by Apryl Baker
***
Angel stood looking at herself in the mirror. She wore the outfit that had been left for her. It wasn’t something she’d ever have chosen for herself. There was a difference between classy sexy and whorish. This outfit was whorish. Red leather and sheer red lace barely covered her. There was nowhere to hide her gun in this outfit, but then again, why would she take it? She’d promised to not fight them to keep Matthew from being butchered.
She’d honor her vow, no matter what it cost her.
Instead of focusing on what was coming, she pulled her hair up and did it in a French braid. She had no desire to have her hair pulled out when the men got overzealous. Angel held no misconceptions about the gang rape that would ensue. She was mentally preparing for it. But could anyone ever really prepare for that?
The knock at her door jerked a small, soundless scream from her. It was time to dance and then get fucked.
It was for Matthew, she reminded herself. She was doing this for him.
Closing her eyes, she went and opened the door. Maria, the housekeeper stood there, her eyes averted. The household staff knew what was going to happen and no one tried to help her. She didn’t blame them. Tomás would only punish them in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“Come, señora. They are waiting.” The older woman led her down the stairs to a large room at the back of the house. The room had been cleared of furniture, save one lone couch shoved against the wall. A stripper’s pole had been installed in the middle of the floor. Angel had no way of knowing if it had been there previously or if it had been installed for her benefit. This could have been Tomás’s plan all along. Emilio had tried to get her to go with him last night, after all.
It was the cameras that bothered her. They were set up on tripods in all four corners. Several smaller ones sat alongside the tripod closest to the door. The thought of Kade having to watch this nearly made her run from the room. She never wanted that in his head.
Matthew’s face was the only thing that stopped her. His safety rested on her shoulders tonight. She could do this.
Men started to file in, at least a dozen or more. They laughed, several slapping her ass as they passed by. One reached out and fondled her breast, the nipple bare through the small hole in the fabric. He twisted it until she winced.
“Puta.” He grinned and pinched harder. “We are going to have so much fun tonight.”
She resisted the urge to spit in his face. That would get a finger detached from her son’s hand.
Tomás came in last. She should have known he would want to join in on her humiliation so Kade would always know he’d been inside her. Hate grew into rage, and she knew if she got the chance, she’d kill him.
He walked over to the stereo she hadn’t seen behind the cameras and turned on some song in Spanish she didn’t know. The beat was low and sultry. She could dance to it.
Angel walked over to the pole and relaxed her mind, imagining the room empty save for Kade. She would dance for her husband. It was something she hadn’t done since they’d gotten back together. She would dance tonight for him and not the men who were throwing rude, dirty comments at her.
She picked up the beat of the music and began to move, her body fitting itself to the pole like a long-lost lover. It was a lover she knew intimately. The pole guided her, helped her work her curves, and the jeering fell away, replaced by a pair of burning onyx eyes flooded with desire.
The pole became an extension of her as she moved her hips up and down, swirled her ass around to show it off, and then twirled around the pole, inciting those gorgeous eyes to want to rip her from her lover.
It wasn’t Kade whose hands pulled her from the pole, but Tomás. His dark brown eyes were on fire, and the open lust on his face made her want to vomit. It killed every bit of the fantasy she’d built about her husband watching her dance for him.
Tomás’s fingers bit into her skin where he held her. “No fighting, my beauty.” He leaned in and kissed her. She kept herself still as his lips moved over hers. His tongue darted into her mouth, the sour taste of old tobacco invading along with it.
He pulled her close, his hands sliding down to grip her ass. She felt his erection pressing into her. Please God, she prayed, please keep my little nugget safe. Don’t let this harm him.
Tomás guided her over to the couch. “Strip, my beauty. Show us all those beautiful curves of yours.”
Angel swallowed down the bile and started to unlace the ties that held the outfit together. This is for Matthew. She repeated that over and over as she slowly removed the first layer of the outfit, leaving only the lace behind. The lace wrapped around her like a glove, leaving all the pertinent areas free for hands to grope or their cocks to penetrate.
