“Your submissive, on the other hand… in her, there’s such a strong underlying desire to please. We can work with that, but my first impression is that she may need a little more… breaking in, before she’s quite ready to be auctioned off. Generally, my clients like their shiny new toys to be slightly more amenable, and less likely to break their nose.”
A dark, demonic rage erupted within Logan. Even though his logical brain knew it was futile, he thrashed against the ropes that tied him to the hard plastic chair. “Lay a finger on her and I’ll bloody kill you!”
“I seriously doubt that, Mr. Simpson. It may have escaped your notice, but you’re not in any position to make threats.”
“If you expect me to cooperate—”
“I expect you to do everything in your power to ensure your sweet submissive’s safety. You see, although she’ll make a lovely additional sale, she’s a bonus—and if you don’t do as we say, we’ll kill her. Likewise, if she doesn’t obey, you’ll die. Simple, really, when you think about it.”
“And when you sell her, what happens then?” Logan nearly choked on the question. “If she isn’t here, your hold over me is gone, and I will kill you.”
“By then, my friend, you’ll already be dead.”
“You sick bastard. It’ll never happen.”
“Oh, I think it will. In fact, I know it will—I’ll make sure of it. That’s if the training sessions with my men don’t kill you first. They’re quite looking forward to tomorrow, so they can get started on a punch bag that can fight back for a change—it’s a bit more of a challenge for them. They can be quite bloodthirsty, and I know for a fact they’d be only too delighted to shoot you and dump your body at sea.” Von Brandt pushed himself away from the table. “Much though I would like to continue this fascinating discussion, I’m needed elsewhere, so for now, I’ll bid you a fond farewell.”
“What about Lisa and Diana?”
“Oh yes. Proof of life, isn’t that what they say? As a show of good faith, I’ll have you taken to your sub. Until I decide what to do with her, Miss Carstairs is our… guest at another location.”
“What about her boyfriend?”
Von Brandt frowned, almost as if he had no idea what Logan was talking about. Then his expression morphed into a cold, pitiless smile. “Oh yes, him. Yes, he was more a lover than a fighter—I didn’t have much use for him. He’s probably well and truly fish food by now.”
Von Brandt was an even bigger monster than Logan had imagined. While the fate of both Diana and her boyfriend sickened him, his immediate priority was Lucy. The bastard could easily be lying through his perfect white teeth, but Logan wanted to believe she was whole and relatively unharmed. Bile rose at the memory of the last time he’d seen her, how he’d failed to protect her. How badly he’d failed her, period.
Two of von Brandt’s barely housetrained thugs entered the room. One of them threw a hood over Logan’s head, plunging him instantly into stinking darkness. Hands at his ankles freed his legs, then he was yanked to his feet and dragged in the direction of the door.
Impressions of his surroundings flashed into his mind—a wooden floor, steps, rough, gravel-strewn ground beneath his feet. Any sounds were muffled by the hood.
After a few yards they stopped. Logan heard a metallic sliding sound that reminded him of the side door of a van being opened. A sharp, brutal shove between his shoulder blades, and his legs smashed against the chassis, tipping him off balance. Unable to put his hands out to break his fall, he crashed into the vehicle interior, a last-second twist forcing him onto his shoulder. Someone grabbed his legs and wasn’t too careful about heaving him all the way in.
His grasp of Spanish wasn’t quite good enough to interpret every muffled word the men exchanged, but he got the gist and had it confirmed when the bonds around his wrists were fastened to an anchor point close to the floor.
The door slid shut, and the van set off. The jolting journey threw Logan around, wrenching his shoulders even more. Consumed by anger and hatred, he ran through possible options for escape, and swore he’d move heaven and earth to get Lucy to safety, or die trying.
If she was still alive.
And if she wasn’t? That was easy—he’d take out as many of the bastards as he could before he joined her in death.
~~*~~
Lucy hugged her knees to her chest. Maybe just a little more pressure would stop the tremors racking her body. They’d started in the first couple of minutes after she’d woken up in this… cell.
It was just a pity they hadn’t dressed her in something a little more substantial than thin leggings and a t-shirt. The rough-hewn stone walls surrounding her unfortunately provided excellent insulation against any residual heat that might be lurking outside. Moonlight streamed through the barred windows—two of them, set high in the wall, providing just enough light for her to make out the pillar in the centre of the room.
It also allowed her to ascertain the most significant thing of all.
Logan wasn’t there.
The sense of loss was more profound than she could ever have imagined possible, and in that mass of desolation, one shining truth stood out—she should have told him she loved him.
She’d almost done it when he bound her to the cross, but as usual, she’d chickened out.
Lucy couldn’t say exactly when she’d fallen for him; there was no definable moment when it happened, nothing obvious he’d said or done to make her feel that way. It was all down to spending time in his company, and getting to know more about the man behind the devastating looks and incredible body. Having penetrated the darkness that had initially scared her away, she’d found the diamond at its heart.
She ached with longing for the man and fear that she might have lost him before she could share how she felt. Now she might never have the chance.
