“He’d want to take her somewhere isolated.” Mouse lets me in on his thoughts.
“And somewhere where he has access to her,” I add. “Is he married?”
“Nah, divorced. Separated from his wife a couple of years ago. No kids.”
“So he could take her to his home.” But where would that be? I start to pace, both hands now tunnelling through my hair as I think. “He got any criminal record?”
“Nothing that’s stuck. There have been a couple of investigations into him for fraud, but they were dropped before they got to court.”
“Money?”
“He’s loaded.”
“Okay.” I draw out the word as the little I’ve been told sinks in. “Make a list of the residential properties his company owns, see if you can find out who lives there. If we can’t narrow it down, we’ll have to pay them all a visit.” But that could take some time, even with the other chapters helping.
Mouse is tapping his fingers on the desk. “What about the ex? Could she have any useful information?”
I pause my steps and retrace them to stand in front of him. “Depends on whether she knows his appetites. Could have been a reason for the divorce, I suppose. He paying her?”
Now he’s got his hands over the keys again. How Mouse does it, I’ll never know, but he seems able to get all information for the club that we ask for. After a second, he turns the screen around to face me. I whistle through my teeth. As an alimony settlement, she must have hit the damn jackpot.
Meeting my eyes, Mouse nods. “Doubtful she’d want to risk losing out on that. And a dead man can’t pay her fuckin’ bills.”
Mouse knows me too well. Regus isn’t going to prison for holding a woman captive. I’ve got my eye on a nice cosy hole in the ground especially for him.
A knock on the door, and when it opens, Wraith steps in, jerking his chin toward me. “Viper’s going fuckin’ crazy out here. Smashing stuff. Stopped him from coming in here, but man, he’s taking it bad. Sandy’s crying as he booted her away saying she didn’t understand shit. You got anything to tell him?”
I give a slow nod. “We know who, just not where yet. Mouse, see what you can dig up in the next half hour then we’re in church, okay?” I wait for him to signal his agreement, and then turn around to my VP. I’m worried as fuck about Sam myself, but now I’ve got to act like the prez and calm down my brother. “I’ll come see to Viper.”
Wraith hadn’t been kidding about Viper. Bottles have been smashed and glass litters the floor; chairs and tables are overturned. Sandy’s in tears and the girls sit huddled into a group trying to comfort her, their posture shielding her from the fury of her man.
“You don’t understand shit!” Viper’s screaming at her. “Don’t pretend you know how I’m fuckin’ feeling.”
Wincing on Sandy’s behalf, I’m aware how much Viper will regret his outburst once he calms down. He loves his wife in his way. For fuck’s sake, I nearly lost Sam before I got to know her because he didn’t want Sandy to be upset. And now he’s fucking destroying her with his words.
“For fuck’s sake man, calm down.” I put myself between him and the women. “Shut the fuck up and listen to yourself. It’s not down to Sandy she’s gone.”
Viper’s eyes burn into mine. “No, that’s on you! You fuckin’ set her up.” As I stare him down, some of his rage starts to fade. “What’s happening to her, Prez? What the fuck is that bastard doing to her?”
I’ve got no answer for that, I just have the same dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach as I expect he has. Seeing him start to calm, watching the tears silently rolling down his cheeks, I take his arm and lead him to the bar. Marsh is there before us, beers already opened. Jerking my chin in thanks, I take one and swig it down. Wiping my beard, I turn to Sam’s father. “Viper, Mouse is getting some info. We’ll have church in a few and decide on a plan. We’ll get her back. We have to.” The sight of his wet eyes is making mine water too.
Fuck, Sam. Where are you, and what is that motherfucker doing to you?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sam…
The size of this place astounds me, but I should have expected it from the amount he’d paid when he bought me. Kurt certainly isn’t hard up. But I doubt any life of luxury is in my future. My thought immediately confirmed, when I’m uncuffed from the car and pulled roughly out. I struggle and to try to break free, intuitively knowing once he gets me inside, I’ll be lost. But Kurt laughs and gestures to one of the guards waiting just inside the doorway. He comes out, his face impassive, and throws me unceremoniously over his shoulder and, ignoring my kicking and shouting, carries me into the building.
