Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) (37 page)

He looked down, then grabbed my left hand. “Married?” He pried Blane’s ring off my finger. “Engaged, I think, not married.”

I watched in dismay as he pocketed the diamond ring. A ring I’d had for only twenty-four hours. A ring Blane had placed on my finger after he’d asked me to marry him. Less than a day ago, I’d been safe in my apartment, where I should be right now. And this asshole, the horrifically evil bastard in front of me, was taking all that away.

Something broke inside my head and I leapt for the man. A yell of pure rage tore from my throat. My hands closed around his neck, squeezing as he tried to pry me off. The guards yelled, and there was mayhem all around. My vision was tinted red by my rage. All I could think was how I wanted to hurt him, kill him.

A lethargy crept over my limbs, but I fought it, trying to keep my fingers closed around his throat. But my body wouldn’t obey and my vision began to darken. Confused, I turned my head and saw a needle buried in my arm. Then I knew nothing at all.

Time passed. I was moved, tossed into a room with a dirty cot and a dirt floor. Even when I was awake, I could do nothing to stop them, nothing to try and get away.

They searched me, their rough hands pushing aside my clothes and tearing away the wire taped to my skin. They found the GPS as well. I watched, unable to summon the strength to fight as a guard ground it into dust beneath his boot.

Everything was fuzzy: my thoughts, my vision, my will. I fought despair, screaming inside my head what I couldn’t make come out my mouth, every time the man with the needle came and sent me back into oblivion.

I felt odd when I woke next. My thoughts were coherent, my body more under my control. It was a strange feeling after the dreamy, indistinct period where I hadn’t had any control, no will of my own. It took me a minute to identify what was different.

Afraid the man with the needle would be coming any moment, I sat up and looked around, assessing my situation.

I was in a cell, or cage. A wall was at my back, but the other three sides had bars. It felt strange. I was moving, but not moving, and I realized after a moment that I must be on a boat.

Glancing down at myself, I saw I was still wearing my clothes, though now they were filthy and torn and several buttons on my shirt were missing. A quick check showed I was no longer wearing the wire. Vague images of hands ripping it off floated in my mind, but it was like a half-remembered dream.

My stomach growled. I was hungry, and thirsty. So thirsty. I didn’t think I’d ever been so thirsty in my life. I tried to wet my dry, cracked lips, but my tongue was dry, too.

Getting off the floor proved more difficult than I had anticipated. Whatever they’d done to me had made me weak. My knees buckled and I ended up back on the floor,
crying out when my knees hit the deck. The pain seemed accentuated, hurting more than I’d have thought.

I stayed on the floor, trying to catch my breath and summon the energy to try again. Turning my head, I saw a woman in the cage next to me. She was sitting with her back to the wall, her eyes shut.

“Hey,” I rasped. She didn’t move.

“Hey,” I said more loudly.

This time she opened her eyes, tipping her head my direction as though it weighed more than what her neck could hold. To my shock, I saw that it was Lucy. She looked terrible. Her eyes were bruises in her pale face, her lips cracked and bleeding. Dirt coated her hands and bare arms.

“Where are we?” I asked.

She shrugged, her eyes sliding closed again, and I realized she must still be in the hold of the drug. A thought drifted through my mind: Was that how I looked?

A door opened to my right and light flooded into the room. I pushed myself to a sitting position, hoping I could provide some resistance if it was the man with the needle again. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or more afraid when I saw who it was.

Matt Summers.

I
stared at Matt Summers, waiting. He didn’t make me wait long.

“Are you enjoying your accommodations?” he asked solicitously.

“The maid service is crappy,” I rasped.

Matt laughed, clasping his hands behind his back as he sauntered closer. “Funny. You’re funny. I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Where are we?” I asked, ignoring his jibe.

“On board my yacht,” he explained.

“This is a yacht? You paid too much.”

“The view from above is much more impressive,” he said. “All you have to do is cooperate.”

I eyed him warily. “Cooperate in what?”

He shrugged. “I know you’re related to Detective Turner, my dear Kathleen Turner, and that he told you about Lucy here.” He tipped his head toward her. Lucy didn’t respond. “All you have to do is tell me what she told the police.”

“Ask her yourself.”

“She’s been decidedly unhelpful,” Matt said.

“That’ll happen when you take away a woman’s child.”

Matt looked at me sharply. “I’m hoping you can talk some sense into her,” he continued. “She should be coming off the drugs within a few hours. If she cooperates, tells me what she told the police, I’ll release you.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Matt just smiled. “Up until now I’ve spared you the fate of the rest of the women, which they are even now enduring, but that can change,” he warned. “I’ll let you imagine the details.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” I said, my bravado melting in the face of this threat. He stopped. “Water. We really need some water.”

“Then I suggest you be very convincing.” The door swung shut behind him.

I collapsed back to the floor, the conversation with Matt having taken every ounce of energy I could summon or fake. As I lay there, waiting for Lucy to recover, I thought about what Matt had said.

I didn’t know how both Lucy and I had made it out of the shantytown without being sold or raped, but I wasn’t going to question it. Being on a yacht with Matt was preferable to being sold into sex slavery. If I could just talk with Lucy, maybe we could concoct a plan that would get us out of here.

