The reality of my situation hit me like a hammer on the head, and it was not pleasant. For starters my lungs were trying to cough up an ocean of water, and it was nearly impossible to breathe while I was doing this. My chest felt sore, bruised even, and each time I choked searing pain lodged itself in my throat. Over and over little puddles of water came out of my mouth until my throat was so sore I almost wished it would stay inside me. As the great heaves gradually began to subside, I opened my eyes and looked around me.
Holy hell. Harry and Freddie were beside me with a great big yellow box, and judging by the wires trailing everywhere, they had just jumpstarted my heart. Looking frantically from right to left I realised I was still in the pool room, but a much smaller section of it, at the back. It had been closed off by some sliding doors. Where was Mark?
"Need. To. See. Mark." Trying to say those words took almost more energy than I had, but I got them out there. Mark would think I was dead. Kyle had surpassed himself this time.
Harry shook his head. "Bed rest for you, young lady. For a minute there we didn't know whether we would get you back. Just as well that water's bloody cold, huh?" Freddie laughed, but I was not amused. Kyle had to be unhinged to pull a stunt like that. What if he hadn't been able to get me back? Then again, perhaps Kyle didn't care if I lived or died. We were just toys, but eventually he'd grow bored of us, and when that happened he wouldn't let us go. It would be too dangerous having witnesses walking around.
When they shoved me in a warm bath to bring my body temperature up, I had to clamp my teeth together to stop from screaming out loud. Was this what Mark had gone through? Would this day never end? Raising the temperature gradually, my skin tone finally went from a bluish grey back to light pink. The process was pretty horrific, but I was glad to be alive. If I was alive there was a chance, if I was dead, it was all over, and I wasn't ready to die just yet.
When the goons were satisfied I was almost back to normal, they took me to my room and chained me up. No food or water was provided, but then, I hadn't expected anything else. Left alone in the dark, there was little for me to do except sleep and wait to see what tomorrow would bring. Praying it would be rescue, I tossed and turned all night, hoping against hope that there would be a way out of there for both of us.
The following morning I was dragged out of my restless stupor and marched downstairs. Making no complaint at the rough treatment I moved as fast as my legs could carry me, anxious to set eyes on Mark. Nearly every part of my body hurt, and it was tough just to move one foot in front of the other, but all that barely registered. My thoughts were solely focused on my husband.
Trudging down some stone steps in a file, with me wedged firmly in the middle even though I was in chains, the guys were taking no risks. Reaching the bottom, we entered a large room with stone walls that was dark and smelly. Although my eyes frantically ran from left to right, there was no sight of Mark yet.
"Sit." A plastic chair was pulled forward for me to sit on, and I sank onto it warily. Although my legs could barely support me, this was not a good thing. If they wanted me to watch something, I knew from experience it was bound to be unpleasant.
As soon as the thought entered my head, Kyle's face popped into view. My fingers itched to tear into the soft skin of his face and rip his flesh to ribbons, but I'd seen the guns on the guys beside me. The move would not be a smart one, and if my husband was alive I needed to try and stay alive too.
"Good morning, Petal. I trust you slept well?" Glaring at Kyle I declined to answer his question, but he wasn't at all concerned, for he continued, "Today's the day we set about killing your husband. I thought you should be here to watch. It's only fitting, after all." Kyle watched my face carefully, but I refused to give anything away. That man lived on fear, and he wasn't getting anything from me just yet. He'd taken far too much yesterday.
"Does dad know you tried to kill me?" I bet he didn't. While there was no love lost between Michael and me, I didn't think he'd kill me, at least, not with Laurel lurking in the background. It was Kyle's turn to ignore me, so that gave me my answer.
"Don't think you'll get any money from me if you kill my husband. Albrecht isn't the threat it used to be, Kyle." If they thought I'd use Mark's money for their gains, they were much mistaken. I'd rather kill myself.
