Explicit Instruction (24 page)

She was shedding him from her body
, just as she had to shed him from her mind, and from her heart. The memories were so vivid, but most of their adventures still seemed like dreams. Had Flick really let him eat her for lunch on the kitchen table in the shack? Had she really asked for more after he ejaculated into her mouth?

The
Flick that her family saw, Hayden, and her colleagues at the library, and now at the coffee shop saw, wasn’t the Flick that Rushe had seen. She wondered if he’d known what was within her, as she’d known what was in him.

Flick saw goodness and
light inside a man who claimed to be nothing but darkness. He’d seen a bold, uninhibited lover in the body of a woman who had never been anything but plain. If there had been a point of no return, she’d missed it. From that very first question, when he’d asked her if she was going to let him fuck her, the spiral had grown sharper and steeper. Even now when walking back from a date with another man she thought about Rushe. While Flick wondered if he’d care about her dating someone else, she had to remind herself that he would never know, because she would never see him again.

A grey van squealed as it turned into the street
, and with the way it lurched it had been lucky not to tip. The street was quiet and dark, so the noise was conspicuous, and under normal circumstances Flick wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But after her adventure with Rushe she wondered about other possibilities. Were the people in the van running from something? She imagined them in the midst of a car chase, or fleeing a robbery scene.

Tightening her shawl
, she smiled, and looked to her shoes again. A long hot bath would soothe her feet, which had blessedly been saved from heels for most of the last few weeks. Then she’d have to get up, and go back to the coffee place in the morning, and if she didn’t buck up—

When the screec
hing of wheels sounded again Flick looked up just in time to see two ski-masked men leap out of the grey van, which had careered to a halt beside her. The men picked her up, and Flick had no time to scream, because a hand was clamped over her mouth. They bundled her into the van, and it started moving again at speed before the door was all the way closed.

‘What? No. No!’ she demanded
, and reached for the door. But one of the masked men grabbed her wrists and bound them together with a length of rope, as she tried to resist the other held her down on the floor.

Stuck on her back
on the floor, Flick had no room for movement, and when one of the men planted his foot on her shoulder, she was restricted further.

The one not standing on her took off his mask
, and when she recognised John; her head fell to the floor with a thump. Being free hadn’t lasted, and now she had no assurance that Rushe would be at the other end, not like the last time John had picked her up.

‘Thought you’d appreciate us mixing it up,’ John said. ‘And we knew you’d never fall for the “Rushe is in trouble” thing again.’

‘He’s going to kill you,’ she said without doubt of its veracity.

‘Might be difficult,’ John
mused.

The other goon sat on a fold down chair opposite
, and he didn’t take off his mask, but he didn’t seem to be listening either.

‘Why?’ she asked John.

‘He’s in trouble,’ John said with a grin, and she wanted to kill him herself. ‘For real this time, but you know what they say about the boy who cried wolf, so I figured this was easier.’

‘People saw me,’ she said. ‘They saw what you did on the street.’

‘A quiet street with its lights busted out, I doubt it, and you don’t live in the best of areas... which I suppose you know, given what just happened. People keep themselves to themselves... besides the plates are phony.’

‘I was on
a date with my boyfriend who will call me later. When I don’t answer he’ll know something is wrong.’

‘Long term boyfriend?’ John asked.

‘Yes,’ she said, feeling triumphant.

‘That didn’t walk you home and screw you to the wall.’

‘He has an early day tomorrow,’ she said, looking for an excuse.

‘Yeah,’ John said
. The top of her head was against the front seats that John looked over, she guessed to watch out the windshield. ‘Guys usually let women with jugs like yours go to bed alone, just so they don’t miss their alarm clock.’

‘You won’t get your m
oney again,’ she said. While Flick didn’t expect them to pull over and let her out on the basis of her declaration, she couldn’t just lie here doing nothing. ‘Does Rushe know? Does he know you’re bringing me in?’

‘Nope,’ John said
, still looking forward.

‘He’ll be angry.’

