Eluded (11 page)

I grabbed her by the face and dug
my fingernails into her cheeks. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure. I was never allowed
to go to their meeting place. They gave us directions through
disposable cell phones. I was given addresses and descriptions of
women. That's all I know."

The woman began to panic. I had
her exactly where I wanted.

"And you still have one of these
cell phones?"

"I did. It was in my back pocket.
One of your men took it."

The only belongings on the tray
were a pack of cigarettes and a cheap pre-paid phone. I scrolled
through the missed calls and every number was blocked. I had to
find a way to get more information. As I set the phone down on the
tray, it rang.

"I'm answering the call, and you
fucking play the game. Do you hear me?"

"Y-y-y . . . yes. I
will."

I pressed answer and placed it on
speaker. The gruff voice on the other end wasn't pleasant in the
least bit.

"Where the fuck are you,
Jacqueline?"

"The fucking van is wrecked. I had
to leave the scene before the police showed."

"I said, where the fuck are
you?"

"I'm at a friend’s house. What the
fuck do you want? You've got more directions?"

I had to hand it to her, she was
cool, confident, and not a tad bit scared as she spoke to the
bastard on the other line.

"Actually, I do. We've picked up
the last ten bitches that D wanted. There are at least twenty more
on the list. We've got a week to round them up. Tomorrow night we
are meeting on Kings Road in front of the cross. Don’t be fucking
late or it will be your head, got it?"

She looked up at me and said, "Got
it."

The woman wouldn't die tonight. As
long as she cooperated with me, I'd let her live.

"You're going there tomorrow. If
you fuck this up, consider yourself”—I hated saying the next
part—“and your kids . . . dead."

She sucked in a deep breath.
Although I would never kill a child, an innocent child, I'd never
tell her that. Most people believed I was wicked, and a part of me
was, but not that dreadful. Everyone had a little wickedness inside
of them, but only few allowed their darkness to roam
free.

"I'll make a deal with you. I'll
allow you to go home to your kids."

She opened her mouth to
speak.

"Let me fucking finish. I'll allow
you to go home to your kids. One of my men will drive you there.
Tomorrow, you will meet Derrick-fucking-Black and his men at the
cross on Kings. I won't wire you. I'm not into that James Bond
shit, but I want a replay of everything that's said. I want to know
who the next targets are. I want to know what he is fucking doing
and where his goddamned hideout is. I want to know where the
kidnapped girls are being kept as well."

She swallowed hard enough for me
to hear. "I'll do anything you want."

"Great. If you cross me. If you
fucking cross me, or try to play me in any way, I meant what I said
about you and your family."

She nodded her head and I walked
away, but stopped a man named Jeffrey on the way out. "Take her to
her family. Let her be with them. Follow her tomorrow and when she
leaves the meeting, bring her back. Fuck, pretend to be one of them
if you have to."

"Yes, sir."

I made my way out to the Range
Rover. His sadistic personality and sociopathic behavior made him
dangerous. While I often lost control . . . he did so in a way that
innocent people were hurt. I should have fucking known he was
behind the kidnappings and selling of women. The abuse . . . it was
his signature stamp.

But how the hell did he make it
out alive?

He was doing this to see if I
would notice. Taunting me personally, in hope of spinning me into
his web of lies and deceit so he could take control of the Gang of
London, but I wouldn't fall into his trap. Not this fucking time.
Not never.

I wondered how long he had been
watching me, waiting for me to pounce, or if he was trying to
blindside me. Derrick got a nut from catching people off guard.
Surprise—I hated to fucking admit—was his strong suit. But he was
sloppy. He couldn't keep quiet or stop bragging about what he had
done. And now his secret, that he was fucking alive, had been
leaked to me, his worst fucking enemy.

Surely he couldn't have forgotten
so quickly who he was dealing with, could he? Derrick always had a
problem with gloating, not covering up his tracks, and wanting
validation . . . and it seemed that, while time has passed, those
things haven’t changed.

Some people weren't meant to be
leaders.

Some people weren't meant to be in
the business of killing.

Derrick Black was one of them. The
word monster covered every inch of his body and fit him like a
glove.

The old wives’ tale was true; if a
person wanted something done right, one must do it themselves. The
next time I was given the chance, I'd make sure to kill him with my
bare hands.

My phone rang on the way home, and
I answered. Blondie wanted more, I couldn’t blame her, and there
was nothing like a good fuck to take my mind off of
Derrick.

I fucked her like I hated her, and
she still begged for more. We were two ravenous animals, drawn to
one another for one thing, and one thing alone.

After we finished, I did what I’ve
always done—I went home and showered away the stench. The scalding
water burned my skin, and I wanted it hotter. I needed to feel
something. I needed to clear my mind, but it seemed nothing, not
even a fucking orgasm or three, could take my mind off of Lauren or
the fact that Derrick had her.

Five years ago, I watched my men
tie the fifty-pound weights around both ankles, put his hands in
cuffs, and place duct tape over his mouth. Before I pushed him into
the water, I whispered, "See you on the other side," in his ear. In
retrospect, I should have stabbed him in his cold black heart and
watched him bleed out in front of me, because then he wouldn't have
had the chance to come back to haunt me in
this
fucking
life.

LAUREN

Fifteen

T
he sun eventually set and
the room darkened. Just as Sophie had said, a trolley came by with
more water, stale bread, and something they called food. At least I
wouldn't dehydrate. The room faded to pitch black, and I couldn't
see, or sleep, or stop thinking about everything that had happened
in the last twenty-four hours.

