Fucking sick bitch.
“Move it, sister,” her tormentor barked. Hauled upright and dragged over the lip at the rear of the car, Rhi hurriedly glanced around. The car was backed into a space at a motor court. Looked to be about twenty rooms laid out in a ramshackle L shape. Maybe four or five cars dotted the parking area, but for the most part, it looked like their location was pretty isolated.
When Rhi’s bare feet hit the cold pavement, she shuddered. Clearly, Kim had a plan that she was working from because once she’d restrained Rhiann’s hands and knees, she’d torn off her boots before taping her ankles. At some point during the drive, Rhi was pretty sure she heard the sound of a window being lowered followed by crazy lady’s maniacal laugh as her boots undoubtedly went flying.
So . . . barefoot, gagged, and hands bound behind her back. Fun times.
It took only seconds for Kim to hustle her into a very small efficiency room and slam the door behind them. Shoving her violently, Rhi stumbled and fell to her knees while more insane laughter filled the air.
“That’s a good look for you, bitch!’ Kim cackled. “On your knees and trussed up like a pig being readied for the spit.”
Suddenly and without any warning, her captor slapped her across the face so hard she saw stars. Reeling from the hit, Rhiann struggled to stay conscious and alert. If she was going to die, she wanted to remember every detail so when she got to the other side, hopefully, some very ugly karmic retribution would be coming Kim’s way when Rhi unloaded just how despicable a creature she really was.
Before that thought cleared her mind, another vicious hit landed with painful accuracy. Almost immediately, she began to taste blood in her mouth. Shit.
“Get up, you miserable slut,” Kim hissed. “On the chair. Now!” she screamed two inches from Rhi’s face.
On shaking limbs, she climbed unsteadily to her feet only for Kim to propel her onto a rickety desk chair with force.
“Move and I will gladly kill you.”
Now that she was off the floor and could look around, Rhiann saw that they were in a dinky room with two double beds, a pretend kitchen, and no means of escape.
Kim sat on one of the beds—the other was piled with bags and clothes—and stared at Rhiann. Taking a handgun from the pocket of her jacket, she laid it aside and tore off the black wig with a grunt.
She looked at the clock on the bedside stand and smirked. “Now let’s see how long it takes that testosterone monkey you’ve been running around with to find us.”
“IT’S NOT THAT EASY,” LIAM overheard the police officer murmur to Roman. “A yellow Jeep might stick out like an eyesore where y’all come from but round these parts, they’re pretty common. Especially with the beach patrol folks.”
Almost an entire hour had gone by. They could be anywhere by now. Liam had never felt this helpless or afraid in his entire life. Numbly sitting in a wooden chair, Rhiann’s purse still clutched in his hands, he hung onto the leather bag like it was connected to her.
He’d nearly knocked Roman on his ass when he took it from him, only backing down when his bodyguard told him rather tersely to sit the fuck down. Going through her purse might reveal clues. They didn’t have any choice.
The only thing dumping the contents out on the chief’s desk got them was a big fat nothing. Her phone was there. Fully charged. The last outgoing call had been to Brynn’s number, which was also logged as the most recent incoming.
A small can of pepper spray on a keychain tumbled out. It was pink. Not badass black. Pink. Only Rhiann.
A wallet with a wad of crumpled bills, mostly fives and ones, offered no clues other than the fact that Rhiann wasn’t one to carry cash around. Her ID and credit cards were all there, and she’d even tucked Liam’s BPG business card in the back, which was where he’d written his private number.
The chief, his deputy, and Roman all sent differing glances his way when a hotshot officer thought there was the imprint of lipstick visible on the card. Had she kissed the white rectangle with his handwriting on it before she squirreled it away where nobody but her, she thought, would see it?
It still wasn’t too late for him to be sick.
“We’ll start patrolling, don’t you worry about that,” the chief assured them.
Liam got the distinct impression the gruff and burly man with his horseshoe mustache and shaved head was not happy that the quiet in his beach town was being shaken up by a bunch of northern city people.
