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Page 5 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)

“Where are we going?”

Taryn shifted her gaze from the car’s display to the girl in the seat next to her. “A hotel.” Picking Up a Young Street Girl 101. It was in perfect keeping with the persona she’d adopted for the night.

The girl trembled.

“Are you cold?” Taryn commanded the car to turn up the heat.

The girl shook her head. Awkward silence filled the space between them.

“Your name’s Gazelle?”

She shook her head again. Then, just when Taryn had given up on her answering, she whispered, “It’s Giselle. He could never say it right.”

Fuck. It wasn’t bad enough that Giselle’s whole life had been stripped away from her. She was taunted with her loss every time he used the almost-but-not-quite-right name. That sucked.

“Nice to meet you, Giselle,” Taryn said softly.

Giselle gave her a funny look, then went back to staring out the window.

Several minutes later, Taryn pulled into the back lot of a no-tell motel on the fringes of the city. The flickering neon lights may have once enticed long-ago visitors to enjoy free Wi-Fi and in-room hot tubs. Now the only thing that kept the place in business was no ID requirements and a strict cash-only policy.

“Get out,” Taryn said when they stopped in the darkened parking lot.

“Here?” Fingers on the passenger window, Giselle’s voice wavered.

“You got a problem with this place?” She was curious how Giselle would respond.

The girl sucked in a breath. “No, it’s perfect.” Her voice was stronger than it had been.

Interesting. If Taryn didn’t know better, she’d have said the girl’s voice oozed sarcasm, but sarcasm was a dangerous game when you were a street girl.

Still, Taryn admired her gumption. It meant she’d made the right choice. “Good.” It really was the perfect location for what she needed. “Follow me.” Taryn grabbed a small overnight bag and a small metal carrying cage from the trunk and locked the car.

Tucking her arm into Giselle’s, Taryn led her through the dark parking lot to the room she’d rented earlier on a burner phone.

She held the code up to the scanner and the old-school system flickered a weak green. Pushing open the door, Taryn studied the room. A big bed dominated the space. The faded bedspread covering it probably hadn’t been changed in decades. Sadness and desperation hung in the air—they’d probably soaked into the walls.

It would do.

Waving Giselle to go ahead of her, Taryn set the cage outside, then closed and locked the door, setting the chain as well as a portable deadlock she’d brought with her. She intentionally didn’t look at Giselle. The girl was terrified. Things wouldn’t improve any time soon.

“Have a seat.” Taryn gestured to the bed.

Giselle perched on the edge with a grimace. Her hands fluttered as she decided whether to fold them in her lap or brace them on the mattress and lean back seductively. She settled for placing them in her lap. In the room’s bright lights, Giselle looked like a girl playing dress up.

Taryn wanted to cry. Instead, she channeled all those emotions into her resolve.

Digging into her overnight case, Taryn pulled out an untraceable tablet. She opened a popular music app, put it on the bedside table, and turned it up. It took a little fiddling to find the perfect volume: loud enough to cover her conversation, but not loud enough that the neighbors would complain. Like Taryn, the people who frequented these hotels didn’t want to draw any attention.

Taryn stalked around the room one more time, studying the setup. Satisfied, she turned to Giselle. “Go into the bathroom and take off your clothes. Leave them there,” she said in a cold steady voice.

Giselle stared at her, horror slowly wiping away the tentative smile that had been growing since Taryn hadn’t immediately attacked her.

“What?” Arms wrapped around her middle, Giselle stared at her with wide dark eyes.

“Go into the bathroom. Take off your clothes,” she repeated. “Wear a towel if you want.” She knew Giselle was scared. That was what she wanted. Quiet and less likely to ask questions.

Giselle ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Taryn smiled. Terrified or not, the girl still had a small defiant streak.

While she was alone, Taryn pulled a few more items from her bag and placed them on top of the rickety dresser.

She’d built an hour for coaxing Giselle out of the bathroom into her schedule. Fortunately, it wasn’t nearly that long before the door opened and the girl stepped out. The worn towel mostly covered the girl’s slim figure.

She approached Taryn and the bed timidly.

“Sit down,” Taryn commanded.

Eyes wide, Giselle did what she was told.

Good. What Taryn was about to do was difficult. Unquestioning obedience would make it somewhat easier. She studied the supplies she’d laid out on the dresser. Picking up a scalpel and a topical anesthetic cream, she turned back to Giselle.

