Chapter 30: the Taste of Blood

Date and Time Unknown

The taste of blood.

That was the first thing I noticed as I came to.

I blinked.

Or, at least, I thought I blinked. I couldn't be sure because nothing changed. Whether my eyes were opened or closed, it was all dark.

I was pretty sure I was blinking, though. The backs of my eyes screamed in pain every time I opened and closed my eyes. My head pounded in sync with my heart, which was doing double-time as I started putting together the shreds of gauzy memory slowly swimming to the surface of consciousness.

Crimson lights washing over the body of a girl clutching her side. Her face was burned in my mind as clear as day - wide eyes reflecting the fireworks overhead as tears streamed down her cheeks. She'd been crying, her sobs interrupted by rough coughing.

Her name... what was her name?

Charity.

I remembered ribbons of scarlet streaming from between her fingers as she clutched her middle. Her horrified screams still rang in my head as I recalled images of holding her close while bullets flew around me... the smell of gunpowder so thick in the air I could taste it.

Was she dead?

Fuck!

Emily and Natashya had been there at the party. Where were they?

Where was I?

I felt the blood pounding in my head as I tried my best to fight down the panic that threatened to consume me. Images of Emily lying on the cold concrete floor like Charity filled my mind. I could see Natashya crying over her body and screaming for help... or maybe it was the other way around. Shit. What if I lost them both?

Looking around uselessly in the pitch-black, I tried to search for anything that would give me answers. I realized I was sitting in a chair and tried to stand up, and something tugged on my wrists. I felt the chair being dragged behind me, throwing me off balance, and I tumbled backward into my seat with a loud clang as it landed on the hard floor beneath me. That's when it dawned on me that my hands were cuffed behind me, attached to the back of the chair.

"Hey!" I cried out. "Hey! Is anyone here?"

Complete silence.

"Hey! Can anyone hear me?"

I tried to stand up again, more aware of my predicament this time. I managed to hop to my feet, but the way my wrists were bound to the chair kept me from standing straight like I'd intended, and I teetered forward. I tried to put a foot out to catch myself, but that's when I realized that my ankles were also restrained. Each one was manacled to the corresponding leg of the furniture.

Unable to correct myself, I almost face-planted on the ground, only managing to roll to the side at the last moment so my face didn't take the full brunt of the fall as I crashed to the concrete floor. The chair came with me, twisted in a way that put my arms in a bind, leaving me unable to move them.

Still reeling from the headache gifted to me by whoever had knocked me out, I felt the pain come back with a vengeance. The guy who kicked me in the face must have given me a concussion, and throwing myself on the floor wasn't doing my recovery any favors. I groaned in pain as I unsuccessfully tried to right myself, pulling miserably at my bonds. All I could think about was Emily lying dead in a pool of blood or Natashya missing half her head like poor Ray.

Fuck. Ray. I remembered his body falling like a limp rag doll in front of me, missing the top half of his head. I'd never seen anything so disturbing in my life, and the mere memory of what had happened to him was enough to almost make me vomit on the cold floor I lay on.

"Where am I?" I called out pathetically. "What do you want?"

Still nothing.

"My sister was with me! Emily! And our friend, Natashya! Can... look, I just need to know they're alive! Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Just... I need to know they're okay!"

God help me if Emily was dead. She had such an unhappy life the last few years and had just managed to get back on her feet.

And Natashya. Poor sweet, wild, wise, full-of-life Natashya. She didn't deserve this.

And Ray... Ray was going to adopt a kid with his husband. Fuck. What was I going to tell him?

Had Erin, Ashlee, and the rest been there when the shooting happened? Were they all dead? Was I all alone in some dark room while all my people were fucking dead? Erin and that stupid mischievous grin. Tiny, vivacious Erin, who always smelled like flowers and looked like sin. I felt like vomiting again.

"Can anybody hear me!?" I bellowed, panicking... scared for the lives of the people I cared about. "Hey!"

A crash reverberated off the walls of what I realized was a mostly empty room, and a rectangle of illumination flared across my vision, temporarily blinding me as I adjusted to the blessed light. A single figure silhouetted it, standing in the doorway like some kind of mysterious angel or devil... I wasn't sure yet, nor did it matter—as long as they had answers.

