No amount of kicking or squirming was a match for his strength. Her throat burned with her shrill cries for help. Her feet made no contact; her hands were useless at hitting a helpful target. In the end, she was stuffed into the back of the town car, followed by the two men.
“No!” Her last scream as a free woman was a futile attempt.
They had her.
She was theirs.
Never get into the car. She’d been taught this as a child. Once you were inside the car, you were a dead person. Everyone knew this.
Don’t get into the car!
The door slammed shut.
She righted herself, looking to the front seat, to the driver. Another man wearing the same suit. His eyes were covered by his sunglasses. The evening had already descended; there was no sunlight.
“Let me go!” she yelled and lunged for the door. Yanking on the handle proved fruitless. The door wouldn’t budge.
“Let’s go,” one of the men said and slapped the back of the driver’s seat.
The car lunged forward, taking off from the bus stop into the empty road. Ariana smacked the window, wrenched the handle, never giving up hope she’d get herself out of the car before they got too far away.
“She’s going to hurt herself,” the driver snapped.
“Fine.” The man next to Ariana grabbed her and pulled her into his chest. “I was hoping not to have to use this yet.”
She wiggled, clawing at his face but the second man easily captured her wrists and pinned them down.
“Let me go, you bastard! Let go!” she screamed.
A sharp pinch in her neck brought a new worry.
“What the fuck was that?” she yelled, still tugging to free her wrists.
“Just something to help,” the man said and started smoothing her hair from her face. Her arms became heavy, her eyelids the same.
“Help…with…” She rolled her head to the side. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision. A picture was taped to the radio. Her picture.
Why did they take her?
Where were they taking her?
“There you go, shhh.” The man patted her cheek and the darkness crowded further, pulling her into the center.
No.
No.
No.
And then there was nothing.
Costello buttoned his jeans and went to work on his belt buckle, while the blonde beauty roused from sleep in his bed. Sitting up, she yawned with her hands stretched out over her head.
She smiled sweetly as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” Shoving the covers away, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
He picked up his wallet from the dresser and pushed it into his back pocket.
“It’s fine, but you should head back to the dayroom before they come looking for you.”
She hopped off the bed, smoothing down the light summer dress over her stomach and looked around the floor. Costello toed the cotton panties over to her, enjoying the view as she bent over to retrieve them. A nice pink blush still covered her bare ass.
“Will I see you at snacktime?” she asked, shimmying the panties up over her hips.
“No. I have several meetings to attend.” He opened his bedroom door. “Be good this afternoon or you won’t get playtime for a while,” he cautioned with a grin.
She blushed and lowered her gaze to the floor, hurrying from the room. He delivered a well-placed smack to her ass when she passed him, eliciting a high-pitched giggle before she jogged down the hall. Stepping out behind her, he pulled the door closed, following at a far more sedate pace.
“Another play date?” Gianni fell in step with Costello.
“One of the perks,” Costello said with a laugh and turned down another hall toward the back stairwell.
“You’re spoiling them,” Gianni said as they made their way down to the main floor.
“Why? Because I let them have a little fun before they leave?” Costello asked.
“No, because you’re letting them think it’s going to be anything like this when they go. And you know damn well it’s not,” Gianni reminded him. Costello didn’t need any reminders. He knew exactly what the Lullaby girls were in for once they left the Training House.
It was his job to get them ready for the world outside the House, and he made damn sure they knew what was expected of them.
“Just because I have some fun with them here and there doesn’t mean they are any less trained or any less disciplined,” Costello argued.
“I’ll give you that point.” Gianni opened the door to the study where their afternoon meeting with Frank Romero, head of the Romero family, was being held. “Your girls do behave the best,” Gianni conceded.
“And earn the most money,” Costello added.
The study was more of a conference room than an office. A long, oak table took up most of the room. Floor to ceiling bookcases lined one wall of the room. Thick hardcover books lined each shelf. The dark wood paneling of the walls gave the room an ominous ambiance. The dimly lit lamps along the table didn’t help liven anything up.