Falcon (Kindred #5) Read online

  She was led out about eight feet and halted when the tugging stopped. At the same time, the murmurs that emanated from one direction, ceased.

  “Here we have the final lot of the night, our most premium specimen. An unblemished brunette, a petite model, delicate at five foot four and now less than a hundred pounds. She is an English-speaking American. I’ll remind all participants that bids are in United States dollars. She comes with new ID papers and a corresponding passport. I’ll start the bidding at ten thousand dollars.”

  Bids. The masculine voice who had declared the terms was a native English speaker, a confident one without compunction. The bidders had to be using paddles or something because they were silent, but the auctioneer was talking faster and faster as the bids grew.

  Like cattle, she was being sold. Everything slotted into place and panic seized her. Reeling from this development, and on instinct, she pulled away from the leash and because her captor wasn’t expecting her resistance, she got away from him. The blindfold was restricting and with her hands cuffed behind her back, she wouldn’t be able to pull it.

  Still, launching herself forward, she ran until she hit a wall. Using her body, Devon tried to find a doorway, but she’d struggle to open it with her hands where they were. Something burned her waist and she screamed, but her body spasmed and hit the floor, then everything went black.

  TWO

  Devon felt like she was floating. Her whole body was warm and so relaxed that she thought she might be resting in a nest of s’mores.

  The sweet scent of vanilla made her smile and stretch. And that was when she became aware of the knots in her muscles and the aches in her bones. The pleasure of the moment disintegrated and she sat up.

  She was in a bed. A large bed. Except the last thing she remembered was…

  Holding the white bedsheet to her chest, she tried to figure out where she might be. A bedspread was folded the width of the bottom of the bed. Intricately embroidered, it matched the canopy on the regal mahogany four-poster bed she sat in the center of.

  Looking from one side of the bed to the other, she registered that there were two doors, one in the far corner, beside heavy, drawn drapes that had to cover a window and another larger one to the left of the bed. Nightstands flanked the bed, simple tables without drawers, and there was no other furniture in the rectangular room.

  Although there was no imminent danger or weapons trained on her, she wasn’t ready to breathe in relief yet. Intent on checking out what was behind the doors, Devon tossed back the covers and jumped out of the bed. Sidetracked by her need to see some natural light, she seized the drapes and yanked them open.

  Except she was disappointed. Pressing her hand to the glass, she could see light, but there was no view, just fogged glass that distorted the landscape so much there was nothing to see but a vague white glow.

  With hopes for a moment of happiness dashed, Devon became more determined to find a weapon or a way to escape. Heading for the humble, secondary corner door near the window, she opened it to find a sleek, modern bathroom containing a double wide shower and what a surprise… no window.

  Back in the bedroom, she tried the larger door, but it was locked, confirming her worst fear: she was a prisoner again. Detailed memories of her previous captivity came back to her, and she went to sit on the bed.

  Letting her head fall into her hands, she recalled the auction. The panic. Her attempt to flee. It hadn’t mattered. She had been sold. She could be anywhere in the world, in the home of a pervert who may have plans to do anything to her.

  All her life she’d avoided being bad. Her roots were humble and most of her family members had spent some time in jail, but she’d always been good and had worked hard to earn an honest living. How could her life end in this way? Devon couldn’t understand how fate could lay this destiny on her when she’d never hurt anyone in her life.

  Wallowing wasn’t going to get her anywhere, so she took a deep breath and straightened up. At the auction, she’d been naked. Now she was wearing a white, cotton nightgown with wide straps. Just as she registered that, the large door opened.

  Devon leaped to her feet and prepared to fight, but she came up short when a middle-aged woman came in wearing a smile and carrying a tray. The woman kicked the door closed with her heel and came deep into the room.

  “I’m pleased you’re awake, I was beginning to worry,” she said, putting the tray on the nightstand. “I have bottled water for you.”

