just the memory flashing, although it hit her hard. It was everything. The constant fear, her anger, the knowledge that it was just a matter of time before she was trapped into marrying that arse . . . it was a no-win situation. She would either find the evidence she needed before she married him, or she did it after.
Well, not that it would be a real marriage. After all, she couldn’t exactly enter into a binding contract if she was lying through her teeth about who she was, could she?
Yet another fear she carried. That Patrick would find out who she was . . . really. Oh, the false persona she was operating under was solid. It had been crafted by the best in the business. But all it would take was one person who knew her. One mistake. Anything.
“Anything,” she mumbled. And I could be the next alligator meal.
Sinking down on the bed, she curled into a ball and hugged her legs to her chest, still wearing her pants and tank top. Lying there in the dark, she closed her eyes and tried not to think. Tried not to think about all the ways this could go wrong. Just one slip-up. One mistake . . .
Sometimes the urge to cry was overwhelming, but she never let the tears break free. The monster who was her fiancé had her room bugged. She’d found them all the first day she’d been in there. She was careful to ignore them, but she’d be damned if she showed her weakness in front of them. Snagging a pillow, she buried her face against it and fought to battle back the tears of weariness and frustration.
Soon, she told herself. It was the mantra that had gotten her through all of this. Soon.
Because it was better to sleep angry than scared, she pulled the image of that girl to her mind and let herself think about her.
Sarah.
A runaway.
A girl who had been dead for well over a year, and who, somehow, was connected to Patrick.
Just thinking of her, concentrating on the girl’s face was enough to let it happen, and one of the memory connections flared to life . . .
* * *
FLASH, flash flash . . .
“Please . . . just let me go!”
She huddled in the corner. He ignored the tears on her face as he studied her features. She was younger than some of the women he usually took, but she was too pretty for him not to take. “Are you a virgin?”
Her porcelain-pale complexion flushed and she flinched as though he’d struck her, shaking even harder. “Let me go, please,” she pleaded. “My mom, my dad . . . they’ll pay. They have lots of money.”
Patrick laughed. “They don’t have enough.” Then he nodded at his men. “Check her . . . and be careful.” He doubted she’d have a hymen intact, but if she did, the amount of money he’d get for her would double. She was extremely attractive and very young. Some men would pay a ridiculous amount of money for those traits alone. Throw virginity into the mix, and he could be looking at a very sizeable sum of money. Something about the horror in her eyes made him think it was entirely possible.
As his men started toward her, she screamed and shot him a desperate look. “Please don’t let them touch me,” she begged. “I’ll . . . I’ll tell you anything. Just . . . just don’t . . .”
He arched a brow. “Then answer my question. Are you a virgin?”
She dunked her head. “Yes.”
“Wonderful.” He smiled and jerked his head, calling his men away. She’d still have to be checked. But he’d have somebody inspect her who would know how to be cautious. “What is your name?”
She swallowed and darted a look at him. “Sarah.”
* * *
TWO weeks after that, Sarah was dead in a ditch.
Dru lay on the bed, dry-eyed and filled with the anger that had carried her through this job. Sarah had definitely been a virgin. Patrick had been very happy with that and he had a buyer on the East Coast who had wanted her personally delivered.
Patrick had actually told the girl what was going to happen to her.
And the girl had done something both incredibly brave . . . and incredibly foolish. More and more girls were aware of their bodies these days. Since the so-called buy had wanted a virgin with an intact hymen, the girl had decided not