The Reunited - By Shiloh Walker Page 0,10

clutching her knees to her chest, as though she could just disappear into the hard slab of concrete under her naked butt. But she couldn’t disappear, and try as she might, she couldn’t shake their notice, either.

Patrick hauled her up, eyeing her critically. “She’s his type. Clean her up. A red dress. It should suit her coloring. We want classy, not one of those whore’s dresses you like.” He tossed the words over his shoulder before looking back at the woman. “You need a shower. You’ll bathe. You’ll wash your hair. You’ll wear the dress.”

And she just nodded.

He smiled at her. Two weeks ago, one of his girls had tried to argue, tried to fight. And all of them had been witness to what happened after. He’d turned her over to his men. By the time they were done, she’d been bleeding. They’d hauled her bleeding, argumentative ass out into the swamps.

She’d made a nice meal for one of the alligators once his men had broken her legs, her hands. She’d been left just outside the fencing, gagged and crippled. He’d watched her struggle for a while, watched as she tried to crawl. She had even managed to drag herself a few dozen yards.

He’d sat in his security room and watched, recording it. It wasn’t that he’d enjoyed watching the woman die, her screams muffled by the gag as the gator tore into her flesh. But they all had to understand how things were done. They were done his way. And only his way.

He’d recorded it, and the women had watched it the next day. A useful training tool for those who’d try to fight.

Rule with an iron fist. It might cost the lives of a few in the end, but most of them got the point early on.

This had been a lesson none here would forget.

Certainly not this lovely piece. He could still see the fear, the lurking horror in her eyes.

Her dark, dazed eyes just stared into his.

“Am I understood?” he asked softly, touching her cheek.

Again, she nodded.

“You’ll have to speak tonight. My buyer likes a woman who can talk. Speak up.”

“Yes.” Tears rolled down her face. “I understand, sir.”

His buyer . . .

The flash of memory ended there.

But it was something. A compound. That was a new thing—Dru hadn’t ever picked up that much from him before. He didn’t own anything in his name that could be considered a compound. At least not that she’d been able to unearth. She’d unearthed plenty, too, but that had been a while back, before she went so deep into this lie she lived.

Who knows what he’d obtained in the months since then?

Her contact was always watching, always digging up more, but they had to keep their discussions brief. Until one of them had solid proof, he didn’t tell her anything she didn’t need to know.

A compound. Would have to be big, she knew. Gators. Her belly rebelled as that memory rolled through her. She’d watched . . . aw, hell. Tears stung her eyes. Nausea churned in her belly and horror left her numb. Lifting her hands to her face, she gave herself a minute. Just a minute to mourn, to shudder and cringe. The need to vomit churned through her and she breathed shallowly, waiting for the urge to pass.

This was why she was here.

Why she had to do this.

Even if that was a memory she’d rather never, ever have in her mind, it served to remind her.

Somebody, damn it, somebody had to stop him.

And so far, it seemed that somebody was her.

With trembling hands, she reached for her drink, drained the glass. It didn’t do a damn thing to numb the horror, so she shoved herself upright and lurched her way back over to the bar. More alcohol. That was what she needed, just to think through this.

He’d let that girl get eaten . . . had crippled her. Just so it would happen.

“Fuck.” She groaned, closing her eyes. This was way more than she was capable of handling. She was so far in over her head . . .

I could kill you . . .

Sensation swamped her—

Awful cold closing over her head. Sucking her under. Stealing her away . . . and she welcomed it.

“Not now,” she whispered, pressing a fisted hand to her temple. Mental breakdowns later. Much later.

* * *

TWO drinks later, Dru stumbled to bed.

She was so bloody tired of all this, her head aching from the stress, body sore, eyes gritty. It wasn’t

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