When I finish, Mark’s face is one of utter fury. “You knew about this!” he yells at Howard.
“Yes, and the way you’re behaving right now is exactly why I didn’t say anything. I knew you would go off half-cocked and try to go after her.”
“Damn right I would have.”
“Yeah, and you would have ended up getting yourself arrested. Then what good would that have done? She is safe where she is until she delivers. Now that we have the info, we can put together a rescue team and plan it out properly so everyone makes it out alive.”
“Fine,” Mark huffs, but I can tell he isn’t exactly happy about it. “So where is she?”
“Believe it or not,” I say, “they actually keep them in a secure ward at the maternity hospital. I have a map that shows the precise location.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard to access,” Mark says.
“Now that we have the details, we will look into it and once we have a plan in place we will indeed rescue her,” Howard responds.
“That’s fine,” I say. “But her due date is listed as the thirtieth of November, so you only have about ten days, if that, to do it.”
“Okay,” Howard replies. “Grant, Toby, when we head into the city today I want you to go to the hospital and do reconnaissance while the rest of us head to the city stores.”
Mark looks like he wants to argue, but he folds his arms and scowls instead.
As we return to the Jameses’ there is something that I think I should make clear to Howard.
“So I just wanted to make certain you knew that I’m coming with you when you go to get Estell.”
Howard looks at me, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Howard stops walking and stands in front of me. “Beth, you can’t come. It’s too dangerous for you to go back into the city.”
“It can’t be any more dangerous for me than it is you.”
“Your face is far more recognisable than mine.”
“Well, I can wear one of those masks like the guys did when they came to rescue me.”
I can tell by the look on Howard’s face that he is thinking really hard about what to say next. “Why the hell do you want to go so bad?”
“Because she came to me for help.”
“So? People come to me for help all the time.” He stares me down like I’m some idiot who doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “I didn’t go to all the trouble of rescuing you out the hands of Smythe and Denham for you to end up back where you started.”
“Okay, you may be right there. I don’t want to end up back there either, but I can’t sit around here and do nothing. Do you have any idea what I did for the people of Oceania in my short time as Matron?” Howard shrugs but doesn’t say anything. “Nothing! Big fat zippo. I want to see this through to the end. I want to help one citizen. Just one. Is that too much to ask?”
The expression on his face changes from one of anger to one of resignation. “Fine. You can come when we go to rescue her, but that’s it.”
***
A quick glance at the clock shows that it is way past the time Howard and the rest of his men were supposed to return from their trek into the city this afternoon. I’m worried, but it’s also a couple of hours past the time I normally go to sleep and the weight of the last couple of days is making it very hard to stay awake. At some point, the bed dips.
“Howard?” I ask, only half awake.
“Yeah, it’s me, beautiful. Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost midnight. Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”
“No, I’m awake. How did it go?”
Howard shifts on the edge of the bed and lights the lantern on the nightstand. “We ran into some trouble on our way back, but nothing we couldn’t handle.” He rests his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“It doesn’t look like it was nothing. You look shattered.”
He turns to me, his expression almost a plea. “It’s nothing really. Can we please talk about something else?”
I sit up and crawl across the bed, wrapping my arms around him from behind. I know when not to push. Even if I don’t understand why he is upset, I can still offer him comfort.
Howard eventually stands and goes over to the cupboard. As he walks, he pulls his shirt off over his head. The small amount of light from the lantern is more than enough to allow me to see every plane and ridge of his muscled back.
His trousers drop to his ankles, revealing he has nothing on underneath. If his torso is a work of art, his legs and butt are the stunning frame that highlights the art. There doesn’t seem to be an inch of fat on him anywhere, just muscles upon muscles. The throbbing ache between my legs returns, and as much as having another trip down memory lane scares the crap out of me, the idea that I might never again experience the pleasure Howard can give me scares me more.
Reaching into a drawer, he pulls out a piece of clothing. I have no idea what it is, but I don’t want him covering up my view.
“Don’t,” I say, the word coming out somewhere between a moan and a plea.
Howard spins around, holding whatever he has in his hands in front of his private parts. I let my gaze roam over every inch of his naked skin, committing it all to memory.
“Please, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re starving and I’m a prime rib. I don’t want to hurt you again, and when you look at me like that, it seriously tests my control.”
“You didn’t hurt me. You never could. It was bad memories talking.”
“But—”
“No buts. I don’t want what that filthy man did to me to stop me from being with you.” I stand up, reach down, grab the hem of my nightie, and rip it off over my head. Being naked in front of Howard is both terrifying and exhilarating. His gaze, so intense I can almost feel it, moves over me from head to toe.
I take a step towards him, but he holds up a hand, indicating for me to stop. The other hand is tightly clenching the material covering his privates.
“Beth, please, don’t come any closer. I’m holding on by a thread here. I touch you and I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”
A small tendril of fear sneaks its way up my spine. “Are you trying to tell me that if I tell you to stop, you won’t?”