“Beautiful.” Tomás reached for her from where he sat on the couch, pulling her between his legs. His fingers found her folds, stroking gently before sliding two fingers into her inner walls. “So tight. I may hurt you when I take you, my beauty, but you will take all of me, no matter the pain.”
Angel quivered, not from desire, but from rage. She wanted to gouge out his eyes, but she stayed still, letting his hands stroke her.
Someone came up behind her, his very naked chest pressing into her. Hands came up and cupped her breasts, plumping them and offering them up to Tomás, who wasted no time in tasting her cinnamon colored nipples. He didn’t suckle. He bit down hard, and it made her whimper. She barely stopped herself from screaming when he bit down even harder around the soft skin surrounding the nipple. There would be bite marks there for days.
“Pain, my beauty, is something you are going to be well acquainted with tonight.” Tomás rubbed his nose along the inside of the swell of her right breast the same moment his fingers pinched her clit so hard she couldn’t stop the scream that bled from her.
A guard interrupted Tomás’s exploration of her. His face contorted into rage. “Take her to her room, and no one is to touch her before I do. Is that clear?”
A quick nod, and Angel was thrust out of the room and pushed back up the stairs by the same burly guard who had collected her at the hotel. His eyes roamed over her naked flesh, but he didn’t so much as touch her. The lock on the door clicked seconds after she was shoved into her room.
Angel barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up. The feel of Tomás’s hands on her brought back memories of nearly being raped in Boston. The panic rose, and she fought to breathe through it. The therapist said she still suffered PTSD to a degree from her ordeal, even now, months later. She believed it in this moment. Fear kept her glued in a huddle on the bathroom floor, reeking of vomit.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there before her mind reconciled the fact that she had not been raped, and that it could finally function. She sat up, gagging, and emptied her stomach into the toilet. She stayed there a moment to make sure her stomach didn’t have any more surprises for her.
Getting up, she rinsed out her mouth and ripped the hooker attire from her body. She was not going to be a victim. She was going to go down fighting. Kade would be here. He’d find their son and raise him to be a good man. Her son would know she went out fighting for him. She would never let Tomás touch her again. The word “victim” would never be a part of her vocabulary.
Never again.
She changed back into the clothes she’d been wearing and picked up the small pistol. There would be no hiding it. The first person who came through the door was going down.
The minutes ticked by. She heard people running outside her door, shouting. She went to the window and looked out. Small groups of men armed to the teeth were gathered in the yard below. Something was going on. She opened the window and listened, trying to figure out what was happening.
Her Spanish wasn’t that great, but she did pick up a few words, including policia. The police were here and demanding entry. That much she guessed. They had to have a warrant, or they wouldn’t be here now. Was it Kade? Had he found her already? No, he couldn’
t have. It could have been minutes or hours before he discovered she was missing. Even so, there was no way to track her. They’d stayed off the main highways that had traffic cams. He couldn’t know where she was.
No, this was a run of the mill raid. She’d guarantee it. Which meant they would come in, guns blazing, and that could potentially put Matthew in danger. They’d have no idea a child was on the premises. She had to get to her son.
Shoving the gun in the waistband of her pants, now hidden thanks to Kade’s old shirt, she pounded on the door, demanding someone open it. No one answered her. Dammit. She didn’t know how to pick a lock. Max offered to show her once, and she’d refused. Once she got out of this mess, he was going to be teaching her that particular skill and whatever illegal thing he wanted to teach her. Angel hated feeling helpless.
The click of the lock startled her so much she almost dropped the gun. Almost. She stepped to the side and got ready. When it swung inward, she pressed the gun against the man’s side, preparing to shoot. He caught her wrist and twisted until she dropped the gun. Anger fueled adrenaline, and she rushed him, pounding anywhere her fists could find purchase.
