Even though I’m trembling, I somehow manage to keep my composure. “I have nothing to tell you.”
“Sure, you don’t.” Quinton hisses through his teeth. “I know you’re connected to them, and I’m going to figure out in what way, even if I have to torture you until you give me the answers I want.”
The van makes a sharp turn, and I find myself pressed against the window, my stomach churning, bile rising up in my throat. Shit, I think I’m going to be sick. Silence follows the rest of the ride, and the silence is almost worse than the repeated questioning because silence means he’s thinking, and if he’s thinking, I’m as good as dead.
I’m not sure how long he has his men drive us around in the van, but once we come to a stop, my fear rises exponentially.
“Where did you bring me?” I ask, trying to hide the fear in my voice.
“Now she wants to talk. Nah, I don’t think so. That’s not how this works. I ask the questions, and you provide the answers.”
Grabbing me by the wrist, he pulls me out of the vehicle as soon as the door slides open. My legs are jelly, but somehow, I manage to keep myself upright as he drags me toward a building that appears to be a warehouse. I look around, trying to figure out where he’s brought me, but it appears we’re in the middle of nowhere.
Ahead, a door opens, and Quinton’s grasp on me tightens. We enter a hallway, the lights flick on as we walk inside, and I spot a couple of men following us; their heavy footfalls filter into my ears.
I don’t even attempt to make a run for it. I’m many things, but dumb is not one of them.
Quinton stops and opens a door to the right, pulling me inside with him, none too gently. Again, I barely manage to stay upright with the sudden movements. He’s dragging me behind him at this point. The room illuminates with a dim light that shudders on above us.
I squint and notice the chair in the center of the room. Quinton releases me, giving me a shove toward it.
“Sit and get comfortable because you won’t be leaving until I get the answers I want.”
“I already told you…” My words are halted by an even harder shove toward the chair. I take the seat because I’m not sure what he’s willing to do to get me to follow his orders, and I don’t particularly want to find out. Sitting, I now face him, his face half shadowed in the dark.
“Get the rope,” Quinton tosses the words over his shoulders.
“Rope?” I croak. Now I regret sitting down even more. Stupid me walked right into the lion’s den.
“Yes. I’m not going to risk you escaping. You’ll be tied to this chair until I’m satisfied with the information you provide me. From there, we’ll see what happens to your pathetic life.”
I bite my tongue, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. Nothing I say to him will get me out of this room faster, and I’m not giving him the answers he seeks because I know he’ll kill all of us. One of his men walks into the room, and my gaze catches on the rope in his hand.
Even in the dim light, I still catch the slimy smile on his lips. He’s a sick fucker, I just know it.
“Tie her up and make it quick,” Quinton orders.
A shiver ripples down my spine, and every instinct I have tells me to move, to try an escape, but I resist. I don’t even so much as glance at the man as he ties my legs to the chair, his touch lingering longer than necessary. His rough fingers running down the inside of my thigh makes me want to vomit. All I want to do is shove him away, but with my hands behind my back, I’m helpless to his assault.
“That’s enough,” Quinton growls, and I almost forgot he was still here. “I want her tied up, not groped.”
I’m surprised that he seems to have a sliver of care for what happens to me. Or he just wants to be the one doing this to me. Yes, that’s more like it. I’ve heard stories about him, and I know what he’s capable of. He probably wants to break me himself.
Time moves at a snail’s pace for the next few hours as he starts questioning me. Minutes tick by, but it feels like hours. I want this to be over, but to end it, would mean I’d have to give him what he wants, and I’ll never do that.
“This could all be over if you’d tell me what I want to fucking know!” Quinton yells, his voice piercing my ear drums. My stomach clenches, and my throat and tongue are so dry that it feels like I’ve been chewing on cotton balls.