He doesn’t need to ask instruction as to where to take me, heading straight for a door which reveals stairs leading down into a basement. Kurt follows behind and switches on the lights, bare-naked bulbs in the ceiling illuminating the room while he waves to the guard to put me down. He does so but keeps tight hold of me. I’m allowed a moment to stare at my surroundings.
“Welcome to your new home. I trust you’ll be very comfortable here.” His smirk reveals the falsity of his salutation, along with his gesture that draws my attention to items of equipment which look like they wouldn’t be out of place in a medieval torture chamber. There are things resembling sawhorses, and a large frame shaped in an X, a St. Andrew’s Cross I think it’s called. Hanging on the rough stone walls are all manner of whips and other implements. With wide-open eyes, I gaze around. I struggle, but the guard holds me firm.
The furnishings, my situation, the thought that this man is going to keep me here and do unspeakable things to me causes my stomach to churn. An unstoppable stream of vomit comes out of my mouth, causing the guard to swear. Kurt comes over quickly, avoiding the pool at my feet and slaps my face hard, growling with disgust, but his eyes seem to crease in amusement as if my reaction wasn’t unexpected.
“Chain her up.”
Again, compliant and almost bored with his duty, the guard drags my body across to one wall, my futile struggles making no impact on his muscular frame. He pushes me down until I’m sprawled on the floor, then fastens a shackle around one of my hands and locks it tight.
Kurt dismisses the guard with an instruction to clean the vomit up, then walks across to me, picking up a knife from a table as he approaches. He cuts through the flimsy garment I’m wearing and takes a step back to admire the view. I try to cover my nakedness with my free arm, but that only makes him rasp out, “Take your hand away. Let me see what I own.”
As I refuse to obey, he threatens, “I’ll shackle your other hand too.”
Not wanting to lose the little freedom that I have, I reluctantly do what he’s asked. His eyes burn into me, making me feel dirty from his manic stare. Then with a little nod, he explains, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you waiting in anticipation for a while. I’ve got a doctor to call, of course, and there’s work I have to attend to. You can stay here and dream about all the fun we’re going to have when I come back.” He cups himself, rubbing his cock through the material of his pants. “I want to take my time with you, without distractions. Oh, I nearly forgot. Silly me.” He places the battery pack with the jammer just out of my reach, but close enough to be effective. It’s glowing green light, showing it’s fully charged, seems to mock me.
“Right, my pet. I won’t be long, I promise you that. I won’t keep you waiting long for some fun.”
I can wait forever; I want to tell him. I watch him walk up the stone stairs and disappear through the door, hoping whatever he has to do will take a very long time. In fact, I’ll be quite happy if he never comes back.
As the door closes behind him, immediately I start tugging on the shackle, but it won’t budge, as it’s bolted firmly to the wall. I want to scream in frustration, but am scared any sound might bring him, or one of the guards back. So instead, I cry, curling myself up into a ball. Scared, terrified, and dreading what will happen when he returns.
&nb
sp; I’ve never thought of myself as a weak person, but this is too much for anyone to bear. Tears running down my face, I twist and turn, trying to get comfortable on the hard stone ground. The actions cause a tug on the shackle again. Some part of my brain is still working. The shackle’s got a mechanical lock. With my free hand, I examine it. I don't have a key, but… Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I force myself to concentrate on something other than giving up or giving in. That isn’t me. I look around for something, anything. It’s useless. To open the lock, I either need a key or something to manipulate it with, and there’s nothing within reach that will help.
But the thought that I could perhaps free myself if I could get hold of a tool, gives me something to focus on. Judging from the devices hanging on the walls, he thinks he's going to break me. But I’ve a new desperation to fight.
