I should have known the fuckers would destroy me.
John’s pace becomes reckless as Richard’s hand wraps roughly into my hair and his massive cock begins to push deeper and deeper. I could practically feel what little space separates the two of them and the sounds that escape them are nearly animalistic, clueing me in that they’re feeling just how tight it was. Archie’s whispered soft words shouldn’t have sounded so fucking dirty as he praises me for taking them like a ‘good girl’ and I was eating it, and him, up. I could feel my mascara smearing as he fucks my mouth and I give over control with ease, letting them use my body between the three of them, a sense of true contentment growing underneath the raging overwhelming lust and pleasure.
This is how we were meant to be.
“You going to cum for us baby?” Richard hisses against my ear as I cry out from his fingers biting into me painfully.
“Come on Robyn,” John coos. “I want to see you cum with three cocks inside of you.”
I let out a scream as I cum. Hard. The entire room shatters around me, and I probably make a noise that’s emergency call worthy. Salty cum streams down my throat as Archie lets out a feral snarl. John lets out a curse as he roars out my name and Richard bites down on my shoulder so hard it breaks skin as he fills my ass. I waver as everything crashes down around me.
I’m so out of it, I don’t even notice Richard has licked the blood from my shoulder like a fucking psycopath. I gasp as both of them pull out and everything goes dark. Holy fuck.
I black out after sex.
France. I love France. You know what part I don’t fucking love? The catacombs.
“Now,” John drawls his hands in his tight dark jeans, looking very bad boy. “You’re positive Archie, that we have to go… down there.”
“Yep,” Archie offers looking distressed.
“It isn’t that bad,” Richard inhales, his eyes flitting to the necklace around my neck possessively. I’m wedged between John and him as Archie points out where the fuck we’re suppose to be going.
There’s so many fucking things to do in France, I mean really. We could french kiss, have a french three-some, lick french chocolate off one another. The fun possibilities are endless and this bastard is going to have me crawl into a mother fucking dark hole of horror. Sounds like a bad porno.
It would actually be pretty cool, if I wasn’t the one who had to do it.
“Let’s go,” I huff and stalk forward, only for Archie to make a stressed noise as he pulls me back. I scowl as Richard and John go first. I finally break free and follow after as we duck through a stone archway that is fairly paved. That only lasts for about twelve feet or so and I can feel the decline as I pause and watch Archie close the wooden slat that blocked the entrance. The light goes out and I breathe in, trying to rationalize that the dark wasn’t any scarier than if it was light in here. It doesn’t help that John tugs my hand out of nowhere. I try to keep my breathing steady and I take comfort that I can feel the three of them circling around me.
Archie has a small flashlight and in it’s light Richard looks especially dangerous, his eyes are orbs of reflective silver and John’s warm rough hand keep me grounded. This was a fucking mess. Why can’t we go back to fucking? We all liked it. We were in a private jet. We were not in a creepy fucking mass grave.
“Nice,” I chuckle out in a tight voice as we come upon a lit area. I know parts of the catacombs are lit, but this seemed like an odd place. I swallow looking at the obvious skulls that were imbedded in the walls. I breathe in and dust clings to my nose as I try to focus.
I’m on a job. No different than normal. Just a job. I can fuckng do this.
“Red,” Richard’s teeth close on my ear, making me let out a small sound, “if you don’t calm down, I’m going to force you to.”
Archie chuckles as John flashes a wicked grin. No. Nope. It’s not possible to enjoy sex down here.
“Where do we need to go?” I ask, trying to keep focused.
My blonde haired God of a boyfriend? Lover? No idea what the fuck we are, nods toward the right. We keep walking, and as the darkness closes in on us the air grows stuffier and colder. I feel like I’m in a fucking tomb. OH WAIT. I WAS.