A phone went off, filling the cramped office with the disco beat of Roman’s tongue-in-cheek ringtone. It might have been funny under different circumstances.
After a few quick words, he put the call on speakerphone.
“Gentlemen, this is Cameron Justice. He’s a licensed investigator—a service buddy of mine—who’s been working the case.”
Nods of understanding could be seen. Was every fucking cop former military, Liam wondered. Some brotherhood.
“Go ahead, Cam,” Roman said.
“The car is a rental,” Liam heard the disembodied voice state. “Cash up front and a very fake license. She was prepared. Don’t waste time poking around the rental houses. Anything that went through a property management company would require a credit card or personal check. She’s quite obviously trying not to leave a trail and is operating on a cash basis. Focus on the motels and if you can pinpoint them, the properties that rely on Craig’s List. Any place where cash would be in play.”
“What about the permit?” Roman inquired abruptly.
“Nothing that went through the system but her gangbanging fuck buddy has at least one weapon’s offense on his record.”
“NYPD is all over that asshole,” Roman murmured.
“One more thing,” intoned Cam. “She made a mistake. They always do. Amazingly, she purchased a prepaid phone then stupidly loaded it up using a credit card. I’m sending you the details now. She’s been using it to hop around social media sites. Info stalking. Waiting for one of you to post a picture or something. Fuel the insanity, y’know?”
“Understood,” Roman growled. “I have Miss Wilde’s phone, and it happens to be overloaded with just what you’re talking about. Maybe we should post something on her Facebook page. Try and force her hand.”
“Got anything that’ll rattle Walsh’s cage?”
Roman’s snicker was menacing. “Oh, definitely.”
Cam chuckled. “Send it to me, dude, and I’ll get into Miss Wilde’s account and get it up for all the world to see.”
Oh, fuck. Liam didn’t like the way that sounded. Rhiann was always so private and guarded with her personal life. Just like him.
“Bishop,” he muttered—amazed that his voice worked. Scowling for all he was worth, Liam shook his head at the forbidding face of his friend.
“Relax, Boss. Cam is right. If she wants a reason to go off, let’s give her one. She’s already making mistakes. This is how we catch the . . .”
“Precisely,” Cam chimed in. “And now that I have the number, the minute she uses the phone again, we’ll be able to pinpoint her location. She’ll surface, gentlemen. Guaran-fucking-teed. She wants something. The longer she stays silent, her crazy compounds. Poking her to get a response moves the ball back into our court.”
The rest of the conversation went on in a hazy bubble above Liam’s head. He needed to do something besides sit there looking stunned, but no amount of research or web surfing was going to make his nerves settle down.
Glancing at Roman, he studied the man in whose hands he’d placed Rhiann’s life—and his. The thunderous glare of hostility coming off him was positively animalistic. It dawned on Liam, now that he knew about the heartbreak in Roman’s past, that maybe he’d gone into this line of work as an act of . . . something. Contrition, perhaps. He hadn’t been able to save his own wife. Spending his days protecting others could very well be how he dealt with the pain of his loss.
This was what he did, and Liam had to trust that he knew what he was doing.
Rhiann’s life depended on it.
Rhiann kept silent watch over every move Kim made. The woman was agitated and getting more so with each passing minute. What was going on in her head? She’d mentioned waiting for Roman to appear. Was bringing her here a trap? How did Kim see this all ending? The only answers she could come up with turned her blood cold.
Rhi’s fingers were numb from the restraints on her wrists and she could barely see out of one eye. Having been soundly clocked twice had led to swelling on that side of her face. To keep her wits active, she’d been clenching and releasing the muscles in her butt and squeezing her toes into the threadbare carpet trying to keep the blood flowing in her legs. A plan was starting to come together in her mind.
After a protracted and eerie silence, Kim started babbling incoherently. Cursing every man on the planet, she paced back and forth, waving the gun at Rhi every so often as she railed against Liam and what she called his dick logic.
Didn’t take long to figure out that in her warped mind, Rhiann was some backwoods floozy sent to tempt the object of Kim’s desire—making him choose between young pussy and BPG. And by BPG, she meant her, of course.