Time passes, the green light glows steadily, the hope it might fail before the promised doctor arrives fading by the minute. Then the moment I’ve been dreading arrives when the door opens again, and Kurt descends the stairs. He’s changed out of his suit and is now wearing a loose pair of sweats and a t-shirt. His clothing might look casual; his expression is not. There’s a look of glee on his face that’s almost rabid.
I’ve never been a helpless female; I work in a man’s world. While there are hoists to help with the heaviest lifting, my arms are muscular, and my upper body strength is strong. I’m not going to make this easy for him. As he stalks toward me, my posture stiffens. My hand is cuffed about a foot off the floor, so I haven’t got very much to work with, but my legs are free.
Now I want him to come closer. In my head, I’m encouraging him on. What I’m about to do will most certainly enrage him, but if I do it right, I might render him incapable…
Swallowing rapidly, forcing myself to wait until he’s near enough, the look of fear on my face no pretence. I shuffle back slightly, looking like I’m retreating while using the wall at my back to brace against. And now it’s time; I shoot out my leg, the heel of my foot connecting hard with his crotch.
He lets out a satisfying scream of pain, so shrill it could have come from a woman. Which, presumably, is what his guards think, as none of his men come to investigate as he falls onto the floor, curling around himself and hugging his knees to his stomach. The pain takes away both his breath and his ability to speak for a moment.
But my reprieve doesn’t last long. After a couple of minutes, he starts to straighten, his eyes blazing in my direction. When his breath stops coming in pants, he raises his head. “You fucking cunt! You’re going to pay for that!”
As he gets to his feet, he staggers. Still in agony, he bends with his hands on his knees. He looks around the room, his eyes fix on something. A twisted grin comes to his face as he limps awkwardly to the wall covered in the implements of his preferred form of torture. He considers for a moment and then takes down a long whip. As he turns back to me, I see his eyes are watering and creased with pain and sweat is pouring down his face. I hurt him good.
Now he’s going to retaliate. But if he’s angry because of the hurt I’ve caused him, it’s nothing to the fury I feel knowing he believes there’s nothing wrong in keeping a woman for his personal satisfaction. As he swings the whip, possibly not with the same intensity as he would if he wasn’t injured, I let it fall across my breasts, forcing myself to ignore the burning smart of agony, and snake out my hand, grabbing hold of the tail and jerking hard before he can pull it back.
His eyes widen as I take him by surprise—he obviously hadn’t expected a mere woman to fight back. This time I’m in charge and I’ve got the weapon. I slash the whip down on the floor with a loud crack, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he takes a step back. I flick it again, using all of my strength. The sound of the whiplash echoes like a pistol shot.
Stepping back out of reach, his face grows red, and his hands bunch into fists. “Put that down. You’re just making it harder for yourself.”
Doubting that very much, I shake my head. He was going to whip me, and there’s no way of knowing how far he’d go before he stopped. I watch as indecision crosses his face, and wonder what will be his next play? He could call down his men; it might take a while for them to overpower me, but eventually they will. But will he want to lose face? I’m banking that he’s a coward and wouldn’t want his employees to know that a woman has gotten the better of him.
That he’s still hurting is plain to see. Rape, at least by him, has to be off the cards, at least for the moment.
Finally, he breaks the stalemate and speaks, “So that’s the way you want to play it, is it? I’ll enjoy breaking you. Let’s see how feisty you are without water or food.” He pauses, his hands start to relax, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “This can only go one way, girl. There’s no rescue coming; no one knows where you are. I will break you. And I’ll enjoy doing it. Now I’m going to enjoy inflicting a lot of pain while I do so. I’ll leave you to think on that for a while. But believe this, you’re going to pay for what you’ve done today.”
Turning, he makes his way up the stairs, and after he slams the door shut, I hear a key turning in a lock.
