Prohibited (Tulsa City Sinners #1)

11. Evie

Chapter eleven

Evie

It was hard to figure out how many days had gone by. And without any windows to the outside world, it was also impossible to know what time it was. So, she just slept. Woke and slept, woke and slept. Sometimes there was someone coming into the room, and sometimes she was alone.

Lindsay and Ryan alternated coming to get her to take her to the lavatory.

Alex, mercifully, had not returned to her cell since their first terrifying encounter. The cut above her breast smarted terribly, but hadn’t gotten infected. Now it was crusted over and starting to heal, but she still gritted her teeth every time her fingers passed over the rough scab.

That fucking bastard.

The first time she was escorted down the long dark hallway lined with torches, and emerged, blinking, into the electrical lights of the Red Crystal, she’d been shocked. It made sense that she was underground, the way she felt totally swallowed up. During what she assumed was the day, there were a few men there who watched her with interest as she was escorted into the washroom, distinctly aware that she wore only a black silk robe with her drawers underneath. Humiliating.

And it also filled her with black, bitter despair that she was just down the corridor from people drinking and dancing to the boisterous piano while she sat, imprisoned close by, secreted in the belly of the building. She had to think of a way to escape.

Ever since the first day, Ryan hadn’t spoken a word to her. Not one. He didn’t come often to her room-how strange to start thinking of it as hers–and when he did, he did not make eye contact with her, and he behaved as though she didn’t speak at all. It was infuriating and baffling.

Lindsay came more often, chatting with her politely as he escorted her down the hallway. But there was a look of pain on his face when he met her eye, and he kept their conversations spare. It occurred to her with a cold feeling of dread that he was trying not to get too attached to her.

Days passed and nothing of note happened. Part of this filled her with a sliver of hope. Why on earth hadn’t they killed her yet? Perhaps the plan had changed?

But the more realistic part of her knew that this couldn’t be. Alex had all but said that he fully intended to kill her. Had told her that Ryan wanted to see her dead, too. And Lindsay had said that he was the only person in the building who didn’t want to kill her.

So why was she still alive ?

No one would answer her questions.

Occasionally, two other men, Joey and Simon, also took a turn at one time or another to escort her down the corridor. They didn’t speak to her either, not at first, but Simon did little to hide his interest in her. She didn’t know what to do with this fact, but she recognized it as a potential resource. She turned it over in her mind, looking at it from all angles. While she sincerely doubted he could be persuaded to turn on his friends–or employers or whoever they were to him–for a few thrusts, it was possible that if she could seduce him she could use it to her advantage. He kept a gun in a shoulder holster like many of the rest of them. And, like the others, he had a key to her cell in his pocket. One or both of these things gave her a sliver of hope that she might escape. Though it was difficult to track time, it was obvious that when she was permitted out of her cell was during the day before the Crystal began to admit guests. She never saw anyone there except for her escorts and an old man dressed impeccably who she recognized as the bartender. He didn’t even spare her a glance when they brought her through.

However, if she could somehow get the key and she could bide her time until the speakeasy was full of people, she could burst through the door and scream for help. There was no way that they would be able to deny that they’d abducted her in a room full of people. There was no doubt that by now it was certain to her husband and her family that she was missing. The police were likely involved at this point. They’d be forced to let her go.

The thought gave her hope. Real hope.

When Simon came to her cell, she made extra certain to smile. To press closely to him while they walked, to compliment him on anything she could think of. And the more she did it, it turned out, the more often he appeared to escort her down the corridor to the washroom. He, in turn, put his hand on her waist while they walked down the corridor, until they were into the main room, at which point, he had her by the wrist again.

Interesting that he clearly didn’t want any of the rest of them to know. Likely, they’d all been forbidden from touching her, and thank God for that. She shuddered at the idea of all of these brutes being given free rein with her body. It had occurred to her on more than one occasion that this was a distinct possibility and it was never too late to begin.

