Eliana's Warlord
Page 15
"I'll wait until morning."
"Suit yourself."
He grabbed her arm, aimed her toward a heavy, high-backed chair, but his leg swept into her ankles.
She went down, landing hard on her breasts.
His knee pressed in the center of her back. A hand in her hair wrenched her head to the side so she faced the right.
He held a syringe for her to see. "When you wake up, you'll get to play the part of whore instead of the one the boss intended you to play."
He jabbed the needle into her neck and plunged the contents of the syringe into her bloodstream, sending her into oblivion.
Chapter 14
Jax rubbed his chest, pressed along the edges of the bandage as if he could drive the pain away. The wound hurt like a mother but not nearly as much as Eliana's loss did.
Fuck, Noah should have been back hours ago, well before the gray dawn that now lit the courtyard.
Jax reached the door set in the adobe wall, kicked it and turned to face the courtyard. A step and Carlo appeared at the edge of the roof to his right.
"Motorcycle coming this way, Jax."
Lengthened strides took Jax to the front gate, Carlo moving on the roof along with him, a spy glass held to his eye.
"It's Noah," Carlo yelled.
Jax opened the gate.
The engine's rumble grew louder and louder.
Finally Noah roared past, into the courtyard, doing a tight donut and stopping, letting the engine run until Jax was steps away.
"What the fuck took you so long?" Jax said, unloading some of the fear and worry that'd built through the night.
Noah swung off the motorcycle, the expression on his face pouring adrenaline into Jax's system and making his heart pound hard and fast.
"What happened?"
Noah untied the white bandanna. "She was captured, Jax. Happened sometime before I reached Diego."
Jax fought against lashing out, throwing a punch that'd only lead to more of them and a shitload of regret.
"She's behind the wall?"
Noah untied Elias's black rag, then Diego's red. "Yeah. That's what took so long. Took Diego time to reach out and get whatever the hell he needed."
Noah stuffed the rags in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Jax.
Jax unfolded the message.
Train leaving today, your turf. Maybe an hour after you get this, maybe less. Last passenger car. She's there. He'll be there.
Interest in the woman dies with the man. Blind eyes turned in my direction at the bend, a guard who's left his post in the car in front of the last.
One chance—for one assassin. No gun. No bodies left in sight. Disposal handled away from the city and the warrens. My guarantee against someone else's guarantee.
Noah pulled a small box of matches from a pocket and opened it. "Said burn it afterward. Same as he did to yours."
Jax nodded and Noah took out a match, struck it against the side of the box and held it to the edge of the note.
Flames ate the note, devouring it down to Jax's fingertips. He released the note and it flared to the ground, the last of it disappearing.
Jax's attention shifted from the charred, flaky remains to the green bandanna still tied around Noah's arm. "Keep the rag."
"Until I piss you off again."
His lips quirked upward. "Yeah, until then."
"You need an extra man?"
Jax shook his head. He just needed to square things with Rand, in case this was a trap, Diego seeing the poetic justice of it, given that the bad blood between them had started on a different train, over the body of a different dead man.
* * * * *
Eliana woke sitting in the darkness. The smell of Stefan's imported cologne had her instantly struggling to get away, her heart beating frantically against her ribs. The gag trapped her panicked sounds but they raged inside her, and for long moments she was a woman trapped in the present, a child trapped in the past.
Finally, animal reaction subsided enough for her to regain control. She was in Stefan's private train car. The privacy and darkness screens had been pulled down.
Sound began to filter in, voices. Not guards patrolling but men going about their business, getting the train ready for departure.
It must be daylight.
Her pulse renewed its frantic fluttering. She focused on the area around her, strained to hear Stefan's breathing, or her captor's.
Nothing.
She concentrated on herself then.
A rope looped around her upper body, holding her in place against a padded chair back.
Her lower arms were pressed to soft fabric. Rope bound her wrists to the chair arms. Just as rope bound her ankles to the chair legs.
Even knowing it was a futile gesture, she jerked her arms and legs, trying to create give in the rope and find weakness in the heavy, old chair.
There was none.
Bile rose in her throat in anticipation of Stefan's arrival. Panic flared, that she might die choking on her own fear.
She combatted it with thoughts of Jax.
Regret swept in. Maybe she should have trusted him—
But how could I?
Because he'd entered another warlord's territory without guards to retrieve her.
Because he'd paid what had to be a painful ransom to have her returned.
Because he'd killed three men to prevent her from being taken again.
Because he'd looked at her, touched her, made love to her—and somehow convinced her heart that she was different from all the women he'd been with before, that he felt as drawn to her as she did to him—
Only to tell her that what they had could change in a fickle heartbeat, with the next woman who caught his interest.
How could she trust her heart and not his words, especially when her own heart had proven itself untrustworthy that day she'd slipped into the woods to meet Ansell?
I belong to you until I say I don't.
