Page 12 of Caging Liberty
Another man snickers. “Some piss themselves. You’ll get used to it.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” I turn my head and barely make out a man’s tattooed arms as he covers Naomi’s head with a black sack. She gasps but doesn’t protest. A sack is placed over my head a moment later, and Anna cries out.
“Please, let me go,” she whimpers, her voice muffled by the sack. “I don’t want to be here.”
The cuffs clank, and a set of calloused hands touch my arm as I’m freed. My stomach revolts at the touch, but I keep quiet. I figured out it would be useless to speak to either of these men when one of them carelessly gave away that multiple women have been down here.
“Get up,” one of the men growls, grabbing my shirt and yanking me up. Anna screams, and I whip my head in her direction but am shoved in another. “Walk.”
I can hear Naomi and Anna shuffling behind me as I walk blindly with my hands out, guided only by the faceless man’s rough touch between my shoulder blades. I bump into something solid, grateful my hands were already in front of me to catch myself on the stairs.
“Watch your step,” the man says, not hiding the amusement in his voice.
I grit my teeth and carefully move up the stairs. Anna cries out again, and the apparent new guy yells at her to shut up. She screeches like she’s been hit, and I stop to turn my head.
“Move.” The man guiding me shoves me forward, and I expect to fall on the steps, but my palms hit a flat surface and the smell of sea salt wafts through the bag.
Warmth kisses my skin, and my blouse sticks to my back from the humidity. Wherever we are, it’s a long way from home.
I climb the rest of the way onto the deck, continuing forward when the man presses against my shoulder blade, urging me farther. My foot collides with metal, and I can see a sliver under the rim of the sack, enough for me to know I’ve reached the edge of the boat.
“Go,” the guy behind me growls.
I take a big step, scared the whole time that my feet will meet nothing but water, but my foot lands on a dock.
I consider yelling out, but Anna seems to be doing enough of that for all of us, and if I’m being honest, I’m too scared. The calm I’m desperately clinging to cracks with each step I take, and my throat closes up to the point I can barely breathe.
We’re pushed and prodded along a path, and I can’t help but notice how unrushed the whole thing feels. They didn’t bother to gag us either, which means they’re confident no one will hear us. Either that or they wouldn’t care.
Where the hell are we?
“Help!” Anna screams. “Somebody help me!”
“Jesus Christ, just carry the bitch,” the guy at my back growls. Anna’s screams intensify, then something must happen because she goes mute.
We walk for several minutes, only stopping long enough for a gate to screech open. We’re guided up a set of stairs and into an air-conditioned building. Our footsteps echo off walls as we make our way to who knows where, cool, clean tile soothing my aching bare feet.
We pause while a door opens, and I’m shoved through it. A shoulder bumps mine, and the gasp that follows tells me it’s Naomi.
“Finally!” a man exclaims, a friendly edge to his tone.
The black sacks are ripped off our heads, and we’re met with a tanned, smiling man rocking on his heels. His soft blond hair is combed through with natural highlights you’d imagine a surfer having, and his casual beach attire adds to the look.
“I’ve been anxious to meet the three of you.” He looks between us with a kind smile on his face that gives the weird impression that this is all some kind of misunderstanding. I half question if I’ve got this wrong.
I glance at Anna and Naomi, but neither take their eyes off the smiling man.
“Welcome to Paradise Manor.” He extends his hands in a welcoming gesture, and my gaze travels the room. It’s a sitting room. There’s just a couch, a few chairs, and a fireplace with a bookshelf on either side of it, filled with thick books having spines that don’t appear to have ever been cracked.
A curtain covers the window, but it’s sheer enough for me to make out green. Lots of it.
“Please, have a seat.” He nods toward the couch.
“What the fuck do you want from us?” Naomi asks, her tough girl act at its finest. I mentally compliment her for it.
Anna shrinks beside her, and none of us move toward the couch.
The man’s smile slowly sinks into a frown, and he sighs. He locks eyes with Naomi. “I expected nothing but directness from you, Naomi. You don’t disappoint.”