And while her heart was breaking, her spirit was already fighting back. She was alive and virtually uninjured. No matter what had happened to Logan, she owed it to him to survive, to make these bastards pay for what they’d done, and she’d use whatever method she could to do it.
Another swift examination of her surroundings reminded her of the questions that had exploded in her mind when she’d regained consciousness.
What kind of bugs were crawling around in the thin, straw-filled mattress she refused to sit on and the rough blanket that accompanied it?
Who’d last used that stinking bucket in the corner?
Was it safe to drink from the bottle of water she’d found beside her?
Had the second bloody nose she’d dished out stopped bleeding yet? Served the bastard right for trying to maul her when they’d come to check up on her after she’d regained consciousness.
Those matters scurried through the cracks and crevices between the bigger issues, the ones she didn’t want to face, but which lurked in the shadowy corners of her mind.
Where was Logan?
Was he still alive?
Even as she asked herself that last question, Lucy was determined not to give up. Logan was still alive, he had to be—she’d find him, and then they’d escape together and bring this whole vile operation down.
The jarring sound of metal grating against metal came from the door—one, no, two heavy bolts being drawn back. The thick chunk of wood with its iron straps swung into the cell and hung there, sparking her wild imagination into producing visions of some inhuman monster lurking on the other side. Instinctively she shrank back, pressing against the chill of the wall behind her. The abrasive surface prompted her to scramble to her feet—on the floor she was vulnerable, but upright, she could fight back.
Propelled by a vicious shove, a body stumbled and sprawled across the uneven stone slabs in front of her. The door closed, followed by the sound of the bolts being slammed home again. Lucy turned her attention to the man pushing himself up from the floor.
She knew that back, was intimately acquainted with it. “Logan?”
Hardly daring to breathe his
name in case she was wrong, Lucy took a couple of faltering steps towards him. He slumped to his knees and twisted to look at her. “Princess?”
Thank God. Relief churned her stomach. She flung herself across the cell to collapse at his side and cup his beloved face between her hands. The light was poor, but enough for her to get an idea of the damage to his eye and lip. Her heart broke again.
It shattered when his arms closed around her and he pulled her hard against him.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the universe. She wanted to hug Logan so tightly, but she was afraid to, in case he’d sustained fractures to his ribs. The thought of him being in pain made her want to weep. Knowing what had been done to him already made her eyes sting, but crying wouldn’t change anything. There’d be time enough for that once they were safe.
Time enough for her to tell him how she felt about him.
“What happened?”
Lucy winced as his fingertips probed her jaw. She hated to think how big the bruise must have been for him to be able to make it out in this light. Still, in her opinion, she’d come off better than her assailant.
“One of them didn’t take too kindly to the bloody nose I gave him. What about you?” She touched his lip, careful to avoid the cut.
“I’ll live. Could do with a drink, though.”
He wasn’t the only one. Lucy eyed the unopened bottle they’d left for her. She picked it up. “I wasn’t sure whether I should risk this or not.”
Logan cracked the bottle open, gave it a sniff and a cautious sip. “Warm, but I think it’s safe. Here.”
Though she could have chugged the whole bottle in one go, Lucy drank just enough to take the edge off her thirst before handing it back to Logan. “Your turn. Now tell me how you really are.”
He took a healthy swallow. “So you punched another one’s lights out? Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“Logan!”
“I told you, I’m fine. Better, now I know where you are.”
“I know what you mean, but… where exactly are we? Do you have any idea?” With Logan safe enough for now, Lucy’s other fears took front and centre stage, though she’d never let him see that—she wasn’t going to be a burden. “If you’ve found out anything, please tell me—and don’t sugar-coat it. We’re a team, remember?”
“Okay. First of all, there’s no guarantee we’re still on the same island—they could have taken us anywhere, but I doubt we’re too far away from the resort. As for this setup—we already know Hugo’s a part of it, but von Brandt’s the man in charge. I would assume Petra’s in on it too.” He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. “We were right—they are trafficking women for sex.”
For a moment, Lucy’s head swam. Even though they’d discussed it, hearing Logan confirm it made her feel physically sick. “Did you manage to find out anything about Diana and her boyfriend? Are we too late?”
Logan looked as if he wanted to say something about her avoidance of the grenade he’d just dropped into the conversation, then shook his head. “From the sound of it, Diana was pretty much kidnapped to order, but the buyer reneged on the deal. She hasn’t been sold yet, but I don’t know where they’re holding her.”
“And her boyfriend?”
He hugged her even closer. “Right now I don’t give a shit about either of them. I have to protect you.”
From the absence of a straightforward response, Lucy assumed the worst. She pressed her cheek to Logan’s, seeking comfort as much as she intended to give it.
“Wonderful, but who protects you?” If he was planning any interviews for the role, she was first in line. “I need to clean that lip for you. I’m going to ask them for a first aid kit, and more water.” She pushed herself away from him. “And then we’re going to work out how to get out of here, find Diana, and get back to civilisation.”
“Lucy, no.” He caught hold of her hand as she stood.
