Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Charlotte Smith

Zachary clicked off the phone, turning to face his men. “Thirty minutes.”

  That’s it, Remy thought to herself. Thirty minutes before the triplets came to get her. Thirty minutes to fend off these animals. Thirty minutes, she reminded herself grimly, to stay alive.

  Chapter 12

  Remy prowled silently around the filthy room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. The men had all left after locking her in, gone to make sure everything was in readiness for the exchange. Remy could hear Zachary directing the others, making sure they knew what they were supposed to do if something went wrong. Things, she promised herself, were going to go very wrong for these bastards.

  She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find anything to use as a weapon. Not unless she wanted to start throwing horseshit, she thought wryly. Oh well, her hands would have to do. She’d worked out the rest of her kinks, and now she threw a couple of air punches to make sure she hadn’t missed any. She knew exactly how deadly her hands could be, and she planned to make use of that in the immediate future.

  The immediate future became the present as Remy heard footsteps coming down the hall toward her. She went quickly to where she’d been sitting before, squeezing out a few tears to try and make herself look helpless. She cowered in the corner as the door opened, trying for all her might to appear as unthreatening as possible.

  “Please don’t hurt me!” She bit her lip as if the plea had escaped unbidden, turning big eyes to the man who’d come through the door. It was René, the liaison for who-knows-what kinds of illegal activities. Remy felt a tad relieved it wasn’t Zachary since that knife of his was going to give her nightmares for weeks as it was.

  René grinned evilly at her, revealing several missing teeth. He seemed to be a man of few words as he started unbuttoning his fly.

  Remy scrambled up, acting like she was trying to get away from him when in reality she moved to a part of the floor that gave her more room to maneuver, carefully placing herself on his blind side, causing him to turn his head at an awkward angle to be able to see her with his unbandaged eye. She stood sniffling, hugging herself tightly. She tried to make it seem as if she thought she could protect herself from him.

  René edged closer, causing Remy to hold her breath as she realized he reeked of onions. When he was just about an arm’s length away, he snaked an arm out to try and grab her. It was exactly the move Remy had been waiting for.

  She caught his arm between her own arm and side, spinning to stretch his arm taut before delivering a chop to his elbow, effectively breaking it. She timed her scream to mingle with his, designed to make the other bastards think she was the one in pain. René swung a heavy fist at her, faster than she thought he could move, landing a lucky shot on her cheek and making her see stars. She recovered quickly, spinning out of his reach and landing a kick to his injured arm. He ignored the pain she inflicted and latched onto her throat with his good hand, squeezing as if to choke the life out of her. Starting to feel faint, Remy allowed herself to go limp in his hold, then when he was off balance trying to support her dead weight with only one arm, she sprang into action. She landed a massive blow to his throat with her elbow, crushing his windpipe and causing him to choke. He wheezed for a moment before collapsing to the floor.

  Remy paused to feel her cheek and throat, groaning mentally at the bruises she knew would develop in the coming days. She leaned down to check René’s pulse, satisfied when she found none. She dragged his body to one side of the stall, covering it in hay. One down, three to go.

  * * * *

  Remy waited for the next asshole to walk through the door, surprised at the amount of time that elapsed between René’s entry and now. She shuddered, realizing her captors must have divvied up the time to make sure each of them got a fair turn with her. She smiled coldly. She’d give them each a turn all right.

  Hearing footsteps coming towards the door, Remy lay down in the middle of the stall and forced her body to shake as if she was crying. She didn’t have to tear at her hair and clothes to look like she’d been in a struggle. The ominous throbbing from her head and face reminded her she’d be shades of purple for days.

  The stall door creaked open, and Remy let loose an artful whimper, curling herself into a tight ball she hoped looked protective.

  “Eh, René, you’ve had her for long enough. Let us have some fun.”

  It was Yves, the weasel-faced accountant.

  “René? Merde,” Yves cursed, looking around and not seeing his companion. “He could at least have told us he was done.”