Howard shakes his head. “God no, I would never force myself on you. But I want to have sex with you so bad, and I know you’re not ready for that yet.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to go all the way, does it? Can’t we start out slow? You can finish what you started the other day, and I can learn how to pleasure you.”
Howard groans but still has his hand out. “If we do this,” he says, “I need you to promise that you will tell me the moment anything I do even remotely begins to freak you out. Okay?”
“You have my word. I promise. And in the spirit of that honesty, for the moment you probably shouldn’t kneel between my legs or chain my hands to the wall above my head.”
I was going for lighthearted, but the look of agony on Howard's face tells me I missed the mark.
“I’m sorry. Too soon?”
Howard nods. I’m not sure what else to say, so I walk over to him and uncurl the fingers clutching the cloth. It falls to the ground with a muffled thud.
I look down between us to see his manhood standing up hard and tall. The sight alone makes the ache between my thighs throb. I’m not ready for everything, but I want to touch and feel and bring him pleasure.
I lift the hand I’m still holding and place it over my right breast. Thankfully, Howard needs no further instruction before kneading and tweaking my stiff nipple. While he is distracted, I take the opportunity to wrap my hand around his penis. The silky smooth feeling combined with ridged hardness is such a contradiction. I slide my hand up and down the length, getting a feel of all of him.
“F
uck!” Howard’s groan startles me, and I quickly withdraw my hand. I attempt to step away, but he grabs me and pulls me closer. “God, you are temptation personified.”
One hand continues to massage my breast while the other makes a path up and down my spine. I try to pay attention to everything he is doing, I really do, but all of his nakedness pressed up against mine is overwhelming. Everywhere we touch a little fire burns, one that spreads pleasure, not pain.
I don’t even realise we are moving until my legs hit the mattress. Howard lets me go, and I flop down onto the bed. Closer to the light now, I have a much better view of his sculptured torso and feel an insane need to lick each and every inch.
Before I get a chance to act, Howard is on his side on the bed next to me. The sad, agonised look is gone, replaced with a hungry, happy one. “I never thought I’d ever have a chance with you.”
His lips capture mine in a passionate frenzy, tugging, nipping, and begging me to open to him. I don’t hesitate parting my lips. His tongue slips in my mouth, his penetration soft but forceful. An image of him entering me in other ways flashes behind my eyelids, and I suddenly want that more than anything.
I don’t even notice he is playing with one of my breasts until his hand moves and I am bereft of the touch. I’m about to beg for more, but his hand slowly snaking its way down my belly causes all the breath to leave my lungs. Howard lavishes kisses down my neck and over my collarbone, lapping at the breast that felt abandoned not moments ago.
The throbbing ache pounds between my legs. I beg to whatever higher power there may be that this doesn’t end before I can experience true pleasure like I did the other day.
Howard doesn’t even have to ask me to open my legs this time. I have them spread in invitation before he slides his hand between them. With a deft touch, he applies the perfect amount of pressure to that bundle of nerves that gives me so much joy. Up and down, around and around, every little brush and scrape sends the firestorm of desire raging inside me higher and higher.
A brush of something hard and wet against the outside of my thigh shakes me from my euphoric haze. I feel the sensation again, and it takes a little while for my brain to put the pieces together. When they finally fall into place, I slide my hand between our bodies and wrap it around the hard length of Howard’s manhood. He groans that same tortured sound as before, but this time I recognise it’s pleasure, not pain. Before I have a chance to move my hand, he rocks his hips, sliding his penis through the O-shape my fingers form around him.
“You’re so amazing.” I open my eyes to see Howard staring at me, a reverence in his gaze.
“You, too,” I manage to say in between moans.
Time seems to go in slow motion as we lie staring at one another. Howard continues the slide and tap routine against my clitoris, keeping me on the edge of something but never quite pushing me over. At the same time, his hips thrust in time with the movement of his fingers, his eyes lighting up a little when I try different positions with my hand. I particularly like his reaction when I brush my thumb across the tip. Who’d have thought cursing would increase my arousal?
“Please!” I beg.
“What do you want?” he asks, never stopping his hand’s movements.
“I don’t know. More?”
“Harder?” he asks increasing the pressure with his fingers. “Or faster?” He eases the force of his strokes as he intensifies the pace.
Both feel so good, but neither seems to get the job done.
“Both,” I cry, hoping it will be what I need.
Howard does as I ask, and the pleasure snowballs at an alarming rate.
“Oh my!” I shout between pants. I try to take a deep breath, but each shockwave of ecstasy forces the air out of my lungs again.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, Howard gives a short, sharp tug on the bundle of nerves and my world shatters. Ecstasy explodes inside me. Wave after wave of bliss courses through me, shaking loose any tension and leaving me extremely satisfied.
Somewhere a grunt and groan sounds, then there’s a slippery, wet sensation on my fingers.
I open my eyes and look around. Howard is on his back beside me, seeming to have as much trouble catching his breath as I am.
