Shocked to see Marshall liberated from the handcuffs, she widened her eyes slightly in recognition of his freedom, otherwise containing her surprise ... and relief.
As if they were still tethered, Marshall tucked his hands behind his back.
Curious about how Marshall freed himself, Jewels tuned out Hines’ rambling voice to allow her mind to drift. Staring blankly down at the mattress, she figured Marshall could have fairly easily escaped from the leather strap. After all, she purposely hadn’t tied it too tightly. But how did he get out of the cuffs? Another key in a pocket? When this was all over, she’d be sure to ask him. Thinking fondly of him, her eyes wandered in his direction.
Clearing his throat, “There will be plenty of time for talking, Sweet Cheeks,” Hines said agitated, obviously wise to Jewels’ lack of interest in him.
“Oh?” Jewels said, acting innocent, but knew she was busted.
“It’s time we get down to business. Time to cleanse you so we can move on with our lives.”
Female mutilation! Goosebumps sprouted over her body. Her heart hammered. Panicked eyes cut to Marshall.
Winking, he flashed a strong don’t-worry-I’ve-got-a-plan smile.
“The procedure requires you to be restrained for your own good,” Hines casually explained, scooting nearer to her.
Slowly, Jewels waved her head back and forth, tightly pressing her arms against her chest. “No. Please. No....”
Eyes narrowing, Hines raised the submachine gun, training the front sights on her pumping breasts. “Now come on, lie back and stretch your arms above your head.”
This was her line-in-the-sand moment. No more acts of humiliation. No more giving in to his demented requests. And certainly, no way would she willingly permit him to tie her down and mangle her body. “Theodore, I have to pee,” Jewels blurted out.
Hines’ eyebrows crimped. “So what. Pee on the bed, all the others did.”
Wrinkling her nose, “No Theo. I’m not going to pee on the bed,” she said, bolting upright to her feet.
Snatching her forearm, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Flexing her arm muscle in protest of his hold, she looked him square in the eyes, “I have to pee, Theo, and since you don’t seem to have a bathroom in this place, I’m going outside to do so,” she sternly said, determination in her voice.
“Well, fine, but I’m going with you and...,” pausing he bent over, picked up one of the leather leashes from the floor, “you gotta have this on you if you’re goin’ outside,” he said, snapping the leash onto the D-ring of the leather cuff strapped around her right wrist.
Jewels shrugged. “Whatever.” Darted toward the door.
Her sudden break forced Hines to grab for her with both hands, releasing his hold on the MP-5 which now swung freely at his side from the sling around his shoulder.
Marshall saw it as his opportunity. He struck, tackling Hines from behind. “Run, Jewels, run,” Marshall shouted, wrestling with Hines on the gritty floor near the foot of the bed.
Jewels ran, but not out of the cabin. Instead directly to the AR Marshall had brought with him and Hines had unloaded. Picking up the rifle, she retrieved the magazine, fed it into the well and chambered a round. “Freeze,” she ordered with authority, holding the AR by the pistol grip at waist level and pointing the muzzle at the center of the two grappling men.
The men continued wrestling for control of the submachine gun and beating the shit out of each other in the process.
She fired a single round into the tacky plywood fireplace cabinet.
That got their attention.
Both men immediately froze, lying side by side, the MP-5 caged between their hands. It was hard to tell who had controlling possession.
“Let go and give Marshall the gun,” Jewels ordered Hines.
“Why should I?” he returned, jutting out his chin in defiance.
Stomping toward him, she aimed the barrel at his head. “Because I’ll blow your mother-fucking head off if you don’t,” she snarled, cold blood in her voice and on her face.
“Typical bitch. Untrustworthy,” Hines growled,surrendering the submachine gun to Marshall.
“Give me that other pair of cuffs,” Marshall said to Hines.
Grunting, Hines relinquished the backup handcuffs he kept on his belt.
“And the keys,” Marshall said.
Hines fished the key he took from Marshall out of his shirt pocket, handed it to him.
“That was mine. Now hand over yours.”