“You know, I watched you three down on the beach together. Liam’s such a shit. Coming after you like a dog hunting a bone.”
Stopping to run to the window and peek through the curtains when the sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention, Kim’s manic behavior was starting to crack.
Coming to stand in front of Rhiann, she used the barrel of the gun to push Rhi’s hair away.
“I thought after Bishop made a fool of himself over the way Liam had used you, that both of you would sail off into the sunset together. Would have been easier all around,” she muttered thickly.
“But no. Not even that English bulldog he brought back was enough to put him off your scent.”
She snickered and made a tut-tut noise. “Stupid little girl.” Getting right up in Rhiann’s face—close enough that she could see the wild gleam in her eyes—Kim sneered, “Should have fucked him while you had the chance.”
The pacing started again. Then the insane laughter.
“Ha! Seeing the way you carried on at the beach . . . if I’d known Liam was that kinky, I would have hooked us up with a threesome years ago. Oh, and, by the way? He loved the model car I gave him for Christmas. That was such a nice touch, I must say. What was it? A Model T?”
Rhiann couldn’t help it. She growled and as much as her swollen eye would allow, glared at the crazy bitch taunting her.
“Awww, what? Thought you had the inside track and were the first to unleash the Ashforth beast? What a fool you are, girl. I’ve been servicing that mighty cock for years, and I know way better than you what gets him off.”
The crazy laughing vanished, replaced by a glaring menace that scared the shit out of Rhi. Holy fuck. Kim was losing it right before her eyes. All of a sudden, she ran across the small room and grabbed Rhiann around the throat, spitting in her face with a loud roar.
“Slut! He was mine, you fucking bitch, and you ruined everything! Everything! He might have enjoyed that virgin pussy of yours years ago, but let me tell you something, little girl. Men like Liam Ashforth play by different rules. They have needs little country bumpkins can’t ever meet.”
Seized by a need to put an end to this madness, Rhiann lurched forward in the chair in an unsuccessful attempt to head butt her captor, but Kim was too fast and backed off before Rhi made contact.
This time when the hit came, she blacked out from the crushing blow to her temple.
“Boss,” Roman husked. “There’s a call for you.”
A call? Liam jumped up from his seat and leaped across the office to get at the phone in Roman’s hand.
“Rhiann?” he asked hopefully.
A solemn headshake shut that bit of wishful thinking down. “No. It’s Miss Wilde’s brother-in-law, and he’s on fire.”
Taking the phone, he mumbled, “Ashforth,” then waited for the shit storm he knew was coming.
“I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance. What did you do to Rhiann, you motherfucker?”
He. Just. Couldn’t.
Hearing the unleashed rage in the man’s voice was too much for Liam. What could he say? How in fucking hell could he ever explain to Rhiann’s family what was happening? The professor, he admired. And Darcy Baron-Wilde? Imagining their horror and fear over their daughter’s safety stripped his soul bare.
The man on the other end of the phone was screaming at him. Hurling wild accusations that Liam couldn’t listen to. Wordlessly handing the phone back to Roman, he sank into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.
After a couple of minutes, Roman came to his side and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I took care of it. Calmed him down. He’s a good guy, Boss. Iraq vet. He’s frantic about Miss Wilde and has a pregnant hysterical wife on his hands so grade him on a curve, okay?”
“How did he find out?” Liam asked quietly.
Roman snorted. “Small town. There’s a shit ton of police activity at the house. Sounded to me like the guy who takes care of the grounds drove by, saw the flashing lights, stopped and asked a few questions. Kidnappings don’t happen every day around here so the guy called north to inform the property owner what he found out. After that, the shit, as they say, hit the fan in spectacular fashion.”
“Did you tell him . . . I mean . . . did you tell him I’m sorry?”
“Did no such thing. Told him you loved the girl and had done everything except kill the bitch yourself to protect Miss Wilde. He gets it.”
What could he say to that? Liam nodded and went back to blankly staring at the floor.