  The woman sat near the pillows on the bed, took a branded bottle from the tray, and held it toward her. Though the woman still wore a polite smile, had a plump waistline, and projected a calm benevolent air, which was completely unthreatening, Devon was reluctant to trust her.

  “I’m Bess,” the woman said. “What’s your name?”

  Devon wasn’t going to fall for any act that might make her feel secure. For all she knew, this was what got her boss off. He could be watching this pleasant conversation. She knew nothing of who had been at that auction.

  This Bess woman sounded American, but that didn’t mean they were in the States. The person who had purchased her could be related or married to this woman pretending to be her friend.

  If they wanted to hurt and humiliate her, she wasn’t going to trot along like the lamb to the slaughter. Maybe Bess was testing her naivety. Could they want a sweet little virgin who they could corrupt and destroy? If they did, she didn’t have to play to that.

  She’d learned about her captors during her last captivity by pushing them, getting as near to their boundaries as she could. Granted, they didn’t have a high threshold for sass, but maybe this new environment was different.

  Devon couldn’t hope to find a way out if she didn’t test what her new hosts would let her get away with. Information was going to be the key to her freedom, that and taking every opportunity, but while they kept her locked in here, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “The traffickers didn’t tell your boss?” Devon sneered but angled her anger at the bottle because she feared too direct a confrontation. Despite being benign, Bess could be a cobra waiting to snap. Devon didn’t know and she didn’t trust her own judgement so soon after waking up here. “Didn’t they say I come with papers like a Kennel Club mutt?”

  “Forged papers meant to get you in and out of countries as necessary. We want your real name, if you’re willing to give it.”

  “Devon,” she said, seeing no way her first name could be used as a weapon against her. Taking the water bottle, she checked that the seal was intact before she opened and began to gulp. If they meant to poison or drug her, she’d have to give in to that reality. Weakening herself by refusing water or food wouldn’t serve her purpose.

  “Take your time, dearie,” Bess said and touched Devon’s knee.

  The unexpected contact made Devon recoil, and the open water bottle dropped out of her hand to glug the remainder of its contents onto the thick carpet. The stain spread fast, and Devon was taken back to a place of anxiety. Being clumsy, making a mess, meant punishment.

  Bess went to the floor to pick up the bottle and plucked a cloth from her pocket to begin blotting the carpet.

  “I’m sorry,” Devon said, dropping to her knees opposite Bess, though there was little she could do to help clean up.

  “Don’t you worry,” Bess said. “It’s my fault, I’ve always been tactile like that. The boys always remind me to be reserved, especially in the early days.”

  No punishment? Falling back from her knees onto her butt, she examined the woman who was focused on the stain, completely unguarded, and paying no heed to Devon, who could launch an attack if she wanted to. Beating Bess wouldn’t get her far because she didn’t know if the door to the room was even unlocked, and if someone was watching, she doubted they’d forgo punishment after an escape attempt.

  Still, Devon couldn’t figure out why this woman was so nonplussed by her bad behavior. Accidental though it was, Devon had just given Bess the excuse to s
how her true nature and dish out a taste of the limits in this place. Yet, there had been no reprisal. “I don’t… I don’t understand,” Devon said.

  Bess continued to mop. “I’m not surprised that you’re disorientated. The cartel insists on strong sedatives so that the women can’t identify them or where they are. They’re particular about concealing their identity and location. I’m sure the sedative on top of the taser blast must have thrown you for a loop.”

  This was all so much for Devon to take in. Bess was being… nice. Too exhausted to try and figure out the plot behind this act, Devon suppressed her exhaustion and sat up on her heels, reminding herself to be vigilant. “Where are we?”

  Bess finished up and put the damp cloth back in the pocket of her apron. “You’re safe here, Devon, completely safe.”

  Tempted to believe the kindly woman, Devon let herself be gathered up by Bess and placed back on the bed beside her. “Then when am I locked up? Why can’t I see out of the window?”