When I closed my eyes, Derrick's
eyes filled my thoughts and morphed into black sockets of nothing.
No matter what I did, his dark hair and smile continued to haunt me
through the night. When I did fall asleep, nightmares chased me
into the shadows. Nightmares of Henry and Maria, nightmares of
blood puddles on the floor, and nightmares of ghost girls haunting
the room that I slept in. Over the next few hours, I woke up in
several panics, then remembered where I was, in a filthy room on a
dirty cot. The calming sound of Sophie's breathing made me feel not
so alone. It pulled me back to reality several times, and I was
grateful. If I had to suffer through this alone, I would most
likely crack under the pressure. Without the warnings she gave, I
might have disobeyed, struggled, or cried out. But now,
now
I was in the line of Derrick's wrath, with a shiny new target
plastered across my forehead.
Drowning.
I felt like I was
drowning in a sea of blood, unable to swim through the thickness. I
had to make it out of this place alive.

I reached over the side of the bed
and twisted open the top of the water that was delivered on the
last round. The bottle was empty within a few drinks, and that was
when my head felt weird. My world seemed to shift and rotate until
I couldn't sit up straight. The taste of pennies coated the inside
of my mouth as my hand bobbled around on my neck. Before I fell
back onto the cot, I called out for Sophie. Using everything I had,
I rolled over and hit the cement floor with a thud. I grabbed her
arm and tried to shake her awake, but her skin was cold and clammy.
I tried to remember if she had drunk her water as well, but I
couldn't focus, couldn't remember. And that was when everything
faded away.

I woke up to a room of white.
White walls, white plush carpet, white blanket and sheets. White
everywhere, as if I were in a room covered in snow. The lights
reflected off the walls and floor, and I shielded my eyes. I soon
adjusted to the brightness. I thought I might have died, until I
looked down and noticed I was dressed in a white lace bra and
panties. My tanned skin seemed to glow against the
starkness.

I stood in the large room and
looked inside the dresser. Each drawer was filled with clothes, all
my size. Bras, panties, and corsets—all white, no other colors, and
all the same style—filled the drawers. Even weirder, each piece of
lingerie had meticulously been folded. I needed color like I needed
sunshine and sand between my toes. Whoever was responsible for this
hoped to mold me, to make me conform and be someone I wasn't.
Fantastic.

The room needed another color. I
opened the closet and saw it was filled with high heels and
dresses, still all white. I didn't want to stand around in a bra
and panties so I shimmied a dress over my head. It fit my waist
perfectly and rested above the knee. When I stepped out of the
walk-in closet, all I saw was black hair, a black button up shirt
with a white tie, and black dress pants. Instantly, I stopped
moving.

Derrick leaned against the wall
with his arms crossed and watched me with a shit-eating grin
splashed across his face. I swallowed hard and sucked in a deep
breath. I became a prisoner in my own head. Although I knew better,
I wanted to ask him where I was and what I was doing there. But I
knew to keep my mouth shut and not speak until I was spoken
to.

"I didn't say you could wear that
dress."

My heart raced. He hadn't, but to
be fair, I didn't know who had brought me here.

"Take it off," he said,
coldly.

When I didn't immediately move, he
barked loudly, "Now, and look at me when you do it."

I rolled the cotton edges of the
dress in my thumbs and slipped the cloth up my body and over my
head. I threw the dress on the floor, and it crumbled into a
heap.

"Now, the rest."

My breathing increased, and I
couldn't think straight. I hesitated again, and when I did, he
rushed to me. With a tight fist, the panties were ripped from my
body. The little string that held the bra together in the front was
snapped with another rip, and within moments, I was standing
completely naked in front of him. The skin where the bra and
panties were ripped throbbed, and I knew there were welts. Hair
fell in my face as I looked down. He tucked it behind my ear and
grabbed my chin with a tight grip, forcing me to look into his
eyes.

"I fancy you, Lauren," he said, as
my breasts filled his icy hands. "I think you're beautiful." His
mouth went to my nipple and then to the other. He flicked them with
his tongue and sucked them until they were rock hard. "I don't want
to hurt you," he whispered, then kissed between my breasts. Then he
grabbed my waist with a tight grip, his fingers digging into my
sides. He pulled me closer to his body until I could feel
him
. "But if I fucking have to hurt you, I will. Do you
understand?"

"Yes," I said with a meek voice,
scared for my life and humiliated again.

Would today be the day that I
died?

He ran his fingers through my
hair, and I leaned into his touch, pretending to enjoy it. He
wrapped my hair around his fist and jerked my head, forcing me to
stare into his empty eyes. "You don't want to disobey me, do
you?"

"I don't. I
want
to make
you happy," I lied, but he ate it and swallowed it down like the
truth as a moment passed between us. Once he was satisfied with my
answer, he slowly released his tight grip of my hair, but I stayed
in position, staring up into his cold eyes that haunted
me.

"Do you know what would make me
happy?"

I shook my head. Derrick grabbed
my hand, interlocked his fingers with mine, and led me down the
hallway. All the walls were white, along with the carpet. Pictures
of himself hung on the wall, and as he pulled me along, I looked at
each one. Self-loathing bastard. Cold glares reflected from each
picture. As I continued to study each one, I noticed they were all
of him but a few. Those were of women with the same human-less
stare in their faces. Each had dark hair, was skinny, and genuinely
pretty . . . just like all the women that he captured. Maybe they
were past girlfriends? Wives? Family?

He continued to drag my naked body
forward, through another hallway, and down a staircase. We were in
a building, or an extremely large house, I couldn't quite tell. The
windows had bars over them though, so I knew there was no escaping
through them. Seeing that deflated me just a little and knocked me
back to reality. I hoped the only way I would be leaving wasn't
through death. With the strong grip he had on my hand, and the way
he captured women, I realized I might be here for quite a
while.