SEAL JUSTICE (Brotherhood Protectors Book 13)

by Elle James

  A sharp yelp sounded from the back of the building.

  Reggie ran after Grunt, afraid he’d tangled with the wrong cat and had gotten himself hurt. Running as fast as she could, she barely slowed to take the corner.

  As she came around to the back of the building, she saw Grunt lying on the ground, motionless. “Grunt?” she called out and rushed toward him, her wig slipping off the back of her head.

  A figure detached from the shadows, leaped out and flung a bag over her head.

  Darkness blocked the daylight. Reggie couldn’t see anything, and her arms were trapped by the coarse fabric of the bag and the strong arms wrapped around her. Hands reached beneath her jacket and relieved her of the .40 caliber pistol. They patted her sides and removed the taser as well. Then she was lifted off her feet, carried several yards, and then dumped into what could only be a trunk.

  As soon as the arms around her let go, she shot up and tried to roll out of the back of the trunk, screaming as loud as she could. The sound was muffled by the sack over her head as she fought to push herself free from the back of the vehicle.

  No. No No. This was not happening again.

  “You shouldn’t have run away,” a voice said. The sound filtered through the sack but was no less familiar. He shoved her back into the trunk and tried to shut it on her.

  Reggie fought even harder, bracing her feet on the trunk lid, pushing up to keep him from lowering the heavy metal and locking her in.

  She couldn’t let him take her. She’d made a promise to herself that she would return to free the others, not to return to become a prisoner once again.

  “Hey, leave her alone,” a young voice called out.

  Hope spurred Reggie on. She kicked at the trunk lid and aimed blindly at the hands attempting to close it.

  The Master lurched as if he’d been hit broadside. He slammed the trunk closed before Reggie could get free.

  Complete darkness surrounded her. She finally worked the fabric sack from her head and shoved it aside.

  “Let her go!” the youth’s voice sounded again.

  Something hit the trunk hard, and then the sound of heavy footsteps pounded around the vehicle. A door opened and closed with a sharp slam. The engine revved, and the car jerked forward.

  Reggie screamed as loud as she could and kicked the trunk lid, hoping to get the attention of anyone the car passed. At first moving slowly, the car picked up speed. Reggie assumed it had reached the edge of town and now sped along the highway, back to the big house, the dark, dank cellar and the end of her freedom—and probably her life. For surely, he wouldn’t let her leave again. Not alive.

  She didn’t feel as sorry for herself as she did for the women she’d failed to free of this sociopath. When he stopped and got her out of the trunk, she had to make it count. He’d taken her taser and pistol, but he’d missed the little canister of mace. Reggie had one shot at escape. She needed to be accurate and deliberate. Most of all, she’d better make it count. If the Brotherhood Protectors were out there, she prayed they’d found the Master’s house. She might be able to buy some time, but between the Master and his two Rottweilers, it wouldn’t be much. Reggie doubted she’d make it to the river a second time.

  She clutched the small canister of mace in one hand and the necklace with the GPS pendant in the other.

  Come on, Sam. I’ve never needed you more.

  Though she’d been raped and tortured, and it could happen again, Reggie wasn’t ready to give up on life.

  Sam had shown her that she wasn’t just damaged goods. He found her attractive, even though another man had left his mark on her mentally and physically. He’d shown her that not all men were monsters like the Master.

  Though she’d only known him for a short time, Reggie knew Sam was special. A man of honor and integrity. He would never hurt a woman or take advantage of her when she was broken. She wanted the chance to get to know him better, to learn to trust men again, because of him.

  She wanted to have a man make love to her…when she was ready. And she wanted that man to be Sam.

  A sob rose up her throat.

  Reggie swallowed hard, forcing it back down. For now, she was on her own. She couldn’t fall apart and wallow in the stench of fear. She had to keep her cool and fight back the only way she knew how. With every fiber of her being.