“Here. Take a look at this,” Roman murmured, handing him his cell phone. “If this doesn’t make Walsh play her hand, I don’t know what will.”
Glancing at the screen, he saw one of the crazy selfies they’d taken the other day. In this one, his beautiful Rhiann was neatly sandwiched between him and Roman. The shot was a close-up of their smiling faces with Rhiann’s hands cupping each one of their faces. Roman’s smirk, her beaming smile, and Liam’s quirky grin stared back at him. The matching hoodies were the icing on the cupcake.
The caption read, Beach Threesome- here I am with my two hunks enjoying some fun on the sand.
Liam’s eyes widened. When Cam posted the picture and caption, he’d obviously been trying to incite a reaction. Implying a ménage à trois was certainly a good way to start.
When Rhiann came to, she heard a low, menacing growl close to her ear and froze. Oh, jeez. Now what?
“Is this how you get your kicks, you little bitch?”
The throbbing in her head was making it difficult to focus, but Kim was waving something in front of her face so she tried to concentrate.
Her vision cleared and she saw a Facebook page. Her Facebook page but what did that even mean? Rhiann had all her privacy controls set on high and no one except those she friended should have been able to see her stuff.
“I should kill you now, slut, but waiting for that asshole, Bishop, and taking you out together will be so much more fun.”
Shoving the phone in her face, a completely unglued Kim Walsh screamed, “Here! Take a last look, Wilde. Hope you enjoyed the DP action, you fucking twat, because that’s the last you’ll ever see of Liam Ashforth.”
Petrified eyes glanced at the screen, where she saw three smiling, happy faces. Instead of her life flashing before her eyes, Rhiann felt a rush of calm descend from the top of her head straight down to her toes. The picture was a message. They were coming for her. It was just a matter of time. Making her Facebook page public and posting that particular photo was all the reassurance she’d ever need.
Tears of joy leaked from her eyes, rolling across her cheeks to drip from the duct tape. She remembered Liam’s voice from her dream. “Be brave, milaya moya. Be fearless.”
The sight of her tears brought wild, cackling laughter
from her tormentor.
“That’s it, little girl. Cry like the baby you are.”
LIAM LOOKED UP WHEN ROMAN came bounding into the chief’s office.
“Snap! We’ve got her,” he told him with a brittle smile. “Pardon my vulgarity, but just so you know—that cunt is about to get hers.”
“What’s happened?”
“Cam called it. She was trolling. When she went online, he could see every site she visited. The Facebook thing paid off, Boss. Must have really shook her up because she accessed the page nine times. Long enough to get a location.”
Liam shot to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Settle down, Beavis. First we have to come up with a plan. There’s a lot at stake here, okay? A single misstep could blow up in our faces. Come on,” he said, grabbing Liam by the arm. “There’s a briefing about to get started in the patrol room. Hang in there a little while longer.”
Grabbing Rhiann’s purse from the desk, he murmured, “She’ll want this back.”
Roman gave him a reassuring look and smacked him on the back. “Indeed. Come on. Let’s go get your lady and end this fucking nightmare.”
It was half past four in the morning. The motel room was dark except for the glow coming from the crappy TV. With the volume on mute, the only sounds she heard were the old refrigerator cycling on and off and Kim’s occasional muttering. In a chair near the door, she peeked from behind the curtains every couple of minutes, but Rhiann could tell the long day and an excess of adrenaline wearing thin was making her captor sluggish.
Out of the dark silence, she heard a scratching noise. Listening intently with her senses on high alert, she waited. There it was again!
“What the fuck?” Kim grumbled.
Pulling the curtain back, she peered into the black night. It was so silent and still, Rhiann could swear she heard the air moving.
The scratching noise came again, followed a few seconds later by the sound of a cat’s meow.
Pressing her toes into the carpet, Rhiann tried moving her fingers but the long hours of having them bound behind her back had pretty much rendered them useless. Whatever. She wasn’t going to need her hands anyway. Now all she had to do was wait.
Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) Page 38