Frowning, Hines dug into his front pants pocket for the handcuff key, tossed it to Marshall.
“Any others?”
Reluctantly, “Just on my key chain.”
With Marshall in control of the situation, Jewels lowered the rifle. Pushing up the sleeves of Hines’ FBI jacket she was wearing, “These have got to go,” she triumphed, wasting no time in stripping off the leather cuffs he had insisted she wear.
Watching, Hines’ face painted in fury as Jewels victoriously freed herself of the wrist and ankle restraints and hurled them into the fireplace box.
Slinging the MP-5 over his shoulder, Marshall nudged Hines across the floor on his butt to the foot of the bed. After cuffing his hands behind his back around one of the massive footboard logs, he confiscated the Escalade keys from his front pocket and the knife from the sheath at his side.
Tossing the knife on the bed, Marshall jingled the keys in his hand, extending his arm to give them to Jewels. “Get in the car, drive down the road to the first building you see. That’s the compound and the cavalry is waiting.”
“No way,” Jewels protested. “You go back to the compound and get the cavalry. I want to stay here to make sure our FBI man doesn’t get away.” In actuality, Jewels was seeking to avenge Robert’s death and there was only one thing that would do it: killing Theodore Hines.
“What?” Marshall roared.
“Trust me, Marshall Watters,” she said, her voice mimicking the tone he used numerous times at the SPOF compound. An incredible air of calmness had settled over her. She felt self-assured and righteous. Her facial features were pleasant. Body relaxed, but authoritative.
The killing had to be done in private. No witnesses, not even Marshall Watters. Without witnesses Jewels could claim self-defense and no one would be the wiser. It would be her word against that of a dead psychopath. Besides, even if law enforcement did suspect her of murder, they wouldn’t push the issue because of who Theodore Hines was and what he had done. He was a murdering machine ... of the worst sort.
Marshall stared at Jewels for a moment. Analyzing. Trying to read between the lines. Rubbing the stubble of the five o’clock shadow on his chin with the back of his hand, he contemplated his options.
Leaving Jewels with Hines was not only wrong, it was stupid. And from a law enforcement and tactical perspective, it was moronic. And Marshall Watters was no moron. He was the commander of one of the most elite law enforcement teams in the world.
Yet, he empathized with Jewels. He, too, wanted Hines dead. Not only for what he had done to Jewels and the four women buried behind the cabin, but for the rampage of death and destruction he had orchestrated across the country.
After several long moments of silent contemplation, Marshall reached a decision. Sighing, “Okay. Fine. I’ll get the cavalry. You stay here.”
Jewels beamed.
“What the fuck!” Hines blurted out, a look of disbelief contorting his features.
Marshall ignored him. “And Jewels, if he moves...,”
tilting his head at Hines, “you have my permission to shoot the filthy bastard.”
Jewels grinned. Now she was reading between the lines. Marshall had sensed her intention to execute Hines and had given his blessing.
“Unbelievable. You can’t leave me with her,” Hines yelled at Marshall.
Smirking, “Watch me,” he replied, kissing Jewels on the forehead before darting out the door with the MP-5 slung acros
s his shoulder.
The roar of the Escalade’s engine quickly faded into silence.
Jewels was alone with Hines. That little pimple of pure rage hidden deep in her mind began to fester, making itself visible, ready to burst as she thought of Robert being murdered by that no-good Theodore Hines.
Hovering over Hines, she pointed the AR at his chest. “Well, let’s get down to business,” she said, her voice mocking Hines when he earlier made a similar suggestion.
“Hmph! Business,” he echoed sourly, rolling his eyes.
“Shut up,” she said, poking him hard in the chest with the muzzle of the rifle.
Hines squirmed.
Watching with amusement, Jewels figured the cowardly bastard was scared shitless about meeting his Maker. The bile in her stomach swelled like a rogue ocean wave as her mind wandered back to thoughts of Robert. His death. Murder. She knew what she had to do: pull the trigger.