‘I think that’s the point.’

‘What kind of trouble,’ Flick asked. ‘You said he was in trouble.’ Flick thought she might as well ask this time around.

‘The bad kind,’ John said.

Flick
didn’t have to ask about the good kind because she’d met him, and mated with him a few million times. ‘Is he hurt?’

‘Do you always
talk so much?’

Flick thought about
some of the things she’d said, and heard, of late. ‘Until Rushe tells me to be quiet.’

‘Now I’m telling you,’ John said.

‘You don’t know the secret password.’

When hi
s attention came down to her, Flick deliberately averted her eyes. Let him think what he wanted; she was done playing mouse. Her strategy didn’t have the desired effect, whatever she’d expected that to be, because the rasp of adhesive snapped her head back, and with a smug grin John ripped the duct tape from the roll.

‘No, I didn’t—’ T
he tape came over her mouth, and he pulled her hair from it before pressing it down.

‘Much better,’ he said. ‘Get comfortable
, you’ll be down there a while.’

The rollercoaster it seemed wasn’t quite finished
, and this time she’d be on her own. Rushe would be beyond livid... if he was still alive.

The journey took hours; Flick felt every single pot hole on the road as she bounced on the hard metal of the van floor. Every bump drove the boot heel of the man standing on her deeper, but it didn’t matter how she wriggled, he only pressed harder.

Rushe had paid her ransom, if she’d needed any more proof that she was right about him caring for her, that was it. But here she was going back to the place he’d saved her from, and she had no idea why, or what they wanted with her this time.

She’d prayed for the journey to be over, because half of her body cramped and ached. That was until they slowed and she recognised the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels. Now Flick wanted to stay on this floor and on the road. She’d put up with the pain rather than go into that building again. But no amount of shifting and squealing through the tape moved the men, and why should it? These men were safe. They were workers completing an assignment. This experience was probably what all of the women in that basement went through. The terror. Strange men grabbing you, hauling you around, throwing you down, and dragging you up, being bound and gagged, and probably blindfolded too – though this time Flick had been spared that indecency.

The van lurched to a halt
, and her heart hammered in her chest making her dizzy and lightheaded. But Flick couldn’t suck enough oxygen through her nose to combat her faintness. The rush of heat to her head made her close her eyes against the stars fluttering in her vision. When the drag of the van door opening assaulted her ears, her head rolled, but she was already being heaved out, and that was when Flick saw it. They weren’t at the front of the building, they were at the side, and the stairs they lugged her on descended. She was being taken downstairs.

Flick didn’t realise she’d lost consciousne
ss until a slap jolted her head; blinking up another slap came, then another. Trying to lean away Flick realised she was on a chair, a metal chair, her hands were tied together at the back of the chair, at her lower back. When Flick tried to kick her legs she found out they were tied too. A gag across her mouth made her retch, the taste of blood mixed with the acid of vomit that roiled in her throat.

‘I told you nothing can be done.’

The voice laced in its European lilt was decidedly Simone, but Flick couldn’t see much in the darkened room. A light hanging low in front of her gave Flick a view of nothing but shadow beyond. Still, she struggled to recover from her fainting spell.

‘You awake
, little girl?’

If she hadn’t felt ill before
, the sound of Skeeve’s voice would have done it. Flick could tell by the cold draught over her chest that her uniform was ripped. Letting her head loll forward, she saw that everything but her nipples were on show, and they peeked over the torn fabric when she breathed deeply.

‘You’re down here now,’
Skeeve cackled. ‘You’re goin’ out the back little girl, sold to the highest bidder.’

‘I can do nothing with her,’ Simone said.

‘Keep her alive.’ The indifferent voice Flick recognised as Victor’s. ‘For a day or two.’

‘Then?’ Simone asked.

‘She’ll have served her purpose, won’t she?’

With another slap
, and a tug on her nipple, Skeeve dissolved into the shadow, and with the scrape of metal on wood, a heavy door slammed. Flick could see nothing but the light; she had no idea how big the room was. She had no idea if she was alone, or when they would come back. Rushe wasn’t here, and if he came back, if he saw her here... he’d do anything they asked of him.

