by S. R. Jones
Maggie nods. “You’re right, Liam. Something’s upset him, thrown him off his game, made him careless.”
Ethan is pacing now. “This doesn’t make sense. Did he say anything to you?”
“Only that it was such a waste,” I say.
Maggie is watching me intently, and I see the moment she makes the connection. “Kate, did something happen between you and Reece?”
I glance around me. The ties are off now, and Liam carefully covers me with a sheet.
“It’s okay, Kate. Reece won’t be in trouble, but anything we don’t know can lead to a mistake in finding him,” Liam tells me.
“We…erm, we sort of…well...” I trail off and flush.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Maggie says. I flinch, but then realize she isn’t talking to me, she’s staring at Liam and Luka. “What is it with you guys and crossing the line with women you are working with, or for, in this case?”
“I crossed it first,” I admit.
“Well, he is kind of hot, if you like the man-bun thing, I suppose,” she says.
“What would you know? You don’t do men,” Luka retorts.
“I can still tell a good looking one from a dud,” she replies smartly.
“So, mystery upon mystery, and none of it helping us any. How did he know you guys were here?” Maggie continues. “And how the hell did he know you were together?”
“Did you indulge in any PDA’s?” Ethan asks me.
I frown at him. “Come again?”
He laughs. “Sorry, public displays of affection.”
Luka tosses a devastating smirk my way. “You’ll have to excuse him, he’s married to a woman almost young enough to be his daughter. He sometimes picks up on the millennial speak.”
I smile a little, but it’s forced. I can’t join in with their banter, and don’t understand how they seem so calm. Reece is in the hands of a maniac and they are joking.
Wracking my brains, a memory surfaces. “We did once. On the beach by the house here. We had a bit of a cuddle and a kiss after a swim. I didn’t see anyone around though, and this is a private road, so he couldn’t have seen us, unless he’d been on the beach, or the road. And it looked deserted.”
“Right.” Liam shakes off his laid-back persona and snaps a scary new one into place. “Ethan, you follow up on our leading suspect. Confirm his known addresses, any property holdings, business especially. Luka, you go and knock on the doors around here. Ask if anyone has seen a strange man hanging around in the last week or so, anything at all, however small. Mags, you help Kate get herself dressed and sorted. Let’s go.” He gives a smart clap of his hands and Ethan and Luka both go jogging out of the room.
Once they are all gone, Maggie sits on the edge of the bed and bends down to me. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you? I won’t tell them, and I won’t make you go to the police if you don’t wish to, but you can tell me.”
“No.” I shake my head, and tears start to fall. “In a weird way I wish he had because then Reece might still be here. I think he’s going to kill him.”
“Maybe, but I think he wants to play with him first, like he does with his female victims, otherwise why go to the effort, and danger, of leaving here with him? If he wanted Reece dead straight away, he’d have smashed his head in while he slept.”
The strong words make me flinch. “Sorry,” she says with a smile. “I tend to be a bit blunt at times.”
“Thing is, Kate, if he wants to play games, then Reece is more than well equipped to drag it out, and keep our psychotic friend on the edge, but not tip him over. These guys are trained to handle interrogation by Islamic State for God’s sake, I think he can handle this guy. He normally picks on people who will be terrified by him, and who will show it. Reece won’t do those things, won’t react in the same way this sick fucker’s usual victims do. It might buy him some time.”
Or…tip a madman completely over the edge. I don’t say it out loud. I can’t.
“Come on, let’s get you dressed.” She holds a hand out to me and helps me off the bed.
I let her lead me, all docile and meek, to the bathroom, where I wait while she turns the shower on. I grab a hair band from the cabinet and pull my locks up into a high, tight bun. I don’t have time to wash my hair right now, and step into the warm spray, where I go through the motions of washing myself.
I’m stepping out into a warm, fluffy towel Maggie is holding out for me when heavy footsteps pound up the stairs.
