“Quite intelligent,” Ndjai argued. “Ibizan hounds are some of the smartest dogs in the world. They were originally bred for Spanish royalty.”
“Well, some of them might be smart, but I don’t think yours qualifies. Did you get it at a clearance sale? Because that would explain a lot.”
Ndjai stood from the box. He wasn’t used to arguing with his prisoners. Normally, they were too scared to even speak. “You have a lot of nerve for someone who is about to die. Trust me, I will make sure you go slowly and painfully.”
“You mean, like your teeth? You know, if you started brushing now, you might be able to save the last few you have left.” Payne’s words hit his mark, and Ndjai responded by slamming his fist into the top of the box. “What? Was it something I said? If so, why don’t you let me out of here and kick my ass like a real man? Then again, you’d probably have to run around me like your fucked-up mutt. By the time you were done, you’d be too dizzy to hit me.”
Ndjai took a deep breath, finally understanding the game that the prisoner was trying to play. Payne wanted Ndjai to become so infuriated that he’d do something irrational, like opening the box to get at him. It was a nice try, but Ndjai was too smart for that.
“Do not worry about my aim, Mr. Payne. If I were to let you out of your cage—something I am not going to do—I would be able to strike you. In fact, let me prove my accuracy.”
Payne sat up in the box, trying to view the exhibition that Ndjai was going to put on for him. Unfortunately, as it turned out, it was a show in which he was forced to participate.
With a grin on his face, Ndjai climbed on top of the cube and lowered the zipper on his pants. “The reason for my visit, Mr. Payne, was to give you your daily dose of water, but seeing how uncooperative you have been, I have decided to alter your menu.”
A sudden stream of golden liquid fell from above, surging through the slits of the cube like a warm waterfall. By lowering his head and closing his eyes, Payne did his best to avoid the downpour, but his restricted mobility prevented much success.
“What do you think of my aim now?”
Payne wanted to answer, desperately wanted to scream insults at the sadistic guard, but he couldn’t risk saying a word. The possibility of the yellow liquid seeping past his cracked lips and into his mouth was far too great. Besides, he knew that he would somehow escape from the Devil’s Box and make Ndjai pay for his actions.
And when he did, he would pay for them with his life.
CHAPTER 37
IT was hard for Ariane to believe, but her seemingly perfect life was spiraling out of control. Two days earlier, she was a successful bank executive, preparing to spend a relaxing holiday with the man she loved. The only activities on her itinerary were golfing, swimming, and fooling around. No business. No stress. Just pleasure. She’d been looking forward to it all summer and had done everything in her power to plan the perfect weekend.
Unfortunately, her plans were altered.
In a matter of forty-eight hours, she’d been drugged, kidnapped, and smuggled to Louisiana, where she was being tortured for the sins of relatives she’d never even known existed. Her days, which used to be filled with meetings and paperwork in an air-conditioned office, were now occupied with grueling field labor and the stinging crack of leather whips in the sweltering Southern sun.
If it wasn’t for her inner strength, a trait that was tested and fortified when her parents died several years before, she would have broken down. As it was, she stubbornly clung to hope, realizing that things were never as bad as they seemed.
Well, almost never.
Her current situation offered little hope, and because of that she decided to push her luck. While pulling weeds from the untilled ground, Ariane glanced around the spacious field, searching for someone to talk to. She knew that conversation of any kind was forbidden by the guards, but she had the feeling if she didn’t do something soon, there was a very good chance she was going to end up dead. And she wasn’t about to let that happen without a fight.
A young woman, no more than eighteen years old, stood fifty