by Mari Carr
As they reached the basement door, James surprised her by shoving her against the hard wood, his fingers gripping her hair. “You’re going to pay for being a slut. I’m gonna make you pay for everything. Open the door,” he added as he jerked her back by her hair. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of pain and pure fear. She stumbled as he pushed her down the stairs, only just catching herself before falling.
At the bottom he released her and she turned. Strangely, she felt her fear, her panic giving way to something else. As she faced her ex-husband, his face demented with his desire for revenge, she realized she didn’t want to cower in the corner and take his abuse. This time, she was ready to do battle.
Her poise, her fearlessness seemed to take him aback and she watched his eyes narrow as he assessed her stance. “You’ve changed.”
She smirked. Whether he realized it or not, he’d just complimented her. “Yes, I have.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t really give a shit what you like or don’t like, James.”
He slapped her. Pinpricks attacked her cheek, but she merely continued to face him, refusing to raise her hand to her face.
“Jesus. You really are an ignorant whore. Not even smart enough to know you’ve been beaten.”
She laughed. “Beaten? By whom? You?” She used her most Tris-like voice, speaking to James as if he were nothing more than an annoyance.
He slapped her again. Her face was on fire and her eyes watered like mad, but she wasn’t going to back down. Not now, not ever.
“You were my wife,” he said, almost to himself. “Mine! He took you away.”
“I. Left. You. I walked out of here on my own two feet because you were a shitty husband. Tris had nothing to do with our divorce.”
James punched her in the stomach and she felt her knees buckle. She fought to stay on her feet, knowing if she went down, James would seize the advantage. There was a pipe running from the ceiling to the floor in the center of the basement. She reached out to grab it, holding herself upright against it.
“You sucked as a husband,” she taunted, unsure where the words were coming from.
“Shut up!”
“You were lousy in bed, a nasty little snake. You repulsed me.” All the rage, the misery, the pent-up anger she’d kept bottled up during their two years of marriage came flying out.
“I said shut up.” She watched him put the gun on a table behind him before approaching her.
“Decide to fight fair?” she asked as she stepped closer to him. “I won’t stand still this time, James. I’ll hit back. Hard.”
“You need to stop talking.” He reached up and attempted to grab her upper arms. She dodged, pushing him hard before he managed to grip her shoulders, shaking her. “You’re a liar. You did love me! It was that asshole. He told you to leave me.”
She struggled to break his grip, kicking hard at his shin. He howled as her foot made contact and released her. She moved back, frantically looking around the room for a weapon. The gun lay on the table behind him, too far away to help her.
He rushed after her and she dodged again, trying to get around him, desperate to escape. His right hand captured her left arm and he spun her roughly, wrapping himself around her from behind, pinning her arms tightly to her side. She tried to kick him, but she couldn’t connect with his legs, so instead she used her head—literally. She flung it back and head-butted him in the face. She heard his nose crack and when he dropped her, she turned to see blood streaming from it.
“You broke my nose.” His voice was laced with disbelief. She tried to run around him, not sure whether she was aiming for the stairs or the gun. He grabbed her by the hair, jerking her back hard.
She cried out at the pain in her scalp.
“Bitch!” he shouted as she spun around and scratched his face. He shoved her away from him and she lost her footing. As she fell backward, she hit her head on a shelf—hard. Stars flew and the edges of the room began to go black. She blinked rapidly, trying to retain consciousness. Panic besieged her as the blackness grew. Her last vision was that of her ex-husband walking toward her, laughing.
* * * * *
“Where the hell is she?” Tris raged, slamming his cell phone closed. There were a few customers in the pub and he was fairly sure they’d never come back again. He’d been too preoccupied watching the door to remember their orders or even refill their drinks. Pop had come down and, even though Tris knew it was too soon, his old man was taking care of business while he called Lane’s cell every thirty seconds.
“This isn’t like her, Pop,” he said, repeating the same line he’d uttered fifty times in the last few hours.
“I agree.” His pop had been accusing him of overreacting all day so his answer caught Tris off guard.
“You do?”
“I asked Riley to call Aaron. He should be here in a few minutes. Maybe he can give us some idea of what to do next.”
Tris nodded, pleased with his pop’s suggestion. His father looked better today than he had in months. “That’s a really good idea.”
Aaron Young walked in and Tris waved the young police officer over. Aaron and Riley had been best friends since the cradle, a fact that always struck the family as funny. Aaron was the epitome of straight and narrow while Riley skirted the line between right and wrong on a daily basis. She wasn’t a criminal, but she was reckless, wild and not averse to pushing the limit on pretty much everything. He was never sure how Aaron was able to keep up with her, but Tris had to admit, the man was better at controlling Riley than the men in her family.
“Lane’s missing,” Tris said as Aaron approached the bar.
Aaron nodded. He’d been to the house numerous times since Lane came to stay with them as a nurse. “How long’s she been gone?”
“Four hours.”
“Tris—” Aaron started.
“Don’t, Aaron. Don’t give me the legal bullshit about it being too soon to worry. I know Lane. For one thing, she said she’d be gone an hour. It’s been four. There’s no way she’d leave Pop alone that long without calling, which leads me to my second point. She’s always got her cell phone on. She’s not answering.”
