He was nearly out of breath by the time he got to the garage under his apartment. Nearly jumping on the bike, he revved the engine and took off into the night.
Alistair’s bike whipped through the streets, not bothering to stop at lights. Or cars. Or people. Screaming pedestrians yelled obscenities as he flew across the pavement.
Gene’s voice rang through his speakers, following him on GPS and directing him where to go. Blood surged through his system, and he fought against the racing adrenaline. He couldn’t afford a mistake.
“Pete, tell me more. What are we walking into?”
“It’s not good. Looks like he dropped a couple of thousand on the kind of shit nightmares of are made of. Chains, whips, fucking branding irons.”
Fuck.
“Al, the last thing he bought,” Peter’s voice cracked, “was a shovel and several barrels of lye.”
Alistair forced the bike even faster. He switched his focus to the road, listening to Gene through the headset as he guided him out of the congested city streets. What should have taken near forty-five minutes on his bike took less than twenty. He didn’t know how long he and Pete had been knocked out for, for all he knew…
No, Al. Don’t think that way.
He made a final right turn, the house in front of him, about a quarter-mile ahead. He dropped the bike to the ground and sprinted up the drive, praying he wasn’t already too late.
Jayla pressed up on her toes trying to relieve some of the tension that racked her shoulders.
She had already decided she wouldn’t allow Jeffrey to win. Various escape scenarios ran through her mind. The most viable was for her to play nice, to give in to what he wanted. Her stomach recoiled at the thought of his hands anywhere near her.
What if it doesn’t work? What if he…
She swallowed, refusing to allow herself to think of anything other than getting out of this room. Because if she allowed her thoughts to wander, if she thought about the possibility of Alistair hurt … or worse…
No! Find a way out!
For a while, her escape plans distracted her from her growing discomfort. But soon, the burning of her shoulders almost eclipsed the pain from her leg. Pulling on the chain to relieve pressure only added more weight to her toes. When they, too, began to burn, she tried rocking back as far on her heels as she could.
The aching intensified and it wasn’t long before no position offered her any relief. Her body struggled to stay vertical. Unable to stand any longer, she now leaned almost fully on her chains, knees exhausted. The bleeding had stopped, but she knew she’d soon feel faint from both the position and the blood loss. She didn’t know how much longer she could last, but she was not going to call for him. Fuck him.
She bobbed in and out of consciousness. In one of her fleeting moments of clarity she tried to pull herself up the chain to see if she could possibly reach the top; she couldn’t even lift her tired feet off the ground.
He has to come back eventually.
When her arms went completely numb her hope of his return diminished.
The thought of giving in to him, even a little bit was almost more than she could bear. She didn’t want to follow his “rules”, but there was nothing more she could do.
Miserable in her decision, she muttered a pitiful, “Jeffrey?”
It came out barely a whisper. She stood as straight as she could, clearing her throat to repeat herself, “Jeffrey? Can you hear me?”
Moments later, the door behind her opened. She let out a relieved sigh, realizing she hadn’t been sure he would answer her call.
“Yes, Jasmine? What can I do for you?”
Jayla paused, knowing she was playing directly into what he wanted — his complete control over her. She hated it.
“I’d like to be let down.” She refused to look at him. Her voice was more strained than she realized. When he didn’t respond, she stole a glance up and saw him standing arms crossed, with a grin on his face. He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, implying he was waiting for her to complete her sentence correctly. She hated him more in this moment than she even thought possible.
“Can you let me down, Master?” she said, following his “rule” through gritted teeth. Tears pricked her eyes with anger as her cheeks flushed with humiliation at her own words.
“Ah. That wasn’t so bad, now was it? Are you sure you want me to let you down?” he asked, mocking her.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
She sighed in defeat. “Yes, Master.”
“Beg.” He stared into her eyes coolly.
“You said all I had to do was ask,” Jayla retorted, angered that she’d believed for a second that he would actually do what he said he would.
