Page 82 of The Bronze Garza
“Can I tell you men something?” I ask. And without waiting for an answer, press on, “Around two and a half years ago, I went camping with my best friend. That night, I fell asleep and woke up in Mexico. I was dumped on a fishing boat and carried off to a yacht. That yacht then carried me off to a ship, where I was then locked into a crate like an animal for—well, I don’t know how long because I passed out from dehydration.
“When I regained consciousness, I was in a cell with a bunch of other girls like me. Fed nothing but stale bread and water for weeks. Then a bag was thrown over my head one day and I was taken somewhere else, where I was forced to stand on a stage and be bid on. Then I was drugged. When I woke up again, I was in Russia.
“There, I was raped, sold, starved, and beaten when I ‘misbehaved’. Repeatedly. I watched a friend blow her own brains out with her captor’s gun as her means to escape. After about sixteen months, I was rescued and brought back home. In all that time, I came acrossa lotof people, hearda lotof names, but I guarantee you, none of those names were either ‘Stefano’ or ‘Lorenzo’.”
Villain Voice gapes at me. “Jesus.”
“Yeah.” I smile at him. “Like I said, I wouldn’t have fought you. I’ve already been to hell. But you wanna know something else?”
Deeply invested, Heavy Set asks, “What?”
Fool thinks it’s story time.
“It doesn’t matter where you take me,” I tell them, “hewillfind me.”
Villain Voice narrows his eyes on me. “He who?”
With an assured smile, I lean back as though I’m settling in for the ride. “You’ll see.”
The two men share another loaded look. Then Villain Voice orders Heavy Set, “Tape her,” before twisting back around.
In the next moment, my mouth is duct taped.
Whatever. I was done talking anyway.
ChapterTwenty-One
“Why didn’t you fight?”
Lyra
The driver is speeding like abat out of hell, running lights and overtaking vehicles. Since I’m unable to hold onto anything with my bound hands, I’m tossed about like limp salad.
“Vegas” is mentioned twice in their inharmonious conversations, so I’m guessing that’s where we’re headed. The driver and Villain Voice can’t seem to agree on anything. Not a very organized set of criminals, this group. It’s as if snatching me was an impromptu or half-planned decision.
It’salmostentertaining.
“Fuck!” the driver growls suddenly. “Looks like we’ve got a chase.”
Villain Voice straps on his seatbelt while Heavy Set grabs onto the overhead handle.
Twisting as best as I can, I peer out the windows to try and see what’s happening. But, I don’t see anything. Everything appears normal.
No, wait. Two black motorbikes are zigzagging through traffic. One rider is completely shirtless, with pajama bottoms, sandals, and a helmet.That’sodd if nothing else.
But the bikers zing past the van and disappear ahead in traffic.
My captors relax.
That’swhat had them spooked? A shirtless biker in pajamas and flip-flops? What kind of criminals are these?
The driver continues to run every red light and overtake every vehicle. Makes sense, I guess. Can’t exactly dawdle at a stoplight after abducting someone, can you?
Though I’m kind of bummed that the “chase” was a false alarm. It would’ve been a sweet new experience for me since I’ve never been in a car chase before. If Madame Universe—the bitch—is going to eject me, I at least want to go out with a bang.
Some minutes later, we’re running through yet another red light when the van jerks, shudders, then dips to one side, followed promptly by a flapping sound.
“Fuck’s that?” Heavy Set booms, gripping harder to the overhead handle.