  Remy could feel Yves’ beady eyes snake over to her, and she forced her body to shake even harder.

  “Get up. René might not care what he fucks, but I like my cunts without clothes. Remove your pants.”

  Remy gritted her teeth, her hands itching to teach this prick some manners. She forced herself to calm down, waiting for him to get closer to her. She had the element of surprise, and she sure as hell didn’t intend to waste it. She moaned as if she was in pain, only to hear Yves let out a coarse laugh.

  “What, bitch, did René hurt you? If you don’t want to hurt worse, you’d better get the fuck up and remove your fucking pants!”

  The last part of his statement was delivered in a near scream, and he stomped to where Remy lay in the middle of the floor and gave her a quick kick in her back.

  Remy gasped, not having to fake the pain. She gritted her teeth against it and focused all her energy on what she’d planned, scissoring her legs out and taking Yves down to the floor with her, where she punched him in the face, breaking his nose. She felt a vicious sense of victory as he whimpered, reaching up to clutch at his streaming nose and turning his baleful glare on her.

  Remy shot to her feet. The pain starting to form a web through her body made her gasp again and stagger a little, and she walked over to where Yves writhed. She drew her leg up to stomp on him, but in a move she hadn’t expected, Yves released his broken nose to grab something from his pocket which he stabbed toward her with lighting speed. Before Remy could spin away from him, he’d latched onto her leg with one arm, his other arm moving in a wide arc until he made contact with the soft skin of her side, releasing a jolt of something that buzzed through her whole body. Even her teeth rattled as she fell nerveless to the floor.

  The fucking bastard had Tasered her.

  The effort had cost Yves as well, and that was a very satisfying thought to have when one was helpless on the floor. Shit, she was really in trouble if she was getting whimsical. She tried to move her limbs even a little, but it still felt like a million fireflies dancing through her system, lighting up nerves and muscles with little jolts of electricity.

  She could hear Yves whimpering, grateful he hadn’t made any attempts to get up, or to Taser her again for that matter. She was conscious she was lying directly on a mound of horseshit, the thought almost seeming funny in her current situation. She pondered her lifelong desire to never be taken as a damsel in distress, sighing and rolling her eyes mentally as she realized that’s exactly what she was in this moment. She giggled a little thinking about the knights coming to rescue her, wondering if knights had ever had to rescue their damsels from shittier situations. Remy broke into a full-blown laugh at that thought—shituations!

  She felt a spasmodic jerk from her right knee and realized she was starting to be able to move her wrists and ankles. She carefully worked her joints, hoping Yves was still crying about his nose and didn’t know what she was trying to do.

  She tensed and released each major muscle group, aware that in a moment she’d have to put her body to the test and use it to crush the disgusting bug lying on the floor beside her. She knew she’d only have one shot, and she had to make it count.

  Just as she had tensed her muscles to spring to the side and finish Yves, she became aware of shouts outside the stall. Yves became aware of the din in the same moment because he launched himself to his feet and ran to
the door, jerking it open and slamming it behind himself without a backward glance.

  Good. The triplets are here.

  * * * *

  Remy had made it to her knees, still trembling violently, wanting to help the triplets finish these maniacs but barely able to support herself. She drew great, shuddering breaths, trying to breathe through the pain now throbbing in her wrists, head, face, and throat, and she cursed occasionally as her fingers and toes twitched as a result of having been Tasered.

  She had just hauled herself to her feet when all hell broke loose.

  The door to the stall flew open, slamming against the wall hard enough to send splinters flying from its edges. She looked up, expecting to see one of the Grantham brothers flying through it, but her heart nearly stopped when Zachary came running into the stall, followed closely by Yves, still mopping his nose, and Philippe, the security guard. Philippe was holding a wad of cloth pressed to his shoulder and was breathing in ragged gasps. It looked very much like he’d been shot. He went to lean against the wall but stumbled over René’s body, moving the straw out of the way so the blackened, oxygen-deprived face of their companion was visible. Philippe retched to one side, moving back to where he had been and being careful not to look at the body again. Yves looked stunned, his hand falling away from his swollen nose for a moment before he brought it back up protectively.