  Sam had switched the tire and was tightening the lug nuts on the spare when a familiar voice called out behind him. “Sam!”

  “Abe?” Sam turned to find Abe, the teenager, staggering toward him, his cheek bruised and blood running down his face from a cut over his eye.

  “You gotta come quick.” He staggered and fell into Sam’s arms. “Your lady… He took her.”

  Sam’s gaze shot to the truck where he’d left Reggie to wait for him with Grunt. The back door was open, and neither Reggie nor Grunt were in the truck.

  Abe grabbed his arm and tugged him toward an alley. “Your lady, he took her. And your dog…” He shook his head. “I think he’s dead.” Tears blended with the blood on the boy’s face. “I tried to stop him, but he was bigger. I couldn’t…” He shook his head as he limped down the alley, hurrying to the other end.

  Sam left him and ran ahead. When he reached the back of the buildings, the only sight that greeted him was that of the German Shepherd lying on his side as still as death and a brown wig.

  “He was here. The man in the ski mask. His car was here.” Abe stood near Grunt, turning in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, clasping his hands to his head. “He threw her in the trunk…and he got away.”

  Sam’s heart slammed against his ribs. “What did the car look like?”

  “It was dark. Black, I think. Four doors. But he put her in the trunk.” Abe dropped to his knees next to the dog. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” He looked up at Sam. “I couldn’t help either of them.”

  As Sam approached the dog, he pulled out his cellphone and contacted Hank. “The Master got Reggie. Call in the big guns. We have to find her before he kills her.”

  “I just heard from Kujo,” Hank said. “He and Molly saw a dark sedan pass them on the highway, heading in the direction of their designated location to investigate. They were on foot with more than a mile to go, I’ll let them know.”

  Sam ended the call, leaned over Grunt and watched his chest for any sign of life. After a few moments, he noticed Grunt’s chest expand. Then it did it again. He was breathing.

  Relief filled Sam. He scooped the dog into his arms. “Is there a vet nearby?”

  Abe pointed. “A block that way. I used to hang out and walk the dogs there before Mom got sick.” He led the way to the vet’s office less than a block away. The vet was in and took Grunt into surgery immediately.

  Sam said he’d be back, but he had to leave.

  Abe followed him out. “Are you going to save Ginnie?” he asked running alongside Sam as he raced back to his truck and the satellite phone he’d left in the console.

  “I’m going to do the best I can.”

  “I’m going with you,” Abe said.

  Sam shook his head. “Where I’m going could be dangerous. I need you to go home and take care of your siblings until I can get back to you.”

  “My sister, Lacey, has them. She can watch over them until I get back.”

  “No, you don’t understand. If you come with me, you might get hurt. You might not get back to your family. And I know for a fact that they depend on you. You can’t afford to have something bad happen to you.” Sam put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Your duty is to them. I’ll take care of my lady. You’ve already been a big help. Please.”

  Abe nodded. “Okay. But I feel responsible for Ginnie, too. I should have stopped him.”

  “You couldn’t, but you did your best. Now, I have to go.”

  Abe took a step back, squaring his shoulders. “You know where to find me if you need help.”

  “I do. And I’ll be back. That’s a promise.” Sam climbed into th
e truck, shifted into drive and pulled onto Main Street, heading west into the Crazy Mountains and following the road that paralleled the north branch of the river. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, hoping to catch up to the sedan that was taking Reggie away from him. What if the Master didn’t take her to the house where he’d been holding the other women? What if he killed Reggie and dumped her in a ditch along the side of the road? Sam might never find her.

  Then he remembered the GPS tracker. Still blasting along the highway at an insane speed, he fumbled in the bag he’d packed to find the tracking device.

  For a moment, he took his foot off the accelerator, allowing the truck to slow to a more manageable pace. Switching it on, he waited for it to warm up and find Reggie in the vastness of the Montana landscape.

  For what felt like forever, the screen remained dark. Then it blinked to life and displayed a bright green dot. It was moving. It had to be Reggie. She had to be alive.

