If she’d had a clue where they were, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so hopeless, felt that there was no chance of rescue. This was obviously not Gianni’s regular abode. The son of a king wouldn’t live in such filth.
No. This was a perfect place for him to have her — a place no one would suspect. How had he managed to get American men to work for him? There were a few men from his country there, about five that she’d managed to count. But he also had about ten Americans, to judge by their accents. Why would they help him?
Money. The depths that some humans could stoop to for a few dollars was abhorrent to her. They not only had no problem with torturing a pregnant woman, but they enjoyed doing it.
When they reached the dingy kitchen where she’d been brought a couple of times before, the thug thrust her into a chair none too gently, then slapped a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, its lumps turning her stomach.
“Don’t turn your nose up at good food, princess. You will need the energy to get through the interrogation that’s coming,” he taunted her, and moved off to a corner of the room to watch.
Just then, the door opened and Gianni walked in, his eyes as black and hollow as they’d been each time she had the misfortune of seeing him.
He sat across from her and sneered — his idea of a smile — as he waited to see what she would do. They had mocked her the first time she’d refused to eat what they chose to serve her, telling her she wasn’t royalty yet and had better take what they offered.
Then Gianni had spent hours relentlessly questioning her. What he asked her, she didn’t have answers for. Even if she wanted to tell him, she couldn’t.
A shudder ran through her. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it.
It’s for the babies, she told herself as she picked up the spoon and took a bite of the half-cooked oatmeal. It was disgusting, but she hoped it would stave off starvation and give her just enough energy not to fall face-first when she had a chance at escape. Because the first chance she got, she was running as far from this place as possible.
If she was going to die, then she was going to do it fighting, not cowering in the corner the way they expected her to.
Only once since arriving had she been outside, and snow had covered the ground. They had huge floodlights all over the yard, making it impossible for her to sneak out beneath the watchful gaze of Gianni’s guards. There were woods all around, so if she could get to them, she had a place to hide, but she’d bet there wasn’t another house around for miles. If the elements didn’t kill her, then wild animals might. It was still a better death than being tortured and raped.
“Have you decided to cooperate yet?”
Rachel looked the man dead in the eyes while she forced another spoonful of mush into her mouth. She said nothing.
“Ah, I see you still think you have choices here,” he said, a corner of his lip turning up as he gazed at her, his head tilting slightly as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out how to solve.
“I can understand why my brother is so fascinated by you. There is fire running through your veins. If we had met under more…pleasant circumstances, I might have fancied you myself,” he said. It was a compliment she could do without.
Rachel didn’t blink, just tried her hardest not to explode. It wasn’t the right time yet. He was a slimy slug and she would have no qualms about gouging out his eye with a fire poker if she could get her hands on one. Unfortunately, these men weren’t stupid, and they allowed no possible weapons where she might get to them.
She wanted to scream, but kept silent, conveying her loathing of him loud and clear with just a look.
His hand lifted and caressed her face. When she jerked her head away, he grabbed her hair, yanking it and pulling her forward so her bowl was knocked over the edge of the table. “I think it’s time to teach you how a real king gets a woman to behave,” Gianni said, his voice deadly. He stood and grabbed her arm, bruising her as he hauled her from her seat.
Rachel struggled against him, but to no avail. Gianni raised his other hand and slapped her hard enough that she nearly blacked out. Her eye began swelling as he moved toward the door.
Within a few seconds, the heavy back door was open and he pushed her outside, making her stumble and sink to her knees in the snow. Two of his men approached and grabbed her arms, lifting her back to her feet as they continued their forward march. She couldn’t suppress her overwhelming fear about what would happen next. As she trembled from terror and the cold, they marched her barefoot through the snow to a shed.
Opening the door, they tossed her in. Rachel landed on her backside and scooted away from the men to the far wall.
“Why don’t you cool off for a while and see if it gives you a better attitude? When you are ready to speak to me, we’ll allow you to come back inside,” Gianni said before the door shut, locking her inside.
The shed did little to ward off the bitter cold of winter, and Rachel’s thin clothing helped her not at all. So she searched until she found an old tarp under a pile of debris.
Folding it in two, she felt the gripping cold of the plastic material pierce through her clothing and freeze her skin while she wrapped the thing, filthiness and all, around her shoulders. But it was all she had, and she prayed it would help to hold in what little body heat she had remaining.
Curling up in a fetal position on the hard earth floor, she breathed deeply into her plastic cocoon, refusing to let any tears fall.
This wasn’t how her life was supposed to end.
She was supposed to be a mother in five months; she was supposed to hold her babies close as she dreamed about tomorrow.
Rachel knew she should try to stay awake, but as sleep began dragging her under, she soon stopped fighting it. She didn’t want to be awake. If she didn’t ever awaken, it was meant to be.
Letting go, she huddled beneath the tarp and prayed for the comfort of dreams to replace her harsh reality.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
THE DOOR SWUNG open and Shane was standing there in full military gear, looking like GI Joe come to life. Rachel was trying to analyze this dream. Why would she be fantasizing about Shane? She’d think it would be Adriane, the man she loved, rescuing her.
But, no, not even in her fantasies was he playing the star and the hero. Maybe she’d closed the door on the hope of a happily ever after with her king; maybe she thought it was too much to hope for at this point.