Tortured Soul

by Kirsty Dallas

  “Boss?” murmured Bomber at my right.

  I followed his gaze to a black SUV, not unlike the one we were driving, parked at the entrance to a darkened alleyway. The island was a popular tourist location, and it was not unusual to see luxury vehicles. But what did catch my eye was the unmistakable alertness of the driver and the handgun that sat blatantly on the dashboard in front of the passenger.

  “Em, get down,” I calmly demanded in a voice I knew she would obey without fault. She didn’t let me down, laying her head into the gap between her and Gabbie.

  “They’re following,” crooned Bomber in a sing song voice as we continued through the steady stream of traffic.

  Unsure if they were tailing us, I took the next right then left.

  “Still back there,” Bomber murmured.

  “I’m really sure Braiden doesn’t need a running commentary,” Gabbie snapped from the back seat.

  Her sudden outburst surprised me. I found myself wondering if she was angry with me over my reprimand for not putting shoes on Em. After all, it wasn’t Gabbie’s fault. What she had done was one hundred percent correct, and if our roles had been reversed, I would’ve done the exact same thing.

  “Sweets, has anyone ever told you how moody you get when you’re tired?” Bomber noted.

  “I am not your sweets, and you have an uncanny talent of being an annoying little shit,” Gabbie growled quietly.

  I drove on, half listening to my two team members bicker while keeping an eye on the slow moving SUV in my rearview mirror. It was not uncommon for Bomber to find himself clawing under the skin of someone. He had a knack for pissing people off, but Gabbie had a knack for keeping her cool. And right now she was not entirely cool. Had Bomber done the impossible? Had he managed to rattle the impenetrable fortress of Gabbie’s calm guise?

  “You seem plenty sweet enough to me.” I noticed the twinkle in Bomber’s eyes as he glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Gabriella with appreciation. “And, my sweet Spaniard, there is nothing little about me.”

  I watched as Gabbie rolled her eyes and tried not to grin. I hadn’t predicted nor noticed this. There was something going on between those two, something more than two soldiers doing their job. There was most definitely sexual tension.

  “Typical man, jumping to protect the honor of his dick.” Gabbie snorted.

  “My dick doesn’t need protecting, its size speaks for itself. If you’re lucky, sweets, I might just show you.”

  “Enough!” I finally snapped, unable to concentrate with their bickering. “Keep it zipped up, Bomber. And, Gabbie, rein it in, he’s goading you and you’re letting him. I’m gonna try and lose these assholes. I don’t want them following us to the airfield. Bomber, see if you can get ahold of our pilot.” I threw him my cell phone and pressed down on the accelerator, enough to move away from our tail, but not too fast that would create a scene.

  The SUV continued to follow us at a distance, and as we grew closer to the airfield, I knew I had to lose the fucker. As I slowly approached a red light I decided to make my move. Gabbie and Bomber instinctively seemed to know this was the moment the shit was about to hit the fan and automatically palmed their weapons. The intersection was busy but I found a small gap in the flow of traffic and stomped on the accelerator. The tires spun on the asphalt, squealing loudly and drawing every eye in the vicinity our way. We moved against the red light and I swung the vehicle into the flow of traffic, narrowly missing a beat up old Mazda in the process. The car following us made a hasty attempt to pursue us, but instead of turning into the new flow of traffic we were now in, they were forced to continue through the traffic lights. I moved easily around the other cars on the road and kept a steady pace.

  “Take a left,” ordered Bomber from my side.

  He had already studied the streets between the hotel and the airfield, and I trusted he knew where we were going. I turned, my tires again screeching and drawing attention. I pulled the steering wheel hard, maneuvering us around a slow moving bus.

  “Right,” called out Bomber again.

  I desperately wanted to turn around and check on Em but didn’t want to risk taking my eyes off the road. Following Bombers directions, I knew we were quickly approaching the airfield.

  “Fuck, Boss, we got another tail,” growled Gabbie from behind me.