"You'll do anything you're told," Kyle hissed, and he grabbed hold of my hand and twisted my little finger backwards so hard I thought he'd break it. Looking up at him defiantly I told him to do his worst. It would take more than a few broken bones if he wanted to get me to toe the line.
Pointing to the middle of the room he beckoned someone forward. "Bring him on. Let's get this over with."
When Harry and Freddie began wheeling some wooden contraption out, I wanted to close my eyes. What horrors would they expect me to watch now? The only reason I didn't was because I needed to assure myself that my husband was still alive.
Setting my eyes centre stage, everything was still shrouded in darkness. Straining, I tried to make out the figure before me, and although I was sure it was Mark, I couldn't be certain. Then the lights came up, and my worst fears were confirmed. There he was, completely naked except for a noose around his neck, with his arms tied in front of him. The wooden platform he was on had been fashioned into gallows, and he had to stand on tiptoe to avoid putting any tension on the rope. All that stood between him and a gruesome death was a wooden slab resting two metres above the floor on metal stilts. If it was taken away, it didn't take a genius to figure out what would happen next. Right then and there I should have gone into meltdown mode. The only reason I didn't was because there was no energy left in me for hysterics. Besides, that was what Kyle wanted. I had to be strong for my husband. Tears weren't going to help him. If there was any chance I could get us out of this mess, I needed to think and quickly.
"What are you going to do to him?" Somehow I managed to keep my voice calm and measured.
"Kill him, of course," Kyle said, looking at me as if I'd grown two heads. "But we're going to whip him first. Let's see how long he can stand on those tippy toes with a bullwhip coming at him."
Mark stared at me as if he'd seen a ghost. It was almost as if he didn't trust his own eyes, and he had to blink several times to make sure I wasn't a figment of his imagination. His lips twitched as if he wanted to speak, but it took several attempts before he could get a word past his constricted throat.
"I watched you die." He shook his head, and I could tell he was having a hard time trying to figure out what was going on.
Kyle walked up to him and pinched his cheek, shaking his head this way and that in the process. "You watched as Harry and Freddie used a training unit as a defibrillator. That unit had no power. They didn't actually use the real one until the doors were closed. It was a bit of a risky move, but it was worth it to see the look on your face."
"Why you miserable fucking bastard," Mark hissed, and lurched forward, only to be cut short by the rope throttling his neck. Losing his balance for a second, I went rigid on my seat because one wrong move on that platform could mean something terrible, but somehow he managed to get upright once more. "When I get my hands on you..."
"Shut up. The game's over, Mark. After I've finished whipping your hide I'm going to remove that platform beneath your feet, and you will fall to your death rather abruptly in front of your wife. This time there will be no second chances. A snapped neck is a bit difficult to fix." Kyle threw his hands up in the air and gave a caricature of a frown. I wanted to vomit. "Apologies, but Jen won't inherit your moolah if you don't die, and time, as we know, is money. Let's get on with it, shall we?"
"What would have happened if you'd killed Jen yesterday?" Mark had a good point. If Kyle had killed me off, and it was a pretty close run thing, he'd be back to square one right now.
"I'd have ransomed you off, got the money, and then killed you. Dad would have been pissed, but as I'm doing his dirty work for him, that would be his problem. I needed to see yo
u brought as low as you could go, and you were grovelling on the floor yesterday, Matthews. I've got it on camera. I'm going to watch that tape over and over again."
"Why don't you untie me and we can have this out, man to man," Mark growled, the lines on his face standing out as he went nearly apoplectic with rage. My husband was about to blow, and that was never a good thing with a noose around your neck.
"Just do as you're fucking told, Matthews. I'm running this show, and you'd better get used to it." To demonstrate his point, Kyle swung his fist at Mark's jaw and the retching, choking noises that followed had me flying off the chair, only to be smacked back down onto it. As I watched Mark struggle to retain his balance yet again I knew I had to do something, anything to make this stop.
