His hand continued their exploration over my hips. I was wearing his shirt. And because he wasn’t very tall, they landed somewhere on my upper thighs. His breathing grew labored as he sought the valley between my legs. I squeezed them together.
“Open,” he whispered.
“Please no,” I begged.
“You didn’t complain in the shower when I touched you there,” he mocked.
No, I didn’t.
I barely felt it because I was in shock from Elliot’s bloody end and the water kept me numb.
“I was going to wait to fuck you until we got rid of that baby,” he told me. “But waiting to make you mine is only going to make you hope.”
He continued talking, but my ears started ringing after I heard his plan for the life growing inside me. Then I felt his lips on me, coaxing them to open as he tried to insinuate his fingers between my clenched thighs. I yielded to him and he groaned. He got more excited and kissed me harder. His fingers felt my dryness and I felt him stiffen. He tried to pull away from the kiss and that was when I bit him.
He roared and threw me on the bed. I saw him back away from me, wiping the blood from his mouth and I smiled.
For a second, I thought he was going to hit me. His eyes were almost black with rage. And then his lips curled into a nasty smile. He pulled open the night stand drawer and withdrew some ropes.
If he tied me down I couldn’t fight him. That was when I knew it was now or never.
“I expected this,” he said as if explaining the ropes. “Don’t think I won’t hurt you. The only thing saving you from what I really want to do to you is I don’t want you bleeding out in the middle of this Godforsaken place with no doctor to bribe. But, I am going to have you.”
I leapt off the bed in the middle of his diatribe, but he caught me easily. I kicked, and bit, and scratched. He grunted, but never hit me back. I didn’t know what he was playing at but I knew his brutality against me was only a matter of time.
He took me face down on the bed and straddled my back. I tried to buck him off but he squeezed my ribcage with his legs and deftly tied both my wrists to the scrollwork of the headboard.
I heard my shirt rip from my back.
“No! Damn You. No!” I screamed.
“I don’t want to put bruises on your body,” he growled. “Every mark on them is going to be deliberate.”
My confusion at his words morphed into clarity when a knife point hit my shoulder. It was then he began to carve.
I muffled my cries against the mattress. He said he wanted to hear me scream. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.
“Now you’re not fun at all,” he said conversationally as he removed the knife. My breath of relief was palpable, but my lungs seized when he slid a finger down the crack of my ass and stopped at my anus.
He grabbed a jar from the nightstand. What was that? His little drawer of kink?
“Don’t you dare get that anywhere near my ass!” I yelled at him.
He laughed with delight. “So fierce … even when you’re strung up.”
Ric caressed and squeezed the globes of my butt, I felt him prodding me even as I continued to struggle.
“Hush,” he commanded. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”
Just when I was about to scream bloody murder, his phone lit up and went off like crazy. His weight lifted from me as he jumped off the bed to snatch his telematic device. He cursed and clenched his phone in his hand like he wanted to hurl it. He glared at me, fury etched in every line of his body.
“This is not possible,” he roared at me. “Do you have a tracker on you?”
“No,” I said as hope bloomed in my chest.
He stalked toward me and yanked my hair up. My neck snapped painfully because of my position.
“You think I’m giving you back to him? Foster?” his nostrils flared. “I’ll kill you first.”
Releasing my hair, he disappeared out of the room, leaving me splayed out, hands tied above me, and butt naked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Matt
Outside the house where The Reaper was holding Grace, activity was brewing. The sun had almost set and dusk had brandished the lot in a golden purple light. Five Buckland County Sheriff vehicles quietly converged behind the tree line, one hundred yards before the property. Matt, Axe, Colt and Kate were in a large SUV behind Trent’s cruiser. Lucas had them send up the drone five minutes before, and what was revealed in the heat signature threw Matt into a fit of rage.
Colt and Axe struggled to hold him back. Trent was in front of them, doing his best to talk him down from the cliff.
“He’s in there raping her! Can’t you see that?” Matt roared. “What the fuck are we waiting for?”
“I can’t send my men in there blind,” Trent held out both hands to push against Matt’s shoulders to help the other two men subdue him. “I’ve read up about The Reaper. He’s a one-man army.”
“I know that!” Matt ground his molars. Grace was probably fighting for her life in there and she needed help right the fuck now.
“Sheriff,” one of Trent’s deputies called. “We’re ready to go in. There are no other signs of life on the property.”
“Any wires?”
“We found three cameras and have disabled them,” the deputy said. “Heat signature indicates perp knows we’re here. He’s moved out of the room and into the one near the entryway.”
“Spray him with bullets,” Matt growled. “You’re not thinking of even taking him alive, are you?”
Trent looked at Colt. “You got him?” Him meaning Matt.
“Fuck you, Stone,” Matt bared his teeth and tried to break free from the rancher who was probably one of the only men strong enough to hold him down. Well, he and Lucas, which was why he didn’t bring his brother. But with Axe in the mix … goddammit.
Kate, who Matt hadn’t noticed had disappeared, suddenly materialized beside them. “Trent, doesn’t this siege appear too easy?”