"Hey!" I said, squinting at the figure. "My friends! I had two friends with me!"

The silhouette in the doorway moved toward me without saying a word, its steps echoing on the cold concrete floor like some sort of foreboding drumbeat. Once the figure reached me, it grabbed one of my pinned arms and hauled me off the floor and back into a sitting position.

Judging by the strength of the grip and the grunt made while picking me off the floor, the stranger was a man. I squinted at him, trying to make out any features, but my head was spinning, and it was too dark to make out much anyway.

"Hey!" I shouted as I glared up at the stranger. "What did you do with my-"

My words were cut short as a fist slammed across my jaw, sending my head careening back and causing my world to spin. Before I could recover, I felt a firm grip on my jaw as the stranger forced me to look up at him. I felt sharp pain where his fingers dug into my jaw, and I blinked, trying to clear my head enough to process what was happening to me.

"Shut the fuck up," the stranger growled at him. It was definitely a man.

I just needed to know. "No, but-"

The wind was driven from my lungs as I felt him drive his other fist into my stomach. This time, I did vomit as I tried to double over, pinned back against the seat by my bonds and the man's hold on my face.

Despite retching and coughing, I managed to take a wheezy breath and breath, "Please... I just need-"

He drove his fist into my stomach once more, and I felt spittle and bile fly from my lips as I felt my existence narrow until there was nothing else left but the physical pain in my gut and head and worry for my friends. He shook my face a little and growled, "Three of my people are dead. You're lucky I was told to keep you alive."

"But," he continued, and I felt something cold and sharp pressed against the side of my face. I tried to inch away from whatever it was, but the hold the man had on me was too strong. "Instructions didn't say anything about body parts, though."

He bent forward, getting so close that I thought for a wild moment that he was going to kiss me, and I tried to inch back from him. No kiss came, though; his face stopped inches from mine, and I could smell the stink of old coffee and nicotine on his breath as he said, "I hear any more whining out of you, and I'll cut off your nose."

He released me, shoving my face away from him as he straightened and stared down at me, putting away the knife he'd held against my face. I stared back up at him wide-eyed, wanting desperately to ask him about my friends but convinced he would shove more than just a fist in my gut if I uttered a single syllable.

Moments passed, and when it looked like neither of us was going to speak, he reached into a pocket and pulled something out. He held it in both hands and reached for my head, causing me to flinch, thinking he was about to garrot me or something. Instead, he slipped a blindfold over my head and secured it around my eyes until he was sure I couldn't see anything. Then he tightened it a little more, causing my head to pulse in pain.

I heard him walk away from me. The door opened again, but instead of hearing him leave, as I expected, my assailant began speaking. I could barely make out the words.

"He's all yours," he said.

"For how long?" Another voice asked - another male. This one didn't sound as rough as the one who blindfolded me. His tone sounded more measured and diplomatic.

"Till she gets here," the first man said.

"And anything goes?" the second man asked.

"As long as you don't kill him and as long as he's in his right mind to answer questions."

"What questions could Am-"

"No names," the first man said, cutting off the second man. "You know the drill."

"Apologies," the second man said and cleared his throat. "It shouldn't be a problem though, should it?"

"No," the first man said.

"Well then, if that's everything, I'm sure you have things to do."

I heard those heavy footsteps fade. Then a flick and I could barely see the edges of my vision change slightly. They became a shade or less black, giving me the impression that a light had been turned on in the room. Despite not really changing my predicament much, the fact that there was a light on in the room filled the primitive part of my brain with a fleeting sense of hope. So did the fact that the rough man had left; the sound of softer footsteps approaching gave me the impression that whoever this was probably wasn't as strong or aggressive.

"Hey," I said, unsure how to proceed. I needed to find out something - anything - that would give me an inkling of what had happened to Emily and the others. "Listen, I don't know who you are or what you want, but-"

My cheek blossomed in pain as I received a firm slap across it, followed by another slap across the other cheek. I tasted fresh blood.

Okay, so I was wrong about the new guy being aggressive.