In this case, no matter how much she didn’t care to have sex with a man several years younger than her who was mediocre looking at best and was entirely complicit in her imprisonment, she would do what was necessary in order to survive.

The theft of the key, of course, needed to be timed correctly. If they discovered its disappearance too early, she could draw attention to herself. It was likely that he would initially be blamed for mislaying it, but eventually all roads would lead back to her. It had to be planned precisely .

When Lindsay appeared that afternoon–or what she presumed was the afternoon–she asked him for a clock.

“I can’t ever tell what time it is,” she said while he led her gently by the elbow toward the washroom. “It’s making me crazy.”

He was silent for a while, his cane thumping in what was becoming a familiar rhythm as they walked. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” she said.

Then she waited with agonizing impatience to see if he would bring it to her. It could take days or weeks for him to decide to produce one. And by that point, well, there might not be any point at all. But to her amazement, later that day, he came in bearing a small pocket watch. Battered and scratched, certainly, but still ticking away.

And now she had to wait until Simon came at the right time. She couldn’t sleep for fear that the plan would go wrong somehow. Perhaps tomorrow they would decide it was time for her to die, or Simon would never return, or he’d catch her in the act and foil the whole thing.

Ryan came again that day and silence passed between them, as always. She’d stopped trying to get him to speak to her after she’d made up her mind to escape. It was too painful, for one thing. Far easier to pretend he was anyone but who he was. And for another, it was best not to draw attention to herself in the least. She would be quiet, humble, submissive, obedient. Anything they wanted.

Lindsay came the next morning .

And then, miracle of miracles, Simon came into the cell the following afternoon.

“Hey there,” she said to him in a husky voice, giving him her most seductive smile.

“Hey, pretty,” he said quietly, his eyes sparking like they always did when he looked at her. “Come on now, haven’t got all day.”

Then he unlocked the cell and let her step out, wasting no time to grab her by the waist and march her along.

She allowed him to lead her down the corridor to the washroom, where she steeled herself for what was to come. Though she hadn’t bathed properly since she’d arrived in this place, she still did her best to wash in the sink every day, which she did now, washing and awkwardly drying her body and her hair with the expensive bar soap kept in the washroom for guests.

When she was finished, Simon led her back down the corridor with her heart hammering. In the dark, she slipped one of her hands over his and slowly drew it up, over her breasts. His breath caught and his big hand closed over her breast. The other one mirrored its twin on her other breast, pawing at her. Then he flipped her around until her back was against the wall.

“You want some of this?” he grumbled in her ear, grinding his erection against her stomach. Revulsion morphed into the horrifying urge to laugh, which she choked down.

“Oh yes,” she crooned at him. “You know I do. You have to know that, don’t you? ”

“Oh yeah,” he answered her, kneading at her breasts. “I seen the way you look at me, little miss.”

His breath smelled like dill. Dear God.

“Not here,” she whispered. “Someone might see us. Back in the cell. No one will disturb us there.”

“Come on then,” he said impatiently. Then he grabbed her by the arm and towed her along until he was practically kicking the door to her room open. He turned toward her again and pressed his sloppy mouth over hers, grabbing her by her other arm.

God, she’d love to slap him in his stupid face. Instead, she broke her mouth away and whispered, “Put me in the cell first. That way if someone walks in we can pretend we weren’t doing anything.” She batted her eyes at him. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“But if you’re back in the cell…” His eyebrows came together.

“I can think of at least one way to solve the problem,” she said, skimming her fingertip down his cheek. “All I have to do is turn around and bend over.”

A dark light lit his eyes and a nauseating smile crossed his face. “Now you’re thinking.”

Well, thank god. She’d been mildly panicking the whole time that he’d refuse her. If he insisted on fucking her before he got her back in the cell then he would notice the key was gone. It was essential she was back in the cell and locked inside before she took it. That way, it would be a long time coming before the key would need to be accounted for and the blame would lay squarely with him long enough that it just might afford her the opportunity to execute her plan.