“It does,” Trent acknowledged grimly, looking at his tablet which was displaying results from the drone.
“Lucas said to keep an eye on the evergreens around the house,” Kate said. “No wires, but you never know, wireless technology and all that.”
“We need a sniper drone,” Trent muttered. All they had were the surveillance kind. “You guys stand back and let the Sheriff’s Department handle this, but if shit hits the fan, you have permission to engage.”
Matt raised a brow at this. There was precedence after all, but this was not Misty Grove.
Trent joined the other eight deputies as they stealthily approached the house. Matt had relaxed enough for Colt to let him go. He whipped up his phone and checked all the metrics from the drone. Lucas was right, those trees could be a cover for …
“Braxton, don’t move!” Trent yelled. “Everybody, fall back!”
“What’s going on?” Axe asked as they all moved cautiously forward.
One of the deputies rushed toward them. “Braxton stepped on a—”
“Braxton!”
A loud explosion shook the ground.
“Fucking land mine,” Matt bit out harshly. “Trent!”
The trees came alive with gunfire as all hell broke loose.
“That motherfucker has machine guns in the trees!” Matt yelled as the four of them rushed toward the fallen men. “Colt, you check on Trent. I’m going after The Reaper.”
Jesus Christ, he hoped Trent was okay. Matt pushed the grim thought out of his head and concentrated on getting to Grace. Crouching low, he studied the rotation of the machine gun. There were bursts of fire then a pause. He pulled out his smartphone to find her location. Shit, they were moving toward the back of the house.
“Matt, you’re not thinking of going through that,” Kate whispered, getting down beside him.
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re nuts!”
“No time to argue about this.” He blocked out his sister’s prote
sts as he committed the cadence of the gunfire to a rhythm in his brain.
“Someone take out those machine guns!” Trent roared. Thank Christ the sheriff was okay as he saw him get up to his feet with the help of Colt.
Matt ran a Hail Mary dash toward the house. He’d be really, really pissed if he got shot by friendly fire. He swore viciously as a spray of bullets raked the ground beside him. Shouting erupted behind him, probably someone or many someones calling him an idiot.
He didn’t give a fuck. He had his woman to save, and he’d dodge bullets to make it happen.
Lines of burning fire slashed through him.
“Matt!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Grace
A huge explosion rocked the walls of the house. It might have even blown some glass out. Ric ran back to the room with a backpack strapped on. He cut my ties and dragged me up, shoving another shirt on me and making me put on sweatpants.
“What did you do?” I shouted. My face paled when a crack of machine gun blasts echoed from the courtyard. “Oh my God, what did you do?
“Wear this.” He dumped a pair of shoes in front of me which looked surprisingly like my size. “We’re leaving.”
“You’ll have to drag me every step of the way,” I retorted, even as I shoved my feet into the footwear because anything that made it easier to run away from this lunatic was always welcome. “How many more people do you have to kill?”
His fingers tightened painfully on my upper arm. “As many as I have to to keep you. If you want less blood on your hands, you’ll not fight me on this. Now move!”
He pushed me out onto the hallway and resumed his grip on my arm, pulling me through the backdoor. He checked his phone, presumably for interlopers. Satisfied, he pocketed the device, took out his gun, and exited the house with me.
I heard urgent yelling from the courtyard amidst the mayhem of arms fire. As Ric pulled me further from my rescuers, I could see why he picked this property to hide out. The back of the house had deep woods so there was no way the police cruisers could have approached from behind the house.
My heart sank as we made it to the tree line.
“Grace!”
My head turned as hope flared once again in my chest. “Matt!” I would know that tall, shadowed form anywhere and it was barreling straight for us.
The Reaper aimed, but before he could fire, I knocked his arm up and the shot went wide. He emitted a frustrated sound and repositioned me so he had both my arms locked to my side, but I continued to fight him. He fired again and I heard a grunt, but before I could see exactly what happened, Matt was upon us.
He flew into Ric full force and brought all three of us to the ground. I rolled away from them and scuttled backwards. It was dark and all I could see were two figures grappling on the ground. I searched for a fallen gun and found one thrown a couple of feet away. I picked it up and aimed it at the fighting men, but I didn’t have a clear shot, not to mention the lighting was terrible.
Shouts came from the side of the house and I saw Colt and Trent leading the charge of deputies. I didn’t even realize the guns at the courtyard had stopped firing.
My peripheral vision caught a glint of metal and I knew that it was a knife, but I didn’t know who had it even though I was pretty sure it was The Reaper. I heard a strangled grunt and suddenly it was over. Matt pushed up from Ric who was lying flat on the ground. He backed away on unsteady legs and looked at me, breathing heavily. I didn’t think, but just ran into him full tilt.
He grunted and took a step back, but his strong arms crushed me.
“Gypsy,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse with emotion.
Activity swarmed around us, but at that moment there was only us.
I was back in the arms of the man I loved.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Matt
“This needs sutures.”
Matt glared at the EMT, looking at the damage the armor-piercing round did to the muscle on his side under his arm. He had several flesh wounds but one was a particularly deep gash that had bled profusely.