  Sam pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator. She wasn’t more than five minutes in front of him.

  He held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he maneuvered the curves, increasing his speed as he came out of them. If the master had shoved Reggie into his sedan alive, he hadn’t had time to stop and kill her. As long as they were still moving, Reggie had a chance. Once they stopped, all bets were off.

  All the more reason for Sam to catch them before that happened. He pushed harder on the accelerator, screaming around the curves, the bed of his pickup swinging wider, almost pushing him into a spin. He righted the truck, slowed slightly on the next turn and raced on.

  The satellite phone rang in his lap. He fumbled with it to answer, keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

  “You just passed Kujo and Molly,” Hank said. “They’re at their site. It’s an old barn. They’re high-tailing it back to the ATV and will continue on the road to catch up with you.”

  “I’ve got Reggie on the GPS tracker. They’re still moving. I’m maybe four minutes behind them.”

  “Stay on them,” Hank said. “Bear, Taz and Chuck haven’t checked in yet. Wait. That’s them now. I’ll call right back.”

  A quick glance at the tracker assured him Reggie was still on the move, but they were slowing.

  His pulse raced, and his heart squeezed hard in his chest. Reggie’s life hung in the balance of a few short minutes.

  If the Master stopped, he could kill her in less than a second. Sam could be too late.

  He leaned into the steering wheel, urging the truck to go faster, the curves to be straighter and Reggie to live long enough for him to save her.

  The satellite phone rang.

  Sam grabbed it and held it to his ear. “Talk to me, Hank.”

  “Bear and Taz are on foot, closing in on a dilapidated two-story house that appears to have been abandoned.”

  “And?” Sam prompted, impatiently.

  “They just saw a car drive into a lean-to on the other side of the structure. A dark, four-door sedan.”

  “Tell them to shoot the bastard,” Sam entreated.

  “They can’t see him from their vantage point. They’re moving around the perimeter now.”

  “They can’t wait. He might kill her.”

  “They don’t have a clear line of fire. Got your radio headset?” Hank asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wear it. You don’t want to shoot each other.”

  He reached for the earbud, fumbled to slip it into his ear and switch it on. “Got it on,” he reported.

  “Good,” Hank said. “I’m not far behind you. Don’t do anything crazy. Remember, we’re better as a team. We can’t let this guy get away because we were too hasty in our decisions.”

  Sam gritted his teeth. “I’m three minutes out, closing in. If they don’t get to him first…I will. He will not get away.”

  Chapter 15

  “Get out!” the Master said, his voice a menacing growl.

  Reggie blinked at the flashlight beam shining down into the trunk and her eyes. Gripping the canister of mace in her palm, she waited, not wanting to blow her only chance because she couldn’t see his face. The mace had to hit him square in the eyes to blind him long enough for her to make her escape.

  She sat up and braced her free hand on the edge of the trunk

  “Get out!” He reached a cattle prod into the trunk and hit her with the charged end.

  A surge of 50,000 volts blasted through her, sending her falling back, her body jerking. The hand with the canister automatically opened, and the mace can rolled out.

  “Hurry up, bitch, or you get it again.”

  “I can’t move when you zap me with that,” she said through clenched teeth, her hand patting the floor, searching for the little canister. Just when she thought she’d lost it, her fingers touched the smooth metal. Curling her fingers around it, she gripped the side of the trunk and pulled herself up.

  Before she could get her balance, the Master grabbed her hair and yanked her out onto the ground.

  She landed on her hands and knees, her knuckles slamming against the gravel. But she didn’t let go of the little canister. And now that she was out of the trunk and her eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the lean-to he’d pulled the car under, she could aim and put her plan into action.

  “Get up!” he yelled. He raised the cattle prod, swinging it toward her.