In the meantime, she was going to have to fuck him.

Perish the thought.

Taking a deep breath, she went to work kissing his clumsy, inexpert mouth with as much passion as she could muster. She backed him toward the cell, allowing him to paw open her robe and moan at the sight of her mostly naked body. Normally she took great pleasure in the effect she had on men, but now she felt cold to his responses.

Well, in a way she was pleased. He was falling perfectly into her trap.

“Into the cell,” she urged. “Quickly. We don’t want to get caught.”

“Right, right, go on,” he said, giving her a little push through the open door. Then he swung the door shut behind her and locked it. Then she watched him drop the key in his right pocket and hurry toward the bars, putting both of his hands through. “Come on, come on.”

Evie went toward him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him through the bar again. She made a big show of running her hands down his fleshy chest and stomach, then slipped her hands over his fly and fitted one of them around the outline of his erection in his pants. He groaned and her stomach roiled with revulsion. Well, it wasn’t like she’d never fucked a man before that she didn’t want. She looked up at him and kissed him again, going at his mouth fiercely, which he returned while he clutched at her breasts. She pawed at his erection and then unbuttoned the ladder of his fly with swift, practiced fingers before she drew his penis out of his trousers and set to work at it while she kissed his mouth and tried to muffle all of the foul sounds he was making. Meanwhile, in the throes of his ecstasy, she slipped her left hand into his right pocket and felt her fingers close around the slim, metal key.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she drew her hand out, quickly and skillfully as a thief. One second that spread into eternity passed while she was certain he’d notice. But he didn’t. He just went on groaning like a bison while she dealt with his erection.

As soon as she could dare, she stood and flipped around, dropping her drawers. Then she pressed her closed fist to her chest, secreting the key within her fingers. She bent forward, pulling her robe up to give him a good look at her backside and the secret treasure between her thighs.

“Jesus,” he said and started stroking himself so excitedly that she hoped he would come before he got a chance to enter her. No such luck. “Come over here,” he ordered her.

Suppressing a sigh, she backed herself right up against the grate. He reached through the bars and fondled her backside and cunt.

“God you’re wet for me,” he groaned.

She wanted to laugh in his face. He thought that was wet? Healthy cunts were moist. Hers was that, and barely. The idiot .

“Oh yes,” she moaned. “Just for you. Hurry, hurry.”

Hopefully he would rut her a couple of times and then be done with it. Not for the first time, she felt a grim gratitude that she couldn’t get pregnant. The very idea of giving birth to this man’s baby made her want to crawl out of her skin.

The push as he entered her made her lose her breath from revulsion. She tightened her body and squeezed her eyes closed, making all of the appropriate noises that went along with pretending to take pleasure in a man stabbing his penis into her reluctant vagina. Occasionally responding with, “Oh yes,” when he growled something at her.

God he was taking forever. Her somewhat moist cunt was getting dry enough that it was starting to become dreadfully uncomfortable to have him sawing in and out of her. But she gritted her teeth and clutched the key tightly in her hand, holding her breath on the threshold of freedom. She’d let a dozen clumsy, unskilled roughnecks like him use her if that’s what it took to escape certain death.

Maybe she was going to have to finish him with her mouth. An absolutely disgusting thought, but if his poking went on much longer she might–

The door to the cell opened and they both froze.

Evie hardly had time to turn her head when the most ferocious, unearthly roar of rage nearly deafened her. The poor lad who’d been rutting her uncorked himself from her vagina and tried to shove himself into his pants while he scrambled away, but Ryan got to him before he could finish grasping onto his dignity. Evie stumbled away from the bars and watched, mesmerized as Ryan threw Simon up against the wall over and over again. The younger man’s eyes were bulging and his face was brilliant red. He was stammering, too, but nothing intelligible was coming out.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ryan shouted in his face.

“I– She–”

“You don’t fucking touch her, ever, do you hear me?” And then Ryan punched him. And punched him. And punched him until his nose started to bleed.