The girl’s face paled. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Taryn crouched and placed her hand on Giselle’s knee. The girl flinched, though she tried to hide it.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully. Do you understand?”

After a long moment, Giselle nodded.

Unfortunately, Taryn needed more. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” Giselle whimpered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Taryn said. Well, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t going to lie to her. “Scratch that, I am going to hurt you, but not for fun. I’m trying to help you.”

“How?” The single word trembled.

“Do you like your life?”

The girl stared at her like it was a trick question. “Do you?” Taryn added more force to her voice.

“No.” This time the girl’s voice was stronger.

“Good. I can get you out of it, but you have to do exactly what I say.”

Giselle looked around the room. Taryn was sure that she was looking for the trick. A hidden camera, unseen audio recorders. “The room is clean.” She wrinkled her nose at the bedspread underneath Giselle. “Electronically, at least. Do you want out?”

Giselle swallowed hard. “Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

A wave of relief flowed through Taryn. If the girl had said no, she would have asked one more time, then returned her to her pimp after a few hours. She held Giselle’s gaze. “Are you ready to do exactly what I say?”

With a deep breath, Giselle nodded. “Yes.”

“Where’s your tracking device?”

“In my thigh,” Giselle said.

“Show me.”

With another deep breath, the girl pulled the towel aside and extended her leg.

Taryn tucked the towel down to help preserve the girl’s modesty. Giselle may have been on the streets long enough not to care, but Taryn believed it was never too early to help her rebuild her boundaries.

“Right here.” Giselle ran her finger over a scar inches from her sex.

“Bastards.” Not only did the pimps mark their prostitutes with fucking tracking chips like property, they made it as unpleasant as possible.

Taryn switched the scalpel to her left hand and grabbed the cream with her right. “I’m going to cut it out, but it’s going to hurt. A lot. This ointment will dull the pain some. It also has antibiotic properties.”

She handed the tube to Giselle. “Spread this over the scar and six inches around the area.”

“You want me to do it?” she whispered.

Taryn nodded. “This is the first step toward your new life.”

“Okay.” Giselle shook her head. “Okay,” she repeated, her voice stronger. She took the tube from Taryn and applied the ointment as directed. When she was done, she capped the tube and set it on the bed next to her.

“Do you feel the tingling?” Taryn watched her closely.

“Yes.”

“That means it’s working.” Taryn pulled the sterile scalpel from the wrapper. “It’ll help, but it won’t block all the pain. If you scream, it could bring attention that neither of us want. Do you want something to bite down on?” Personally, Taryn wouldn’t do it. She’d embraced the pain, accepted it as the price of freedom.

“No. I won’t scream.”

It was a vow. Taryn honored it as such.

“Okay, scoot back and lay down with your leg extended. I’ll make this as quick as I safely can.”

The girl did as she was told. Her fingers curled into the bedspread, but other than that she was still. Taryn hated to imagine the circumstances that had given her such control.

Taryn took a deep breath. She hated this part. Hated it every damn time. The only way she could get through it was to remind herself why she did it. She set up the rest of her tools, quietly narrating each step out loud. There was no need for Giselle to suffer and wonder what was happening.

Everything was in place. Taryn donned gloves and found her focus through steady breaths. She placed the tip of the scalpel slightly above the scar and pressed down. The skin beneath the blade resisted... until it didn’t. Giselle’s quick indrawn breath was the only sound she made.

Blood welled along the cut. Absorbent gauze clenched in her other hand, Taryn created an inch-long incision right next to the scar. With quick, practiced motions, she set the scalpel down on the sterile sheet she’d brought with the tools and picked up spreaders and a set of tweezers.

“This is the worst part,” she quietly warned Giselle. Every time she dug a tracker out of another woman, Taryn remembered the pain of digging out her own tracking chip.

Blood welled from the cut and she wanted to gag. She’d rather face down the most thuggish of pimps on the street than do this. But it was the most important step. She didn’t—couldn’t—trust it to anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” Her apology was the only indication that she was paying any attention to the girl on the bed. Taryn separated the incision with the spreaders, then blotted away the blood, revealing her first glimpse of the tracker. The tag was small, barely the size of her pinkie fingernail, and a mottled silver under the dark blood.

It didn’t look like the chip had been in long enough to grow into the muscle. God, she hoped it hadn’t. That was the worst. So many more chances to cause permanent damage to the girl she was trying not to hurt.