  “Right,” came Bomber’s controlled voice immediately after.

  “There is no right,” I noted.

  “Alleyway. It cuts through to a road which will take us straight to the airfield.”

  I had complete confidence in Bomber, and when I spied the narrow alleyway, I turned hard, just making the entrance as the side-view mirror clipped the wall and broke off. I planted my foot on the accelerator and moved quickly down the alley, which was so narrow you could almost stick your hand out and touch the concrete wall. As we rapidly approached the end, a large truck backed across the opening. None of us said a word, but a deep, inhuman growl did vibrate from my chest. I laid on the horn, but the truck kept its lazy pace, the driver giving me a ‘fuck you’ look that I wanted to wipe off his face. I could have pulled my weapon out, that would no doubt have gotten compliance, but I barely had time to reach for my Glock when Gabbie shouted from the backseat.

  “Company!” The truck in front of us had shuddered to a complete stop and Gabbie was already opening her door, her weapon trained on the black sedan barreling towards us from behind. Bomber and I automatically squeezed out of our doors. Gabbie and I began firing while Bomber retrieved Emily. I didn’t even have a chance to glance at her as we crammed between the truck and the wall, then ran down the sidewalk of the busy street. People moved without hesitation when they saw us. If the weapons in our hands didn’t get them moving, the determined scowls on our faces sure did. Bomber led with Emily in tow, who looked none too happy about our situation. I wasn’t sure if her scowl was because we were being chased or that Bomber was touching her. The familiar popping of guns being fired filled my ears as Bomber pulled Emily around a corner. Gabbie and I followed directly behind them. The airfield was right in front of us.

  “Pilot?” I called out.

  “Ready and waiting,” Bomber replied.

  Behind me Gabbie had paused at the corner of the building, carefully firing her weapon at the group of men who followed. I grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her away. It was like trying to gain the attention of an animal completely focused on their prey

  “Two down,” she panted as we began to run.

  The stretch of ground between us and the fence separating the airfield was empty. I heard the squealing of tires somewhere in the background and turned to fire five carefully aimed shots through the windshield of the car. It careened into the wall of the building that ran along our flank. I had at least hit the driver, if not anyone else. Bomber made it to the fence and pulled the bottom wire up with a strong yank. Emily scrambled underneath it and Gabbie dove down to follow. Once she was on the other side, she rose to her knee and began firing at the group of five men who ducked for cover behind the crashed car. All the while, Emily stood watching, her face pale and her eyes wide. I scrambled under the fence then held the wire up so Bomber could follow.

  “Get behind me, Em!” I ordered.

  She didn’t hesitate to move her small body behind my larger one.

  “Fuck!” Bomber groaned as he struggled to stand. He’d taken a hit to the thigh.

  “Move your lazy ass, pendejo!” Gabbie ordered, covering Bomber.

  He limped as he ran towards a hanger behind us. Gabbie easily took out two more of our pursuers as she moved back, her weapon still raised and firing.

  “Gabbie!” I called out as we raced towards the hanger.

  She spun around and ran, bullets ricocheting off the ground in a deadly cadence at our feet. I was grateful in that moment that Jonas’ men were obviously inept when it came to shooting. Gabbie had easily taken out four of them while covering our asses, and they had only managed to clip one of mine.
Bomber barged through the door to the hanger. On the other side of the beaten down door was the sweetest sight I had ever seen: a fully prepped jet with motors running and Larz standing ready with a semi-automatic trained on the enemy at our back.

  “Took ya’ll long enough,” he grumbled as he sent a barrage of bullets out the hanger door.

  With better cover, Larz was able to quickly retreat and follow us up the stairs to the waiting jet. “You let those bitches shoot you?” Larz scoffed, noticing Bomber’s limp with a raised brow.

  Bomber gave him the one finger salute as he collapsed into a seat inside the plane.

  “How you doin’, sweetheart?” Larz asked Em, his voice and face softening at the sight of her.