“Dammit, Angel, I don’t want to hurt you.” Conner’s irritation cut through her anger, and she paused, looking up into eyes so cold they chilled her more than anything Tomás could have done to her.
“How…” She took a deep breath. If Conner was here, so was Kade.
“We had people watching you and Matthew. We were never more than a minute or two away from you. It’s okay now, sestra. No one is going to hurt you.”
“They didn’t hurt me.” They didn’t have time to, but she didn’t say that out loud, though.
“They put their filthy hands on you.” Conner’s eyes burned with an unholy light. “If the police hadn’t arrived, I would have killed them all for touching you.”
“You…you saw that?”
“Yes, little sister. It will never happen again, not as long as I’m here. No one will touch you. I will kill anyone who does.”
She believed him. Kade would kill for her, she knew it, but the difference was Conner would enjoy the act while Kade wouldn’t. That made Conner the deadliest of all the brothers. “Insane” was the word that came to mind as she looked into the black abyss of his soul. God save anyone who got in his way.
“Matthew…have you found him?”
“Yes. That is why I wasn’t downstairs sooner. I had to find the boy’s room. Once I located it, I was on my way to slaughter them all.”
Angel shook off the nausea Conner’s statement brought. Not that she’d mind seeing them all slaughtered, but at the same time, Conner disturbed her. Gone was the flirty, charming man of earlier, and here stood a serial killer in the making.
“We need to get to him before Tomás decides to use him as leverage against Kade.” She picked up her small gun. “Let’s go.”
Conner stepped out into the hallway, cautiously listening. Three men lay on the hallway floor, dead or dying. Angel didn’t let herself focus on them. She had to get to her son. Conner led her down the hall that turned the corner and continued. Matthew’s room was at the end, “Mateo” spelled out on the door in bright red letters.
The door wasn’t even locked. She found Mateo watching a cartoon, sitting quietly on his bed. He looked up when she came in, surprised.
“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips until Conner followed her in and closed the door. “This is your Uncle Conner, your father’s brother. He’s here to rescue us.”
The little boy cocked his head. “Rescue?”
“Rescate.” The word came after a long second of searching. She was going to have to brush up on her Spanish, not that she’d been very good at it in the first place, but it was her son’s first language.
Matthew’s confusion grew. “No, Mama. No rescate. Estamos en casa.”
“No, Matthew, no estás en casa.” Conner’s brusque manner softened. He clearly understood Spanish. “Esto no está en casa. Nos lo robaron y estamos aquí para llevarlo a su verdadero hogar.”
“Matthew?” The little boy grew upset, clearly not understanding what was happening. “Mi nombre es Mateo.”
Even Angel understood that. She sat on the bed beside her son. “Of course your name is Mateo. We named you Matthew before you were born. It is your name, but if you want us to call you Mateo, we will.”
“Mateo.” His little shoulders puffed up, angry. She’d worried he wouldn’t want to be called Matthew, not after being Mateo since he was born.
“He understands English?”
“Sí,” Mateo answered for himself. “Not good.”
“It’s okay. You’ll learn English, and we’ll learn Spanish, but we need to go. Tío Conner is going to get us out of here now. I know you’re afraid, but we’ll keep you safe. No one, including Tomás or Juan, will ever get near you.”
“Juan?” Fear pooled in her baby’s face. “Juan is bad man. He hurts me.”
Conner clenched his fist, and Angel saw the struggle for him to remain calm so the little boy wouldn’t be afraid of him. “Juan will die, Mateo. I promise you he will die for hurting you.”
Mateo stared up at his uncle for a long moment before nodding, his expression solemn. “Good.”
“We have to go.” Angel took his hand and helped him off the bed. He was small for his age. She was guessing it had to do with how premature he’d been. “Is there anything you want to take with you?”
He looked around his room and finally shook his head. “None is my.”