"Fuck! Fine! Beat me. Do whatever. Just tell me if they're alr-"

Another punch across my face cut me off. Whoever this was didn't hit nearly as hard as the other guy. Small favors, I guess.

"Please," I said, trying to reason with the man. "I don't know why this is happening. Can you just tell me what I did?"

Nothing. I heard light footsteps to my left and then another slightly behind me. He was circling me.

Then I heard a slight trickle of water behind me and turned my head to concentrate on the sound, trying to figure out what he was doing. It sounded like someone was peeing.

"What-"

"I hope you feel every excruciating second of what's about to happen to you," the man finally said, speaking to me for the first time. He sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite put a face to the voice. I was just about to ask him what he meant by that when I felt a soaking wet rag hit my face; a hand shoved it firmly against the lower half of my face. Water invaded my mouth and threatened to fill my nostrils. I had to fight hard to not inhale as the stagnant liquid washed over me.

The hand held the soaking rag to my face, and I struggled against his grip for the next several moments, trying to fight free so I could spit the water out and breathe. Seconds ticked by as I drowned while bound to a chair, unsure of why, left with nothing but my need for oxygen, burning questions, and an overactive imagination that haunted me with scenarios of the gruesome fates that Emily and Natashya could have suffered.

It could have been minutes or hours, but it all was a blur of pain and near drowning as the man relentlessly tortured me, beating on me, repeatedly waterboarding me, and cursing me the whole time. Eventually, I blacked out again.

I was ripped back into consciousness when a high-pressured column of ice-cold water threatened to tear the skin off my back. I yelled out and rolled toward the column and realized the mistake as soon as I made it; water slammed into my chest and face. I rolled away and yelled out again, confused, hurting, and more than a little pissed off. The assault continued for another minute and a half before the stream of water abruptly disappeared.

"What the fuck are you doing?" someone said. It sounded like the man who had put a blindfold on my face earlier. It was no longer there, and I dared to open my eyes to see a sliver of silver in the sky as the last dying gasps of the day faded. A handful of stars dotted the sky, their brethren blotted out by light pollution. Judging by the sky, I was sure of one thing - I had no idea where I was or what the hell was going on.

"You told me to wash him down," someone else said.

"

Inside

, dumbass. There's a tub in there." the guy giving orders said.

"I'm not touching him," the other man said. "Guy had piss on him."

Had I pissed myself?

"Upton pissed himself?" the rough man said. I'd started to think he must have been the leader of the people who captured me.

"Nah. He pissed on Upton. It was a lot, though. I dunno. Maybe some of it was his."

"Fuck, I don't care," the leader said.

Coughing and sputtering, I rolled over and saw two men standing less than ten feet away from me. A thick coil of fire hose lay at their feet. Three other men stood nearby, armed with rifles.

"He could be spotted. Get him back inside."

The other man muttered something but followed orders. He called one of his buddies to come over and help him pick me up. The pair grabbed an arm each and dragged me toward a large warehouse. My head hanging limply, I stared up at the silhouette of the sad-looking building and realized just how tired and sore I was. Vague memories of being beaten across the back with something long and hard came rushing back. I remembered being waterboarded with foul-tasting water. My head was pounding, and despite feeling like a drowned rat, my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth. I was surprised I could even hold my head up.

"Why are..."

My words trailed off. I was too tired to even finish the sentence.

"Where are... Emily..."

Neither of them said anything to me. I simply shut my eyes and let myself be carried back into the warehouse, sure I would probably die there. Once again, I felt darkness overtake me.

My shins blossomed in pain as I felt something hard strike across them, and my eyes flew open... or tried to. Once again, a blindfold had been placed over them, preventing me from seeing who had just struck me.

"What!?" I bellowed, my voice coming out rough and a little hoarse.

"Someone wants to have a word with you," Leader said. I could hear him standing just to my right.

"I'm not speaking to anyone until someone tells me what's happened to my people," I muttered.

No one said anything for a long moment, and I simply sat there in the chair, my head dropping back to my chest as I listened to the silence. Finally, someone said, "Would you give us the room, gentlemen?"

It was a woman. Her voice was cool and collected.