  She simply nodded, no words likely able to express what was tumbling through her mind right now. I pushed Em into a seat and buckled her in as Gabbie and Larz pushed the stairs away from the jet and secured the hatch.

  “Let’s go!” I yelled out to the pilot who thankfully already had us moving. I wouldn’t be comfortable until we were in the air. Glancing out the small window, I noticed three men running towards us, guns raised, but too far away to be effective. The pilot had us on the tarmac and in the air in less than three minutes. I watched the ground disappear beneath us before I collapsed back into the closest seat. My heart was pounding like a race horse, sweat dripped down my face, and my gun was still clenched tightly in my hand. I quickly checked on my team. Gabbie was seeing to Bomber’s wound.

  “Gabbie?” I asked.

  “Just a scratch, Boss. He’s whimpering like a girl over nothing.”

  Bomber gave her an incredulous look. “I’m not whimpering.”

  Larz gave me a nod to indicate he was fine as he sat into a seat across from Gabbie and Bomber. Across from me sat Emily, her face still too pale, her eyes unfocused and wide. When a slight turn of her head put her eyes on me, she unbuckled her belt and slid to her knees. I was about to object to her act of submission, however, she quickly moved across the small gap between us and with cautious eyes, slowly and gently laid her head on my lap. All the air left my lungs on a defeated sigh. My hand fell to the top of her head in a comforting embrace, and I leaned over her.

  “I’ve got you, Malen’kaya.”

  Her hands that rested on my knees shook, but as I ran my fingers through her short chestnut hair they gradually became still. Not only did the attention seem to calm Emily, it also calmed me. My thumping heart slowed, and my hand relaxed its grip on the Glock. This fragile beauty before me was more complex, damaged and beaten than any other person I had ever encountered. Yet under the layers of abuse and heartache was strength and courage. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and protect her until my dying breath. I wanted to fuck her so badly, my cock began to throb to life at the thought of it. But above all of that, I wanted to bring down vengeance and pain on the fuckers who had hurt her. William Levier got off too easily. A quick tap to the head by Dillon’s gun was a light punishment for his hand in Emily’s abuse. Jonas Levier would be painted in a poetic shade of blood red death before I sent him to hell. He would feel every inch of pain Emily felt. For every year he took from her, for every scar he put on her, he would pay tenfold. I leaned back into my seat, and my eyes fluttered shut. Calmness filled my body just knowing what I had to do.

  “U menya yest' ty teper' malysh.” I’ve got you now, little one.

  CHAPTER 9

  EMILY

  My naked body was stretched out on a soft bed, and my hands and legs were tethered at four corners. Tears fell in a torrent of uncontrollable fear, and my heart was pounding so hard the grunts above me became muted. I hurt so bad I thought I might split in two. I had pleaded, I had begged, I had cried and still he stood unmoving, watching with a sick fascination as they fucked me. And it was they—as in more than one—three so far. I refused to watch them, their lustful faces were nauseating as they became more aroused with every struggle and plea. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I had been naive to trust him. He had told me I needed to entertain his guests, and I had assumed that meant I would serve them drinks and appetizers. Little did I know that following the drinks, I would become the appetizer. The more I fought them, the more they got off on it. And he just stood there and watched. Taking deep breaths through my nose and out through my mouth, the never ending cries that poured from my heart and soul finally stemmed. I hated him. I wanted to kill him. I would take a knife and slit his throat from ear to ear, and I would bathe in his blood. He smiled at me, not a happy smile, not a comforting smile, but a knowing smile. Like he could see right through me into my darkest thoughts and reveled in the idea that he had gotten to me.

  The one who moved above me leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “He gets off on this. He likes to see you struggle. He likes to watch his pets being fucked.”

  I didn’t respond to the ugly words, instead I kept my gaze on him.

  Strangely enough, as my tears dried it seemed as though my soul was drowning in pain and regret. I had given myself to Jonas willingly, I had put my heart in his hands, and he had sliced it in two without mercy. I hated him; I was going to kill him.

