Prisoned: A Dark Twisted Erotic Standalone (8 page)

“I don’t want you to end up in the same place as Paulie. You keep this shit up, and that’s what’s going to happen.”

“You want to fight with someone? Is that it?” he barked back. “Then, fine, fight me. Say whatever you need to say, and let it all out. As soon as I hang up, I’m going to do what I want, you’re gonna keep on worrying, and nothing is going to change.”

“Fuck that.”

I didn’t want to get angry and sound like I was attacking him. But why the hell didn’t he want to get help? Why didn’t he worry about overdosing? Why did he act as though he were invincible when he’d witnessed so many guys like him drop dead?

It was because he didn’t fucking care.

“Let me know if the guys say anything about Paulie. I’ll call you in a few days,” he said and hung up.

The phone felt so hot in my hand. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I reached back and threw it as hard as I could. It flew through the air, hit the wall, and fell to the marble floor. The screen smashed, the case shattered, throwing tiny pieces everywhere.

When I walked over to my desk, it was covered in papers and reports and contracts. None of them mattered. Not at this moment.

Neither did the stress from worrying about the jackpots or the marketing director I had to replace. Not even the poker tournament that was going to draw our biggest crowd yet.

All that mattered was Billy.

If something didn’t happen soon, I was going to lose my best friend.

Seven

Kyle

When I heard the lock unlatch, I jolted upright, my head swinging in the direction of the door to watch it slowly open. It was the first time there had been noise inside our cell that hadn’t been created by Garin or me. The first time anyone had been in here since I’d been awake.

A man walked in, taller than Garin, his shoulders almost as broad as the doorway. His wifebeater showed a set of arms that were twice the size of my thighs. Every inch of them was covered in the most colorful tattoos. A full-grown thick beard hung from his chin, a feature I had once considered extremely sexy until I saw it on the face of my captor. And in his hands were two trays filled with small mountains of brown slop.

“
¡A comer!
” he barked, his voice so deep it vibrated through the cell.

The two years of Spanish that I’d taken in high school weren’t going to help me out at all. I knew ten words, fifteen tops.

“What did he just say?” I asked Garin, not at all expecting him to answer.

“He’s telling us to eat,” Garin said.

Later, I would ask him how he knew that, but now, the bearded guy had my full attention. He dropped the trays on the floor, and he kicked them toward us. The brown sauce spilled over the sides from the rush of movement.

My stomach growled, and I wanted so badly to crawl forward and lap up the puddle off the dirty cement. I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d eaten, but the hunger pangs were clawing through my belly so fiercely that I had to stop myself from crying out.

Garin stood and walked toward the bearded guy. “Tell me why the fuck we’re in here and when we’re getting out.”

“
¡
Siéntate
!
”

“No, I’m not going to sit down!” Garin shouted back. “I want to know why we’re in here. And I want to know when the hell you’re going to let us out.”

Beard unlatched one of the two guns that was holstered at his waist and pointed it at Garin. “
¡
Que te sientes carajo
!
”

I wrapped my arms around my navel and squeezed some of the pressure away. I couldn’t breathe. I had the biggest fear of guns. I couldn’t stand the sight of them. Not after what had happened, not after one had been pointed at me.

“Garin, get back!” I screamed. “Do what he says before he pulls the trigger.”

“
Siéntate
,” Beard said again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Garin barked as he took a seat on the floor next to me.

A few seconds passed before Beard started walking back toward the door. I needed to try something to get him to talk. Maybe coming across a little sweeter would get me further than Garin.

“Are you in charge?” I asked him.

He held on to the door and stared at me. His eyes were black and terrifying, his mouth set open like his teeth were about to tear through my flesh.

“I’d like to talk to whoever is in charge…if that’s not you.” My voice was so weak. I barely recognized it. “I want to talk to them about why we’re in here and—”

“
¡Cállate!
”

“He’s telling you to shut up,” Garin said.

“But—”

“
Haz que se calle,
” he snapped.

“He’s had it, Kyle. He doesn’t want to hear any more of our questions.”

But I wasn’t trying to sound bossy. I wasn’t even being a smart-ass. I just wanted answers. I didn’t think asking a few questions was too much, considering I was locked in a cell with no memory of how I’d gotten here.

“Can you please—”

“
Le voy a dar lo que se merece y después se muere,
” Beard growled as he backed out of the cell.

The sound of the lock echoed, sending a shiver through my whole body. A sharp pain started gnawing at my stomach. It wasn’t hunger. That was suddenly gone.

I waited a few seconds and turned toward Garin. “What did he say?”

He ground his teeth together, the blacks of his eyes as venomous as Beard’s had been.

“Garin?”

“You’ll get what he gives you.”

If that was all he’d said, Garin wouldn’t be grinding his teeth. He wouldn’t be wringing his hands together and staring at the door like he was going to beat his way through it.

“What else did he say, Garin?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I stood up, holding my stomach as I looked down at him. “Yes, it does matter. You can’t protect me in here, so at least you can be honest. Don’t shelter me. I can handle the truth.”

He slowly glanced up. The anger and rage replaced with something else. I almost gasped when I realized what it was.

Fear.

“He said you’ll get what he gives you…and then you’re going to die.”

It felt like everything had dropped from my body. Not just my hunger. That was long gone. But my questions, my voice, my emotions, my hope—those were gone, too.

Everything was gone.

I heard Garin behind me. He was moving the trays, probably to the far wall, placing them next to each other like he was setting a goddamn table.

“Come over here, and eat.”