Richard’s lips closes down on my bite mark from him as I let out a soft sound. The man is a fucking devil. He’s probably at home down here. Right as I’m about to sass him, we hear a sound in front of us in the dark. Motherfucking bullshit, that's what this was. I pause with the rest of them and Archie’s flashlight, despite being the best high quality money can buy, it did shit to penetrate the true silent darkness that awaits us.
“Keep going,” I murmur because I am not about to be the fucking bitch of this group.
John’s hand wraps protectively around my own as Archie leads us forward, his large back making it hard to see. I turn back and still, watching a shadow jump across the previously lit area that seemed nothing more than a dim light in the distance. I opened my mouth to speak but a low brass sound comes from in front of us causing all of us to wince.
“What the fuck?” John demands as Archie motions for us to stop.
“One of you come with,” Archie states calmly. Richard wraps his arms around me as John offers him a ‘you fucking asshole’ look. I lean back into him as he buries his nose in my hair.
“Shit,” John mutters, although I can barely see them.
The brass sound boomerangs off the space and Richard turns on his flashlight, lighting up the space around us which illuminates a small, tiny corridor, almost like a space between walls, rests near us. I keep my eyes on it even when Richard looks away.
“Rich,” Archie states, “can you come here? There is a door and I think we need all three of us.”
Richard kisses me hard on the lips and tugs me forward with him. He places me right against the wall so that I can watch the faint outline of them working. What was it about having your back against a wall that makes you feel better?
Well whatever, it’s clearly false hope.
There’s no fucking warning before a hand closes around my throat from the tiny corridor to my left, only allowing me to let out a small sound. I try to shuffle my feet as I claw at their hand, feeling the bruising grip start to suffocate me. The men are still busy pulling and grunting at the door, and right as I try to open my mouth to shout out a warning, a cloth is placed in front of me face.
My eyes flutter as I slump against the person holding me and the last thing I see is the boys wedging the door open.
You know, you see scenes being portrayed by serial killers a lot. Like literally all the fucking time. What they don’t show? The part where the fucking serial killer leaves you to wait. As I said before, I fucking hate anticipation.
A cloth was stuffed in my mouth with a gross smelling, surly unsanitary fabric wrapped around my lips. I inhale rapidly through my nose in the dark room. My face near a puddle of water. I have no idea where the fuck I am, but my barely clothed body feels bruised, and not in the sexy way. Unfortunately.
A pain I wasn’t expecting pulses through me as I realize how little warning the boys were given. When did they notice I was gone? I couldn’t move my hands, but the weight of the ring Richard gave me sits against my skin, giving me a false sense of comfort.
How long have I been here? I’m just laying here, waiting for some fucking noise. Anything.
When the sound of a basement door opening hits my ears, and the light shines down into what I realize is a cellar, a large broad shoulder figure comes down the steps with all the ease in the world. A light comes on and I groan from the sudden blinding light, putting my head down. My eyes flit up as I let out a curse. Who fucking called it? That sick bastard Reynolds stands not even three feet away from me with an amused, and somewhat unhinged, smile on his face.
“Come on poppet, up you go.” The bastard yanks me up by the hair. A cry muffled by the cloth stuffed in my mouth, makes me feel as though I’m choking. I snarl as he inhales against my hair and rubs i
t against his cheek. Fucking freak.
Next thing, I know I’m being pulled by my hair towards the stairs. I couldn’t exactly move, but I try to crawl after him to avoid my scalp being fucking ripped off. He pulls me up the stairs as I let out a cry of pain, falling face first onto hard cold tile. I’m rolled over and Reynolds’ handsome demonic features play with light above him, making him look like he has some fucked up halo. That myth about serial killers being ugly is just that, a fucking myth. Senator Reynolds has model features worthy of a runway.
“Now,” he smiles, “you are just so much prettier than I could have expected, poppet. Those others were just placeholders. You, though? You’ll do just fine.”
For what? I couldn’t ask it, but he yanks me so I’m sitting up and my eyes go wide.