  Becoming contrite, Bess patted her hand. “Unfortunately, we have to be careful about revealing our location and identities too.”

  Devon was sure she knew why that was and shifted up the bed away from Bess. “Because your boss enjoys raping women? Torturing them?” If a man wanted to abuse a woman, it would stand to reason that he didn’t want that woman to have any sense of control. Concealing even the view constrained her. Despite not being in chains, she was still a prisoner at their mercy. “What am I to expect? What’s my fate going to be? What will he do to me?”

  Bess reached out, but Devon wouldn’t let herself be touched. She didn’t want to be touched. She was tired of being touched and contorted by others without them needing to have any consideration for her wants.

  “He is a good man. But you don’t have to worry about facing him. You will never see the man who purchased you,” Bess said, further confusing Devon. What was the point of buying her if she was never going to see him? More questions arose in Devon’s mind after Bess’ next statement. “A doctor will come to you later. You shouldn’t fear him; he’ll visit you in a professional capacity.” Bess rose. “There is soup in the bowl, try your best to eat something.”

  Removing the soup bowl from the tray, Bess put it on the nightstand and took the tray with her as she went in the direction of the door.

  Unsatisfied, afraid of the unknown, and reluctant to lose the only direct female or kind contact she’d had in a long time—even if Bess’ behavior was a ruse—Devon began to panic. “Wait,” Devon said, leaping up. “I don’t understand. What happens next?”

  “Next we fix you up,” Bess said, her smile returned. “You can drink the water in the bathroom, refill your bottle as much as you like. You can shower if you want to as well. But I’d advise you to eat and rest first. You’re skin on bone, dearie. You need to get your strength back. You can take all the time you need.”

  Returning to her former self was unlikely, she would never be the same after this experience. Her health might improve, but she’d never be the same inside. Spending another minute here, anywhere where she was out of control, would lead to more anxiety. Devon couldn’t take living in this fraught state any longer. “Will you let me leave here? I want to leave.”

  Tears of frustration, anger, and devastation threatened to spring, but she sealed her lips, determined not to break in front of this stranger.

  Softening, like she could tell Devon was right on the edge, Bess’ chosen tone was meant to soothe. “The doctor will check you out before we think about that. We’ll get you better, back to full strength, and then we’ll get you back to your family, don’t worry.”

  Bess pressed her thumb to an illuminated blue circle in the middle of the doorknob, and it flashed. That had to be the key to getting out of here, fingerprint recognition. Great, Devon had no chance of disabling that. After Bess was gone, there was no sound of a key on the other side of the door.

  Devon waited a few seconds then darted over to check the door again, just in case Bess had neglected to secure it. But it was locked, making Devon assume it was an automatic bolt.

  Going back to the bed, she sipped from the remnants of her water. The bowl of soup was thick and warm, steam rose from the shining surface. Dipping the tip of her finger in the warm liquid, it wasn’t scalding, the temperature was just right.

  Licking her finger clean, she was struck by the potency of the flavors that burst in her mouth. Unable to resist the temptation, she snatched up the bowl to begin slurping. It didn’t matter that no spoon had been provided; she didn’t need one. She was famished and hadn’t had real food in what felt like months.

  When the soup was finished, she drank more water and flopped onto her back. Whether she was safe or not, this was a real bed and she needed to sleep. So, she let her eyes close and hoped to have more strength when she woke.

  Stirring from her sleep, Devon sensed that someone was close by. But when she opened her eyes, the last thing she expected to see was a man sitting on the edge of her bed.

  Scrambling to a seated position, she took in his features: handsome, maybe mid-thirties, clear blue eyes and a faint smile on his lips.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, clutching the sheet to her chest although she still wore the cotton nightgown beneath. “Are you him…? The guy who’s going to…”

  “I’m the doctor, Bess told you I was coming.”

