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He clears his throat and rubs his eyes again. “Just a headache.”
Well, I guess I’m imagining things, because his answers are just as short and gruff as before.
I settle in my seat and stroke the dog in my lap as the road signs pass by in a blur of headlights. My eyelids try to close, but I will them to remain open. It’s not safe to sleep. Not yet. Not until I know he won’t pull over and murder me the first chance he gets. This is the risk I take each time I climb inside a stranger’s home. And that’s exactly what these trucks are for most of these men.
Even if they have a wife back in a little two-bedroom apartment, they spend too much time in these rigs to not see them as a house on wheels. I think that’s why some of them choose this line of work. They can live two lives. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to live one.
And I’m doing a piss-poor job.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was a girl with dreams once, just like anyone else. Those dreams changed along the way, but I still have them. A desire to belong somewhere. A desire to feel safe. I doubt I’ll find either of those things if I continue walking along the path I’m on, so that’s why I’m headed home.
Is that even the answer?
I push the thought away as soon as it forms. Now isn’t the time to think about that. To keep myself sane, I have to live in the moment and focus on the immediate threat, which is a large man who is mere feet from me. As he rubs his eyes again and keeps his focus on the road, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a mistake that may cost me my life.
Chapter Seven
Tobin
The number combo rolls through my head as I take control. Forty. Sixty. Eighty. I can’t stop thinking about it. Even when I was behind Kane, listening to her talk through his ears, those three numbers taunted me. Even without seeing her, I knew I wanted all fucking eighty.
Since he picked her up, Kane’s thoughts have circled back to all the horrific ways he could kill her. Filet pieces of muscle from bone. Chop off limbs until she stops screaming. Hold her head beneath water until she stops struggling. All after he strangles her first, of course.
But I don’t care about the killing. I give zero fucks about that. My mind just keeps repeating those glorious numbers.
Forty. Sixty. Eighty.
He won’t kill her, though. It might bring him great joy to end her young life, but he knows damn well he needs to sell this one to The Nameless. The sooner he gets out from under their thumbs, the sooner he can kill whomever he pleases. And if he isn’t going to kill her, if she’s stuck with us until we deliver her to The Nameless...
Forty. Sixty. Eighty.
A sign for a rest stop slides by on the right side of the road, and I inhale. Kane let me drive so easily. Instead of fighting me this time, he just let go so I could take control. It was a smart decision on his part. Until he sells her to The Nameless, she’s useless to him.
But she’s not useless to me.
Kane was sexually abused as a child, and I hold all those nasty memories for him. The pain. The suffering. The fear. As a result, I’m a hyper-sexualized consciousness born from sexual trauma. I can explore the aspects of lust Kane has become immune to. Though his brain has compartmentalized those painful memories, his body has forgotten nothing, rendering him limp any time he attempts sexual acts. Unlike Kane, I have no trouble getting hard.
Now I realize why he let me take control.
The girl is suspicious, and the only way to ease her mind is to sleep with her. If she tries to manhandle our junk while Kane is in control, she’ll learn the truth. It would also send him into a blind rage, and he’d bludgeon her to death before he could sell her off. I suppose a limp dick would make me homicidal too.
I pull onto the off ramp and enter the rest area. Dim lights limn the building in a weak glow, and a few towering streetlamps illuminate the parking lot, but a back corner has been left in darkness. Looks like someone forgot to change the bulbs back here. Their irresponsibility is a benefit to me, and I pull into the darkest spot I can find.
I turn toward the girl and finally get a good look at her. Kane had good taste for this one. Long, unruly auburn hair frames her face. Not too dark, not too light. She’s not wearing any makeup, which is good. She doesn’t need it. Her full lips are the perfect shade of pink, and her long lashes would look garish if she coated them in mascara.
“Forty, sixty, eighty, right?” I ask.
Her hands stop fidgeting in her lap. “Yeah,” she whispers.
“Get in the back.”
She takes a breath, unlocks her seatbelt, and climbs out of the seat. She knows the drill. With an air of confidence possessed only by a whore who’s ready to lie on her back, she heads right for the bed. Unfortunately for her, it doesn’t matter if I take her mouth, pussy, or both. I’ll get what I want, and I won’t pay for shit.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand to follow her. As I stretch, the bratty little dog nips at my ankles with a growl that rattles her tiny body. Mean little mutt. Why Kane wanted this annoying thing is beyond me, but he loves the little shit. He won’t outwardly say it, but I feel the warmth for the dog in his heart. It’s one of the few fleshy spots left inside the dying organ. The rest is black, decayed, and stinking.
“Fuck off, little dog,” I say as I pull the denim from her mouth.
Before I can join the girl, I notice a clutch peeking from a backpack on the seat. I pull it free and pop it open, and a picture of the girl smiles up at me from her driver’s license.