“No? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want you attracting any attention.”
“By asking for a medical kit? Look, the worst they’ll do is say no. They’re planning to sell me, so they won’t want to inflict any more cuts and bruises. Damaged goods won’t bring as high a price.” She swayed a little under the onslaught of the stomach-churning thought.
About twenty minutes after she’d hammered on the door so hard, she’d almost made her hands bleed, Lucy took delivery of a rudimentary first aid kit, a lantern, and a couple of large plastic containers of water. The water looked clean enough, so she refilled the smaller bottle she and Logan had emptied together, then set about cleaning his wounds and treating them as best she could with the limited supplies, at the same time nagging her patient to take another drink.
“You look like you know what you’re doing.” Logan flinched as she started on the deepest of the cuts.
“Sam the medic, remember? This one should probably have a stitch or two to close it up properly, but I think we might get away with it.”
“Remind me again why you didn’t join up.”
As if she needed to. The man remembered everything. The question, however, reminded her of her family, and for a moment her hands trembled in their task.
“Lucy, look at me. We will get out of this, I promise. As soon as our report’s overdue, Sir Guy will take action.”
Though she’d told herself the same, pragmatism made Lucy’s smile less than convincing. “I believe you.”
~~*~~
Night became day, and sunrise brought with it confirmation of how truly awful their captivity was. Though she’d occasionally spotted rats from a distance around the farm, it didn’t mean Lucy was happy to share her personal space with them. Not when they were as big as the one she’d seen within minutes of waking up.
She tried not to think about how close it or any of its friends might have been while she’d been asleep in Logan’s arms.
Nor did she want to see the dust and the dirt, or the cobwebs and the spiders that made them.
All of that, however, paled against the embarrassment of using that smelly bucket with Logan just a few feet away. The fact that he’d also had to use it didn’t make it any easier to cope with.
What she’d loosely describe as food was brought to them shortly after dawn, along with more water. Since then, they’d been left alone. Logan had carried out a detailed examination of their prison, and come to the conclusion that the only way they were getting out was through the heavily guarded door.
The hours melted into an amorphous mass, marked only by the procession of shadows across the cell floor. Even though there were things she wanted to ask Logan, Lucy didn’t feel much like talking. Knowing some gun-toting heavy on the other side of that door could hear every word they said was a sure-fire conversation killer.
“I should take a look at those cuts again, check that they’re not showing signs of infection.” She made to leave Logan’s side, to retrieve the first aid kit.
“It’s okay, I’m fine. Stay here.”
“You don’t feel feverish?” She’d done her best, but there was only so much antiseptic wipes could do to stave off any bugs.
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. We will get out of here.”
“You have a plan?”
“I need you to trust me.”
“I do.” Didn’t he know that by now?
“Good, because when they come for me, I want you to do as they say. Don’t give them any cause to harm you.”
“Logan, no! I won’t stand by and let them take you—”
“You have to!”
“I want to come with you!”
“No. Lucy, we have no choice. And even if we did, I wouldn’t want you there.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin as if he were memorising its texture. “It won’t be pretty, and I don’t want you to see that.”
A chasm of pain opened up inside her. With the injuries he already had, she couldn’t bear to think of the punishment he might take on top and what it mig
ht do to him. If her obedience would lessen his burden, he’d have it. She gave a jerky nod of acquiescence.
“That’s my girl.”
He had no idea how much she wished that would continue to be the case.
Time passed with a slowness that stretched Lucy’s nerves to breaking point, making the big what-if prowling the periphery of her mind like a ravenous tiger even more difficult to avoid.
In the end, the tiger won, and the question she didn’t want to ask clawed at her mind. What if it all went horribly wrong, and she and Logan didn’t survive this? Haunting images sprang from her imagination of Sir Guy breaking the news of her demise to her family.
Yet even as she contemplated the impact of her career choice on her nearest and dearest, Lucy knew she wouldn’t change her plans. Not now. The mission might be all kinds of fucked-up, but this wasn’t a regular, predictable nine-to-five job, where every day was a walk in the park.
Logan was sitting with his back against the wall. His eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed normal, with no sign of a fever. Her gaze travelled over his body, from his poor, bruised face—now showing a very visible scruff of beard—down over his broad chest, muscular arms, and long legs, returning to linger at the apex of his thighs and the prominent bulge in his jeans. She licked her lips.
“Like what you see?”
Her gaze flew back to his face, where his eyes had opened a crack and his relaxed expression had transformed into a knowing smile. Lucy flushed with embarrassment at having been caught ogling the man she loved. She didn’t have to be psychic to know where his mind was at that precise moment.
“Really, Logan?” She could bluff just as well as he could. “At a time like this, you’re thinking about—”
The sounds of a scuffle outside the door had them both scrambling to their feet, Lucy wedging herself under Logan’s arm to offer him some support. The door swung open on its usual drawn-out screech and Hugo appeared, wearing the smile Lucy had come to loathe.
“Dr. von Brandt thought you might like some company.”
Winter's Fire (Club Aegis Book 5) Page 20
