorry for the trouble.”

He didn’t move. Not so much out of bravery, but because he was tied to a chair. His legs, his arms, his chest. Only his head had any movement at all.

“You will not enjoy this, I think,” she said, then nodded to the men. “Though we will.”

The men came, two on each side of the chair and lifted him. He was already woozy, and now vertigo hit him dead-on, along with the sickening certainty that he was helpless. This wasn’t a movie, and no matter what skills he’d developed during his years of service, they did him no good right now.

If only he had his knife.…

With his skill and his fury, he could turn the tables on them. He always carried a blade, but they’d stripped him bare, and the tools he’d had tucked away in pockets and hidden in seams—small but deadly blades, practical lock picks—were long gone now. He wore only the rags they’d clothed him in.

“I will kill you,” he said, making the woman chuckle.

“Of course you will not. You are not the hero, Mr. Cooper. You are what we call the victim. But not, I think, the first one.”

It took a moment for his mind to process what she meant. Then his gaze cut to the women. “No.” He swallowed, his mouth entirely dry. “No, don’t you dare. They’re nothing to you. A nuisance. We both know that their programs haven’t done shit to curb your industry.”

Not exactly true. There was in fact evidence that the training programs springing up among flight attendants had in fact helped victims. But he wasn’t inclined to state actual facts.

“Hush, Mr. Cooper. Enjoy our hospitality. We have prepared a show for you.”

As he struggled in his bonds, two of the men pulled one flight attendant from behind a wooden panel. She was naked, her hands tied behind her, her mouth stuffed with a dirty rag.

“Don’t.” His voice was parched. Cracked.

“Oh, we will. The question is, will you survive to see it? I confess I told a little fib. I want these bitches to understand that they have no champion. You are only a useless man, tied to a chair, and your life is completely within my hands. As is theirs.”

He caught Lisa’s eyes, saw the fear and horror reflected back at him. He wanted to comfort her, but there was no comfort to be had. The woman was right. A fact she proved again with a wave of her hand.

With no warning, the men flipped the chair over, then took him upside down across the room to a huge barrel with two bars across it. They lowered him, and though he tried to struggle, it was futile. Soon he was suspended head down in the water, the ropes so tight around his waist and chest and legs that he remained immobile as he shook his head and fought not to breathe, not to allow his lungs to suck in, seeking air, air, blissful air. But there was no air to be had, and soon the inside of his head was black, then red. He felt light, lost, and soon he would have no choice but to breathe as his lungs battled to bring him oxygen.

Soon, he would drown.

And then he was up again.

He gasped. Just once, and they started it all over again.

And again. And again.

Until he was choking and spitting. Until his body trembled and his lungs burned and he was only half-conscious.