“Thank you,” I say before I succumb to exhaustion.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, grabbing my hand and using his shirt to clean up.
Before I can say anything else, my eyes close and sleep claims me.
When I next open my eyes, the lights are on and I’m in bed alone. Memories of the previous evening come flooding back and my cheeks heat up. I lift my hand, expecting to see it covered in some form of liquid, but it is clean.
I sit bolt upright in bed when a glance at the clock shows it’s nine in the morning. I never sleep this late, ever. As I stand, a few muscles twinge in protest. I raise my arms to the ceiling and do a few stretches, working out some of the kinks. It feels very risqué doing these stretches with no clothes on, but the idea of Howard seeing me this way—and what it might inspire him to do—has me dawdling. I wonder briefly what I should do, but the rumble in my belly tells me to go in search of food. I put my nightie on, then slippers and the dressing gown Rhonda lent me, and head to the kitchen.
I’m in the middle of toasting some bread on the grill when Howard walks in.
“Good morning,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and placing a kiss on my shoulder. “Did you enjoy your sleep in?”
Turning around in his arms, I say, “Yes, I did, thank you very much.”
“How are you feeling this morning?” Howard winks, and I flush from the tips of my ears all the way down to the swell of my breasts.
“I’m a little stiff,” I mumble. “But other than that, I’m good.”
“Excellent. Finish making your breakfast and then we’ll talk.” He leaves me with a peck on the lips and heads down the hall towards our room.
I am taking my seat at the table when Howard reappears with a pile of paper in his hands.
“What is that?”
“Newspapers,” he says, taking a seat next to me. “We grabbed a couple while we were in the city to see what kind of spin they were putting on your disappearance.”
I pick up the one on the top of the pile and the headline reads, TRADS KIDNAP MATRON. I want to laugh at that—if only they knew the truth.
In a daring evening raid, an unknown number of Trad members broke into Matron Greene’s residence and abducted her from her bed while she slept. Ten of the Matron’s guards were injured during the raid, and two remain in hospital. Details are sketchy as to how they got in and out of Matron House, but no obvious signs of forced entry have been found. No demands have been made in regards to a ransom, but all efforts are being expended to locate the Matron.
A reward of a year’s worth of food and clothing is being offered for any information that leads to the capture of the perpetrators and the return of Matron Greene.
In the months leading up to her abduction, there were multiple threats on the Matron’s life. With the chance that something might happen to her, Matron Greene signed an executive order handing control of the government to the chief minister, allowing the day-to-day running of Oceania to continue until such time as a new Matron can be trained.
I gasp as I read the last sentence.
“What’s wrong?” Howard asks.
I hand him the paper, pointing to the sentence. “That’s the document I was forced to sign. They officially have control of the government now. I mean, it’s not like they didn’t before, but now that the public knows they are in charge, they will never relinquish the power.”
“They will,” Howard growls. “Because we will make them. We just have to wait until we’re in a position to bring them down for good.”
“They must have known,” I say as it dawns on me that they obviously knew I was going to run away. I can feel the tears welling, and guilt for my actions overwhelms me.
“Hey,”
Howard says, pulling me into his arms. “Don’t cry. This isn’t your fault. If it’s anybody’s, it’s mine. But it doesn’t change our plans.”
Wiping away the tears, I look at him. “You’re right. How did that go, by the way?”
“We managed to procure the food items, and the hospital reconnaissance was also a success. We’re heading out two nights from now to get her.”
I launch myself at Howard, planting kisses all over his face, so happy we are able to attempt to rescue Estell. I look through the rest of the papers, and they all pretty much say the same thing. I can’t help but feel a little guilty as I read some of the letters to the editor, though. The depth of some readers’ grief and hate for the Trads is unbelievable, and I hope they can forgive me when the truth is revealed.
Chapter 20
“Are you sure about this?” Howard asks, not for the first time.
“Most definitely.” I try to project as much confidence as I can muster. I have spent most of the past two days psyching myself up for tonight’s rescue mission.
“Okay, well, you stick by my side. And if anything happens, you run like hell to your father. Understand me?”
“Yeah, I got it.” I take a deep breath, then slowly exhale. I repeat the process three more times until I can no longer hear my pulse pounding in my ears.
Waiting in the small cavern on the bedrock side of the catacombs, I stare at my watch. It finally ticks over to 8:30—lights out. The realisation of what we are about to do sets in as Howard stands.
“Okay, everybody,” Howard says. “You all know your jobs. Masks on, let’s go.”
With balaclavas over our faces, our small group of five makes its way into the catacombs and towards the city.
As we emerge through the steel doors on the city side of the catacombs, the bright white overhead lights that simulate daylight are off and the dim yellow of the streetlamps light the city. The cart Grant and Toby procured earlier is waiting in front of us. We pile in, with Grant in the driver’s seat; in no time at all, we’re on our way.
It takes about thirty minutes to reach the hospital, and adrenaline courses through my system the entire time, making it hard for me to sit still.
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