I spend the next several hours sitting in the back of a squad car while dozens of cops swarm the area. The door is open and I’m facing the unfolding scene. It’s just a place to sit, really. A place that gives me some privacy and protection.
It’s surreal watching my boss get arrested. I’m glad the three bodies on the ground are covered by a tarp because I don’t want to have to look at them.
I’ve answered a thousand questions over and over before someone finally pulls up next to me in Davis’s SUV. I don’t know him, but he introduces himself as Dagger and hands me the keys to the SUV.
I’ve been separated from Davis most of this time. I hate it, and I know he does too, but he killed the man who bought me, so he has a lot to deal with. I try to be grateful that my role in all this is the victim. No matter how many questions I’ve answered, I can tell Davis has answered twice as many.
He looks over at me every few seconds, his brow furrowed, and I fear he might actually tell everyone to go fuck themselves soon.
I’m wrapped in the airplane blanket, which I keep tugging around me. I feel irrationally chilled. Exposed. It’s odd, since I spent a year stripping almost naked for strangers and then the last week exposed to Davis and even his friends when they came to the house.
I’ve taken some moments to ponder that and decide that consent is the difference. I did not consent to wearing this tight, revealing, ugly dress, the one my boss thought was appropriate attire for human trafficking. I did not consent to any of these people milling around the hangar to see me, either. So, I grip the blanket tight and turn down every offer for even water because I don’t want to reach out with my bare arm and take it.
I’m sitting sideways, my head leaning against the seat, my gaze following Davis’s every movement. I know part of him is mad at me, and I deserve that. I scared him. He cares about me and I made him worry. I’m also mad at him for keeping things from me and leaving me out of the loop on my own problems. I’ll get over it, and judging by the way he’s looking at me, he will too.
My bottom is going to be sore. Of that, there is no doubt. And I’m actually looking forward to it. The release it will give me after so many hours of stress. I close my eyes for a moment and picture myself draped over Davis’s lap, my bottom exposed, his palm swatting me over and over until I can release this pent-up tension.
A shadow comes over me and I open my eyes to find Davis crouching down in front of me. He sets a hand on my thigh. “You okay, sweetie?”
“Yeah.”
“We can go now. If they have more questions, they’ll contact us later.”
I give him a wan smile. I’m relieved. I just want to get out of here.
He helps me climb out of the patrol car, somehow recognizing that I’m not going to release the blanket even to let my hand out. I’m barefoot, having ditched the stupid heels hours ago.
It’s only a few yards to his SUV, and then he opens the door and lifts me into the passenger seat. I’m grateful for that small favor. I couldn’t have climbed in gracefully.
“Hang on a second.” He leaves the door open and rounds to the trunk. When he returns, he’s holding a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They’re his so I will be lost in them, but they’re better than the dress that’s making my skin crawl.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“I’m going to shut the door so you can change, okay?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
He smiles and then leans in and kisses my forehead. No one is close by, but I’m surprised by his outward obvious affection. He hesitates and then shuts the door. I know no one can see me because the windows are tinted and no one is nearby out the front of the SUV.
I quickly drop the blanket and remove the disgusting dress, grateful to have it no longer touching my body. It was a symbol of my sale. It made me feel dirty.
I shove both the blanket and the dress to the floor of the SUV and hurry to pull the huge T-shirt