He leans me back and cups the back of my head. “It changes everything, Little one.”
I give a sharp nod. He’s right. It does. It will change a lot of things, but one of those things will be how he looks at me. From now on, it’ll be with pity.
But I’ll tell him. He’s not going to let it go until I do.
“I felt my way around the darkness, learning that all I had was a mattress and a bucket. There was no window, and the door was locked. I didn’t need to pee, though, which worried me. It made me wonder how long I’d been down there. I hadn’t had anything to drink for a very long time. That probably contributed to my headache.”
Cannon nods. “The drugs, too. They leave you dehydrated.”
“Eventually, I fell back asleep. I don’t know how long I was out. I thought I would die in that concrete room. I assumed it was a basement. I couldn’t figure out why Larkin bothered to blackmail and kidnap me if his goal was to lock me in a basement and leave me to die.
“At some point, I bolted awake to find someone standing in the room. The light from the open doorway was enough for me to make him out. I didn’t know him. He was about fifty, I think, but he looked older. Worn. Later, I would discover why. He’d lived a hard life. It aged him. Plus, he was an asshole. That ages people, too.”
Cannon gives me a small smile. “It does.”
“When he finally spoke, his words were chilling. He said, ‘It’s your lucky day, bitch. Ordinarily I’m just a waystation for stupid cunts who find themselves on the way to hell. But that cop owes me. You’re my twentieth girl, and you’re a looker. So I’m keeping you.’”
Cannon flinches.
I ignore him and continue, “I could only stare at him, trying to figure out what he meant. My head was pounding even worse than before because I still hadn’t had anything to drink. He held up a glass of water and said, ‘Bet you’d like some of this about now.’ I didn’t dare respond or move, but apparently, he didn’t like that, so he poured the water onto the floor and growled at me. ‘Next time I offer you something, you’ll be grateful, you stupid bitch.’ He turned and stomped out of the room, locking me in again.”
Cannon lifts his hand off my thigh and rubs his beard.
“I can skip ahead.”
“No. No skipping, Eloise.”
I nod. “Eventually, he came back. He was holding another glass of water. ‘You got any manners, girl? You better find them and ask nicely if you want this water.’ Needless to say, I found my manners. ‘May I please have the water?’ I asked. I didn’t recognize myself. But as soon as he handed me the glass, I downed it in seconds.”
“Your head must have felt like it was about to explode.”
“Like never before. After that, he grabbed my arm and nearly dragged me out of that basement room and up the stairs. It was daylight outside. I don’t know if it was the next day or two days later. Probably two days, considering how weak I was. We were in a rundown cabin. The place was ancient. The appliances were so old I felt like I’d stepped back in time. And I had. I learned that quickly. He hauled me into a small room. The only thing in it was another mattress. It had one window that was bolted shut. There was a dress lying on the mattress that looked like something you would see in one of those old shows on television about life on the prairie. ‘Put that on,’ he ordered before slamming the door.”
Cannon’s nostrils flare with every breath. Honestly, it’s his reaction that gives me the strength to continue.
“After I changed, he made me put my jeans, T-shirt, and even my shoes in the fire pit, and he burned them. It was bone-chilling. I would later realize I’d been left with no shoes.”
“Who was this man?” Cannon asks, his voice relatively calm.
“James Westin, but you don’t need to add him to your kill list. He’s already dead.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cannon
* * *
I’m seething inside. It’s hard to sit still and listen to my girl tell her story. I really shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve known since I met her that she’d been through hell, but it’s hard to be prepared to hear the actual details coming from her mouth.
“Where were you, Little one?”
“His mountain cabin. The only person who ever came and went was Larkin. He came about once a month to check on me. By that, I mean he came to make sure I was behaving, threatening me every time. He told me that after my ‘disappearance,’ when it was presumed I was a runaway, he reported me for drug possession. If I ever tried to escape my new life, I would be arrested. He would personally alert the local authorities and everyone in the state that I’d been spotted. He had an elaborate story about the drug runs I was involved with that extended far beyond the cocaine he’d planted in my locker.”
“What a fucking douche, but are you sure any of that is true?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t take the risk that it wasn’t.”
“So, this Westin guy, he…bought you?”