Flick tried to escape her bounds
, but it had been fruitless. No one had come back. But she’d heard screaming; the feminine wail of desperation from beyond these walls; walls that kept Flick imprisoned in contradiction of her will.

Their screaming was nothing but a
pathetic attempt at begging for mercy from the merciless. Flick felt useless, and she was so pitiful that she appalled herself. She couldn’t do anything but sit here and wait, wait for them to do whatever they wanted with her.

Hours passed and her body
bawled in the agony that it hadn’t yet recovered from since her journey in the van. In this forced position on the chair, Flick’s discomfort only grew. Her upper arms were bound to the top corners of the chair back, and her knees were tied to the sides of the chair, leaving her legs wide open at a horrific angle. But her pain faded as she listened to the vicious cackle of torment punctuating the shrieks of women begging for their lives.

She’d had no food
, and no water. Her blood wasn’t circulating to her limbs, and she lost consciousness at least once more. But when the thump of a lock came, before that scrape of the door opening, Flick tried to fortify herself against what would come, but she had no idea what that was.

Except she heard the pant of breath, someone spat out, then the door was closed again. Flick wasn’t alone
, but she had no idea who, or what, had been left here with her.

With the damp, short breaths wheezing from her lungs Flick tri
ed to tell herself not to panic. She tried to slow her breathing down, but the more she tried the worse her hyperventilation became. Being scared wouldn’t help anyone. But just as those tortured women cried out despite being ignored, Flick couldn’t do nothing.

Her tears had stained her gag until she could taste the salt from her own body. Losing the
moisture could be crucial if she wasn’t hydrated soon, but Flick couldn’t stop the fat rolls of liquid from skidding down her cheeks.

And as
Flick herself fought the urge to scream out, another voice came from the ether.

‘You’re new.’ A sobbing started, and seemed to be crowded by a second, then a third. But
the voice that spoke was calm and quiet.

Flick couldn’t see anyone
, but she sensed someone coming closer. The knot of her gag was pulled off the top of her head snagging her tooth on her lip in the process, making it bleed, but Flick gasped in the welcome air.

‘Who are you?’ Flick coughed out
, then struggled to stop her lungs heaving in the oxygen.

‘There are six of us,’ the female voice said
, and the woman who moved around her came into view through the harsh light of the lamp.

Thin as skin on bones
, a vaguely blue dress hung on her shoulders, but the stains of blood, and vomit, and goodness only knew what, matched the bruises over her porcelain skin. She was tall but meek, somehow broken.

‘
They took me from the street more than a week ago,’ she said, sitting on the floor at Flick’s side.

‘Can you untie me?’ Flick asked.

‘No,’ the woman said.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Brianna.’

‘If you can untie me—‘

‘I can’t,’ Brianna said.

‘If we can get the door open—’

Brianna shook her head. ‘We’ve tried. We’ve tried breaking out. The door is metal; it’s three inches thick... Were you taken from the street?’

‘Yes, but—‘

‘I’ve never seen them... the way they brought you in here... the small one, the Sniveller   we call him—‘

‘
Skeeve,’ Flick said. ‘They call him Skeeve. The woman is called Simone, and you’re all in a derelict mansion of some kind.’

‘How do you know those things?’

‘What are they going to do with us?’ a voice from the blackness asked. Flick realised they were all in the same room, and no doubt restrained too.

Flick didn’t really want to answer the question
. But it seemed only fair to be honest because her words would be nothing to what these women would face when they left here.

‘They’re going to sell you, us...’

‘Sell?’ Brianna asked.

‘
Victor, he’s a loan shark who wants to get into the big leagues,’ Flick said, so that at least if she didn’t get out of this these women would have the means to expose him if need be. ‘I don’t know how, or why, but he’s moving into this, human trafficking. Women like us... I think they pick women for their marketability.’

