“Wait, you can’t just leave me here!” I dashed forward to stop her from going before she answered my questions.
But it was too late. All I got for my efforts was another burst of back pain and a glimpse of a big burly man in a leather vest. He leered at my naked chest—right before closing the door in my face.
Fear and panic reared inside of me.
It was like I was in a thriller film. And I guess I knew how to play my part.
I did all the things imprisoned girls do in thrillers, from slapping my palm against the door to yelling all the questions and demands. But all my come back heres, let me outs, why are you doing this to mes, and what do you wants got the same answer.
A whole bunch of silence.
And eventually, I ran out of steam.
There was nothing left to do but go back to the bag I’d knocked to the floor beside the cot when I ran after the butchy teenage girl. It had St. Louis Market stamped across its front. That was a tiny store in the heart of the French Quarter. So maybe this place was in or near New Orleans.
I found two things inside of it. A slip of black fabric that turned out to be a skimpy dress, and some disposable bath cloths—presumably to wash up with.
Their inclusion made me instinctively sniff under one arm. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but I smelled…well, if not rank, a lot less lovely than I preferred.
And any coverage was better than walking around bare-chested. So, I did my best with what I had. Thankfully, the pill was doing its job. My back was only sore now. Like I’d gone too hard at my twice-weekly cardio barre class.
The pill must have had some kind of opioid component as well. Even though I should have been freaking out, a chemical calm kept a lid on my panic and fear as I disappeared my body odor. Not exactly my usual from neck to toes scrub down with exfoliating body wash, followed by lotion and a spritz of Atelier Jasmin Angélique perfume. But better than before. A little better than before.
And with the chemical lockdown on my panic, a strange, disassociated gratitude was all I could manage as I gingerly slipped the dress over my body.
The dress was the skimpiest thing I’d ever worn. It clung to every curve—not in a constructed way but in a cheap, red-light district sort of way. And the haltered neckline barely covered my breasts. But at least it was backless, so it didn’t aggravate…whatever had been done to my back.
The stuff in that pill tamped down another rise of panic just as a knock sounded on the door, and the teenage girl entered without being invited to come in.
“You’re ready.” She was taller than I’d thought when I was sitting on the bed. A good three, maybe four inches taller than me. Which made it sound particularly menacing when she added, “Good. I didn’t feel like wrestling you into that dress.”
Another disassociated fizzle of alarm sputtered inside my heart, which should have been racing.
If not for the chemically enforced calm, I’d probably be fetal with panic.
As it was, I just wondered about it at a disconnected distance, tossing around possibilities of what was happening to me. Kidnapping for ransom didn’t explain my father’s apparent corroboration. Really, nothing could explain why my upstanding father would put any woman in this position—much less his oldest daughter, his own flesh and blood.
You’re a woman now. That means you belong to him.
My father’s words echoed through my head like the somber toll of funeral bells. But who was “him”?
No answer I came up with was even remotely comforting.
The teenager had left the door open this time. She grinned and called out something to the guard in Cajun French—way too fast for me to keep up with my formal high school version of the language. But I could tell it was about me. And vaguely insulting.
“Are you here for a reason other than making fun of me?” I asked her, biting down on my back teeth.
She shrugged. “I’m supposed to make sure you’re decent so we could take you to H.”
“I wouldn’t call this dress decent,” I muttered.
“Nobody gives a shit about your opinion, princess. C’mon…” She jerked her head toward the open door and turned to walk out.
I guess she just expected me to follow her.
Which I did. More out of curiosity than actual compliance.
The hallway was just as gray and concrete as my room, but much wider. And there were two double doors at the end of it. I could only assume that was our destination.