"What do you want, Kyle? We'll do anything. Just let us go. You can have money, cars, houses, businesses, anything you want. You don't need to kill anyone. If you do, eventually you'll get caught, and then you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in jail. Why would you risk that?" I was getting desperate. Trying to negotiate with Kyle was like trying to make a deal with the devil, but there didn't seem to be too many other options floating around.
"Shut up little lady, or you'll be next. Besides, I'm not murdering anyone. I'm not even in the damn country. Dad made sure of that."
Kyle disappeared behind one of the arches to the right of me, and I was left staring helplessly ahead.
"Jen, are you okay?" Mark had regained his balance, and had eyes only for me. Watching his chest heave, I knew he was under a colossal amount of strain, but he had to hang in there.
"Don't die on me, Matthews," I warned, but my voice was all choked up and there were tears in my eyes. I'd gone past the point where I could handle everything that Kyle threw at me. I knew what that bastard was capable of, and it wasn't pretty.
Mark closed his eyes and tipped his head back to alleviate some of the pressure from the rope. "I'll try my best."
"Promise me you won't die." I had no idea why I wanted him to make promises he had no way of keeping. Mark was going to die, right in front of me, and I was going to watch. No amount of therapy was ever going to get me through this, and I was never going to forgive my mother for not finding us in time.
Mark saw the first tear dribble from my left eye. He caught his breath. "Don't cry, Jen," he pleaded. "Save those tears for later. Don't give that bastard what he wants."
I nodded, wiping away little trails of moisture from each eye, trying my best to stop the waterworks. I would be strong. If Mark could stand up there and take what was coming, the least I could do was support him.
"She will come," I said, nodding. My voice lacked conviction, but I'd just have to hope he wasn't paying too much attention. "Promise me you won't die," I repeated, waiting for my answer.
"How about I promise you that I'll fight until my very last breath? I won't leave you alone with these bastards unless I have to, you can count on it."
"That will have to do," I whispered, although it wouldn't. If Kyle continued with this madness he would destroy me from the inside out. Even if we did get through today, and that was looking extremely unlikely, I would constantly be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, and that was being optimistic. Michael would probably have me shipped off somewhere as a slave, and I would never see the light of day again. Racking my brains to try and figure out what I could do to stop this, I came up with nothing - absolutely nothing. They had guns. They could easily overpower me. The only thing I could do was try and get myself killed at the same time, and I was seriously considering it. But we weren't at that point yet. Laurel still had time. Not much time - but some. She had to come through for us. There weren't any other options left.
"I can't believe you're alive. Thank God you're alive." Mark's voice broke on the last word, and I wanted to break down with him.
"What should I do?" I whispered. Hoping against hope that he'd have some idea that would get us out of there, I looked up into his eyes, only to watch him shake his head. This was hopeless. My lip wobbled and I stifled a sob.
"Promise me you won't cry, Jen. If you cry he'll do it all the more. Give him a blank stare. Look at him with contempt. Hell, I don't care what you do, but don't cry okay?" Mark looked at me pleadingly.
I nodded and squared my shoulders. "I'll do my best." There was nothing else I could do.
When Kyle swaggered back in, with a vicious looking bullwhip, I looked away. Keeping my promise for any length of time was going to be nigh on impossible, but for Mark's sake I had to try.
Kyle came up to where I was sitting and rubbed the leather handle of the whip against my cheek. I flinched. Having the bastard anywhere near me made my skin crawl. While I am not the murdering type, I figured I might make an exception for the lowlife standing in front of me. Unfortunately I'd already scoped out Harry and Freddie, and while I knew they were carrying, they kept their guns behind them. As badly as I wanted to shoot Kyle, it was too risky a move to take.
"Ready to see your husband beg for mercy?"
My head snapped up to meet the monster's eyes. "What do you think will be your punishment when you go to see the man upstairs? Tell me what's the worst thing you think will happen to you."
Kyle laughed. "Don't tell me you believe in all that shit, Mrs Matthews? I'm not a big fan of it myself."