  When he scooted closer, she scooted away toward the other side of the bed. It was downright creepy that he’d been sitting there, watching her sleep. He couldn’t be one of the men who’d told Bess not to touch because he clearly had no concept of decency himself.

  “I don’t need a doctor,” she said. “I just want to leave.”

  The strength of his brow and narrowness of his eyes was peculiar. “We’re here to help you,” he said. “There’s a nasty gash on your hip and your back was bleeding at the auction. The taser can have after-effects too.”

  Ah-ha! She’d caught them in a lie. “You were at the auction? Bess said I would never meet the man who purchased me. So she’s a liar, that nice lady thing was all an act? I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running, but if you think I’ll be charmed by some soup and a fancy bed then you’re wrong.” Tossing the sheet away, she climbed out of the bed on the opposite side from the one he was sitting on. “If you want to help me, let me go.”

  Wobbling on her feet, Devon felt light-headed and grabbed for the post at the foot of the bed.

  “Let’s take a step back,” he said, rising from the bed, but his tone didn’t come across to her as calming. It was condescending, coming from a know-it-all doctor, and it only succeeded in raising her hackles. Except, she had to keep blinking because her eyes were blurring and couldn’t maintain focus. “I’m an MD, an emergency room resident. You can call me Wren.”

  She didn’t want his name or his help. “Good for you, Wren, let me go.”

  “Bess didn’t lie to you. I wasn’t present at the auction, and I wasn’t the one who paid for you. I got a report about it from my colleague,” he said, ignoring her plea for freedom.

  Closing her arms around the post, she began to regain her balance. “That’s convenient, is that the same ghost colleague Bess referred to? The one I’ll never meet?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Nothing made sense. If she’d been sold to these people for sex, why wasn’t she being subjected to assault? Why wasn’t she forced to be naked? Why were these people being nice to her and why was this purchaser even at an auction if he had no intention of ever meeting her? “Why? Why can’t I meet this phantom?”

  “There’s no need for you to meet him,” Wren said. “Bess will provide all the meals you need. I’ll tend to your injuries. I want to take some blood and run some tests—”

  “Why would I let you stick me with a needle?” she said and let go of the post only to grab for it again when invisible heat rushed north. “Why would I show you my body and let you examine me?”

&n
bsp; “I’m a doctor.”

  According to him he was. Just like with Bess, this guy acted like he was entitled to do whatever he wanted. He might be telling her that it was for her own good, but that was her decision. If she wanted help, she was capable of finding a hospital on her own. “How do I know that? Am I supposed to trust you because you show up with a couple of Band-Aids?”

  “I… I’m telling you that I’m a doctor, and yes, you should trust us because we saved you from that place. Would you sit down, please? You’re running a fever.”

  “I am not,” she objected but twisted to collapse on the bed, twining her arm around the post and resting her face against it. “What’s wrong with me? Did you drug me? What was in that soup?”

  “You weren’t drugged,” he said. “We want you well and strong, Devon. No one will hurt you here, you have to trust us.”

  They weren’t being upfront about what had gone on or their plans for her. Knowing that she couldn’t let her guard down, she did what she could to maintain it, despite encroaching dizziness. “You demand my trust,” Devon said. “But you don’t trust me.”

  “We don’t—”

  “You say you rescued me, but you’ve locked me in here. You want me to trust that you’re a doctor here to care for me? But you won’t tell me where we are. Get real. And what’s with the mysterious guy, the one who purchased me? Is he the wizard behind the curtain? Something doesn’t add up. No, I—”

  “We have to protect ourselves. You could endanger what we do if you reveal our details. We’re withholding to protect others.”

  He came into view in front of her, and she pulled her legs onto the bed to scramble back. “Admitting that you’re not telling me everything doesn’t help you. I won’t give you my trust until you give me yours. I don’t want you to touch me! I don’t want anyone to touch me!”

  With a step backwards, he seemed stunned, and for a man who apparently made snap life and death decisions, that was suspicious. She had no doubt in her statement.