Saving Brigit (2 page)

“Not as much as I’d like you,” Thia answered.

He came to stand over her. His green eyes glittered with humor, while his fingers deftly released his cock, hard and long and ready. She licked her lips. His hand stroked the length of his erection. She came to her knees in front of him.

“Pleasuring you is always my pleasure, too,” he said. Then he reached for her head and guided her open mouth to the crown of his cock. He surged forward, deep into—

Thia opened her eyes. She sat at her desk in the corner office of C&H Accounting, the firm she owned. Out her window, a small slice of the bay did indeed sparkle in the distance, but not for her, not today. For the rest of the afternoon, she had the annual report to read and approve. With a sigh of resignation, she swiveled her office chair around to face the desk. Her admin and best friend, July Thatcher, put a cup of coffee on her desk.

“Sorry,” Thia said. “I zoned out.”

“I noticed. I went out for coffee and you went…?”

Thia’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. Though she and Derek had been seeing each other for some months, the things they did together still caused her to blush and burn with desire. “I was thinking of sailing on the bay.”

July raised her brows. “You were thinking of being on something, but not the bay, I think.”

“July,” Thia said on a strangled laugh, “you’re awful.”

“No, just realistic. And a little romantic. You and that man seem to fit well together.”

Thia smiled and gazed at nothing. July harrumphed. “When I said ‘fit well,’ I wasn’t thinking of—”

Thia laughed. “I know what you meant. My mind isn’t always on you-know-what.”

July sighed. “Sex, Thia. It’s called sex. You’re a grown-up. You can say the word.”

“Well, yeah. It’s just never been with anyone the way it is with Derek. This is all new. I feel like a kid again.”

“Speaking of which, my niece is acting like a kid instead of a rational adult.”

“Brigit? Haven’t classes started? I thought she’d be knee-deep in drama classes and Shakespeare.”

“I was afraid going to school in Las Vegas would be a distraction, but even more, those artistic types are all emotion. They jump at doing things on the spur of the moment. They’re not logical and sensible like accountants. I mean, look at you. Sure, you’ve started doing crazy things like going off on boat trips with a man you don’t know, but you’ve spent most of your life being sensible.”

Thia didn’t say a thing, but she was thinking plenty, like how much she’d missed out on during those “sensible” years.

She smiled. “What’s Brigit done? Signed up to dance in one of those ‘special’ Las Vegas clubs?”

Instead of returning Thia’s smile, July twisted her hands, frowning. “Not that, thank God. But instead of coming home for her break, she’s gone off to visit her new boyfriend’s family.”

Thia recalled times her husband wouldn’t go on trips with her. Often Brigit went instead. When Brigit was thirteen, they’d cruised through the Panama Canal. Later, when she first got her driver’s license, they went on a driving tour back to Thia’s home in Ohio. That was when they’d really bonded as friends. They’d planned a trip the year Thia’s husband died, but had to cancel. Brigit was a delightful traveling companion, unlike some teenagers who complained constantly about not being able to do exactly what she wanted. If there was one thing Thia had learned, Brigit was a stable, levelheaded girl.

“I don’t see anything too awful in that, July. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“But, Thia, the guy lives in Pakistan. I’d be surprised if Brigit watches the news, but even she should know the government discourages travel to that part of the world. And for women? The culture is much different than what she’s used to.”

“But she’s going as a guest, right? I’m sure her boyfriend will watch out for her.”

“I don’t know.” July stood and started for the door, coffee in hand. “I have a bad feeling about this,”

“You worry too much. Remember what it was like at her age? If I knew then what I know now, I’d have loved an adventure like that.”

“Are you sure? My sister in law is worried, and I said I’d ask your opinion. After that DEA thing you were on, they think you know everything.” Now July did smile at her friend and boss.

Thia picked up the account record of one of her clients. “Give her a week or two, and she’ll be home with all kinds of fascinating stories.”

“I hope you’re right,” July said as she closed the door.

* * * *

“Omar, why are we stopping?” Brigit stared out the back windows of the SUV. Once more she thought of how different he’d been here than when they’d met and loved in Las Vegas.

