Her mouth twisted into a grimace. She had heard them talking. “The sparrow is flying,” they would say. Warren’s goons had all kinds of coded language. They thought it made them sound more professional. She thought it was ridiculous. She wondered what his code name was. She amused herself for a few minutes coming up with some possibilities. Monster? Master? Tyrant? Asshole? She smiled lamely.
Wonder what would happen if she did get away? What would the goons say then? There would be hell to pay that day, she thought, but then that day would never come. She wouldn’t be able to get away from Warren until the last coded phrase they used was, “The Sparrow is dead.”
Caroline sighed and began to sponge off her sore body. As she looked at the bruises the self-loathing started all over again. She must be stronger than this. She must break the chains and loosen the power he had over her. She turned to jelly the minute he walked in the room and she despised herself for that, but somehow she was going to have to find a solution. She didn’t know what it was yet, but something would present itself. Getting away from him would not be easy, but there had to be a way. God help her, there just had to be a way.
Chapter 8
The concrete floor was hard and cold against his face. He struggled to move but found he couldn’t. His arms were behind his back, he was curled up in a tight ball, a very uncomfortable position for a six foot five man. He took a minute to assess his situation. His shoulders ached, his hands were numb, and he couldn’t feel his feet. He wriggled his fingers and tried to move his wrists to restore some blood flow but found his hands were tightly bound with heavy cord or rope. He tried to do the same with his feet and found them tied as well.
Where was he? He lifted his head and the pain exploded behind his eyes so he dropped it back down onto the floor. Nausea rolled around his gut working its way up to his throat. He fought it, hard. He would not lay here in a pool of his own vomit. God, how did he get here? Why was he tied up? He tried to think but, his mind was blind with the hurting.
Then he heard the blood-curdling scream. His head involuntary jerked up, again sending another searing pain across his skull. What the hell? Who was that? What was happening to her? Whatever it was did not sound good at all. The sound wasn’t far from where he currently lay. More slowly this time, he turned his head and tried to look around. Blinking a few times, he cleared his blurred vision. God, his head hurt.
Slowly his eyes came into focus. The room was dark except for a single light bulb swinging overhead, casting eerie shadows, and distorting everything around him. His back was against a crudely built stonewall; he could feel the sharp ends of the masonry stones poking his back, shoulders and hips. He rolled slightly and stretched his long legs. From his vantage point on the floor, he could see a small woman bound to a chair. A very tall man leaned over her, shouting directly into her face. She was sobbing and her head was swinging from side to side. Whatever the man wanted, she wasn’t giving it to him. He held something in his hand, but from his vantage point, Jack couldn’t tell exactly what it was. It appeared to be an electrical probe. He stared at the man looming over the woman. There was something familiar about him.
Jack saw the man move in, and another scream, louder this time, ripped from the woman’s throat. The man touched her with the probe again and her body arched rigidly, and then slumped in the chair. Jack fought against his bindings, trying desperately to free himself. He could not be witness to this, lie here, and do nothing. His struggle drew the man’s attention.
“ Hello, Jack. Nice to see you awake. Sorry about the ropes, but you were just determined to get in the way, and I couldn’t let that happen. I’m sure your head hurts a bit. Sorry about that too, but your face got in the way
Wonder what would happen if she did get away? What would the goons say then? There would be hell to pay that day, she thought, but then that day would never come. She wouldn’t be able to get away from Warren until the last coded phrase they used was, “The Sparrow is dead.”
Caroline sighed and began to sponge off her sore body. As she looked at the bruises the self-loathing started all over again. She must be stronger than this. She must break the chains and loosen the power he had over her. She turned to jelly the minute he walked in the room and she despised herself for that, but somehow she was going to have to find a solution. She didn’t know what it was yet, but something would present itself. Getting away from him would not be easy, but there had to be a way. God help her, there just had to be a way.
Chapter 8
The concrete floor was hard and cold against his face. He struggled to move but found he couldn’t. His arms were behind his back, he was curled up in a tight ball, a very uncomfortable position for a six foot five man. He took a minute to assess his situation. His shoulders ached, his hands were numb, and he couldn’t feel his feet. He wriggled his fingers and tried to move his wrists to restore some blood flow but found his hands were tightly bound with heavy cord or rope. He tried to do the same with his feet and found them tied as well.
Where was he? He lifted his head and the pain exploded behind his eyes so he dropped it back down onto the floor. Nausea rolled around his gut working its way up to his throat. He fought it, hard. He would not lay here in a pool of his own vomit. God, how did he get here? Why was he tied up? He tried to think but, his mind was blind with the hurting.
Then he heard the blood-curdling scream. His head involuntary jerked up, again sending another searing pain across his skull. What the hell? Who was that? What was happening to her? Whatever it was did not sound good at all. The sound wasn’t far from where he currently lay. More slowly this time, he turned his head and tried to look around. Blinking a few times, he cleared his blurred vision. God, his head hurt.
Slowly his eyes came into focus. The room was dark except for a single light bulb swinging overhead, casting eerie shadows, and distorting everything around him. His back was against a crudely built stonewall; he could feel the sharp ends of the masonry stones poking his back, shoulders and hips. He rolled slightly and stretched his long legs. From his vantage point on the floor, he could see a small woman bound to a chair. A very tall man leaned over her, shouting directly into her face. She was sobbing and her head was swinging from side to side. Whatever the man wanted, she wasn’t giving it to him. He held something in his hand, but from his vantage point, Jack couldn’t tell exactly what it was. It appeared to be an electrical probe. He stared at the man looming over the woman. There was something familiar about him.
Jack saw the man move in, and another scream, louder this time, ripped from the woman’s throat. The man touched her with the probe again and her body arched rigidly, and then slumped in the chair. Jack fought against his bindings, trying desperately to free himself. He could not be witness to this, lie here, and do nothing. His struggle drew the man’s attention.
“ Hello, Jack. Nice to see you awake. Sorry about the ropes, but you were just determined to get in the way, and I couldn’t let that happen. I’m sure your head hurts a bit. Sorry about that too, but your face got in the way
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