  Without missing a beat, Zachary went to Remy, hauling her up by her hair and holding her tight to his chest with a massive arm around her throat. His awful knife appeared in his other hand, and he held it loosely, not doing anything with it yet. He turned her around so she was facing the doorway and paused, clearly waiting for something.

  Remy fought like a madwoman, squirming and pressing herself back against him, managing to scrape her heel down his shin. Although he grunted, acknowledging her effort, his grip remained firm.

  Remy struggled even harder as Drake and Joss came through the door, pistols raised and balanced on their opposite hands. Drake snarled when he saw her, and she’d never been happier the fury in his eyes wasn’t directed at her.

  “Fuck, be still!” Zachary clamped his arm tighter around her, looking over at Yves. An unspoken message passed between the men, and without a word, Yves rushed to Zachary’s side, pressing the Taser to Remy’s hip and delivering another bone-jarring shot of electricity.

  Joss roared his fury, raising his gun and not hesitating before pulling the trigger, putting a bullet in the side of Yves’ head. Yves slumped immediately to the ground, motionless. Remy could see from the corner of her eye the hated Taser had fallen from his hand and had landed, useless, on the floor.

  Remy had slumped immediately after the Taser blow, unable to move in Zachary’s grip as he raised his hideous knife and pressed it against her throat. She focused all her might on not twitching in his grip lest the knife pierce her skin, and she looked at Drake and Joss, trying to convey her belief they would get her out safely. She wondered where Knox was, hoping he wasn’t hurt.

  “Let her go.” Drake’s eyes were deadly, fixed on Zachary like a laser beam. “If you let her go now, we’ll think about walking away.”

  Zachary laughed. “I think not. As soon as I let her go, one of you will put a bullet into me. No, I think what we will do is you will let her go, and she and I and our friend over there will go to Switzerland together. As soon as we have landed safely, then I will let her go.” He paused, stopping to lean his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. “Or,” he purred, his tone making Remy’s skin crawl, “perhaps she will become good friends with us the same way she became good friends with you.”

  Philippe laughed from across the stall, the sound totally devoid of humor. “Which one of you was she good friends with zee night of zee party? She put on quite a show, and I am willing to wager she will put on as good a show for Zachary and me.”

  Zachary pressed the tip of the knife into Remy’s skin, causing her to inhale sharply as she tried to lean farther back.

  “Enough bullshit. Philippe, take their weapons. Gentlemen”—his voice became authoritative—“hand your guns to Philippe. If you do not, we will see how beautiful her blood will look next to her skin.”

  Remy tried to glare at them, sending them a message not to do as Zachary said. To her dismay, Joss and Drake abandoned their defensive postures, releasing the cartridges from their weapons and holding them out for Philippe to collect.

  The Frenchman took Joss’s gun, grinning at him. He moved to Drake next, palming the weapon and pausing in front of him.

  “You look so angry, monsieur, eet must ’ave been you fucking her. I am grateful you let me watch. Per’aps...” Philippe tapped his finger against his lips, acting like he was pondering something. “Per’aps eet weel be my turn to let you watch. What do you say, Zachary? Shall we let zem watch while we take our turns?”

  He turned to Zachary, full of arrogance and conceit that he’d managed to gain the upper hand over Drake. He didn’t even make the full turn before Drake struck.

  Remy could practically feel Drake’s control snap as the Frenchman goaded him past the point of reason. Philippe was really stupid, Remy decided, since he seemed to think an unarmed Drake was a defeated Drake.

  It was a mistake he wouldn’t live to repeat.