“I’m not going to the hospital,” Matt growled. “Can’t you just stitch me up?”
“We’re not allowed to do that,” the EMT protested.
“Are you giving the poor man a hard time?” Kate asked, walking up to the ambulance.
“Weren’t you supposed to stay with Grace?” Matt barked.
“She’s with Millie and Cassie, not to mention it’s Dr. Ryan who is examining her,” she informed him. “I think she’s covered. Grace actually sent me over here to make sure you don’t give the EMTs trouble.”
“Well, I’m done,” Matt announced, hopping down from the ambulance and ignoring the frustrated exhale of the paramedic who threw up his hands in surrender. It had been fortunate that Dr. Ryan had already planned a scheduled stop at Misty Grove to deliver the blood test results and rode with Millie and Cassie to get here.
“You’re still bleeding,” Kate pointedly looked at the gash the emergency response person was supposed to bandage. “I’m not sure you want Grace to see you like this.”
Matt stared dispassionately at his bleeding side and had an idea. He craned his neck to look for Trent and saw that he was busy directing his deputies. Cassie’s husband had been a trained medic with the Delta Force. Well, Colt would have to do. He strode to his SUV and grabbed a medical kit.
“Montgomery!” He yelled at Colt who was talking to Axe.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kate hissed.
Matt didn’t answer his twin but waited for Colt who approached him with a puzzled look on his face. He yanked up the bottom of his shirt and peered at the gash again. Fuck, it really did need stitches.
Without saying a word, Matt shoved the medical kit at Colt.
The rancher raised a brow. “You’re not serious.”
“Serious as fuck,” Matt retorted, walking toward the house that was currently being swept by CSI techs.
“There’s no anesthetic,” Colt pointed out, looking into the case while walking alongside him. Matt noted briefly that Kate was following quietly behind them.
He stared at the SEAL in irritation. “Plenty of antiseptic,” he muttered, entering the house and heading straight for the kitchen and spotted just what he was looking for.
A bottle of whisky. There were several bottles to choose from. Matt grabbed the Macallan Scotch aged eighteen years.
“Hey, that’s evidence!” A CSI tech yelled.
Matt speared the man with an incinerating glare. “Take it up with the sheriff.”
“How does Trent put up with you?” Kate sighed.
“Well, he puts up with Cassie,” Matt smirked. Besides, The Reaper was the cause of all his injuries, including a couple of bruised ribs. Damn straight he was helping himself to his expensive liquor collection if only to blunt the sting of what was to come. If he hadn’t taken the forty-caliber round to his torso, which his vest fortunately stopped, he would have knocked that little shit out in no time.
He pulled out a chair by the kitchen table and pulled his shirt over his head. Of course it stung, but no way he was going to cry about it. He took a swig out of the Macallan and doused his wound on his side with some of the expensive scotch.
“You sure about this, bro?” Colt smirked, crouching in front of him. “I’m not exactly a plastic surgeon. This ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Matt snapped. “Just do it.”
His friend sobered and looked at Kate who simply shrugged.
“Just give him what he wants, Colt, or we’ll never hear the end of his ornery ass,” Kate said.
And that was why he loved his sister.
Matt hissed as the needle pricked his skin.
Several stitches later, Matt strode toward the ambulance where Grace stood with the rest of the gang. There was an anxious look on her face.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “The EMT said you had refused treatment.�
�
If Matt encountered that EMT again he was going to kick his ass. “No worries, babe, Colt fixed me up.” He clasped her shoulders and stared at her searchingly. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I was more worried about you. You were bleeding and Ric shot you.”
Matt ground his molars at how familiar Grace sounded with the dead assassin. “Ric, huh?” Everyone noticed his disparaging tone as an awkward, gouging silence fell on the group.
“Matthew,” Millie admonished quietly.
What the fuck? He didn’t need anyone getting in between him and his wife. Matt knew if he didn’t get Grace to confess every single detail of her time with The Reaper, he was going to lose his mind and eventually, his temper with her. Grace, for her part, had recovered from her stunned disbelief and was staring at him with fiery defiance, daring him to deepen the hole he’d inadvertently dug himself into.
Matt was not that stupid.
So he ignored Millie and his wife and addressed Dr. Ryan who was looking on with interest. “Anything urgent we need to address tonight?”
“No. Grace is fine. There’s no need to do an ultrasound right now as it’s not guaranteed we’ll hear a heartbeat at six weeks. We don’t want to cause unnecessary worry.” The doctor split a look between Matt and Grace. “Looks like you two have more important matters to discuss.”
“Ranch tomorrow?” Matt asked.
The doctor nodded. “I need to return to Atlanta by three in the afternoon for a meeting with the CDC and Homeland Security, so any time before noon.”
“Let’s shoot for ten,” Matt replied. “That okay with you, Grace?”
“Sure,” his wife shrugged. A bland expression washed over her face but her eyes shot lasers at him.
Saving Grace (Misty Grove Book 2) Page 24
