I sucked in a sharp breath of disbelief. This couldn’t be happening to me. Wasn’t my life fucked up enough?
“What, pray tell, is a Mate Run?” Staci asked, brow furrowing in puzzlement.
“She intends to turn us loose and let the men hunt us,” I said, my tone bitter. I’d seen mate hunts before. Hiram and his crew got off on it. Said it added an extra level of excitement. As if the women hadn’t already been treated bad enough. Fortunately, I’d been too young to participate, but I’d seen the aftereffects.
“What happens if they catch us?” Pia asked.
“You’re fucked, whether you want to be or not,” I told her. For some infected men, a woman’s struggle only increased their pleasure.
“Whoa! Hold up.” Jillian held up both hands. “I don’t know where you’re from, but that’s not how we operate. The Mate Match Agency doesn’t condone rape or coercion.”
“So what’s the point of this exercise?” Pia asked, looking as if she didn’t believe Jillian.
“No coercion…?” Monica echoed.
“You kidnapped me and took my child. How is that not coercion?” Cara snarled.
Jillian ignored Cara and answered Pia’s question. “The hunt gives the female the opportunity to display her cunning, speed, and agility. In cases where there is more than one potential match, it gives the men the opportunity to prove which is the better male.”
Or it gave the males a chance to beat each other’s brains out before deciding to share, I thought as childhood memories swamped me.
“How likely are we to have more than one potential match?” Pia asked.
Jillian shrugged. “It depends on the demand at the time of your registration and the number of clients. We’re entering the winter season, so the demand has been particularly high.”
“Can we refuse to run?” one woman asked.
Jillian arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You can, but your contract will be voided. You’ll lose your service fee.”
The silence that followed her statement was deafening. Me, I didn’t give a damn about the money. I’d walked away from more. When it came down to money or survival, you quickly learned which was the most important.
“What happens after the run?” Pia asked.
“You’ll go with the victor to his home for a two-week courtship. At the end of the trial period, either party can back out to explore other options. If you choose to remain together, both of you will be obligated to sign the marriage contract outlined in the terms of the agreement,” Jillian said.
“Two weeks isn’t long to make a decision that will impact the rest of our lives,” Monica said.
“On the contrary. We have years of research and experience that proves two weeks is more than long enough to determine compatibility with a mate, especially when you’re living in the same home,” Jillian said.
“While sharing a bed?” Lydia asked, eyebrows arched.
“Yes.” When the muttering began, Jillian held up her hand. “Sex is not a requirement, but neither is it forbidden. If you choose to share your body in addition to the bed, that’s up to you. Our purpose is to create a pressure cooker environment of forced togetherness. You’ll eat together, sleep together, and basically be tied together at the hips for two weeks.”
“Wait, what about my job? I can’t just disappear for two weeks. I’ll be fired,” Pia said, and the scent of her panic swamped me.
Pia’s anxiety proved to be contagious. Others murmured in acute distress.
Jillian shrugged, her hands splayed. “True love costs, Pia. Are you willing to pay the price?”
I rolled my eyes. Jillian was laying it on rather thick. She didn’t believe in fated mates, but she believed in true love? Un-huh, I don’t think so.
Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Cara stiffened and looked hopeful as Jillian strode forward to answer it. She stepped outside, holding the door to her back with one hand. There was a brief conversation with one of the guards. She returned holding a little tow-headed boy by the hand.
Cara gave a cry and surged forward to sweep her son into her arms. Laughing and crying at the same time, she pressed kisses all over his face. He squirmed, giggling and laughing, seemingly none the worse for their forced separation.
Jillian watched with a sour expression. “You can’t run with a toddler. He’ll slow you down.”
Clutching her son to her, Cara glared at the woman. “Listen, bitch. Don’t tell me what I can’t do. I’m doing this for my son. He goes with me, or I go home.”
Before Jillian could respond, her phone rang. “Yes, sir?” She listened, a gamut of expressions crossing her face. “Yes, sir.” The man on the phone continued speaking. Jillian said a few more “Yes, Sirs,” and then swiped the screen to disconnect the call.
When she spoke to Cara again, her manner was much more professional. “Due to the unique circumstances of your situation, one of your matches has expressed a willingness to forego the hunt and proceed directly to the two-week trial. You can leave with your son, which will cancel your contract. You can take your chances and run with him. Due to the hazardous nature of the terrain, I strongly advise against selecting this option. Or, you can accept the offer on the table. Your choice,” Jillian said.
