Cargo: A Leine Basso Thriller Read Online Free Page B

She raised her head and found herself staring into Sapphire’s almond-shaped eyes.
    “You should not fight,” Sapphire said, nodding at Kylie’s bound hands and feet. Sapphire’s hands and legs were free.
    Another captive, a woman in her early twenties with light brown hair, sat across from them, her back to the rear doors. Her face was bruised and swollen. Kylie wondered what she’d done to deserve the beating. She caught Kylie looking at her and turned her head.
    The cargo area smelled of diesel fuel and rotting fish and was cut off from the front of the van by metal bars. There were no windows, and no interior handles visible for either the back doors or the side. The man with the scar climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed his door closed. He maneuvered into traffic, horns blaring from every direction.
    Soon the driver broke free of the gridlock and the van began to move at a more determined clip. Kylie was grateful for the slight breeze coming through the driver’s open window, but the air was still thick.
    “What’s your name?” Kylie whispered to the battered woman. She needed a diversion or she’d scream.
    The woman shook her head and began to cry. The driver yelled what must have been a command to be quiet, for she immediately fell silent. Kylie did the same, not knowing how to speak to her in her own language. Sapphire settled in, stretching her legs in front of her, and lit a cigarette. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, but didn’t stop her.
    Kylie sighed as her own tears pricked at her eyelids. A group of missionaries visiting her church who’d been held at gunpoint in the Sudan had said that when in a dangerous situation in another country you shouldn’t react—no crying, or anger, and especially no demands. The more docile you are the better chance you have of survival.
    She hadn’t passed the first test. It was hard not to fight back. She’d just screwed herself .
    Kylie stared down at the welts and bruises on the sobbing woman’s face and neck and, although it went against everything Kylie believed in, steeled herself to be as accommodating to her captors as possible.
    But would it be enough?
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    “ You bought him a what?” Leine asked as she dabbed perfume on her wrist. She and Santa were in the bedroom, getting ready to go to his former partner’s birthday dinner.
    “You know, like a punching bag, only better.” Santa shadowboxed in front of Leine, a grin on his face. “This one comes with a masked cartoon bandit, complete with a revolver.”
    “And just where is he going to put it? Did you talk to Dana?” Dana was Don Putnam’s wife of over thirty years and ruled the part-time pugilist with an iron hand. He bitched about it incessantly, but Santa had confided that Don secretly loved how ballsy his wife was. She was the reason Putz was still out on a medical after an earlier cardiac event, and was trying to get him to retire permanently from the LAPD.
    “She said I can install it in the garage provided I don’t stoke his dreams of coming back.”
    “But you want him to come back. How’s that going to go over?”
    Santa shrugged and gave her a sly grin. “She doesn’t have to know.”
    Leine rolled her eyes and grabbed a sexy black dress from the closet. Santa whistled as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
    “I love that dress. You know I won’t be able to keep my hands off you if you wear it.”
    Leine turned in his arms and smiled. “I’m counting on it.”
    Santa returned the smile and took a step back, wagging his finger. “Oh, I get it. You’re wearing that so we don’t end up staying too long. Is that your nefarious plan?”
    Leine brushed past him, headed for the bathroom. “You think you know me, don’t you, pretty boy?”
    “Damned right I do. And your plan would work if it was anybody else’s party.” Santa grabbed a crisp white shirt and dark slacks from the closet and laid them on the