“Please!” The young man said, trying to fold in on himself, trying to cover his head. “I– I’m sorry– Ryan–!”

Though her first instinct was to try to put a stop to this because the whole thing was technically her fault, she couldn’t afford to lose the distraction. Heart roaring in her ears, she turned away and slipped the key into her mouth, lubricating it with her spit. Then, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Ryan was still brutalizing her poor little paramour, and she slipped the key inside her cunt.

Business done, she turned back to them and went to the bars of the cage, grabbing them tightly.

“Ryan. Ryan. Ryan!” But he didn’t stop. Simon looked nearly dead on his feet from the beating Ryan was giving him. “Stop!” She cried. “You’re going to kill him! Stop! ”

Ryan at last let go of him and stepped back, letting Simon slide to the ground. The bigger man was opening and closing his hands–knuckles split open on one of them–and Simon sat on the ground, shaking and sniffing. Really, she did feel sorry for him. Being an inefficient lover probably did not deserve such a punishment.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Ryan said, voice trembling with rage. “Before I do kill you. And you’d better hope you still have your fucking job when I’m through with you.”

“Y-Yes,” Simon said. Somehow he managed to stand, grabbing at his pants, and staggered from the room.

“Close the door,” Ryan yelled after him.

The sound of the door closing echoed ominously as he left the two of them alone. Evie’s heart skipped a beat and then slammed back into rhythm as Ryan turned slowly toward her. He was trying to hold back his anger. It was evident in the way his body hummed. His eyes seemed nearly to glow and his hands were still opening and closing.

“What the fuck happened?” he said, in a voice that was terrifying in its calm.

“I–” Evie swallowed. This was a pivotal moment. He was either going to direct his anger at her or he was going to direct it back at that poor young stooge who she’d duped into her plan. And, well, he’d already had his share of the punishment. It was her turn to be brave. She swallowed. “We–” She tried to laugh a little, blowing the whole thing off. “We were just having a little bit of fun. ”

“Fun?” The way he said the word went straight into her ribs like a hammer and stole her breath. “With him?” Almost in slow motion, he put his hand in his pocket and retrieved a key. Then he unlocked the cell with it, swinging the door open.

Evie backed away until she almost fell backwards over the army cot that had been her bed for the duration of her imprisonment.

The look in his eyes made her palms start to sweat. Her heart raced and her hands started to tremble. In the midst of her fear, she was annoyed. Of all of the god forsaken things that might have happened, Ryan had to come into the room. And god, he was angry. She had never seen him so angry. Why was he so angry?

Could he really be… jealous? After all this time?

Evie moved around the cot, putting it between her and Ryan, whatever good that did. As he closed the gap between them with long, easy strides, she felt the heat of his body radiating toward her. And although all of this anger was directed at her, and she was rightly terrified, there was still a tiny, insane corner of her that was excited by his approach, by the sheer power in his body as he moved across the room.

“Leave me alone!” She’d fought him once already and lost sorely, but she’d fight him again if he laid a finger on her.

His hand snapped out, nearly catching hold of her arm, which she slipped away. But his fingers gained purchase on the silk sleeve of her robe and he yanked her around the cot, tearing the robe open and causing her to nearly fall to her knees. But he yanked her upright and grabbed her wrist. With her other hand, she slapped him as hard as she could, which caused a terrifying rumble to emerge from his throat. He caught her other wrist and gripped both of them until her bones were grinding together and it felt like he might crack them. He walked her back against the wall and slammed her against it so hard that it knocked the breath out of her lungs.

They stood there, staring at one another, both breathing heavily.

“Have you let all of them fuck you?” he said through gritted teeth. “How many times?”

“None of your business,” she said, glaring back at him.

He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “It’s entirely my business. Everything you do now is my business.”

“My cunt isn’t your business!” She tugged against her hold, but it was like pushing against a locked iron door.