I didn’t turn around to face him. I didn’t move. My feet were paralyzed, my knees shaking so badly that they weren’t going to hold me up for much longer. When I opened my mouth, my throat convulsed, and tears poured from my eyes. It was the first time I’d cried since I’d woken up in here. The first time I didn’t actually believe I would get out.

His arms circled my waist, and he pulled my back against his chest. “They’re not going to kill you. They need you. That’s why you’re in here.”

“But…” It was the only word I could muster through the sobs.

“If you don’t eat, you won’t have the energy to fight. We need our energy, Kyle. We need to take everything they’re willing to give us and figure out how to get out of here.”

“I’m not getting out of here.” My voice was becoming louder, and I didn’t know why. None of this was his fault, but he was the only one in here who I could blame. “You’re the one who told me what he said. You’re the one who told me I was going to die. You can’t honestly believe I’m going to get out of here, Garin.”

I didn’t wait for him to speak. I pushed my way out of his grip and moved to the other side of the cell, squeezing into the small space between the toilet and sink. I tucked my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and rocked.

Relax, Kyle.

I had no breath. I had no feeling. I had numbness. I had an entire pit of emptiness.

And I had tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.

“I’m going to give you a minute to sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Then, I’m going to pick you up, set you over here, and force food down your throat.” He sat at the mock table, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing his shiny shoes. “The minute starts now.”

“Do you think it’s poisoned?” I asked him, holding the tray onto my lap, staring at the mountain of slop that was in the middle of it. It had cooled and flattened a bit since my pity party—or whatever Garin had called my mini breakdown.

“No.” He dipped his finger into the sauce and stuck it into his mouth. “It’s not that bad…as long as salt and metal are flavors you don’t mind.”

The tray was broken into three small compartments, similar to the ones they used in the lunchroom at school. Beard didn’t give us any silverware, so I waded through it with my fingers. The mountain was actually a pile of shredded beef with thick rectangular noodles smothered in a brown sauce. The next compartment held a roll. The outsides were hard and a little moldy. Once I broke it open, the middle was actually quite soft. Four canned peaches were in the final compartment, sitting in a juice that was much redder than normal.

“Stop playing with it, and eat.”

I pinched a few noodles between my fingers and dropped them onto my tongue. He was right; they were salty and almost metallic-tasting, like they’d been marinating in tin. As that layer of flavor dissolved, the aroma of plastic spread through my mouth.

I held my breath, trying to block it, and swallowed. “I think I’m hungrier than I realized.”

Garin looked up, licking the last bit of peach off his finger, the only surviving morsel. “I could eat five more trays’ worth.”

“I wonder how long it’s been since we’ve eaten.”

“I don’t want to know.” He kicked the tray toward the door and went to the sink to wash his hands.

I shoveled in the noodles and mixed them with mouthfuls of roll. The brown sauce dripped down my fingers. I felt it on the sides of my mouth, and beef was in my teeth. I didn’t care. My stomach was so desperate to feel full.

“Slow down, Kyle. Let your body get used to the food.”

I ignored him and sucked in a peach, mashing it between my teeth before swallowing. When I felt it slide down my throat, I tossed in another until the only thing left on my tray was the juice. It wasn’t red, like maraschino cherries. It was blood red. Way too red to drink.

I pushed the tray away and reclined against the wall, rubbing my stomach as the food moved around inside. Garin sat next to me, and I knew I needed to get up and use the sink. My fingers were sticky, and my face needed to be washed. But I was too full to move.

“How do you feel?”

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hands were resting on his thighs. They were still wet; we didn’t have a towel to dry off. I couldn’t stop staring at them.

“I ate too fast. My mouth tastes like plastic, and this wall is miserably hard.” That wasn’t all of it. I hated to admit the rest, but not mentioning it seemed like a lie. “I’m really scared.”

“Come here.”

He tapped his chest, and I fell against it, feeling his breath blow onto my neck. He was much more forgiving than the wall. Much warmer. Much more caring. But his affection didn’t hide the truth.

“Le voy a dar lo que se merece y después se muere.”

I shivered from Beard’s words as they played over and over in my head.

“You’ll get what he gives you…and then you’re going to die.”

He hadn’t said anything about Garin dying. Just me.

Actually, Garin’s presence made no sense at all. Maybe he was here to comfort me before they killed me. Maybe our captors believed I’d told Garin the secret.

But one thing I knew for sure; he was prisoned because of me.

His life was put at harm…because of me.

My mouth began to water, and I could feel the food rising in my throat. “Oh God,” I whispered, saliva dripping from my lip.

I pushed off his chest and rushed toward the toilet. Like my lips were the rim of a hose, chunks of food and liquid poured out of them. With each purge, I squeezed my stomach tighter, the cramps hurting as badly as the burning in the back of my throat. When I heaved nothing but air, I stuck my face under the faucet and let the freezing water cool my scorching skin. I kept it there until my body shivered.

“What can I do to help you feel better?”

I held up a finger, and using my other hand, I sucked in palmfuls of water. Once my mouth felt rinsed out, I swished around some toothpaste and swallowed a few gulps of air, trying to calm my stomach. It settled just enough to know I wouldn’t be sick again.

“Your body couldn’t handle that much food at once,” he said. When I sat next to him, he pushed his arm against me, so I could lean into it. “You have to eat slow and give it time to adjust.”

Eating fast wasn’t the only reason I had thrown up. But if I allowed my mind to go back there, I’d be sleeping in front of the toilet tonight.

“We have to get out of here,” I said, “before something happens to one of us.”

“I’m going to come up with a plan. I just need to feel out that guy a little more and find his weakness. I’ll also memorize the times he drops off our food. Don’t worry; I’ll get us out of here.”