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Earlier, she’d told them to drive to another city and stay there until her call. I didn’t know how long we’d been sitting in fear, but when the call came, the men were relieved. I’d taken that time to study the men from their conversations with one another. They’d done this many times before. There were other women being abducted in a nearby town. Were they transporting us to some holding place? The driver said he had to drive around until he got the approval to go to the master destination.

I was certain this was a sex trafficking ring. I’d heard about them on the news, but never imagined I’d find myself in this situation.

The terror numbed me. If I wanted to survive, I had to be smart and calm.

“It’s fucking hot.” The man aiming the gun removed his mask, fanning himself.

Another wave of fear skittered down my spine. He was the homeless man who had cleaned the windshield on Juan’s car the day I’d arrived in Texas. He didn’t look homeless right now. Why had he acted like that? Were all the homeless people part of some underground crime organization?

Would Olivia and I be some of those missing people who would never be found again? Bile crept up my throat, but I pushed it down. I didn’t want them to see how vulnerable I was right now.

I wanted my phone, which was in my purse, but he’d grabbed it and shoved it into a box behind him. Chococat had fallen out of my purse. That plush meant so much to me and Forrest. Olivia had left her belongings in the car.

Did anyone see the abduction? Did Forrest know I was missing? Would I see him again? Would I be able to see my mom? She needed me.

Various emotions stirred in me like a bad soup that gave me a terrible heartburn. Fear swirled with anxiety, outrage, confusion, and the need to survive. Survival required me to calm down so I could think.

Was there a proper reaction to dangerous situations like these? This wasn’t a TV show. I’d seen enough of them to know Olivia and I might die tonight. Even if we could escape, we might not be the same person . . .

Stop it. You need to stay positive.

I agreed with my inner voice. Freaking myself out wasn’t going to help anyone but the enemies.

The van took a sharp turn, and Olivia and I slid into each other.I was grateful they hadn’t tied us up.

“I remember you. What do you want with us?” I asked the fake hobo who had grown a mustache.

He smirked. “Excellent memory.”

He ignored my other question, and the van stopped. The driver got out and opened the door. Another man stood beside him, looking like a mean bear with curly brown hair and a bushy beard.

Bushy Beard looked at Fake Hobo. “Bo, take them to room fourteen and get them showered and fed to prepare for tomorrow night. They should be in pristine condition—that’s Yvette’s reminder. We’re expecting a very generous crowd.”

Ice formed in my stomach. What did that mean? A crowd of what? Realization dawned and terror chewed up my intestines, giving me horrible cramps.

“Got it.” Bo shoved my shoulder, and when I didn’t move—couldn’t move—he shoved his gun into my back. “Move.”

“Yvette.” Olivia looked at me, and I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Bitch,” I mouthed. She’d lured us by pitching a too-good-to-be-true job.

I was angry at her and myself for not thinking clearly. My financial situation had blurred the truth. How many other girls had fallen for her scam?

“Be strong,” I whispered to Olivia, who nodded.

We couldn’t let fear make us weak if we wanted to escape.

Bo shoved me again, this time harder. I willed my strength, and somehow the stomach pain subsided. Or rather, my need to survive added to my anger numbed it. I straightened up and walked faster toward a brick building surrounded by many other buildings like it. Could I be in the industrial area that was close to where the car had parked?

With his gun, Bo gestured for me and Olivia to enter the side door. The sound of another car had me turning back to see another black van stopping to let out three more frightened women.

What the hell was going on?

We entered the building, and Bo led us down a dimly lithallway. A thought flared in my head. Why hadn’t they tied our hands? I’d watched too many crime shows to know that most abductors tied up their victims.

They should be in pristine condition.

Tying us up would force us to break free, which would leave lesions.