With a steady hold on the tweezers, Taryn forced everything but the task before her out of her mind.

The blood made the chip slippery and Taryn lost her grip on it twice. It had to hurt, but except for a hiss of pain, Giselle hadn’t moved. Taryn was damn impressed. In the worst of circumstances, the young woman was bearing up well under the pressure.

That strength boded well for Giselle’s ability to adapt. The steps from hotel room surgery to a brand-new life weren’t easy.

“Yes.” Taryn established a secure grip on the chip on her third try. She pulled it straight up, hoping to minimize Giselle’s pain. When the thin metal bit cleared the incision, Taryn set it on the towel. As much as she wanted to destroy it, the tracker was crucial to her plans.

“The tag is out,” she told Giselle. “I’m going to patch you up, then on to stage two.”

As she’d hoped, the mention of the next stage caught Giselle’s attention.

“What’s stage two?” Giselle’s voice was faint with pain, but carried a thread of that inner strength.

“After I seal up this cut, we’ll dispose of the tracker and get you somewhere safe.”

“How will you know it’s safe?”

How much to tell her? Taryn understood her doubt, but she wouldn’t risk the other women she’d rescued.

“Where we’re going, you’ll be able to stay out of sight as much as you want while you decide what you want to do next.”

Taryn released the spreaders and carefully removed them from the cut. She cleaned the incision again and covered it with antibiotic cream and self-sealing skin adhesive. Unless Giselle developed an infection, the cut would heal with barely a scar. At least on the outside. Taryn would do what she could to make sure the girl had as few other scars as possible.

“There are other girls there?—”

Giselle lurched upright, then fell back with a whimper.

“Easy now,” Taryn cautioned. “The other girls are like you—off the streets and living new lives.”

“Promise?” Giselle asked, sounding young and afraid.

Taryn’s heart broke all over again. “Promise,” she said, glad it was one she could keep. She shook off the melancholy and slipped back into Jack mode. “Let’s get you up. Be careful. It’s going to hurt—a lot—especially when the numbing agent wears off.”

With Taryn’s help, Giselle rolled to her side and sat up, clutching the towel against her chest. Then she spread her legs and tried to see the wound.

“Here.” Taryn handed her a small mirror, then stood and turned her back while Giselle checked out the results of the impromptu surgery. Taryn had witnessed this ritual before. “I’ll get you some clothes.”

“Will it leave a scar?”

“Probably,” Taryn admitted. “If you’re careful and let it heal, it’ll probably be a small one that gets less noticeable with time. Picking at it will only make it worse.”

“Okay.” Giselle’s voice was stronger now.

Taryn pulled a pair of baggy black pants and an oversize blue sweatshirt out of her bag, as well as underwear and a tank top. All the clothing still had tags. “You decent?”

“Yes.”

Taryn handed the pile of clothes to the girl. “Put these on.” She added a simple pair of flats to the pile. They should fit the girl well enough to get out of here.

“What about my other clothes?” Giselle asked.

Taryn arched her brow. “Do you really want to put those back on?”

Giselle thought about it before she shook her head. “No, I guess not.”

“These will keep you covered and warm until we get you out of here. Can you stand?” A hard question for someone who’d just had surgery on her leg. Taryn’s tone was brisk. She was itching to get out of here. The more distance—the more time—they could put between them and this room, the better she would feel.

She wanted to give Giselle more time, but the clock was ticking. If it ran out—if they were caught—then all Taryn’s hard work and planning would be for nothing.

“I’ll try,” Giselle said. Once more Taryn was proud of this girl who kept fighting.

She watched intently as Giselle planted her feet on the floor and used her hands to push off the bed. When her legs took her full weight, Taryn caught the wince that flashed across her face, but other than a slight hiss of breath, Giselle made no sound.

The girl steadied herself with a hand on the bed, then flashed a beaming smile when she managed to stay upright. “I can walk.”

“Good.” The girl was slight, but Taryn didn’t want to carry her. That would draw unwanted attention. It was better if no one noticed them and no one remembered them.

“Get dressed,” Taryn reminded her.

Giselle dropped the towel and the dingy white cotton puddled around her feet. Bruises and scars marred her skin and she was too thin.

Pity and anger roiled within Taryn and she fought to keep calm.