  Drake reached out, wrapping one arm tightly around Philippe’s throat. He raised his other hand to the side of Philippe’s head and, growling the entire time, wrenched the man’s head to one side, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. He dropped the body to the floor in front of him. He looked up at Remy, his lips pulled back over his bared teeth in a feral snarl, and she could honestly say she didn’t think he’d ever looked better to her.

  Zachary had frozen, seemingly nonplussed at the loss of his last teammate. He recovered quickly.

  “I suppose I should thank you for taking care of them for me. There was no way I was going to let them share the ransom, so really, you’ve saved me a great deal of work.”

  Joss crossed his arms. “In case you haven’t guessed, there isn’t going to be a ransom.”

  Zachary laughed. “I disagree. She seems to be worth a great deal to both of you, so once she and I land in Switzerland, I’ll be sending you a new demand. If you fail to meet it”—he stroked the big knife up Remy’s cheek—“of course I’ll send her back to you. I’ll send her back piece by piece so you can decide what she’s worth when she’s not mint.”

  Remy started to shiver. The picture he painted was so ghastly she could feel bile starting to rise in her throat.

  Drake and Joss were both snarling, growling low in their throats. Zachary paid them no mind.

  “I wonder what I should send you first. Perhaps...”

  He never finished the thought.

  A shot rang out, immediately followed by the sound of breaking glass. Remy felt herself falling, being dragged down as Zachary collapsed, the knife still dangerously close to her neck. Joss and Drake sprang forward, Drake catching her as she fell and Joss prying the knife away from her body.

  Remy clung to Drake as well as she was able, the shocks from the Taser starting to lessen and allowing her to use her hands. She realized she was crying.

  Drake picked her up, tucking her face against his neck as he strode out of the stall so she wouldn’t have to look at any of the carnage inside. She’d never before had trouble with that kind of scene, but then, she’d never been in that role either. She breathed in Drake’s scent, lulled into feeling secure. That only made her cry harder.

  Once they got outside what was indeed a stable, Joss cupped her cheek and turned her face toward him. He looked pissed as he surveyed the damage, his fingers gently prodding and turning her so he could assess her injuries.

  “How bad?” Drake’s question was quiet.

  “She’ll be fine in a few days.” Joss spoke in soft, clipped tones, making Remy wonder exactly how bad she looked. He looked over her head, calling out, “Nice shot. You took your fucking time, though.”

&nb
sp; Remy turned her head to see Knox walking toward them, decked out in full camo.

  “Wind picked up. I had to readjust. How we doing, sweetheart?” He walked up behind her, putting out a hand to rub her back. She groaned. The spot he was rubbing the exact spot Yves had kicked her.

  Knox jerked his hand back, cursing softly. “Sorry.” He looked at his brothers, the three of them sharing one of their weird triplet moments. “Let’s go home.”

  Remy raised her head shakily, looking at the triplets through unfocused eyes. “Home?”

  Drake tucked her head back into his neck, making soothing noises.

  Joss reached out to stroke her hair. “Home.”

  Chapter 13

  Sitting in Knox’s Lexus, Remy was nervous.

  The triplets had brought her back to their house in the US, taking her to see a doctor as soon as they were back on American soil. After a cursory exam in Monaco to make sure nothing was life-threatening, they’d decided to get the hell out of Dodge before the bodies of Zachery and company were found in the stable.

  The doctor had determined none of her injuries were critical, just that they would be painful as they healed. Painful and ugly, Remy grimaced. She hadn’t been able to recognize the woman looking back at her when she looked in the mirror those first days since the swelling and bruising were so spectacular they had made her face a positive rainbow of puffy skin.

  The triplets had been amazing over the last month. They’d helped her in and out of the shower and tub. They’d brought her ice packs and painkillers, and otherwise made nuisances of themselves playing nursemaid to her. She would have loved enjoying the attention, but all Remy could think about was the conversation she’d overheard that last day in Monaco between the brothers. So instead of losing herself in their gentle touches and coddling, she felt nothing but a band constrict around her chest every time she thought about what would happen once she recovered.