My eyes pinned him with a glare so deadly it made Ebola look tame. "I'd never of guessed," I spat. "Just know that whatever the devil has planned for you, my plans are far worse. That's all you need to know."
Kyle backed away from me automatically but was immediately annoyed with himself. It was my turn to smile.
"Get her on the floor. I want her on her knees." The order was barked out, and less than ten seconds later, that was where I was. I didn't struggle. My body was sore and broken enough as it was.
"Are you going to beg for your husband's life before we begin, Petal?"
"Would it do any good?" My eyes were blank as I looked up at him, utterly devoid of emotion. The rage bubbling inside me had seen to that.
"No, but it might be sweet to see you try. Go on, Petal. You never know, it might work."
"Please let my husband go." The words were flat because I refused to give him what he wanted. If Kyle could risk killing me to witness Mark's reaction, he was unlikely to pay any attention to a little pleading. All I was doing was stalling for time.
Kyle frowned, as I thought he might. "You can do better than that, Petal. Remember your husband's life depends on it."
"Oh well, in that case I'd better give you the Oscar award-winning performance. Hang on a minute." Composing my features for a few more precious time-wasting seconds, I prostrated myself on the floor and began wailing and begging for mercy. It was only half an act, but I knew the performance would now be ruined for Kyle, and that was all I cared about.
Yanking me up by a handful of hair he ordered me to stop, and I immediately obeyed him.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Petal," he whispered. "I just need to remove that wooden board and you'll be writing your husband's epitaph." He clicked his fingers to demonstrate how quickly that would happen, and I flinched.
"How did you find me?" It was a redirect, aimed at buying more time, but Kyle would love talking about anything that made him look clever and important.
Sure enough he paused, and then smiled. "You think I followed you, don't you? I bet you think I've been trailing you for days." I nodded. That's what I'd thought initially, but now I had my doubts. "Remember your night out at Escape, when I came to see you?" Nodding, I waited for him to continue. "Well, when I spanked you there was a pinch. Did you feel it?" Another nod. I had. My mind had relived that episode last night, and the pinch had bothered me. "You now have a small GPS chip inside you that lets me trace you all over the place. All I had to do was wait for the right moment and boom. I knew as soon as I had you your husband would come trailing after you like a whipped puppy. It was all so easy." Great. I had now a piece of floating ele
ctronic debris lodged in my body that would never let me escape this monster. My day was getting better and better.
"And when..." My voice trailed off because Kyle had a fierce grip on my hair and was yanking it hard.
"Shut up. Don't think I don't know you're stalling. We need to get this over with, don't we?" He let go of me so abruptly my head bounced like a ball on my chest. Swearing under my breath, I watched Kyle mount the platform. I was already shivering. There was no heating in the place and the thin cotton T-shirt I'd been given provided no warmth whatsoever. It was also stiff as a board after the pool and bath combo.
"Ready for this, Matthews? Dad will be watching via webcam, so put on a good performance, won't you?" Mark didn't acknowledge the taunt, and neither did I.
Raising my eyes slowly to the platform above I watched Kyle walk behind my husband, raising his whip hand as he did so. As much as I wanted to stare at the concrete floor beneath me and try to ignore this next bout of torture, my eyes refused to cooperate. They were glued to my husband, still perched precariously on his tiptoes, about to be whipped so severely he would probably choke himself to death.
The first crack rang through the basement like a lightning bolt, the sound ricocheting off the walls. It made my ears sting, so God only knew what it had done to Mark's body, but he took it well. He barely wobbled. Perhaps I did have something to thank Sophia for, after all.
Kyle was brutal with the whip, as I knew he would be, and his aim had improved considerably since our last encounter. He'd obviously been practicing. The whip flew with precision, grace and style - all words I would not normally associate with the psychopath in front of me. By the look on Mark's face, it was clear he was thinking the same thing.
Lash after lash flew through the air, and each sickening thud sliced into flesh with the ease of a knife sinking through hot butter. It was only a matter of seconds before the tang of blood was in the air.
The Velvet Collar Page 25