One step at a time. They had to get away cleanly before she could help Giselle with her scars and anything else she needed.

The girl popped the tags off the clothes and dressed quickly. The oversize clothes swamped her.

Taryn dipped into her bag again and pulled out a pre-wrapped snack kit and a sealed bottle of nutrient-enriched water.

“Here.” She thrust the packages at Giselle. “Eat and drink. You need to keep your strength up. It will help with the healing.”

Giselle took them tentatively. She stared hard at them, then set them on the bed. Fists clenched, she asked, “How much do they cost?”

Taryn stopped what she was doing and studied her. Giselle must have taken her look as a challenge because she flinched and dropped her gaze. She looked up almost immediately and stared at Taryn defiantly. “What does this all cost?”

Ah. Taryn leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. About half the girls asked. The other half were usually too scared. The question broke her heart every time. “This rescue? It’s free.”

Giselle shook her head. “I don’t believe you. Why are you doing this? Is it a trick?”

Taryn spread her hands wide. “It’s not a trick. Not a trap. I’m doing this because I was once like you.” She turned sideways and tugged down the neck of her shirt. “You see this scar?”

Her finger traced the thick, ragged scar on her left shoulder blade. “I got that when I cut out my own chip.” Echoes of the pain she endured when she dug it out raced through her body. She closed her eyes and forced the agony back into the past where it belonged.

Giselle gasped.

“That was my first step to getting out of this life.” Taryn didn’t tell her that she’d been caught and chipped again. That would send the poor girl screaming.

She tugged her top back in place. “The rescue is free. Mostly free,” Taryn corrected. “Removing the chip, getting you a place to live, training you on new skills? All free. Once you’re on your feet, we’ll come to an arrangement. Each woman pays me a bit of their salaries.”

Taryn held up a hand to forestall the accusation that she’d become their pimp. “Real jobs. Some work in offices, others get jobs in restaurants or hospitals. The funds are used to pay it forward and cover expenses for the next girl I rescue.” She paused. “And each of them owe me a favor.”

“What if they don’t agree to that? What happens then?” Giselle asked, a tiny fire in her tone.

Taryn shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Now I know you’re lying. No one does something for nothing.” Giselle surged for the door.

Taryn’s right arm shot out to block her. “If a girl doesn’t want to help after I’ve helped her, that’s fine. I don’t like it, but I don’t take it out on her. When I say nothing happens, that’s the truth. If her pimp comes after her, I do nothing. If she gets into trouble, I do nothing.” She stared hard into Giselle’s eyes. “Now do you understand?”

Giselle never dropped her gaze. Fear and hope and disbelief warred in her eyes. She nodded.

That wasn’t enough. “Out loud.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Do you believe me?”

Giselle hesitated this time, thought it over. Another positive sign. “I’m not sure.”

“Fair enough. Now, do you want me to put the chip back in and you can forget all this happened?”

“No. No!” The young woman stared at the blood-covered chip laying on the bed in horror.

“Good answer,” Taryn said. “Here’s what happens next.”

Wearing a clean pair of gloves, Taryn cleaned up the chip. Giselle’s pimp might have coded it to her, but she wanted as much of the girl’s genetic material off it before releasing it into the wild. She didn’t want any trace of herself on it either.

“Please don’t scream,” Taryn said when she finished. “This is the kind of gross part.”

“Grosser than cutting that out of my leg?” Giselle’s laugh held the slightest bit of hysteria.

“Yeah, sorry.” Taryn waved the girl toward the back of the room, then opened the front door. She scanned the area for people, then crouched and reached for the cage hidden in the shadows to the left of the door.

This was the last step before they left the hotel and it was the part Taryn hated most. She wrapped her fingers around the cage’s handle and pulled it into the room.

She closed and locked the door, all while keeping the cage at arm’s length.

“Oh my god, is that a rat?!” Giselle squealed and retreated into the bathroom.

“Shhh,” Taryn warned. She set the cage on the dresser. It took discipline to not give in to the willies.

The cage held a big rat. One that was fucking huge and creeped her the fuck out. “Yes, it’s a rat,” she said with more calm than she felt, “and he’s going to help us get you free.”

“I don’t have to touch it or anything, do I?” Giselle asked from the safety of the bathroom.

“No. I’m the one who has to touch it.”

“Gross!”

Yeah, that summed up Taryn’s feelings too. Unfortunately, it was the best way she’d found to take care of the chip.