I wasn’t positive where he pulled me into, but it’s very clearly a kitchen. But like one in a dollhouse. I swallow at the morbid scene in front of me. The dead women in the photographs? Oh, they were here alright, in fact, it seems all I’m missing is tea.
“See, they have one more seat just for you, the hostess.”
Wow, just wow. This spelled mommy issues. Couldn’t he go to therapy like normal people?
All three women are dead. Like blue skin and puffy dead. They’re dressed in tea length dresses in purple, blue, green, and blood. The place reeks of death. The table is set with cookies and tea like a demented Mad Hatter tea party. There's one open seat and he drags me over, forcing me to sit.
That’s when it hits me.
I let out a cry and try to throw my chair back as he grunts and lands a solid hit right into the center of my chest. Fucking shit. I let out a whimper and try to crawl forward, grasping the table as it tips back over me. Tears of pain break free as the table pins me down and two dead bodies roll over so they’re looking at me with their glassy round eyes.
The Senator clucks his tongue and grabs my hair. What the fuck is with this dude and dragging me by my hair?
Like he’s in a trance, he says, “what a bad boy you’ve been. That's okay. Mommy is going to force the bad out of you. Mommy is going to make sure you never think of doing bad things again.”
I think that was right as he jabs a fork from the table into my arm. I cry out against the fabric as he laughs. My head rolls to the side so I don’t drown in my own tears. One of the delicate cups full of tea spills on the floor next to me. Yeah.
Fuck tea. I’m never drinking that shit again.
Chapter Sixteen
Archie
My heart has broken. Split into a million tiny pieces and grinding against my guilt until all that is left is a powder mess. She’s gone. My reason for breathing is gone, and it’s all my fucking fault. I should have made sure Robyn stayed close to us while we moved the door. Why the fuck did I suggest all three of us move the wall over? As soon as he got the chance, that bastard took my girl and I pretty much made it easy for him. How long has he been watching us? I deserve for the guys to beat the shit out of me, kill me now, and put me out of my misery.
"He couldn’t have taken her far. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, get your shit together, and let's move,” Richard says in a demanding voice.
I’m surprised he’s so calm about all this. Out of the three of us, I would peg him to be the one to burn this world down until he finds our girl. Maybe this is just the calm before the storm. You know, right before a tornado hits it’s like this perfect day and then, BAM, destruction. Yes, that’ll accurately define Richard York right now. I would say the same for John. He looks cool and collected, but the tic in his jaw and the hard edge of his heterochromia eyes tell me he’s mere seconds from exploding. He’s a walking, talking, ticking bomb. I’m surrounded by two equally, yet different, exploding personalities, and I’m grateful their ire isn’t focused on me.
“Where to? I doubt he’ll keep her here. He’ll fly her out of France as soon as possible. I’m positive he’s drugged her. In the police reports, the examiner would always find high doses of chloroform as well as rohypnol in their systems. Probably how he was able to drag her away without us hearing.”
“Let's get out of these tombs and see what we can find out at the airport. Only one deals with private jets here in France, and even the Senator can’t drag a body onto a commercial flight,” John says reasonably.
“How did he fucking get here? Wasn’t his passport taken until his trial?” Rich growls.
“Are you actually asking that right now?” I question, raising my brow as we follow the path out of here. “Something as simple as a passport doesn’t stop the rich and powerful. He may have a black stain on his name right now, but that hasn’t hindered his reach in the underground world.”
With a thick silence, we back track the way he came and soon we’re breathing in fresh air. The sun is starting to set, and I figured it’s probably late evening. Less than an hour later, we’re back on the jet and John goes straight for the laptop and starts typing away with his fingers flying over the keys.
“He’s covered his tracks well. Three private jets left this area within a few minutes, going to three different locations, spaced well apart. He could have been aboard any of them,” John growls through clenched teeth.
“What are the locations?” I ask, trying not to get defeated.