“Cell batteries die. Women get distracted. Maybe she went shopping,” Aaron offered.
Tris narrowed his eyes, but before he could refute the policeman’s words, Aaron waved him off.
“Where was she going? What were her errands?”
Tris shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just said she had a few things to take care of.”
“You’re not giving me much to go on here, Tris.”
“Her ex was around yesterday.”
“Around?” Aaron asked. “The pub?”
Tris nodded. “He was outside. Lane and Pop ran into him. According to Pop, James asked if he could talk to her alone. She agreed.”
“What did they talk about?”
“I don’t know. Probably not much. Pop came in and got me so she wasn’t alone with the prick for more than a minute.”
“I guess you threatened him.”
Tris shrugged, knowing Aaron’s comment was rhetorical.
“I can’t just go over there and accuse the guy of kidnapping his ex-wife. For one thing, she hasn’t been gone long enough to be considered a missing person.”
“I just want you to distract him. I want to take a look around his house.”
“Oh, you just want to trespass, maybe do a little breaking and entering. Well, why didn’t you say so? Don’t know why you called me. You’ve got Riley on your team.”
Tris sighed. “Can the sarcasm, Aaron, I can’t sit here scratching my ass, hoping she’ll be okay. I promised to protect her. What if it were Riley who was missing?”
“Your sister goes missing on a weekly basis, Tris.”
Pop grinned and slapped Aaron on the back. He’d been quiet during their conversation, but he’d been listening intently. “And you always find her for us, son,” he said to the young cop. “Help u
s find Lane too.”
“This could mean my job.”
“All I want you to do is distract James with a few questions at his front door while I peek in the windows. If I get caught, I’ll swear I was acting alone. Please. I know you, Aaron. If James is up to something crooked, you’ll sniff it out.” Aaron was an excellent cop because of his ability to read people. Tris had no doubt the man would know immediately if James was up to no good.
“Shit,” Aaron said. “Let’s go. But I’m telling you right now, if I get fired, you’re hiring me at the pub.”
“Done,” Pop replied.
“And I want benefits,” Aaron added. “Decent ones.”
“Anything you want,” Tris said, happy to finally be doing something. Lane was in trouble. He could feel it in his bones. His promise to protect her hovered in the back of his mind.
God, please don’t let me be too late.
Chapter Nine
Lane opened her eyes, blinking at the pain in her head. Light pierced her vision like laser rays and she fought back a groan as she closed her eyes again. She tried to stand up, but realized her hands were tied above her head. It took her several more attempts to focus on the room without crying. As she took stock of her surroundings, she realized she was lying on her back on the cold, concrete basement floor. Her hands were tied together with duct tape around the pipe in the center of the room.
A quick glance around the room confirmed she was alone, but she didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. It also confirmed James had the gun. From where she lay, she could see the weapon was no longer on the table. She needed to stand up and fight her way out of the tape. Maybe she could use her teeth.
She ignored the pounding in her head as she tried to roll to her side. Footsteps on the basement stairs told her she was out of time…and luck. She debated playing dead, but James had already seen her moving. As he walked across the room, she felt a small bit of glee at the bandage on his puffy, bruised nose and the scratches on his face. He looked like shit.
“It’s about time you woke up. No fun playing with an unconscious woman. Your damn cell phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
Tris had gone into protector mode. He was worried and looking for her.
“You didn’t answer it?” she asked, confused. “I thought this whole kidnapping game was so you could use me as bait.”
James grinned. “It did start that way, but I have to confess I’m having too much fun to let the game end too soon.”
Equal parts relief and panic flooded her. Tris was still safe. She was not.
“Untie me,” she demanded with more bravado than she felt. She couldn’t stand being helpless in front of him.
He shook his head. “Nope. They’re my rules and they don’t say anything about playing fair.”
Before she could react, he straddled her legs, holding them to the ground with his weight. With her arms incapacitated, she knew what it meant to be shit out of luck.
“You don’t want to do this, James.” He started unbuttoning her blouse. “You hated sex with me.”
He chuckled after releasing the second button. “This isn’t sex, Lane. It’s rape.” With that, he ripped her shirt open the rest of the way, the fabric tearing.
“When did you become such a bastard?” She tried in vain to move her legs.
“I was always a bastard. You know that. For a while there, I actually thought you might save me, but then you started spreading your legs for Collins. How do you think I felt, Lane, knowing my wife was whoring at the pub week after week?”
“I wasn’t whoring and I didn’t think you cared if I went out for a drink. You never said anything. Never acted like you wanted me around.”
He grasped her bra, pulling it up until her breasts were bared to his pinching fingers. She winced at his painful tugging.
“Well, you were right. I didn’t want you around. You were a stupid, ugly bitch then.”
“So what’s this all about?” She tried to stem the tears he was producing with his hard pinches, trying to pretend she wasn’t terrified, in agony.