  I woke with a start, bile rising in my throat, breathing hard and fast.

  “Em?”

  The voice was like an immediate balm to my frayed senses. A tear fell from the corner of my eye, and I quickly wiped it away before anyone noticed.

  “Are you okay, Malen’kaya?”

  No, I was so far from okay; I had no comprehension of the meaning of the word anymore. My face felt frozen in a state of perpetual sorrow, my heart was dead, and my soul was smashed to smithereens. I pushed it all away and buried it deep like I always did. I felt a calm settle over me that I knew was a place of cold impassiveness. I sat up and looked around me. I was on a plane, my seat relaxed back into a rested position, a soft blanket surrounded me with warmth. Familiar dark eyes appeared before me. Braiden, Shakhta, my new master. He looked over my face, his calculating eyes saw every little nuance on my face no doubt.

  “Do you have nightmares often?” he whispered.

  I shook my head in the negative. It had been a long time since I had.

  He nodded. “There is someone back in Claymont who can help you with things like this.”

  My eyes widened, and my heart tripped over itself. I recalled Master Jonas’ cruel words: “A doctor would lock you up and throw away the key, Pet. In the eyes of society, you are damaged beyond repair. Only I would care for an animal so damaged.”

  Shakhta placed his finger under my chin to bring my gaze back to his. He seemed to have a fondness for my eyes on his own. “He is a friend of mine and Rebecca’s. He would never hurt you, you have my word. His name is Dave and he helps women who have been hurt, just like you.”

  I nodded, still fearful but inclined to trust my new master—to an extent. He hadn’t let me down so far.

  “Boss?” Larz stood beside Shakhta, a small plate of sandwiches in his hand. My Master took them and held them out before me.

  “Do you want to try and do this yourself, or I shall I help you?”

  I reached my hand out to take a sandwich, but stopped just before my fingers came in contact with the food. Angry words, pain and humiliation assaulted my senses and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to block them away.

  “It’s okay, Malen’kaya. Baby steps, remember?”

  I hadn’t even realized a tear has slipped free until Shakhta wiped it away and raised the sandwich to my lips. I ate obediently then I was handed a bottle of water which I was able to take and drink without assistance.

  “Good girl,” Shakhta whispered.

  I was immediately soothed by his praise. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Larz. He didn’t seem to care about my humiliation at being fed like a child, or it was possible he was just trying to be respectful enough not to gawk. He reminded me a little of my father, just as tall though a little more solid. There wasn’t a lot about my father that I clearly remember
; he had died when I was six. I had a vague recollection of him making paper airplanes with Rebecca and me. His tall, spindly frame seemed larger than life to a six year old. I thought my father was a superhero, completely invincible until something proved my notion wrong—death. My eyes settled back on the concerned gaze of my new master, who had seated himself directly across from me.

  “We’ll be landing soon.” I gave a short nod. “I don’t expect any trouble on the ground, but I like to be prepared for anything. So stay close to me, and if for any reason we are separated, stick to Larz like glue, understand?”

  The thought of being separated from my master was frightening, but Shakhta had delivered his request in a commanding way that demanded my compliance. In the back of my mind, the sliver of defiance that had always existed threatened to come forth. I wanted to say no, that I wouldn’t leave his side and I would go with no one else, but I also retained enough sense to know that this was for my own safety. So, I gave him my usual obedient nod like a good little slave. It was then that reality hit me—I would be home for the second time this year. Master Jonas had already found me here once; he could find me again. He would come for me. He would come for B. The cruel punishment I had been dealt in my life would be nothing compared to what he would do to me this time. He would use B against me. I clutched my stomach as the sandwich I had just finished threatened to come back up.

  Shakhta suddenly lowered himself before me, sitting on his knees. No master had ever dropped to his knees before me. “You are safe now. Nothing is going to happen; you’ll be fine,” he said. His hands gently rested on either side of my legs, his determined gaze centering me, focusing me.