Great, the Rambo-alikes are all back. They burst into the bathroom, taking up all the damned space, and Luka looks straight to me.
“You bought something a couple of days ago, from a local shop in the next village.” He’s telling me, not asking.
“Yes. But I paid cash, I know not to use my cards.”
He nods impatiently, and then carries on. “Lady who served you, she lives three doors down with her husband. They have a lot of people come and go in this house, obviously, as families rent this place, but she noticed you and Reece in particular. She says she likes to sit looking out over the beach, and she saw you both down there a few times and thought you made a beautiful couple.”
I flush and glance away for a moment.
“Yesterday morning, a guy came into the shop, he was going around all the local villages and towns he said, looking for his missing wife. He showed her a photo of you. At first, she was hesitant but when he teared up and told her he wanted to know you were safe, so he could tell the kids, she relented and told him you were here. Then she panicked about him going apeshit if he found you were with Reece, so she spilled her guts. Told him he might not like what he found as you were a couple. Claims she didn’t want any trouble around here.”
“Fuck,” Maggie breathes the word out on a long breath. “That will be enough to push Stalker Boy over the edge.”
“It’s my fault,” I say.
“No, it’s not.” Luka smiles at me. “And if anyone can handle this, Reece can.”
I’m grateful for his support but Liam is giving me a cold, hard look. “He won’t necessarily handle it all that well. Me and him, we went through something once, it fucked us up. Both of us, and he deals with it by running, climbing, surfing.” His cold look turns positively glacial. “He deals with it by not being trapped in any way.”
He drags his gaze away from me and looks to the other two men. “You guys think Reece is so sorted, but don’t you notice he’s always running away? Always needing to get outside, be in open spaces? He won’t deal well if this fucker has got him tied up.”
My mind whirls. Reece let me tie him up. Oh my God. I didn’t realize it was a big deal for him. My feelings deepen again toward the man who came out of nowhere to affect my life so much.
“What shit did you go through exactly on that mission?” Ethan asks. “We know something happened, but we don’t know the details. Maybe it’s pertinent we do now?”
Liam shakes his head. “Not now, maybe not ever. Needless to say, it involved torture, lots of small, dark space, and me and Reece having to listen while a rescue target was destroyed over days.”
“I still think Reece can handle it,” Maggie says, ignoring Liam’s death-ray glare. “He’s stronger than you guys give him credit for. In a way, you all see him as the baby of the group, the one you joke with or about, and he’s not.”
“Professional insight that, is it?” Liam snaps.
“Yes.” Maggie holds her head up and stares him down. She’s got big balls, that lady. Liam scares the crap out of me.
Ethan’s phone rings and he goes out of the room. I can hear him murmuring but even straining can’t pick up the words he’s saying. When he comes back into the room, he’s grinning.
“Well, well, well. Guess who also owns a company that sells, of all things, sex toys, and has a warehouse forty minutes away from here?”
“Let’s go.” Liam heads out the door, the other two men swiftly following behind, Maggie taking up the rear, and me trailing them all.
When he reaches the door, Liam turns around. “Nope. You ladies are staying here.”
“Not safe,” Maggie says immediately. “He might leave Reece and come back here to finish Kate off— you can’t leave us. Unless you leave one of your men and then you’re down too many. You could let us come. After all, there’s one guy, you’re not going in to face an army.”
He frowns, and Ethan nudges him. “Either leave me here, boss, or let them come.”
“Shit.” Liam kicks the wall, but he stalks to the stairs without telling us to stay, so I assume we’re going.
“You’re staying in the car though, doors locked. You two can go with Ethan, and follow Luka and me.” He jabs a finger at me and Mags.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Personally, I don’t see what a girl finds so attractive in all this testosterone.”
“We’ll meet you at the car,” she says to Liam. “Kate needs to get dressed.”