“It is if I say it is,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

To make his point, he let go of one of her wrists and slipped his hand between them and he rubbed it over her cunt. A shuddering breath went out of him and his eyelids were growing heavier, the heat on his face shifting to something darker. Something that made her want to grind against his hand. A riot of contradictions made her go rigid. Hot, wet lust erupted through her at the touch of his fingers, screaming for what Simon had failed to provide adequately. Screaming for the pleasure he used to give her. In contrast, she pressed her legs together, feeling a chill of terror go through her when she realized that if she let him penetrate her with his fingers or his cock, he would discover the key.

“Unhand me,” she whispered with as much ferocity as she could. She pushed against him, gritting her teeth. “I’ll scream!”

The look in his eyes frightened her. As if Ryan had gone somewhere else, replaced by an animal. A wild beast that would tear her apart. God, her cunt throbbed so badly that if it weren’t for the key, she just might have let him.

“Let go of me,” she said.

He paused as if he were trying to regain some control over himself.

“Let go!” She tried to push against him and tried to hit at him with her free hand, but this only seemed to excite him.

The lust receded a bit and disgust overcame his face. “But you’ll fuck Simon?” The look of hate on his face pierced her heart like a knife.

God, this was humiliating. Of course she hadn’t wanted to fuck Simon. Of course the insane, lust drunk part of her wanted Ryan to fuck her until she fainted right now, right against this wall. She’d dreamed of his touch for years.

But she couldn’t say that. Instead, she had to pretend that, yes, she would fuck Simon, but she wouldn’t fuck him. Still, she couldn’t even bring herself to say it out loud. Instead, she just glared at him .

They stared at each other for a long, heartstopping moment. He was wrestling with himself, flexing the muscles in his jaw.

Then, finally, he relented. The air went out of him and he loosened his grip on her. For a moment, she almost breathed with relief.

But the look on his face slowly froze her veins.

“I think you’ve been a little too comfortable,” he said in that same calm voice that frightened her. “I’d be happy to correct that.”

“No–” she said, trying to catch his sleeve.

He looked down at her hand with so much distaste that she reluctantly took it away. And why did that make her heart throb in a way that hurt?

Without another word, he turned and went to the door of the cell. She took a couple of stumbling steps after him and opened her mouth to call after him, but she couldn’t do it. He didn’t even look back at her as he locked the cell behind him and left the room. The slam of the door reverberated up and down her spine until she had to hug herself to quell the anxiety that was churning in her gut.

She paced the room and waited, on the verge of vomiting until the door opened again. Should she use the key and try to make a run for it now? No, it was futile. And she would waste her only chance. Whatever he was going to do to her, she was going to have to brave it until she could get away. She could not throw away the opportunity that she’d just won for herself .

The door opened again, and she whirled around to see Ryan and Joey striding toward her. A coil of rope rested around Ryan’s shoulder and Joey carried a chair.

Terror went through her like a thunderclap.

If they tied her to that chair, the key would be useless. She backed away when they came into the cell. Both of them had stoney faces and they walked toward her with purpose. Joey put the chair down and then they both came for her. It was futile but she made a run for the door of the cell. Joey caught her around the waist and she began to thrash, screaming in frustration. Then, Ryan was behind her, grabbing her wrists and holding them so she couldn’t go on hitting Joey. They dragged her to the chair and forced her down into it.

“Ryan, please don’t do this,” she said, voice thin with panic. “Please don’t do this.”

Ryan did not look at or acknowledge her. They both worked with quick, rough hands to secure her to the chair, ignoring her efforts to slip away from them. They secured her hands behind her. Her feet were tied to the legs, and a length of rope across her chest, securing her to the back of the chair itself.

“That’s good,” Ryan grunted after testing the ropes.

Without another glance, Joey turned and left the cell. Ryan’s eyes locked with hers while his hands made quick work of locking the cell. Then, he turned and walked away.

A desire to scream from pure despair and rage filled her so completely that her body shook from her effort to keep it in.

Think, she had to think.

There had to be a way out of this.

There had to be.