“I did and I will. I also said you’re to do what I say when I say it. I’m commanding you to beg for your release.”
Jayla swallowed hard. She already humiliated herself at calling him “Master” and now he wanted her to beg?
“Fuck. You,” she snarled at him.
“Have it your way.” Jeffrey started to leave the room when Jayla called out, unable to stop herself. She couldn’t stand another minute tied up like this.
“No, no, please … I’m sorry! Please, please let me down, Master. Please!”
Jeffrey looked at her, triumphantly smiling. “Aw, Jasmine. You can do better than that.”
“Please … please … let me down. I need you to let me down, Master.” Tears were falling down her face at this point. It was too much, the pain, the numbness, the fear of him leaving her like this. She broke down.
“And…?”
Jayla looked at him, hoping she understood what else he wanted. “And, I apologize for saying ‘fuck you’, Master”
“What will you give me for letting you down?”
“What?”
“Quid pro quo, Jasmine. If I drop the chains, I expect something in return.” He bent forward, into her face.
A shadow appeared from the doorway behind Jeffrey. Her attention diverted for a split second, eyes widening as Alistair’s face appeared in the crack of the doorway.
He’s alive! He’s … here!
Her heart nearly leaped from his chest. It took everything inside of her not to smile at seeing him.
“Well?” Jeffrey asked, returning her attention to him.
Taking a breath, she spoke changed her tone, hoping to evoke longing, and desire. “Please, Master. I’d very much like a kiss.”
“Go on,” he commanded, his smile pure malice. “Make me really believe you.”
Keep him occupied. “I never forgot how incredibly … handsome, you were. Tall … dark … those eyes that just … just leave me speechless. I was in love with you the moment I met you.”
Jeffrey lifted a hand to caress her cheek, pulling her chin forward with the other, holding her tightly in his grasp.
“I want to believe you, Jasmine, but, how can I? After all, you left me. And allowed that … amateur … to sample what belongs to me.”
His hand reeled back, and she braced for the impact which landed against her temple.
When the stars cleared, she watched Alistair’s body slink through the crack in the door.
She needed to give him more time.
“You’re right, Master. You’re always right. Please, kiss me. Let me apologize.”
Alistair took a baton from the rack of tools nearest to the door and inched forward.
Jeffrey’s hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her forward. The cuts on her leg rubbed against his jeans, a hiss escaping her lips at the pain.
His lips curled in a smirk. “You always did love a little pain.”
His lips crashed against hers, his tongue forcing its way inside her mouth. She barely held back from trying to shift away, allowing him to kiss her as his body pressed into hers. His grasp on her hips tightened, and as his leg shifted, it rubbed the raw skin, causing her to cry out. He took it as a sign of encouragement, deepening the kiss. She opened her
eyes, finding Alistair creeping along the back wall, focused on the lever to release her, when Jeffrey pulled back.
“What the fuck are you looking—” Jeffrey began to question, his head turning on his neck behind him.
“Alistair!” she screamed, warning him he’d been caught just as Jeffrey fully faced him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Alistair’s vision narrowed with rage.
“Bitch,” Jeffrey spat at her, reeling back, and punching her in the ribs. A sickening crack echoed through the room.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Alistair took a careful step forward, his eyes locked on Jeffrey. From the hall he’d taken stock of the restrains, noted the switch on the opposite wall.
Get her down first.
Fighting through the adrenaline making his arms and legs buzz with tension, he lifted a ball gag off its hook on the wall and hurled it at Jeffrey, as he rushed for the switch.
Ducking the projectile, Jeffrey moved to the fireplace, pulling a poker from the stand, and swung.
Alistair dodged without a second to spare, the sharp metal rod whizzing past his left ear. Using the moment to close the distance between them, Alistair snapped the baton open with a flick of his wrist, clocking Jeffrey in the back of the thigh, bringing him to the ground.
