A Chance Encounter Rae Shaw (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📖

be rolled up and taken on a camping trip. It was unlikely to offer any comfort or protection from the cold floor. Heaped on it was a tattered blanket and attached to the wall above, an iron ring with two metres of chain and a pair of manacles attached. There was also a bucket.

Baseball cap man trapped her arms to her sides while Stazki undid her handcuffs. He slammed her back against the wall, setting off dazzling fireworks in her head. By the time the flashing lights had retreated her wrists were shackled by the metal cuffs. Stazki stood over her, his foul tobacco breath mushrooming across her face. She stifled a retch. Using a bulbous fingertip, he touched her bruised right cheek and pressed harder. She winced, and her reaction triggered a grin that mirrored the shape of the crescent scar on his throat. The palm of his other hand rubbed up her belly until it touched one of her breasts. Julianna looked away and instinctively pressed her thighs together. He thrust his pelvis against her hip in a clear gesture of sexual predation.

‘You are mine now,’ he said, in a voice as coarse as his fingertips.

She tried to keep the terror at bay. Panic killed opportunities. Keep calm. A little bit of adrenaline was essential, but too much would overcome her. He exhaled into her grimacing face, using his personal stench to assault her further. The other man said something sharply. Stazki stepped back.

Julianna gasped and brought up her arms to protect her chest.

‘I wait,’ he said, with mock nonchalance. ‘We go get your man. Then we leave England. You lucky that you are to stay fresh. Shame.’ He frowned and added a small shrug. From out of the carrier bag he retrieved a battered apple and a grey bread roll. He placed them with the bottle of water on the mattress.

‘See. We are nice. Sometimes. Be good.’ He thumped his companion’s back and they exited the room, laughing as they went. Their ugly duet of unintelligible banter continued outside the door. The bolt rattled, then slammed back in place. Footsteps faded until there was nothing save the distant call of birds.

Julianna sat on the mattress and cautiously removed the tape covering her mouth. Smacking her sore lips, she twisted the bottle top off and gulped down several mouthfuls. Some of the water spilt on her chin; she abruptly stopped drinking and screwed the lid back on the bottle. She had no idea how long the litre of water had to last. The paltry food she ignored.

There was some sunlight in the cellar compartment. The long summer days were beneficial; daylight was her only source of illumination. Night-time would be pitch black. The dank air was rife with the stench of mildew and cooling rapidly. She fingered the decayed sacking. For now, she would manage without the makeshift blanket.

She examined the walls. There were no large cracks or peep holes. Above her head were the wooden boards of the ground floor. Shards of light drifted through the cracks, which meant there was no carpet or rugs up there. The house was unfurnished. The ring was attached to the wall via a concrete fixture rather than directly into the bricks. She tugged on the chain, drawing all her strength into her arms as she pulled. But it didn't budge. The metal shackles were already chaffing and could easily break her skin. The locks would be difficult to pick. She didn’t have a pin anyway. On the plus side, she was untouched and in reasonable shape. While she was capable of coherent thoughts, she needed to work out the possibilities. She had overcome Stazki before, but on that occasion she had caught him by surprise. He wouldn’t underestimate her a second time, and there were two of them. He had ensured his accomplice was not a weak-willed woman who ran off when things started to go wrong.

The handbag was crucial; Julianna needed access to it.

For a few minutes, she granted herself a little breakdown. She hugged her legs and shed a few tears. Then with a deep breath, she shook herself out of the malaise, wiped away her tears and inspected the wall again.

She wasn’t the first prisoner. There were scratches on one of the bricks – thin lines in a row. Back at work she had a list of young women who had gone missing. How many had curled up on the useless mattress? Too many. The cellar was haunted by the ghosts of fear and despair.

But the chains weren’t just for Julianna and her lost girls.

Would they get Mark?

Do not think of Mark. Thinking of him in any capacity was painful and brought her close to an irreversible state of desolation.

If Mark was out of bounds, Alex wasn’t. Would he laugh at her adventurous spirit now? Somewhere in Oxfordshire, he was living with her best friend. Two ex-friends happily domesticated. She pictured the scene: suavely dressed Alex bringing home flowers and boxes of chocolates, things she had considered sweet but uninspired. She had not shown him much appreciation and occasionally she had spurned his traditional ways. How easy it was to belittle somebody and then allow that attitude to become the norm, letting it erode everything else with it. Alex hadn’t been entirely at fault for their failed marriage; she hadn’t opened up to him or made him part of her life. Locked in a cold cellar, an increasingly despondent Julianna reflected too deeply on past mistakes. She dragged her rambling thoughts to the present. Had she made another irreparable mistake when she shoved poor Sophia out of the car?

Julianna prayed her actions hadn't inflicted serious injuries or, God forbid, killed her new friend. For some reason, the two men hadn't bothered to pick Sophia off the road. Hopefully, Sophia would be in a hospital in London and a feverish hunt