Brianna
had been pale before, but now she was positively transparent. ‘How do you know these things?’

‘I’ve been here before,’ Flick said. ‘Not here
but... upstairs. They held me for ransom.’

‘I don’t have any money,’ the voice from the woman she couldn’t see said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Flick said. ‘They got paid for me, and a week later they snatched me from the street, just like I said.’

‘It’s almost morning,’
Brianna said. ‘I heard them talking about going out today... I don’t know why but...’

‘Morning,’ Flick said.

When she’d been taken out of the van and brought down here, dusk had been threatening. At least that was her guess from the encroaching night she remembered of the sky. So she’d been here all night.

‘There are no windows down here,’
Brianna said. ‘I haven’t seen the sun in...’

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Flick said
, trying to order her thoughts. But it was Rushe’s forethought she needed. She didn’t have the first clue how to get out of here, especially when she was still restrained.

‘What do you mean?’

Not quite believing she was about to quote the man who’d captured her – twice – Flick answered Brianna. ‘I wouldn’t be so eager to shorten your wait. As long as you’re in here you’re safe.’

‘Safe,’
Brianna said. ‘Do you know how they treat us?’

‘Alive in any form is better than dead,’ Flick said
, reminding herself of the redhead she’d tried to save from Skeeve in the shack.

Rushe was right
, Flick was different, but it wasn’t he who changed her. Not only him. The things she’d seen in these last few weeks showed Flick the underbelly of humanity. The bottom feeders she’d been surrounded with made her bare her own teeth and she got it, she understood. Her fear wasn’t what consumed her – it was anger.

These men had no right to touch her
, let alone capture her. She was a human being with her own free will, and it wasn’t the right of anyone to sell her into slavery. They might be stronger, and they may be able to force her into things she would revolt against, but Flick wouldn’t go quietly. Somehow she’d see Rushe again, even if just to tell him that he was right, weakness had no place in this world.

Some of the women cried,
and then there was silence. Flick didn’t know if they were sleeping, or if they’d been injured, because she still couldn’t see them. Sleep was impossible for her with this light so close to her face, and she continued to fight her bonds. It didn’t matter that they weren’t getting looser. The bite of rope on her skin bloodied her, but she kept trying because she couldn’t do nothing. Flick couldn’t sit here and do nothing.

At least
a few of the other females in the room were unbound, but they stayed in place. Maybe they’d been exposed to punishment for escape attempts. The people here made their money based on breaking the will of others. Brianna seemed to be the strongest of the group, but the dullness in her eyes betrayed that she too had been toppled.

No one fed them
, and the hours dragged. Conversation was a ridiculous notion in this scenario, and so none of them attempted it. Flick had tried to get information from the other women. But from the pieces she cobbled together the women were mostly bound or blindfolded when taken from one place to the next. And one man was as faceless as any other when they were subjecting the women to what they’d been through.

Not all of them had been rape
d, but one of the girls was young. Flick assumed from what the others said on behalf of the mute teenager that she was either underage or untouched, both would get top dollar, and once again Flick’s stomach heaved.

Where was Rushe? He couldn’t know that she was down here. The other women
, mostly Brianna, spoke on behalf of the youngster. Every word broke Flick’s heart.

Her eyes had been closed against the harshness of the light that blinded her
, but Flick hadn’t realised that she was unconscious until the snap of ice-cold water gushed over her. With a gasp, she sputtered up as far as she could against her ties.

In front of her
was Skeeve and Glen holding a large metal basin, she assumed it had been filled with the water they’d thrown over her.

‘Boss wants to see you,’
Skeeve sneered.

Glen
was behind her and when he loosened the bonds, Flick tried to stand, to fight, but she collapsed to the floor. Her arms and legs hadn’t been used in so long that none of them had any power, any strength.

‘Up!’
Skeeve demanded, and she tried to move to her hands and knees. Just as Flick managed to get up, he kicked her ribs knocking her over again. ‘Yeah, you’re good and tired aren’t you little girl. No fight left in that stacked body. Up!’