“This is gonna hurt, Jayla,” he called, pressing on the switch, just as his feet were kicked out from underneath him.
He landed with a thud and the force of the boot that sank against his spine made his back bow. He swung the baton as far back as he could reach, Jeffrey’s pained cry indicating he had hit his target.
Turning to his side, he caught sight of Jayla writhing on the ground. Her face glistened with tears. The immediate rush of blood back to her arms would be burning intensely, near crippling until the rush subsided. Coupled with her broken rib, slashed leg, and blow to her head, he knew she was in bad shape.
Using the wall for assistance, he stood. Jeffrey struggled to his feet in front of him. The two men squared each other, each holding a weapon. Alistair’s back throbbed, but it wasn’t enough to deter him.
Alistair’s eyes narrowed at the man in front of him. The sonofabitch who bruised, burned, cut, and tortured his Princess.
“Back off, boy,” Jeffrey sneered, rolling his wrist.
Alistair’s eyes darted to Jayla, warring against the drive to run to her. Her soft sobs tore at him and fueled his advance.
“Let me remind you that Jasmine is my wife. She’s mine to command. Mine to control.” Alistair braced himself for impact, certain by the tensing of Jeffrey’s legs he’d lunge forward. Instead, Jeffrey pivoted, and rushed toward Jayla, the poker raised high above his head, poised to slam the poker against her skull.
Alistair roared as he moved, leaping through the air, knocking into the man full force as their bodies collided. The poker clattered against the floor as Alistair pushed Jeffrey onto his back, pressing on top of him. He grabbed Jeffrey’s hair, pulling to the side as his pummeled Jeffrey’s face with his fist, sending blood spraying from his nose. Alistair reeled back, bringing his fist down once again, pounding into Jeffrey’s jaw, busting his lips and cracking several of his teeth.
As Alistair’s hand came up again, Jeffrey bucked, slicing something sharp into his thigh. Caught off guard, Alistair fell onto his side, his searing leg tightening around a knife. Jeffrey’s weight pressed into him as he pushed Alistair’s face against the floor with his knee and reached for the poker. Alistair lifted his hips and pulled the gun out of the holster, pointing it forward as he turned his body. He pointed at Jeffrey, finger on the trigger just as Jeffrey’s foot connected with his hands, sending the gun skittering across the floor.
As Alistair turned to follow the gun’s movement he caught sight of Jayla. She was on her knees holding her left side, her face pinched in pain. Momentarily distracted by her suffering, Jeffrey landed a kick to his ribcage before dropping an elbow into Alistair’s groin.
Alistair cried out as the power of the blow crippled him, losing his air as pain radiated up to his stomach, through his back. Bile rose in his throat. Each time his pulse throbbed, it ignited a fresh wave of white-hot agony.
Before he could get control over his body, Jeffrey was on top of him again, his blood dripping onto Alistair’s face as his fingers closed around his throat.
Alistair registered the motion too late, helpless to anything more than strain against the grip that pressed against his Adam’s apple, forcing his neck back into the concrete. He couldn’t catch breath. He forced his hand under Jeffrey’s chin and tried to shove him away. With the pain still radiating through his core he lacked the strength to put any distance between them. If Gene and Pete didn’t walk in the door within seconds, he’d be gone.
And then, Jayla would be left alone.
Thoughts only on her, he forced his body to move, bucking up, trying to force Jeffrey off. He couldn’t reach the knife embedded in his leg. Darkness danced at the edges of his vision; small, ragged gasps escaping his throat. Alistair’s fingers dug into the flesh of Jeffrey’s biceps with as much force as he could muster, but it wasn’t enough.
He reeled his arm back, his elbow hitting the ground, striking forward with outstretched fingers. He caught Jeffrey’s neck in just the right place, and for a split second, air flooded into his lungs.
The breath didn’t last long enough — Jeffrey recovered far too quickly and within moments his lungs burned again, desperate for air.