I roll my head back on my shoulders trying to rid myself of the stiffness in my neck and allow myself to enjoy a moment of relief. But not for too long. I might have won this battle, but the war is far from over. A shiver runs through me when I consider his promise of painful retribution, and I won’t stand any chance cuffed to this wall. Once again, my eyes flick left and right, searching for something that could help. I see it. When Kurt had bent over, a pen must have fallen out of his pocket. Now if I can just get that over to me.
Flicking the whip, it takes a few tries, but at last the pen is within my grasp. It’s a fancy one, but I don’t care what its value is as I take it apart. The nib might be too thick, but at least I can try. Twisting my body around, I rise up on my knees and attack the shackle, my hands slippery with blood that’s flowing from my breasts, opened by the sting of the whip. Using the remainder of the flimsy dress I’d been wearing, I dry them as best I can and carry on. Wiggling the end of the pen this way and that, finally I unlock the mechanism, and it falls open. I’m free.
Wasting no time, I take the battery pack and unplug the jammer from it then place it at the furthest end of the room. Hoping the walls aren’t thick enough to block the signal, I rub the back of my neck, trusting someone will still be watching for the tracker to flare into life again. What if they’ve given up?
No. I can’t think like that. Drummer, Viper… They’ll be coming for me the instant they know where I am. In the meantime, I can’t rely on others to rescue me. I start to explore my prison, hoping there might be something I can find to help me escape, or, at the very least, something I can use to defend myself during round two.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Drummer…
“I say we get brothers out to all his properties.” Viper’s dabbing at his eyes, which are already red and raw. From time to time he’s swiping away a tear which escapes and runs down his cheek. Seeing the difficulty he’s having sitting still in his seat, I empathise, as I’m having the same problem, finding it almost impossible to just sit here chucking ideas around and not leaping into action. But for now, doing nothing is better than wasting time heading out without the information telling us where we should be going.
“We can’t do that,” I start, with every intention of explaining we could end up going to the wrong locations, but Sam’s father is not in the mood to listen.
“Why the fuck not?” His frantic gaze goes around the table, drawing my attention again to the fact that over half the seats are empty.
“Shut the fuck up and listen, Viper. We’re too thin on the ground. It would take us ages to get around all the shit he owns, and you can bet you’re fuckin’ life he’s gonna have them well guarded. A man like that would.”
Joker’s nodding. “Agree with you, Prez. We gotta do this smart.”
Viper
gets to his feet. “Mouse, give me that list you got, and I’ll fuckin’ go myself. I’m not going to sit here on my ass knowing Sam’s probably being raped and hurt.”
Wincing inwardly, wishing he hadn’t put it quite so bluntly, I know I’ve got to get some sense into him. He’ll end up getting himself killed if he carries out his suggestion. “Mouse is gonna give you fuck all, Viper. Now sit back down and shut the fuck up. You’re the one wasting time.”
Viper’s eyes burn into me, but he kicks out his chair and takes his place again. I wait for just a second longer to make sure he’s going to stay put, then jerk my chin toward Mouse. “What you got for us?”
Mouse looks at his laptop screen. “He’s got a few warehouses, he could have taken her there. But I’d put my money on him keeping her close. Why buy a slave and not have her on tap? I’ve done more digging and this,” he turns his screen so I can view it too, “is his main residence.”
“Let’s get going then.”
“Viper!” This time it’s Blade who’s spinning his knife and stops it as it points toward Sam’s father. The enforcer’s sharp tone and action have the desired effect. Viper huffs but stays in his chair.
“What’s the security like?”
I nod at Wraith, appreciating the question, then turn to Mouse as he answers, “Top of the line. There’s a security guard on the gate. High perimeter fencing, which must be alarmed.”
“Any way of knowing exactly how many employees he’s got?”
“Nah, Prez. Whatever goes on in that house, he keeps private. There’s no off-site storage of the security footage, but I have managed to get hold of this.” He pulls up a photo of the house and shows it to me. It’s better than nothing, but still not a lot. It’s a large two-storey building.
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