"Everybody out," the leader said, and I listened as several sets of footsteps began to fade. Nothing was said until everyone else was gone and the door shut. I sat there in silence, shivering, naked, and cold as water continued to drip off my body, not bothering to start a conversation. Every time I did, I'd been punished for it without receiving a single damn answer.

Finally, the woman asked a question. "Did you receive a flash drive from your grandfather?"

It took me a second to register what she asked, and even though I understood the words, the question didn't make sense. "What?" I asked.

"Did you receive a flash drive from your grandfather?"

I looked in her direction despite not being able to see anything. "I heard you. I just don't understand."

"Do you know what a flash drive is?"

"Yeah."

"Then I fail to see what the issue is."

"What the issue is?" I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "Lady, I've been beaten for god knows how long. I don't know how long I've been here, but I've been asking what people want for hours, and no one will tell me a goddamn thing. I keep asking after my friends, and no one will answer me! Now, when I

finally

have someone who will actually talk to me, they're asking me about some flash drive my grandpa gave me?"

"That's correct."

"Who the fuck are you!?"

"Mr. Upton, that hardly matters. What does matter is that you're tied naked to a chair. You've been abused by mercenaries, and no one knows where you are. Emily and Natashya-"

"What about them?" I asked, latching onto the first I'd heard of them since waking up here. "Are they alright?"

"Are being held against their will," she continued. "The only thing that matters is that we can release you and your friends if you cooperate."

"You haven't even given me the chance to cooperate!" I shouted. I was fucking done. Whoever this monotone bitch was, she was pissing me off, suggesting that I was the unreasonable one.

"I'm giving you that chance now," she said.

I stared in her general direction and considered my options now that I was getting information to work with, no matter how minuscule. I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn't know anything about a flash drive. Maybe there had been one among my grandfather's possessions. I hadn't exactly been thorough when searching through everything I had inherited. I'd been a little busy.

Still... whoever this woman was, she obviously didn't know that. I wasn't sure if they really had Emily or Natashya, but if this was what they were after, and they obviously needed me alive for it, then this was the only card I had to play. I needed to bluff.

"You want the flash drive?" I said. "I want to see my friends first."

The woman didn't reply, but I heard her approach me. Her footsteps reported her walking past and circling me before coming to a stop somewhere directly behind me. I felt fingertips lightly brush up one arm to my shoulder, and then a palm gently rested there.

"I'm aware of how you've been treated so far, Mr. Upton," the woman said. Her fingers danced over the damp skin around my collarbone before dipping down to play with the wet hair on my chest.

"You've been beaten across your back with a military-grade truncheon, received two successive concussions, and likely have a fractured tibia. You've been punched and slapped across the face repeatedly by two different men. You're bleeding from three different places along your scalp. You've been urinated on, sprayed with a fire hose, stripped, deprived of sleep, waterboarded, and haven't eaten for the duration of your captivity. You've endured more than most... all without a request from your captors."

Her hand snaked down my abdomen and traced undiscernable patterns around my belly button. I could feel her breath on my face, and I bit my lip as I felt that familiar surge in my groin. I didn't exactly find this situation to be much of a turn-on, but soft tenderness felt so much more intense after having experienced so much abuse. Despite my sore muscles screaming at me and the shivering I was doing from exposure, I could feel my cock begin to stir as those fingers came dangerously close. It was strange, though. Her touch suggested intimacy and warmth, but her voice still held a certain coldness, making the situation even more confusing.

"I'm sure you're aware of the proverb 'It's easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar,'" she continued.

Warm fingertips brushed my cock near the root, causing it to jump as I sucked in a breath of air, hardly believing what was happening to me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't dare say anything. If I'd learned anything about myself over the last two weeks, it was that, like other men, I had an Achilles heel when it came to being seduced by hot women. I'd made some questionable decisions, and considering my predicament, I couldn't trust myself to make even worse choices.

"I'm sure you would find my skills in pleasuring men preferable to being beaten, and I would make sure the latter stopped altogether." Her fingers wrapped around my thickening member, and I clenched my teeth so she couldn't have the satisfaction of hearing my groan. After everything I'd suffered, what she was doing now felt good.