This fucker cannot kill me, he thought, his vision again wavering. Jeffrey’s hands tightened, his efforts to remove the man above him only causing him to lose air more quickly. He tried twisting again, but his strength gave out. His legs dropped as a tear fell from his eye.
I failed her.
Alistair forced his gaze to his left, wanting his Princess to be his last memory of life. Blackness circling around him, he found just the shadow of her out of the corner of his eye.
Looking to her face, he registered her determined expression — and the glint of the fire reflecting off the gun.
The sound of the gunshot reverberated off the walls of the room.
Jayla stood, frozen. Jeffrey’s body lay limp against the floor, the tip of his foot twitching. She swallowed, hard.
I killed someone.
Her pulse rang in her ears, muffling the sounds of the room — Alistair’s voice calling her, the sound of the door slamming against the wall as Gene and Peter rushed in.
Her knees hit the concrete, her body shaking. She let the gun fall to the floor, the weight of it suddenly too heavy in her hands. Her breaths quickened. A rush of nausea invaded her senses.
Alistair was on his knees in front of her, pulling her into him. His hands were on her face, his lips moving, speaking to her. His face was covered in blood.
Is he hurt?
She watched his lips, trying to decipher the words. Her body felt so light. Like she was floating. The room began to fade away, his voice growing faint.
Finally, she looked into his eyes. The color warm and strong, like him. The depth of his concern, his love, as he looked at her pulled her back into her body.
“Come back, Princess,” his voice floated around her, coaxing her out of her trance.
Deep bronze. That’s what color they are. Deep, dark bronze, her voice sing-songed in her mind.
“You’re safe now, Jayla. Come back.” Alistair’s voice rose.
She shook, the room suddenly freezing. Her wrist hurt. Did I twist it?
She shook her head, trying to clear the fog.
She felt the warmth of a jacket fall over her back and shoulders as Alistair wrapped it around her and focused once again on his eyes. A pungent smell flooded her system, followed by a metallic taste. She swallowed, opening her mouth, playing with her tongue. It wasn’t blood, it was more like … lead?
“There you are, Jayla. Come back, beautiful,” Alistair cooed, dipping his face to find her again. His hand ran through her hair, down her back.
Jeffrey.
I killed Jeffrey.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jayla took a deep breath, looking to her right to Alistair. He squeezed her hand, reassuring her she could handle any situation. Especially this one.
“Just a few last questions, Mrs. Alwazir,” the police officer, who had introduced herself as Lieutenant Mitchelle, continued. “Were there any previous police reports made about the abuse?”
Shaking her head, Jayla’s heart raced. “No. I was too scared he would find out. Hurt me worse. I did talk to a number of therapists though — in the shelters and even on my own. I can provide the names and numbers of those if you like.”
The Lieutenant smiled kindly. “That would help. Although, I doubt it would be necessary. With the amount of physical evidence from you and the room, coupled with what Mr. Kane and his associates procured, there’s enough to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt this was self-defense.”
Looking at the petite blonde standing in front of her, Jayla’s eyes began to tear.
It’s over. It’s finally … over.
As Jayla opened her phone to find the correct numbers, she accidentally hit the bandage covering the wound from Jeffrey.
She winced, yet the pain was more than bearable knowing this would be the last wound he would ever inflict on her. She rattled off different numbers to the woman sitting adjacent from her. Lieutenant Mitchelle calmly took the information before flicking the notepad closed and returning it to her breast pocket.
“Will you need anything else from us?” Alistair asked, running his hands over his thighs. Jayla had to give it to him. In the past five days since she had … protected herself, Alistair had taken everything in stride with her. He hadn’t left her for a moment, even when she had to describe her history of injuries to the police officers. She’d glance his way and notice the tight lines of his face, the clenching of his jaw, yet he never regarded her with anything other than love. And respect.
Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2) Page 31