The train engine rumbled to life. Outside the car, there was a quickening of voices.
She tugged at the ropes holding her wrists to the chair, tried twisting her wrists and forcing her arms forward to stretch the bindings.
Footsteps approached. They stepped decisively on the metal steps.
She struggled harder.
The car door opened, allowing daylight in.
Stefan's redheaded man stood in the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust. He said, "Everything is as I left it, sir."
"Good. Raise the blackout shades and then you can take up your position."
Stefan's voice caused a chill to snake its way through Eliana and bumps to rise on her skin.
His man moved into the car, going to the window on the right side and raising the heavy black shades but leaving the beige privacy screens in place.
Sunlight penetrated the thin material and again revealed her luxurious prison.
The man passed in front of her. He raised the blackout shades on the opposite side of the car. Gave her a gloating sneer and left.
Stefan entered and she held herself still against the shudder of revulsion and hate that swelled inside her. She loathed him. She abhorred even the thought of his touch and now, after having known Jax's lips, Jax's hands, Jax's body against hers, in hers…
She wasn't sure she could pretend that Stefan's touch didn't affect her the same way the would-be rapists in the warrens had.
Stefan stopped in front of the chair. His gaze dropped from the picture of his dead first wife on the wall behind Eliana, to her.
Without warning, he backhanded her, sending pain splintering through her cheek.
The taste of blood filled her mouth and soaked into the gag. She pressed the back of her head to the chair, turned her face away from him, jerked frantically at her bindings.
He struck again, the second blow as hard as the first.
Her cheekbone burned and throbbed. Her eyes watered and wept in contrast to the fury howling inside her.
The car lurched forward as the train began moving.
Eliana's heart raced, frantic with the desire to escape.
Stefan leaned in, his hand going to her throat, not Jax's erotic collaring, but a brutal grip that promised pain and fear. "When we get to New Salt Lake, we'll marry privately. Immediately after the ceremony, I'll turn you over to a doctor. He'll make sure you're not carrying the warlord's spawn."
Spittle landed on her face and there was no hiding her revulsion. His hand tightened, choking off air. "I would have treated you the same way I did her, with the care of a husband. But now you'll serve a different purpose. I'll treat you like the whore you are until you give me the one thing I can still value, a child. And then we will both be freed from a marriage that no longer suits."
The threat had no power to scare. She'd known from the beginning that if she attempted escape, and failed, he would one day arrange for a death that left him playing the part of a grieving widower.
He released her and she sucked in a breath as he moved to the desk, opened the middle drawer and removed a thin dagger. "I might as well begin unwrapping my very expensive, very ungrateful whore."
The train was picking up speed. And as she had on the long walk to Josiah's with the would-be rapists, Eliana's mind tried to float away from her body, to retreat into the memories she'd made with Jax.
She fought that retreat even as she used it to appear passive, resigned to her fate. She could endure Stefan's touching her, especially if it led to his becoming overconfident. If it led to a chance to kill him.
Those behind the wall were sheltered from violence. But in the warrens, she'd seen how quickly it could erupt, how fast a man could die.
She might not leave this train alive. But she could accept her death if it was the price for his.
Regret was a haunting wave of pain through her chest. She wished she'd had more time with Jax. That she could rewrite the ending of their story.
But if she somehow survived this and escaped, it would be to find her family, to create a life away from the warren and the warlord.
Stefan returned with the knife, leaned down and cut the rope that secured her ankle to the chair leg.
Heated prickles rushed into her foot. She made a small sound, circled her foot and brought her leg inward rather than kicking at him.
She needed to be patient. She needed to wait for the right moment to attack.
He couldn't keep his guard up forever. Might not even believe she was capable of killing him. But she was. She would if she got the chance.
He cut the rope at her other ankle, his gaze going to the front of the green hoodie.
* * * * *
One after another the cargo cars rolled past where Jax stood at the corner of a house near the bend. With each car that passed, the train gained speed.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Every guard he saw faced in the opposite direction, toward Diego's warren miles away.
Eleven. Twelve.
He either risked his life by trusting Diego, or he let her go. The burned notes eliminated any proof of betrayal.
Jax sprinted, angling toward the next to last passenger car.
Reaching it, he caught the metal railing and pulled himself onto the narrow balcony.
The privacy screens were down.
He edged forward, half expecting to find a guard waiting for him on the wider balcony at the end of the car.
There was no one there.
A guard had left his post, as Diego had promised.
Jax swung down onto the coupler base. Took a deep breath and moved steadily toward the next car, trying to ignore the rails streaking past below him.
Fall wrong and lose an arm or a leg, if the wheels didn't roll over his head or across his torso.
He reached the front balcony of the next car, grabbed the railing and pulled himself over. No mistakes now. He needed to do this right to have a future with Eliana.
He slid the knife from its sheath along his right thigh.
He had a backup on his left thigh, a flip-out blade in a pocket, but he felt naked without the gun.