“You were my stupid bitch,” he replied with a nasty laugh. He scooted down her legs, careful not to lose his grip on them. He’d wised up to her kicking. He unbuttoned her jeans, released the zipper. She moved as much as her tight restraints would allow, fighting to break the tape at her wrists.
He dragged the denim over her hips, along with her panties, and she swallowed back the vomit rising to her throat. She didn’t want his fingers on her, near her.
“Please don’t,” she whispered, her courage faltering.
He looked at her face and for a minute, she thought she saw a shadow of the man she’d married.
Then his face hardened with anger. “I bet you don’t say no to him.” He pushed one finger along her pussy, the touch of the single digit painful. “Dry as a bone,” he laughed, though the sound held no mirth. “Guess some things never change.”
She hadn’t realized until Tris what it meant to desire someone so much her body would produce its own juices. She’d rarely managed that feat with James and they’d had to use lubrication more often than not.
“Stop.” She tried to press her legs together when he continued pressing.
He rose to his knees above her ankles, pushing her jeans down and pulling one leg free, leaving her other foot trapped in the rough material. He worked slowly, carefully, keeping a tight grip on her legs to prevent her from flailing. Once he had her bare from the waist down, he shoved her knees apart and knelt brutally on her left leg, keeping a hard grip on her right thigh.
He began to undo his own pants with his free hand and she knew she was helpless to stop him. “This is going to hurt, you frigid bitch,” he said as he released his cock. She closed her eyes, but he refused to allow her even that small bit of escape. He pinched her nipple cruelly. “Open your eyes. You’re gonna know it’s me who’s taking you. Game’s over, Lane. I’m the winner.”
She opened her eyes. “Fuck you.” Her words gave him a moment’s pause, as did her penetrating stare.
For a moment, she thought she’d stopped him, but he merely frowned as he placed the head of his cock at her opening.
And then the doorbell rang.
For a split second both of them remained motionless, and then Lane opened her mouth to scream. James instantly covered her lips with one hand while reaching over and grabbing a rag from the floor. He stuffed the dirty cloth in her mouth and she struggled not to gag as he pushed it in, holding it in place with more of his cursed duct tape.
Then he rose, closing his pants. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll get rid of our company and then we’ll finish this party up right.”
Tris crept up to the back door as Aaron spoke with James on the front porch. He’d positioned himself just outside the backyard, waiting for Ewan’s signal. His brother was crouched behind a neighbor’s hedge, watching the front door. Once Aaron left, he would signal Tris with a birdcall that the coast was no longer clear.
Tris tried to open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. His original plan had been to look in the windows, but Aaron had unwittingly planted the breaking-and-entering seed back at the pub. In for a dime, in for a dollar, he decided as he crossed the threshold. James clearly didn’t feel threatened by thieves.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he understood why. The house smelled worse than a sewer and every surface was coated with stains, spilled food and garbage. He could hear Aaron and James talking toward the front of the house and wondered how he’d be able to get by them if he couldn’t find Lane on the first floor.
He was walking toward the hallway when he noticed a door ajar. He heard scuffling sounds below and acted before he could think better of the idea. He crept down the stairs—relief and anger inundating him when saw Lane, bound and nearly naked, struggling to get to her knees.
“Jesus.” He rushed across the room to free her.
Lane’s bruised face went wild with panic when she saw him and fo
r a moment, he wondered if she was frightened of him. His blood ran cold as murder flashed in his mind. He’d kill James Bryce for hurting her again.
He peeled the tape away from her wrists and together they fought to remove the gag. Lane bent forward to retrieve her pants. “Out of here!” she whispered, her words coming out in a rush. “You have to get out of here! James is going to—”
“Dammit, Lane,” James said from the top of the stairs. “You always try to give away the ending. Put your hands in the air, Collins, and leave them there.”
From where he knelt at Lane’s side, Tris saw that James had a gun in his hands and it was pointed directly at him. Tris wanted to place himself in front of Lane, but as long as the gun barrel stayed on him, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to her. He stood slowly and raised his hands.
James slowly walked down the stairs and Tris started to curse as Lane struggled to her feet and positioned herself between him and her ex…again.
“Lane,” Tris said. “Move behind me. Now.”
James smiled at his comments. “You’re spoiling my surprise, Lane. My silly wife—”
“Ex-wife,” Lane interjected.
Tris wanted to growl at her reckless behavior. “Why don’t you let Lane leave, Bryce? This argument is between us. Get her out of here and we’ll settle it like men.”
James shook his head. “Nope. The whole point of killing you is so Lane can see what happens when wives cheat on their husbands. Nice of you to break in this way. As a law-abiding citizen, I have every right to defend my home. No one will convict me for killing an intruder.”
Tris tried to step forward, desperate to get between Lane and the gun.
“Don’t move,” James said, lifting the weapon and pointing it directly at Lane’s head. “Lane, step aside. Now.”
“No,” she said.
“Dammit, Lane,” Tris pleaded. “Move out of the way, kitten.”
She shook her head. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
“My game, my rules.”
Tristan was unnerved by the pleasure James seemed to take in Lane’s response. Lane’s courage in the face of the escalating danger appeared to be egging the man on.