I’d forgotten I’m only wearing a towel, and I shake my head at myself as I run to the bedroom to pull some clothes on. One strappy top, some knickers, jeans, and sandals later I’m ready to go.
“How do you know them?” I ask her as we trot to the car.
“My best friend, Cara, she’s with the pretty one.”
I don’t have to ask who she means. Neither Ethan or Liam could be called remotely pretty, Luka on the other hand is flat out beautiful. Reece is gorgeous too, in a sort of pretty way, until you look past his smile, and his sparkling eyes, and golden skin, to see the bulk he carries on his massive frame. Then he’s plain scary, but sexy-scary. If that is even a thing. My stomach flip-flops at the thought of him and I send a prayer up to a God I stopped putting my trust in a long time ago.
Please, God, please let him be okay. Don’t let him die because of me.
Chapter Eleven
Reece
I’m sore all over and I think I have some kidney damage if this carries on. He’s upgraded from the cattle prod to a taser, still not the power of US police issue, thank God, and he uses it on my lower back, around where my kidneys are. This bastard is one sick fuck. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s not done anything sexual to me.
I know he’s probably straight, but he’s got a real control complex, that much is clear, and I think it would give him a strange kick to humiliate me in that way. So far, he’s limited himself to cattle prodding my balls. Thank fuck he hasn’t used the taser down there yet, or I’ll not be fathering any kids in the future.
“How did you find us?” I ask, confused as to how the hell he discovered where we were.
“I’m a very persistent man, Reece. I followed you to Wales, but you threw a good bait and switch at the hotel. I thought about it long and hard. Would you go back to Scotland? Yorkshire? Stay in Wales? I know Kate has a house on the coast, and I also know you come here a lot because you aren’t the only one who can hack into people’s lives.” He grins at me and it is maniacal. “I guessed you’d stayed here. Why drive all the way here to go back to Scotland. Makes little sense. So, I started to ask around. I went to village after village, all on the coast. See, if I were you, and a military type, I’d want to be in a position where I could monitor who came and went, a small coastal village is perfect. Some of them only have ten or so houses. One road in and out. Am I right?”
I want to kill him.
“Anyway, at first I didn’t know who you were, but you made a fatal error when you paid for the hotel yourself and gave your real name.” He laughs, “Oh, I know in your mind you thought I would see you’d signed in if I got into their records, which I did, and see you’d stayed for ten days, but I knew you wouldn’t do that. The next morning when I’d figured it all out, after getting into the hotels computerized shit…I guessed you’d left. And your fatal error was in letting me, get to know you.”
He sighs, long and low. “Of course, I didn’t know then you and she were lovers.” He spits the word out as if it’s poison. “I merely thought you her hired muscle, but it did give me an idea of how your mind would work, and where you might go. Then, all I had to do was schlep around the villages looking for you. Of course, it might have taken me weeks longer, but I fell lucky and after a few long days I hit pay dirt.”
He shakes his head at me. All fake sorrow.
“I suppose I can see what she finds attractive in you but you were too stupid to keep her safe.”
I focus on what he’s saying. I’ve been moving around, jiggling the handcuffs surreptitiously and my luck is in. They aren’t British police standard cuffs. Those are solid in the middle, these are metal, but they have the chain link in the middle. I think I might be able to break them if he leaves me alone for a while. So far, he’s only gone out of the room for a minute or two. Toilet break, I figure.
He babbles on about a load of shit as I keep one part of my mind listening, in case I’m required to respond, as the other works out the permutations. My best bet is to get the cuffs off if I can, and then undo my legs, before taping them loosely back up, and keeping my hands together, so he thinks I’m still bound. Then, when he gets near, I can lash out and take him down.
Trouble is, he could use the taser on me, and that will incapacitate me, but if he isn’t holding it, if he comes at me with the cattle prod, that will be my chance.
