was still dark outside. She couldn’t have slept long.
Jacques took her hand, led her out. Again this strange chivalry.
She could hear Becks in her head. Pay attention. Every detail counts. She paid attention. The garage had a new concrete floor. It was empty aside from cases of water and a half dozen red plastic gas tanks lined up against the back wall. The lights in the ceiling sockets were the spirals of compact fluorescents. Like the house had been built recently. But the vibe here was weirdly prepper, down to the blue emergency light on the back wall.
Jacques offered her a water bottle. She hesitated, then thought: he’d already kidnapped her, why would he drug her again? She took it and drank deep.
“Slow,” Jacques said.
Too late; whether from the drug or the antidote, her stomach was queasy. She sputtered back the water. Lilly laughed.
Kira drank again, kept the water down. She nodded at the bottles. “Guess I’ll be here awhile.”
“We’ll see.”
“Or maybe I’m not the only girl you kidnapped this week?”
He tilted his head, an expression she already recognized: playtime is over. “Let me show you where you’re staying.” He grabbed her and pulled her along, his fingers digging into her arm.
* * *
Into the house, up a staircase, down a hallway.
“You can let me go. Just dump me on the road. I don’t know where we are, don’t know anything about you…”
Her voice faded; she could imagine how stupid she sounded.
The hallway ended at an open door, a narrow rectangular room, the size of a walk-in closet. It had a square of plywood nailed to the far wall. To cover a window, Kira figured.
Two water bottles rested on a blanket in the corner.
“This way you don’t get in any trouble.” Jacques whipped his arm forward, slung her against the far wall.
Her head banged the edge of the plywood. She yelped, slid down. Her butt hit the ground, and she turned, looked at him. He watched her like she was a science experiment, his face grave and neutral.
“You’re bleeding.”
She touched a finger to her forehead. It came back wet.
“Get some sleep.” He stepped out, closed the door. A deadbolt snapped shut.
At least he’d left the light on.
Then it went out, too. And she was alone in the dark.
His footsteps receded down the hall. She let herself cry then, silently. After a while she stopped. The bleeding stopped too, though her forehead ached, dull and tender. She was sure she’d be black and blue later in the day. Maybe they’d have to discount her. Or maybe the buyer liked his ladies a little banged up.
She took inventory. Good news: she wasn’t dead, wasn’t seriously injured. Bad news: Everything else. She was exhausted, fat-tongued, hungover from the drugs they’d used on her. Hungover and hating herself. She’d always been good. She knew the rules. Don’t go out by yourself. Don’t take a drink from someone you don’t know. Don’t leave without telling your friends. Remember that guys have higher tolerances and don’t try to match them. Always use a car service. Most of all, trust your judgment. If he seems sketchy just get a number, you can always see him again.
Smart Kira. Careful Kira.
Kidnapped Kira.
* * *
New Kira. She felt herself changing. Even now.
When you grow up in a house where your parents don’t like each other, you grow up attuned to disturbance. She needed to put that vision to work. Jacques wasn’t a robot, even if he seemed like one. He’d make mistakes. If she could find them, she could use them.
She was more dangerous than they thought. All those self-defense courses Becks had made her take. Guys are going to want you. Some won’t like it if you say no. Kira had thought it was Rebecca’s way of trying to frighten her about men.
She’d let them think she was beaten. Not completely beaten, not right away, they wouldn’t trust that. Mouthy but useless. Yes, better.
Then an awful little voice in her head: The women the Border Bandit took, they probably thought the same thing.
In some tiny rational corner of her mind she knew she was dizzy and weak and maybe had a concussion. She knew the fear wouldn’t last. But for now it ruled her. She usually felt closer to her dad than her mom. But with her own thoughts pressing her into the abyss she turned to Becks and not Bri. Lie down with her eyes squeezed shut and her