I tried to ignore my thirst, and eventually I pushed myself up to crawl to the door of the cage. Getting to my knees, I examined the lock. With a jolt, I realized it looked very similar to the lock Kade had given me to practice picking. Renewed energy pulsed in my veins as I searched the floor, looking for anything I could use on the lock.

“Kathleen?”

It was Lucy.

“You’re awake!” I said, crouching down next to the mesh separating us. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Awful,” she groaned, holding her head. “Where are we?”

I quickly explained where we were and what Matt had said.

“Did he say if Billy was here?” she asked anxiously when I was through.

I shook my head. “No, he didn’t.”

Her head bowed again, the glimmer of hope I’d seen in her eyes fading.

“Lucy, it’s going to be okay,” I said. “We’ll get—”

I broke off, just now noticing something.

“Lucy,” I said excitedly, “is that a pin in your hair?”

Confused, Lucy felt around the mass of tangles, finding the slim piece of metal I’d spied.

“Quick, give it to me!”

I took it to the door of my cage. The lock was heavier than the one Kade had given me, and my pick flimsier, but desperation worked in my favor. After several minutes, the lock clicked open. A few more minutes and Lucy’s door was open, too. I helped her to her feet, but it was obvious we were both weak.

“If we can find our way to the bridge,” I said, “there’s probably a radio there. We can radio for help.”

Lucy just looked at me, breathing hard from the mere act of standing. “How are we going to do that?”

I fought the despair inside, the same despair I saw in her eyes. “I don’t know, but we have to try.” The future Matt had laid out for us was more horrifying than my worst
nightmares. Even if Lucy cooperated, I didn’t believe he would let us go.

The door to the room was already unlocked and I opened it just a crack to peek through. Beyond was a landing and short staircase going up. No one was in sight. I guess they thought two women, drugged, dehydrated, and locked in cages, were hardly a threat.

Leading the way, I climbed the stairs on all fours, not wanting my head to pop out without knowing what or who was around. My limbs trembled, weak from disuse. I prayed I had the strength to get us out of here.

The hallway was a brilliant white. On the right were doors for what I assumed were the cabins, while to the left was a glass-walled entertainment room. A pool table and a few sofas stood at one end, and a huge flat-screen television hung on the opposite wall.

Sitting in front of the TV playing a video game was Billy.

Lucy’s grip nearly crushed my hand. She’d seen him, too.

Then I saw the guard. He was standing in the back, alternately watching the video game and scanning the windows beyond, which looked out onto a lower deck and the ocean. A lethal-looking machine gun was slung over his shoulder while a handgun rested in a holster at his hip.

My nerves were stretched tight as I stared at the guard. How to get rid of him?

“Lucy,” I whispered. “If I can get him over here, can you jump him from behind? We can take him down if we work together.”

She gave a quick nod. “I’ll do whatever I have to. Just so I get Billy back.”

“Okay. Get down.”

Lucy ducked back down into the stairway while I climbed out. I made no effort to hide, playing up my weakness. I slapped the palm of my hand on the window and leaned against the glass.

The guard noticed me immediately, his body straightening. He hurried to the glass door, pushing it open and coming toward me.

“How did you get up here?” he asked when he reached me.

I moaned as though I were in pain, moving toward the steps. He followed me.

“I said, how did you—”

He was in position, perfectly framed above the stairway.

Lucy leapt at him, attaching herself to his back and hooking an arm around his throat. He struggled to get her off while I grabbed the gun from his holster.

“Got it,” I said to Lucy. I pointed the handgun at him and she released her hold, ripping the machine gun from his shoulders.

A slow handclap made us both spin around. Matt stood a few yards away, his applause loud in the hallway.

“Bravo,” he mocked. “Well done. How resourceful you are. You subdued one guard. Now, what are you going to do about the other eleven on board? Like the one in there.” He tipped his head toward the glass-enclosed room.

Billy was still playing his video game, oblivious to the everything else. A new guard was standing behind him now—with a gun pointed directly at Billy’s head. The guard was watching Matt for a signal.

“One word from me and that boy’s dead. I imagine a bullet at that range will splatter his brains all over the place.
I might even have to get a new couch. Some stains don’t come out, you know, no matter what the manufacturer says.”

Lucy sagged in defeat, not resisting when the guard pulled the gun out of her hands. I was filled with fury and bitter despair. To come so close, to have weapons in our hands, only to be recaptured was nearly too much for me to handle.

Matt walked over to me. I didn’t lower the gun I held and Matt didn’t stop walking until he was right in front of me, the metal barrel pressing against the white linen of his shirt.

“Now you don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?” he asked quietly. His lips twisted in a sardonic sneer.

I made myself think about Billy. It was the only way I could let Matt take the gun from my hand.

He shoved it into the back of his pants “Take them to get cleaned up, then bring them to me,” Matt ordered the guard. He sniffed. “They smell.” Entering the room with Billy, he gave a nod to the guard who holstered his gun.

The guard at my back pushed me forward and I grabbed Lucy’s hand. He made us go to the last door on the right, a small bedroom and bathroom.

“You got fifteen minutes.” He closed the door behind us.

I immediately started searching the room for something I could use as a weapon, wanting to scream with frustration when I found nothing. There were no hangers in the closet, no mirror I could break for the glass. Nothing.