Jewels contemplated the role of executioner. True, Hines’ death wouldn’t bring Robert back. Nonetheless, it would offer a molecule of peace of mind. Never again would that butcher have the chance to destroy anyone else’s life the way he had hers, the women buried out back, and all the innocent victims of his Jefferson Warriors’ attacks. If she killed him, she would be doing society a favor and rendering justice at the same time. Fine. It was settled. Theodore Hines’ death sentence would be carried out.
Lifting her eyes toward the heavens, “God, forgive me for what I’m about to do,” she whispered, her face stony, eyes void of emotion.
Raising the gun, she jammed the butt of the stock into her shoulder, flipped the safety off, cocked her head and nestled her cheek deep into the stock to claim a sight picture. Levelling the sights on Hines’ heart—a foot away from the end of the barrel—she slid her finger off the trigger guard onto the trigger.
Hines’ hands exploded from behind his back, grabbing the barrel of the AR-15. The open jaw of the handcuff that once engulfed his left hand dangled freely from the cuff still fastened around his right wrist. Unbeknownst to her at the time, he hadn’t been squirming because he was afraid Jewels was going to kill him, he was squirming to open the handcuff around his left wrist using the key he kept in a hidden zipper compartment in his belt.
Frantically, Jewels wrestled with Hines for control of the weapon. Unintentionally, her finger tugged at the trigger.
The gun discharged.
The bullet clipped Hines’ shoulder.
Howling in pain, he continued to scuffle with Jewels for control of the AR. Then with one wrenching twist, jerked the gun from her hands.
Falling backwards, she landed on her butt with a hard thud against the wooden floor.
“You fuckin’ cunt,” Hines hollered, his eyes bulging and lips snarling as he quickly inspected the bloody gunshot wound on his arm.
Scrambling to her feet, Jewels yanked open the heavy cabin door, running as fast as she could into the dark woods.
• • •
Scooping up the knife Marshall had tossed on the bed, Hines sheared off strips from the slip Jewels had worn to use as bandages, wrapping the wound at the top of his arm, near his shoulder. Sheathing the knife, his attention turned to thoughts of Jewels. The treachery. The deceit. The fact she was really going to kill him. So much for his dream woman, Sweet Cheeks, and fantasies of living happily ever after. “I’m gonna give you pain like you never imagined possible,” his curled lips mumbled, as he released the dangling cuff from his wrist and tucked it in the leather case attached to his belt. Opening the bottom drawer of the nightstand, he retrieved a pair of Nighthawk night vision goggles along with a pair of leg cuffs.
Jogging to the open door, he shouted into the forest, “Ready or not, Julia, here I come.” Slipping the night vision goggles over his head, he quickly scanned the woods.
The goggles allowed him to see through the thick night concealing her from the naked eye. Her long vanilla hair bobbed up and down. His FBI jacket flowed behind her like a cape, her full breasts bouncing within the confines of the white bra as her elongated legs pistoned wildly. “Gotchya,” he whispered to himself, taking off on a fast trot.
• • •
With every step, dozens of tiny pieces of dried pine needles pricked the bottom of Jewels’ bare feet, but didn’t slow her down. Only the occasional rock jutting out from the blanket of pine needles, or fallen tree trunk across the path, could do that, and even then for only a second.
Jewels knew she must keep running, though her destination was unknown. Must keep on the move until
Marshall Watters and his cavalry nabbed Hines. Then, and only then, could she stop running. Go home. Return to her old life. But the harsh reality was there was no such thing as her old life. So much had changed in the space of just a few days. Precious Boo-Boo was gone. Robert’s death was murder, not an accident. And then there was Marshall Watters.
Winded and parched and figuring she had distanced herself far enough from Hines for the moment, Jewels stopped running to catch her breath. Leaning against a big pine, she thought about Marshall.
From the first time they met, she sensed there was something different about him. Deep in her heart, she never believed he was the criminal type ... and she was right. He was a member of an elite government domestic anti-terrorism squad. Why hadn’t she followed her gut instincts—her vibes—that told her to trust him at SPOF? If she had, she probably wouldn’t be running barefoot in the forest in the middle of the night wearing nothing more than a flimsy FBI windbreaker over a strapless bra and thong panties.