“Take off your bracelet,” she instructed Giselle. “You can do it without contacting him, right?”

Giselle nodded. Her gaze dropped slowly from the rat to her wrist. She slid it carefully over her hand. She held it out to Taryn.

Taryn hid a smile as she took in the distance the girl kept between her and the rat. Taryn opened her hand and the girl dropped the thin band into it.

“I’m going to put the bracelet and this,” she held up the chip, “on it.” Taryn pointed to the rat. “When we let him go, your pimp will be tracking it and not us.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

Now she was worried about the danger?

“No more than anything else. Plus, it gives us a chance to get away. Get you safe.” She paused. “Any other questions, or are you ready to go?”

“Ready to go, I guess.”

“Great.” Taryn really hated this part. More than once she’d considered using some kind of drone or mechanical rodent, but nothing worked quite as well as the real thing.

She donned reinforced synth-leather gloves and grabbed the rat. It squealed and she was thankful that the music covered the noise.

Her hand wrapped around its torso and she shuddered as it wiggled. Although there was a full thick layer of material between them, it felt like they were skin to skin.

Ugh.

The rat wriggled and squirmed and all Taryn wanted to do was open her hand and let him go. Then wash her hands a million times.

Gripping the rat with her right hand, she slipped Giselle’s bracelet over its head. Then she smeared adhesive on the rat’s coat with her left. Then she grabbed the chip, careful not to damage the small circuitry and carefully, so carefully, she pressed the chip against the adhesive. That earned her a higher-pitched squeal. She startled and the rat bit her. She felt the faint contact even through the thick glove.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Ohmygod! Are you okay?” Giselle raced to her side.

“I’m fine.” She pulled off her gloves to double-check. She stared at her right hand, nearly 100 percent sure that there was no way those little rat teeth could have penetrated the metal. Still, she had to make sure. It was a compulsion she’d never quite broken in the years she’d had the prosthetic arm.

“You... have a metal arm.” Giselle sounded intrigued.

“Yeah.” Though she frequently wore long sleeves that covered it, Taryn didn’t hide it. The molded metal ran from her shoulder joint to the tips of her fingers. She had a good range of motion, fine motor skills, and could throw a helluva punch, but it wasn’t a high-end prosthetic. It was the best she’d been able to afford when she’d needed it.

Taryn tested it a few seconds longer. No feeling, no harm.

“You ready to go?” Her voice was brusque, but the girl stared at her arm in fascination. “We need to get moving.” She packed as efficiently as she had unpacked.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

Taryn scanned the room and ran a mental inventory. Everything but the rat was back in the bag. “You want your other clothes?” she asked Giselle.

“No!”

Good. That was exactly the answer Taryn wanted. She’d leave them here in case there were extra trackers.

“One more thing.” She reached into the bag and pulled out the final piece of her plan. The crystalline tube held a blue liquid under a high-pressure seal. When the seal the broke, it became a gas that dissolved organic matter, like the invisible bits of DNA that she and Giselle left in the room. Everyone said that it wouldn’t dissolve people, but Taryn refused to remain in the room to test it. She’d purchased the tube on the black market and, well, you couldn’t always be sure of the quality.

“Listen, I need you to do two things for me.” Taryn didn’t usually involve them in this part, but Giselle seemed to be holding it together better than other girls had.

She nodded, her eyes wide.

“Pick up the cage after I take the rat out. And take this.” Taryn held out the cylinder.

Giselle didn’t reach for it immediately. “What is it?”

Deciding “a highly concentrated chemical soup” would only freak the girl out, Taryn said, “A chemical eraser. It’ll make sure there’s no trace of us left in the room.”

“That sounds dangerous.” She tucked her hand behind her back.

Dammit. Taryn couldn’t afford for her to get squeamish now. “Less dangerous than your pimp.” The words were harsh, but true. “It’ll make it harder for him to find you.”

Apparently, those were the magic words. Giselle plucked the cylinder out of Taryn’s grasp before the words were out of her mouth. “What do I do?”

“When we get to the door, I’ll open it. You throw the tube at the back wall of the room. Hard. I’ll close the door, let the rat go outside, and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Taryn grabbed the damn rat out of his cage. He wiggled and she resisted the urge to drop him. Not until they got outside. She opened the door the moment Giselle picked up the cage and the three of them stepped into the dark parking lot.