Omar had withdrawn almost the moment they arrived in Islamabad. His brother, Ahmad, who met them at the airport, had been harsh and aloof, at the same time casting dark looks her way. They’d gone to what she thought was Omar’s home. The men had congregated in one room, talking loudly and drinking some black, syrupy concoction he’d said was coffee, and the women had stayed in another room. Brigit hated the arrangement. The women looked at her with suspicion, and she didn’t understand anything they said. She’d called home that night to report she’d arrived safely, growing homesick with the sound of her parents’ voices and wishing she’d spent her whole vacation in San Francisco with those she loved and where people spoke English.

The next day, Omar told her a horrible thing had happened—his sister had been kidnapped. He said he and Ahmad had to travel north to rescue her. As awful as she felt for his sister, Brigit knew a moment’s relief. Surely he wouldn’t want her there, intruding during this time of crisis. She’d go home early.

But when she offered, he’d taken her in his arms and held her close, whispering he wanted her to stay. Kidnappings were fairly common in his part of the world, he’d said, and when it was over, they’d have time together.

“Besides,” he commented, “did you not say you wanted to learn our customs and see where I come from?”

“Isn’t this your home?” She gestured around them.

“This is a cousin’s house. I am from a little place north of here. Come with us. I know my mother wants to meet you.”

So she hadn’t escaped. Instead, she’d climbed into the back of Ahmad’s SUV and they’d taken off, leaving whatever civilization Islamabad represented far behind in the first thirty minutes. That had been two days ago.

She had no idea if they were still in Pakistan. Her questions had been met with silence by Ahmad and evaded by Omar. They’d traveled into the mountains, into places so steep the sun didn’t penetrate, then out onto ridges so razor sharp she didn’t see how the vehicle maneuvered without sliding into deep gullies.

At night, Omar had set her sleeping mat at a distance from where he and his brother slept. The first night, he’d kissed her goodnight but explained that in deference to his brother, they couldn’t sleep together. She didn’t understand, but figured it was part of their culture, so she didn’t complain. However, she couldn’t help feeling lonely when the two men sat beside the fire each night, conversing in a language she didn’t understand. Worse, her skin crawled when Ahmad stared at her with a mixture of hunger and disgust.

Now, they’d pulled into a space scarcely large enough to accommodate the SUV. Ahmad turned the key and then checked his watch. He muttered something to Omar, who answered. Then Ahmad turned to her. “This is where we pay the ransom for our sister,” he said in clear English.

“You knew how to speak English all this time?” More than amazed, Brigit was angry, at Omar as well as Ahmad. By knowing his brother understood all they’d said to each other—and all she’d muttered to herself over the last few days—Omar had humiliated her.

“Thank you very much for respecting me, Omar,” she said, crossing her arms and turning away.

“You don’t know what respect is,” Ahmad spit out.

“Ahmad, stop. We are near the end of our trials. Do not concern yourself with her.” Omar hadn’t even looked at her since they’d come to a stop, and now he said not to
bother
with her?

She should have known. Her friends told her Pakistani men had regressive views of women, but Omar had been so nice, so open and understanding. And the sex had been exotic, kinky. She’d discovered an untamed side of her personality she hadn’t known existed.

“Oh, but brother, I want to bother with her.” Ahmad scooted around in his seat so he could see her. His eyes raked her in so blatant a manner, she wanted to draw up her legs and hide herself.

“There is something my brother neglected to tell you,” he said. “He works for some people, some very dangerous people. They paid him to do a job, which he neglected to do.” Ahmad shot Omar an accusatory look. “Because of that, his employers kidnapped our sister. Now they demand ransom. That would be you.” He smiled in a way that made Brigit want to wipe the grease off her skin.

“What?” Surely she’d misheard. “What do you mean, ‘me’?”

“A white woman, young and beautiful.” He shrugged as though that part was up for debate when it came to her. “They do not care if she comes willingly. You did. So much easier that way.”

Feeling trapped, she asked, “Omar, what the fuck is he talking about?”