Furthermore, in retrospect, all those worries about Stockholm Syndrome had confounded her feelings. Now with those concerns aside, Jewels wondered if Marshall and she could have a future together. Splurging for just another moment’s rest before resuming her mad dash into the great unknown woods, she closed her eyes, dreaming. Marshall’s hand gently stroking her cheek. His kisses passionately engaging her lips. Strong arms lovingly cradling her shoulders....
Suddenly huge arms surrounded her. Had her dream come to life? A surge of elation jolted her body, eyes flew open. “Marshall,” she shrieked enthusiastically, pivoting her body around with the intention of kissing him into a state of delirium.
“Not quite, Sweet Cheeks,” Hines said, sneering, snaring her forearm.
“Nooooooooo!” Jewels screamed, wildly back peddling and violently jerking her arm to escape his clutch.
But he easily gained control, twisting her hand behind her back to send her crumbling to her knees in agony.
“You’re hurting me,” Jewels squealed.
Ignoring her cries, he dragged her on her knees toward a pine tree with a trunk about six inches in diameter. Pushing her onto her side then forcing her onto her back, he straddled her chest. Yanking her arms above her head, he engulfed both wrists in one hand. “You ruined everything,” he snarled, drawing handcuffs from his belt.
Naturally, Jewels struggled for freedom, flexing her arm muscles and balling her fists madly tugging to break loose.
At the base of the trunk he wrapped her arms, swiftly snapping the metal strands on her wrists, anchoring them around the tree.
Dried pine needles gouged Jewels’ already throbbing back and triceps and pricked her buttocks and bare legs. The low branches peppered her face like dozens of tiny wire brushes, poking her eyes and mouth. Coughing and crying, she desperately squirmed for a less painful position. But her already dismal situation quickly deteriorated.
Hines gagged Jewels. Sacrificing his expensive necktie, he wound it multiple times around her head. Knotted it brutally secure over her mouth.
Pitifully, Jewels whimpered.
The FBI-issued leg irons—identical to metal handcuffs except with a fifteen-inch chain between the loops instead of two inches—clanged as he battled her churning legs to clamp metal strands around her ankles. Grinning, he tightly ratcheted them down to purposely ensure they bit deep into her already bruised and paining ankles.
Terror mountin
g and agony escalating, Jewels’ bravery was all but used up. A wave of tears and high-pitched squeals of misery escaped her control.
Towering over her and breathing hard, he thrust his hands on his hips and stared down at her. The alligator grin climbed across his face, her torment obviously pleased him. Shaking his head, “This is your fault,” he scolded, wagging an angry finger. “You ruined everything....” he reminded her, his voice trailing off as he gazed blankly into the woods.
Just when Jewels thought her dreadful predicament couldn’t possibly worsen, Hines gathered fallen branches. Methodically he piled them, one at a time, on top of her and around the tree, constructing a well-blended mini-forest within the forest, completely concealing her body. Clearly, he didn’t want her to be seen. Or found.
Fear and panic consumed her, knowing there was nothing she could do other than watch Hines build her above ground tomb.
Standing back he admired his work. The precisely stacked branches resembled a well-made hunting blind, so well-made not even the wild residents would notice a twig out of place. Obviously pleased with himself, a malicious grin spilled across his face. “Be quiet and wait here,” he said with superiority, knowing damned well Jewels couldn’t go anywhere or say anything. “I’ll come back for you when I secure transportation,” he vowed, then took off on a light jog.
Peering through the small gaps in the branches, Jewels watched the back of Hines’ white shirt disappear into the blackness. Not knowing which was worse, being held captive and subjected to the tortures of Theodore Hines, or being abandoned and buried alive in the middle of nowhere with no hope of being found, she closed her eyes, sobbing unabashedly.
Ravaged from head to toe in monstrous pain, she squirmed for a more tolerable position, seeking even minimal relief. But her efforts were in vain. There would be no relief. Not of her own making, or from anyone else. It seemed no one, not even Marshall Watters, was going to save her from this torment.
Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) Page 38