Maybe I should try to rile him, and get him in the mood to prod my balls again, but only if he goes out of the room first, so I can try to get free. My head is still splitting, but the pain has receded to a bearable level. I’m praying I don’t have a big hole in my head with half my brains spilling out, because if I start moving around, fighting, I could wind up dead.
“Women, they’re all the same. They say they are feminists and want a nice guy, but deep down they all want a caveman, like you. It means the nice guys, like me, always finish last.”
I want to laugh at him. He thinks he’s a nice guy? A man who rapes and murders women. I know plenty of nice guys. Ordinary guys who aren’t tough or big, who have lovely wives. The reason this guy can’t get a partner is because he’s odious. But I keep my thoughts to myself. I’m wondering if I should drop his real name into the conversation to unnerve him, but it could play out either way, so for now, I keep it to myself.
He’s now rabbiting on about how the world is so unfair.
“Even other men judge me. Boring, ordinary, nothing spectacular. If you don’t play rugby, or football, or any of those things, then you’re not one of the club. It’s disgusting how our society puts people in boxes.”
I start to agree with him, but my throat is so dry I begin to cough and then dry heave.
He frowns at me. “I suppose you want a drink?”
I nod at him, grateful, because I do, but I also want him gone so I can try to get the cuffs off.
“I’ll make a cup of tea.”
And he’s gone. His footsteps retreating.
A cup of tea? A fucking cup of tea! As if we’re friends having a nice afternoon chat. This guy is off the wall levels of insane. I feel so sorry for the women he held. Imagine what he put them through before he made them cups of tea, as if they were all being civilized together.
I strain and hear him go up some stairs. Fucking yes. This is my chance.
The cuffs may be new, which means they’ll still have oil on them, which will make them harder to break, so I rub them over and over again on the rough floor. It cuts and burns my hands and wrists, but I don’t care.
Once I’ve roughed the steel up, I hoist myself to a sitting position. My legs are out to the side, bound and useless, but my arms are now straight in front of me, and I can see around the concrete post, if I strain to do so, to my hands.
Perfect.
I start moving the cuffs back and forth. I am aiming to get one of the links against the bolt where they fasten onto the cuff, because with enough torque I can break one of them if I get them in the right position. It’s tricky. And after six failed attempts, I’m sweating. Once, the links do line up, but with both cuffs, and
I can’t get enough torque to break both. I’ll end up breaking my wrists instead.
Footsteps sound above me. It’s hard to focus now as my eyes are filling with sweat. Fuck, Reece, you can do this. Focus, fuckface, focus.
Heart pounding, and breath coming hard and fast, I manipulate the cuffs once more, twice the links slip away from the joints I am aiming for, but the third time one of the links jams against the cuff on my wrist. I freeze. Test it carefully and grin. I’ve got it.
With a massive wrench of my wrists, pain slices through me, metal grinds, and I have to swallow down a victory whoop as the cuff on my right hand breaks. My hands are now free.
The fall of footsteps on the stairs means I don’t have time to do my legs. I lay back down. Hands placed as if still cuffed…and I wait.
The clink of bone china hitting the ground has me looking at Ian. He’s using bone china cups. This dude is so fucking whacked, no way would he go down for all the shit he’s done. He’d end up in some maximum-security psych facility. Not if I get my way. I’m going to kill the fucker.
“I only made myself a cup.” He’s watching me warily. “You, I got some water. I can pour it down your throat without getting too near.”
“S’okay,” I slur as if drunk. “Feel sick.”
“Oh, does your head hurt?” He’s watching me like someone might a lab rat. No concern, but interest in his beady eyes.
“Yeah.” I let my eyes drift shut for a moment. Then snap them open again and give a little shake of my head. The wince isn’t acting. It does fucking kill.
“I wonder if you are getting a concussion?” He muses, almost to himself.
My eyes drift shut again and I once more snap them open and then give a groan and swallow thickly. I bend over and do some deep breathing as if about to be sick.
Then I stop because I think I’m gonna actually be sick, and that isn’t part of my plan.
