Page 2 of Duke

Who the fuck would take me prisoner like this? And why?

The events in Nevada floated through my head and I remembered Harris’s warning about Cain reappearing and being bent on revenge…and now I have an inkling as to what is going on.

I was still working through the situation in my head when I heard voices in the distance followed by footsteps shuffling down the stairs.

“Play possum, okay?” I hissed, quiet as I could. “Trust me.”

“Nnnnng?” She sounded less sparky, and more fearful.

“You’ve got my word, Fancy. I’ll get you out of this. But you gotta listen to me real carefully. Breathe like you’re still asleep. Relax your muscles. Don’t react toanything.”

“An-cee?”

“Yeah, Fancy, that’s you. Now shut up and play possum.”

I followed my own orders as the voices got closer, the footsteps just on the other side of the wall. I heard a lock twist, then hinges protested, and feet—two pair, three—three, I’d wager—scuffed across the floor. Definitely a cement floor. European voices, thick Eastern Bloc accents. Definitely Cain’s group.

“Still out,” a voice said, in heavily accented English.

A pair of feet shuffled toward me. “Should be. We hit this big one with enough tranquilizer to take out a pair of elephants.” This from a second voice.

“And the girl?” The first guy again.

“Cain said no witnesses, no chances.” Third voice, sounding like he had a bit of authority.

“Think we could have some fun, first?” First voice again.

They were baiting me, I realized. They’d be talking in Czech or Ukrainian or whatever if this discussion were meant for their ears only. This was for us, to see if we were awake.

“After she wakes up,” said voice number three, the one that sounded in charge. “No hurry. Cain won’t be here for a few days yet. We have time for fun later.”

The feet shuffled even closer to me. My heart hammered, but I kept my breathing steady and slow, my muscles loose. There was a moment of silence, and then a shock of agony and a loud thud as a big boot slammed full force into my gut. No warning, no way to tense against it, I couldn’t breathe, shit—

I forced myself not to react, struggling through the lack of oxygen, the wind knocked so far out of me stars burst behind my eyes and panic clutched at my instincts. I stayed still, as if the tranquilizer was still working in my bloodstream; and when I didn’t react they must have assumed, logically, that I was still under.

You don’t survive alone on the streets for as long as I did and not learn to take a kick or ten to the gut.

I heard their feet retreat; they were speaking in their own language now. The door closed, the lock turned, boots ascended, and then I heard the floorboards overhead creak, followed by a loud squeal like rusty screen door hinges slamming shut.

Finally, I let myself gulp oxygen, gagging on it as it flooded through me. “Fucker’s…gonna…pay…for that,” I gasped.

“Oooh oh-kay?”

“Just fine, Fancy, just fine. Gotta catch my breath, and then I’ll do some commando shit or something.” My head was still thick, aching, my mouth was dry, and now my stomach throbbed.

Thinking was hard.

I gave myself a thirty count, and then I brought my hands up and used my thumbs to rip off the blindfold. Yep: basement, bare concrete floor, metal posts holding up the low ceiling, open rafters and ductwork, an old box fan in one corner, along with a stationary bike. There was an old weight bench with a single barbell bar on it but no weights, a freestanding heavy bag, and a shelving unit with aging canned goods. In short, this was the basement of a tired, old suburban house. I rolled onto my back, then onto my other side.

And there was Fancy, in all her glory. She was on her side too, perpendicular to me, the top of her head near my stomach. Five-six or five-seven, sleek, svelte, tight round ass in a knee-length dove-gray skirt, black wedge heels, and a white blouse cupping a sensational pair of high, plump, firm tits, not super huge, but enough to fill even my big ol’ paws. She looked just like I remembered her from last night.

Only now her fine blond hair, which I remembered being done in a casually elegant up-do, was now tangled and messy, lank strings hanging in her eyes and sticking to her neck and cheeks. And holy mother of fucks, the woman’s skin…damn. Pale as pearls, flawless, enticing. Except her cheeks, which were flushed bright pink. She was glaring at me, and her eyes were…fuck, her eyes were like nothing I’d ever seen before. Cerulean blue shot through with streaks of green and hints of hazel. Wide eyes, full of fierce personality. Beautiful, hypnotizing eyes.

“Hey, ahh-hoh. Geh a mooh on.”

Clear enough, I supposed.

I rolled forward to my knees, stood up, worked the kinks out of my stiff joints, then laced my fingers together, flexed my wrists away from each other to put tension on the zip-tie, swung my arms up and then back down hard as I could while swinging my knee up. My wrists hit my knee with crushing force, and the zip-tie snapped, freeing my hands. Ten seconds or less, motherfucker.