  Reggie lurched to her feet, spun and faced the bastard. “Don’t hit me again,” she said, through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. You’ve caused me more than enough trouble. Now, I’ll have to get rid of you and the others.”

  Before he could hit her again with the business end of the cattle prod, Reggie raised her hand and sprayed mace straight into eyeholes of his ski mask.

  The man screamed and clutched at his eyes with his empty hand, while swinging the cattle prod in the air in a wild attempt to zap her.

  Unfortunately, to make her escape, she had to either go through him to get out into the open or go into the house through the door behind her. Armed with the cattle prod, even if he couldn’t see clearly, the Master could hit her in one of his wildly swinging moves.

  Taking her chances on the house, she lunged for the door and yanked it open. Reggie dove into the kitchen, turned, closed the door and twisted the lock. Since the top of the door was a window, it wouldn’t hold him long. Reggie ran out of the kitchen and through to the old sitting room.

  The muffled sound of dogs barking came from somewhere else in the house. Reggie prayed they were locked in another room and wouldn’t be able to come out at tear her apart.

  What little light that filtered through the filthy windows cast shadows on the ragged furniture, making it difficult for her to weave her way through what once had been a happy home, but was now a house of horrors. She remembered the sagging, dusty sofa, the faded wingback chair and the fireplace that smoked whenever he chose to light a fire in the grate. She remembered the path he’d taken her from the stairs in the hallway, through the sitting room and into the bedroom where he’d raped her and the other women.

  Her anger fought against fear. She wasn’t drugged now. Her head was clear, and she’d be damned if he’d get away with hurting her ever again.

  Glass shattered, and the door slammed open in the kitchen.

  Her heart in her throat, Reggie searched the room for a weapon. She’d used as much of the mace as possible the first time around. It was only meant to be used once to allow her time to get away. The sitting room had no doors to the outside. Reggie passed through to a hallway that had once been a front entryway with a large wooden door. She ran to the door, gripped the handle and pulled hard. It didn’t budge. Not even a little. She twisted the deadbolt and pulled again. Nothing.

  The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor sent her across the hall into another room devoid of furniture, with moth-eaten curtains hanging on the long windows too thick with dust and dirt to see through. A broken wooden chair
lay on its side in a corner, covered with cobwebs.

  Reggie ran for the chair, grabbed it and swung it at the closest window.

  The glass shattered, leaving razor-sharp shards jutting up from the window frame. Using the chair, she wiped at the shards, knocking them loose.

  The footsteps sounded in the entryway, crossing the hall. From all the noise she was making, he’d know which room he’d find her in. Reggie threw down the chair, swung her leg over the windowsill and screamed.

  Sharp pinpricks pierced her back and electrical shocks burned through her nerves.

  She fell back on the floor, completely incapable of moving to defend herself.

  No. No. No.

  The Master entered the room, pulled zip-ties from his back pocket, rolled her over and secured her wrists together behind her back.

  Reggie knew from having experienced being tased before that that the effects lasted between five and thirty seconds. If he didn’t secure her legs, she still had a chance of getting away. Any chance was better than none. As long as he didn’t carry her down the basement before the paralysis wore off…

  One thousand and one. One thousand and two.

  The Master, lifted her, flung her over his shoulder and took her to the hallway where he unlocked the door that led into the cellar below.

  One thousand and three. One thousand and four.

  Reggie could feel some of the feeling returning to her fingertips and toes, but she still couldn’t move her arms or legs.

  He descended the steps one at a time, slowed by the effort of carrying the deadweight of her body.

  One thousand and five. One thousand and six.

  Come on muscles. Work!

  One thousand and seven. One thousand and eight.

  At the bottom of the steps, he paused in front of a wooden door, fumbling with a key on a keychain clipped to his belt loop. A battery-powered lantern hung on a hook on the wall. Sobs sounded behind other doors along the narrow passageway.

  They were still alive. Relief flooded through Reggie, and determination swelled in her chest. She had to get them out.

  One thousand and nine.