“My son and I can go together? He’s willing to take both of us?” Cara asked.
“Yes.” Jillian’s dour tone and expression showed her disapproval.
“Then I accept,” Cara said.
“We have someone waiting in the hallway to escort you to him,” Jillian said, opening the door.
Cara paused to address the rest of us before leaving. “Good luck. I wish there was some way we could keep in touch. I’d like to know how things work out for the rest of you. Thanks so much for helping me get my son back.”
We all expressed our best wishes for her success and told her goodbye. Shoulders squared and with her son’s hand held in her tight grip, Cara walked out of the door.
“This whole process has taken longer than anticipated. Please go now, if you need to use the restroom. We have to be at the site in the next ten minutes. Your potentials are waiting,” Jillian said.
A few women lined up by the bathroom. I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water and a few granola bars from the bowl on the shelf. Then I went and stood before Jillian.
“I want my stuff back,” I said.
She flicked me a dismissive glance before returning her gaze to her phone. “All personal items will be returned once the Mate Run is completed.”
I snatched the phone from her hands and fixed her with a dead stare. “My belongings?”
“Give me that. It doesn’t belong to you. Return it now, or I’ll press charges against you for stealing,” she demanded, her face turning red.
I retreated a step, still fixing her with a hard glare. “Go ahead. I can’t wait to tell them how we were kidnapped, drugged, and robbed. Hmm, which do you think is worse? Your piddling little phone or what was done to me and the others?”
Jillian clenched her fists by her side and actually stamped her foot. Her creamy complexion flushed an ugly red that traveled from her neck to her hairline.
Monica came over and stood next to me. “You trying to get our stuff back?”
“Yes,” I agreed, though I’d only been worried about my own. Staci joined us, and soon there was a small crowd of women, all staring at Jillian.
The blonde took a deep breath, and I could see her mentally switch gears. Giving us a conciliatory smile, she held up her hands in an appeasing manner. “Ladies, I understand you’re upset, but we took your things for a reason. You don’t want to be running through the woods, weighed down by baggage, do you? Think of how much it will slow you down.”
“Did she say running through the woods?” Staci asked, incredulous.
Jillian gave a small sneer, and her expression clearly said, “Duh.” “I said the men would chase you. They’re infected. Did you really expect to be chased through city streets?”
One of the other women, I couldn’t remember her name, stepped forward in a threatening manner. “Bitch, if I were you, I’d watch the tone. I’m already pissed. It won’t bother me the least bit to beat your ass.”
Jillian’s expression wiped clean, and she took a wary step back. “There’s no need for violence. You’ll be disqualified and forfeit your fee.”
Monica tilted her head to the side and gave a small hum of contemplation. “Actually, I don’t remember reading anything like that in the contract we signed. Being a lawyer and all, I’d remember.” She gave Jillian a toothy grin.
“Where are our things? The decision to run with them or not should be ours. If we choose to run weighted down by purses and bags, what’s it to you?” I said.
Just then, Jillian’s phone rang. I glanced down at the screen. The caller identification read Private. “Oh, look. I think your boss is calling again. That’s three times in one night. That’s got to be a record.”
“Give me my phone,” she snarled.
I smiled. “When you give me my things.” If I had to flee without them I would, but if there was a chance of getting them back, I would push with everything in me.
The phone rang again. I held it above her head, tauntingly. I was taller and more muscled than the petite blonde. There was no way she could take it from me, not without help, and there was no help to be found among the irate women.
With a muttered curse, Jillian stalked to the door and snatched it open. “Bring the women their belongings.”
I smiled in grim satisfaction. The men from before came in with our belongings. Everyone made a dive for their purse and immediately checked the contents.
“Nothing is missing,” Jillian said with a scowl.
I searched inside of my backpack, including the false bottom where I stashed my money. Looking up, I pinned her with a glare. “Where’s my gun?”
“Firearms are illegal inside of city limits,” she said haughtily.
“But we’re not inside city limits, are we? I’m not leaving without my weapons,” I said.
She growled, returned to the door, and issued another command. The minute the bag containing my gun and knives was placed in my hand, I returned her cellphone to her. She snatched it from me, pushed a button on the phone, and walked out with the phone to her ear.
The nice older man from earlier stuck his head inside of the door. “If you ladies will follow me.”