“Nothing is yours?” she asked. The room held toys and books and clothes. All of it for him.
He nodded. “Is Tío Tomás’s. He tells me I play when I here.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you your own things when we get home. You stay close to Uncle Conner. He is here to protect us.”
“You ever had a piggyback ride?” Conner asked. When the little boy shook his head, Conner picked him up and tossed him on his back, explaining how to hold on with his arms and legs. Conner pulled out his guns once he was satisfied Mateo had the hang of it.
It bothered Angel that the sight of guns and talk of killing never fazed her son. He didn’t even blink. God knew what he must have seen to be so nonchalant about it. Her first order of business was to find the best child psychologist in New York when she got him home.
An explosion rocked the house, and Conner stopped, listening. “I think Kade just announced his arrival.”
Angel wanted to run and find him, to tell him their son was safe, but she knew that would only make things worse. She almost got him killed last time. It wasn’t a mistake she was prepared to make again.
“Do you have a way out?”
Conner shifted the child on his back. “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate, just opened the door and aimed. Three short bursts of the gun, and he walked outside. Two more men added to his body count. He moved slowly, stopping frequently to listen until they reached a back staircase that led down to the kitchen.
Maria and the cook were both missing. She hoped he hadn’t killed them, but she didn’t let herself think about it. Conner led them not out the back door, but through the basement door. He moved like a cat, and every time Angel stepped on something that creaked or groaned, she winced. How was he so freaking quiet, as big as he was?
The basement was another killing floor. Bodies, so many bodies. How had he done all this without alerting anyone upstairs? He hadn’t used a gun. He’d slit their throats and piled them in here. Dear God. Her mind shied away from the horror she saw, and she managed to keep following him deeper into the basement to a door that led to a tunnel.
“This leads outside. It’ll take you five minutes to walk it. Can you and Mateo make it? I need to help Kade.”
“What if there’re people in there waiting?” She panicked slightly at the thought of Conner leaving them.
He handed her a larger gun. “Shoot the fuckers.”
She took the gun in shaky hands. Some of the adrena
line was wearing off, and the fear was returning. What if she couldn’t protect them despite all the bravado of before?
“Sestra. You can do this. I have to go help Kade. There are too many for him to handle. I have to help him.”
“I can do this.” Angel knew how guns worked, even if she hated them. Kade made sure of that. She checked the safety then helped Mateo down from his uncle’s back. “We’ll be fine. Make sure my husband doesn’t die.”
Conner kissed her forehead before turning his attention to his nephew. “Mantenga a su madre a salvo.”
Mateo nodded and pulled a small knife from his pocket. He clicked a button, and a long, wicked blade appeared. It must have been custom made for his small hands. “Sí, Tío.”
“What did you tell him?” She understood the word mother, but not much else.
“To keep you safe. Now go. I need to hunt down some motherfuckers and make them pay for their intentions.”
Angel knew he was talking about the men who’d been in the room waiting for their turn with her. Conner probably memorized every face, and she shuddered from what she knew he’d do to them.
He picked up a can of gasoline and started dousing the basement. He was going to burn the evidence of his butchery. No evidence, no arrest, no trial.
Angel closed the door and started walking, hoping against hope they’d run into no one.
Kade opened fire as soon as his feet hit the ground. People were rushing around the side of the house, and he dodged behind an old oak tree, using it as best he could for cover. He leaned around the edge and took down four men as they advanced. Stupid fuckers. They were just racing out in the open. He watched several more fall to the hail of bullets from his team.
More swarmed on them, and Kade knew they were outnumbered and outgunned. He had to get to the front gate and let Jeremy and his small army of police inside. Tomás wouldn’t open the gates willingly.
He spotted the gas tank on the side of the house. It wasn’t overly large, but it was big enough to take out the bulk of the men coming for them. He never hesitated. He shot once, his aim true. The explosion that rocked them pulled his feet out from under him and made his ears ring.