“Do not fret, Brigit,” Omar said. “We had a good time while it lasted. You said you wanted to learn about our culture—which, by the way is Tajiki, not Pakistani—and now you shall have years and years to learn. If you behave yourself, that is. Otherwise, I am sad to say, your learning curve will be quite short.” He got out and then opened her door. “The time has arrived. Get out.”

She scurried to the other side of the wide seat, as far from the open door and him as she could get. Her heart galloped in her chest. Spots appeared before her eyes and her breath came in gasps. This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be in the middle of nowhere being traded like a sack of potatoes.

“You’ll never get away with this,” she shouted. In her haste to escape Omar, she’d forgotten Ahmad, who now opened her door and dragged her by one arm from the backseat. She screamed. He slapped her so hard she bit her lip. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

Omar shouted angry gibberish at Ahmad, who yelled back and then tossed her to the ground.

Ignoring the sharp rocks and chill of the air, she scrambled to the side of the road and half ran, half fell into the ditch. Tears streamed unchecked down her face, but she hardly knew it.

The sound of shoes on gravel had her looking over her shoulder. Almost at a stroll, Omar came after her. Snapping her head left and right, she looked for anywhere to run. With a sinking heart, she realized there was no place. Bracing her hands on her knees, she dropped her head, panting.

“That is right,” he crooned. “Come back now. You see the fruitlessness of running.”

“Why? Why did you do this to me? I thought you—” She stopped before saying the words. She’d thought he loved her. How stupid she’d been.

“We fucked. There was never anything more. You were good. In fact, you have a real talent, which is why I chose you.” He took her arm and pulled her back to his chest. His voice next to her ear sent shivers down her spine. “You see, here in the mountains is one of the most exclusive brothels in the world. Men come from all over to sample the wares, and white women are a particular delicacy.”

No, no!

His hands stroked down her side, under the waistband of her jeans, and around and down to her crotch. He stroked, and his finger slid into her slick passage. Her breath hitched at his touch, and the goose bumps that had covered her arms below her sleeveless blouse moments ago now prickled with heat.

His chuckle rumbled through her. “You are amazing. Even now, threatened with the notion of being fucked by any number of men, I smell your arousal. Your cunt dampens your panties. If I had the time, I would take you right here and now and share you—yes, share you!—with my brother.”

He turned her toward the road and marched her up the slope. “But alas, there is no time.”

Goddamn him. The moisture leaking from her pussy had betrayed her. He smelled her desire, the desire
he
instigated even now. She must be crazy. She’d thought she loved him, but at this moment, she’d kill him and take her chances finding a path out of the mountains.

He stopped her beside the SUV. Ahmad had moved off, staring through binoculars into the mountains.

“Omar,” she whispered. He had dampened a cloth from their canteen and wiped her cheeks and lip. “Don’t do this. Remember what we had in Las Vegas? It can be like that again. Please, please. Let’s just go.”

His gaze hardened. “Brigit, if I want you again, I shall know exactly where to find you. Did you not hear Ahmad? They have our
sister
. If I do not deliver you, she will be defiled. Raped,” he clarified, “made impure. She might as well be dead if a man fucks her before marriage.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You fucked
me
before marriage.”

He shrugged and began undressing her. She hardly noticed, she was so infuriated.

“You were already impure.”

“Goddamn men. Think they’re the end-all and be-all on Earth. If I had my way—”

“But you don’t,” Ahmad said harshly.

Not only had she not realized she’d spoken out loud, she hadn’t heard his return.

“They are coming,” he said to Omar.

“Who? Who’s coming?” Fear tightened her throat.

Since she hadn’t cooperated in removing her clothes, Omar had deftly cut them from her. Now he yanked her hands behind her and tied them, much as he had when they’d played at BDSM. But this was no game. Things were happening so fast, confusion kept her from reacting.

Ahmad approached with a large white cloth.

“No! Wait!” Her mind raced to find any reason to delay in a situation that had already spiraled out of control. “What about my luggage, my things? What about my parents and—”

Omar slipped a gag in her mouth, tying it behind her head. Ahmad hunched in front of her to tie her ankles, just as she began kicking and twisting away. Falling onto the sharp stones knocked her breath from her, and her fight did no good. Ahmad still managed to secure her ankles, and the two men stood her on her feet.