“Germany, Korea, and Brazil,” he mutters.
“Fucking A,” Rick roars as he paces the jet like a caged tiger.
“Why don’t we split up?” John suggests, and I immediately start shaking my head.
“We’re not the only ones looking for the dagger. I’m sure Reynolds knows that. If we’re alone and we run into the others, we’re likely to get killed. None of us are killers. You two are thieves, and I’m just a lawyer. We’re way over our heads here,and I don’t know about you, I’m not trying to be caught alone in a shootout,” I explain.
“Okay, well we can’t just continue to sit here with the jet idle,” Rich retorts. “Lets just pick a place and hope she’s there.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to waste time picking any place. Who knows what that bastard is doing to her right now?” John says reasonably.
We’re all quiet as I’m sure it is going through all our heads all of the sick details about the case that were revealed to the public. Unlike them, I know everything that sick bastard is capable of. I’ve combed over every police report and studied this case thoroughly. I knew everything, all the way down to Reynolds cutting technique. Which is why I know we have exactly five days to find her, before he gets bored of his little game and kills her. But that’s not even the sickest part. The sick bastard gets his rocks off by carving the word ‘whore’ across their abdomen, one letter at a time, for each day he has them. Thank fuck that psycho’s dagger is still missing. Serial killers are repetitive. They don’t deviate, or like change, so he won’t use another dagger to carve her up with.
“I doubt he took her to Korea. There's too much tension between our countries. All the money in the world wouldn’t be able to sneak him in,” I reply as I think everything through logically.
“Germany is the closest if he’s moving her to another location before the drugs wear off,” John suggests.
“And if you’re wrong, Brazil is a long fucking way from Germany,” Richard bites out.
“Well we need to start somewhere,” I huff.
“Alright,” Rich says in a resigned voice, "lets go to Germany."
Nodding, we all agree and I quickly walk up front to give the pilot the new destination. While I was away, Rich made sure to dismiss the stewardess with enough cash for her to take a first class flight back to the states and have a mini vacay. We don’t know what we’re walking into to take an innocent body with us, and I think our little firecracker would be truly pissed if we’re left alone on the flight with her. When the jet takes off, I try to relax but it’s not working. All thoughts trail back to my redhaired angel. I love that girl with every fiber of my being, and as soon as she’s safe in my arms, I’ll let her know,
as well as let her brother know just how much I love his sister, and I don’t give a shit if he approves of it or not.
Just sitting here, I think back to when Sheriff got shitfaced after his father told him Robyn would be staying with him during the duration of her time at Columbia. He thought the world was coming to an end because his bachelor pad was going to be invaded by his little sister. He saw it as a bad thing, but I was fucking ecstatic.
“You’re acting fucking ridiculous dude,” I sighed. “It’s not she’s like ten. She’s eighteen.”
And fuck did I know that. I had been slowly obsessing over my best friends little sister for years now and I thought college would have helped. Instead, I sat here thinking about how fucking fantastic it was that she was in the same country. Soon to be in the same building that I spent all my fucking time in.
Sheriff scoffed, “that’s the fucking problem. You think I want to see my little sister bringing people back to our apartment? Worse, what if I bring someone back?”
I tried to blink away the red haze at her being with anyone. At any time.
My friend was fucking wasted as he started to go on a tangent. Something clicked and I looked over at him. “Listen Sheriff, I will make sure to help you out man. You need the place for the night, then she can just crash at my place.”
I might have been a tad worried he would punch me.
Instead, he nodded thoughtfully with a grunt. “Yeah. That’s not a bad idea, thanks man.”
Believe me. No fucking problem. In fact, I don’t even see it as a favor to you.
I pat him on the back, “absolutely man.”
My lips curled up slightly. I would have found it unbelievable if that exact thing hadn’t happened. Unfortunately, that was also the night that I realized how screwed I was when it came to this girl.
Stolen Hood Page 10