That was something he'd have to consider. If he wasn't careful, he'd become too dependent on the gun. Get sloppy and careless because of it.
Not today. Today he wouldn't be sloppy or careless. His woman's life depended on it.
Moving forward along the left side of the passenger car, he noted the buildings speeding past. He was running out of time.
Wait too late and there was no getting off the train.
Near the rear of the car, another surge of adrenaline dumped into his system.
He rounded the corner.
A guard spun toward him, reached for a holstered gun.
Jax kicked, landing a blow to the man's gut.
The guard tipped forward and Jax grabbed dark red hair, used it to jerk the guard's face into a swiftly raised knee.
One. Twice.
Followed by a headlock and a savage twist of the guard's head and neck.
Jax let the body fall and grabbed the square handle set into the door.
It lifted without resistance.
Regardless of what he found inside, this needed to be quick. He didn't have time to cut Thorpe's balls and dick off, to make him suffer for crimes against a warlord and the woman he'd claimed.
Hand tightening on the knife, Jax jerked the door open and surged inside.
The man who had to be Stefan Thorpe spun to face him, eyes widening with fear, gaze flicking to a desk that probably hid a gun.
Eliana was bound to a chair, the front of the green hoodie and shirt cut open, the bra he'd given her severed and parted to reveal her breasts.
"Jax," she said, and he would willingly kill a hundred men to hear her voice, to see the look in her eyes that proclaimed him a hero.
Thorpe held a dagger but was backing quickly toward the desk.
Jax lunged, blocked the unskilled swing of the knife, the parry of a man used to having others do his dirty work, of a man who would assault a woman who was helpless to defend herself against him.
A kick sent Thorpe backward into the wall. Darting eyes revealed the location of another gun on the other side of the passenger car.
Try it, Jax thought, kicking at Thorpe.
He dodged and dashed toward the opposite side of the car.
A savagery Eliana hadn't known she possessed until she'd escaped into the warrens filled her.
She thrust out her legs, using them to send Stefan onto his hands and knees.
In a heartbeat Jax was on him, the blade in his hand swiping across Stefan's throat.
Stefan jerked, sobbed and gurgled, and died at her feet.
Eyes holding the same savagery she felt, Jax looked at her, growled, "Nobody takes what's mine. Nobody touches what mine. You belong to me."
"Until you say I don't," she flung at him, unwilling to hide the pain his words had caused. "Until you move on to another woman."
"Never."
He slammed his mouth onto hers in a brutal kiss that ended far too quickly.
"I'm yours. Until death and beyond it." He cut the ropes holding her to the chair and pulled her upright. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."
He grabbed her hand, released it at the doorway.
Satisfaction swelled inside her at seeing that he'd killed her captor.
Jax dragged the dead man inside.
Eliana reached for the holstered gun but Jax grabbed her wrist. "No. There were negotiations; I wasn't part of them. I came for you. You're all I'm leaving with."
He pulled her through the doorway, shut the door behind her. Her heart sped at how quickly the houses and rubble were being put into the distance.
Jax cupped her face, stared into her eyes. "You're the one I want. Now and forever.
"
He kissed her, a tender press of lips into a heated declaration of need and desire, then let her go to climb over the railing at the corner. "If you jump, try to roll when you hit the ground."
He turned and flung himself off the train, leaving the choice to her.
Stay aboard, using the gun if necessary to stay alive long enough to reach the place she'd imagined herself leaving the train? Or let go of the past, forgive herself for the mistake she'd made when she was twelve? Trust herself, and him by once again following her heart?
The answer came easily. She rushed to the corner and climbed over the railing. A breath to counter the fear welling inside her and she sprang from the train, curling into a ball as the ground came slamming toward her.
The collision jarred her. For an instant there was pain but it was followed by exhilaration, by a sense of freedom and a happiness unlike any she'd known.
Free of New San Jose, she would find a way to get word to her family. Free, she would do anything she could to help Jax find his brother and sister.
She scrambled to her feet, a joyous laugh escaping at seeing Jax rushing toward her. Her warlord.
Strong hard arms locked her to him. "You're okay?" he asked.
"Better than okay."
"I got there in time?"
"Yes."
The arms tightened. "He died too quickly."
"They both did. But it doesn't matter now." Eliana brushed her mouth against his. "You're the one I want. Now and forever."
Jax hadn't realized he needed the words until they slammed into him with enough force to make him want to go down to his knees.
He collared her neck, rubbed his thumb over the passion mark on her throat. It wasn't enough. It had been before, but now it wasn't.
He needed his ink on her. He needed to wear hers, and if Enrique couldn't get her name over his heart with a cover-up, if the only way she could be sure of him was if it wrapped around his dick—well…
He parted her lips and swallowed the needy sound of her pleasure.
He'd known she was trouble, beautiful, perfect trouble.
His trouble.
# # #
Thank you!