The Ambassador's Daughter

by Theodora Lane

  The smaller man snorted. “You wanted to do her anyway, didn’t you?” The larger man just continued staring at Brett and grinned. Brett shivered. “What are you going to use on her?” The other man had moved to lean against the wall, positioning himself between Brett and the duke. The large man walked slowly around her.

  “I’ll save the knife for later. For now, just my hands.” For the first time, she noticed he wore gloves, and now he slowly pulled them off, exposing large, rough-looking hands, with odd black markings on the backs of them.

  What was going to happen crystallized in Brett’s mind. He was going to beat her to make the duke tell them something. She looked at the duke, who must have come to the same conclusion. His skin color paled, as if he gained years just thinking of what they would do. She smiled at him to reassure him, but it only made it worse. His mouth twitched down, and his shoulders slumped.

  “Now old man, you can tell us now without too much pain for this young lady, or you can watch while he”—he jerked his thumb at the large man—“has his fun. Where is the disk Rogers gave you?” The large man moved into position in front of Brett, and she watched as his hands opened and closed in anticipation and steeled herself.

  The duke swallowed, and said, his voice shaking, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Rogers didn’t give me anything.” The man nodded once, and the large man lifted his hand and backhanded Brett across the face.

  Even though she’d braced for it, it was a hard blow, but nothing broke. Her face stung, her cheek throbbed, and Brett knew this guy was good, just the right amount of force for the optimum amount of hurt. A beating like this could go on for a long time, far longer than any Commonwealth woman could take.

  But she wasn’t a Commonwealth woman, was she?

  Something inside her clicked. She dug down deep and found Major Butler of the United Earth Marines. She could do this standing on her head, she told herself. In fact, she remembered wryly, this was nothing compared to boot camp. After the second week of predawn musters on the tarmac in full pack gear this would be a walk in the park.

  At least her entire body didn’t hurt.

  And she wasn’t standing in the rain.

  She closed her eyes and could see drill Sgt. Berg. They used to call him “Ice Berg” because he was a cold bastard, and could sink you right out of the program. He would walk the line, sharp as a tack, all six foot six of him, 260 pounds of muscle and bone, and then get in your face for any perceived infraction. Her mind’s ear heard his voice, deep and accented, “You eyeballin’ me, girl?” and her barked response of “Sir, no, sir!”

  She’d learned damn quick how to stare straight ahead, no emotion showing. The worse had been the women who broke, sobbing and falling to the ground weak-kneed. They had been hard to drown out, but she did it.

  She couldn’t fail; she was the general’s daughter. Berg rode her harder because of it. She knew it, and so did the others. Her turn out had to be slightly better than the others, her back straighter, her cap just right, more shine on her boots, her hair with never a loose strand, her bunk flawless, her responses quicker, everything just a hair better than anyone else. She had learned to refocus and to drown out Berg’s ranting.

  She remained silent and stared straight ahead.

  The duke’s mouth quivered, and she watched the tears fill his eyes.

  “If this is important, don’t tell them, sir.” She spoke fast, not taking her eyes off the duke. He nodded slightly.

  The large man struck her again. “I didn’t tell you to talk, bitch.”

  Her head rocked back, and once more she focused on the wall behind the duke.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jonathan had showered, dressed, and returned downstairs to the library. He sat at the console and checked his messages. There was one from Stephen for Brett, and several for himself. He went through those, sending replies where needed, and holding some for later.

  James entered. “Lunch, sir?”

  “Is Brett joining me?”

  “No, sir, she is having lunch today with Duke Brandon.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows, and James continued, “She is teaching him poker, I believe.”

  He laughed. “I hope the duke has lots of money, James. Brett is hard to beat. Her bluff is classic. I’ll eat in here. I have lots of work to do this afternoon.”

  “Very good, sir. Sir, do you want me to order flowers for Lady Brandon?” James stood at the door, his expression bland. There was no need for a conversation about what had happened. James knew he’d returned from the dinner in the morning, knew the condition of his suit, and he probably even knew word for word what Jonathan had told the driver.

  He looked up and smiled. “Yes, one dozen yellow roses, please, James. Address the card,” he paused thinking of what he wanted to say, and what he felt comfortable saying in front of James. “I love you” was what he wanted to say, but instead he chose, “Yours, Jonathan.”

  “Very good, sir.” James left the room to take care of the order and see to lunch.

   •●• 

  Stephen stretched, looked up, and checked the time. After 1700. He still needed to finish this; there would be no time to see Brett. He paused, reached for the commlink, and punched in the duke’s number.

  Blalock answered the call, “Brandon House.”

  “Blalock, is the duke there?”

  “No, sir, he went out with Miss Butler around 1100. And hasn’t returned yet.”

  Stephen detected a note of worry in the man’s usually ever-calm voice.

  “Not back yet? It’s been five hours. Where were they going?”

  “Just to the little café, not five blocks from here, sir.” He paused, and then it all spilled out in a rush. “Lord Stephen, I’m getting worried. There’s been no call, even to explain the delay. They planned to return right after lunch and play cards.” His brows looked wrinkled with concern.

  “Right. Call the café and find out what you can. I’ll try the ambassador to see if perhaps they went there instead. I’ll call you back in a minute or two.” He cut the call and punched in Brett’s numbers.

  “Ambassador Butler’s residence,” James answered.

  “Is Brett or Duke Brandon there?” Stephen asked quickly.

  “No, sir, she left to go to the duke’s around ten forty-five this morning. You could try her there,” James suggested. For a brief moment, Stephen wondered if he should pass on his concern.

  “Is Ambassador Butler in?”

  “Yes, I’ll put you through.” The screen grayed out.

  “Stephen, good afternoon!” Butler seemed happy to see him.

  “Sir, I’m afraid there might be a problem. We can’t seem to locate Brett or the duke. They went to lunch over five hours ago and haven’t been heard from since. I’m beginning to worry.” Stephen was more than worried. He was getting scared.

  “Five hours? Maybe they went to the stables? But there was no call?”

  “No, sir, that’s why I’m concerned. They were to come back to the duke’s to play cards. No one has heard from them.”

  “It is strange. I’ll call the stables and check.”

  “I’m going to my grandfather’s and see what I can find out. Reach me there.” Stephen cut the commlink and hurriedly closed his files and left.

   •●• 

  Brett tasted blood this time, and she explored the inside of her mouth with her tongue. Yes, cut on a tooth, the inside of her cheek bled well. It had to happen, this was at least the tenth time he’d hit her. She turned her head and spit the blood onto the floor to clear her mouth. One look at the duke’s face and she realized she shouldn’t have done it; she should have swallowed the blood. The duke choked, and for the first time tears leaked from his tired eyes.

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere. The bitch must be used to being hit.” The man turned to the duke. “You slap her around? Like it rough, do you?”

  Duke Brandon gritted his teeth and growled. “You bastard. Let her
alone.”

  “Tell us where the disk is, and we’ll let you go.”

  The duke’s gaze met Brett’s, and she saw him waver. “Don’t do it, sir, they’ll kill us both as soon as you tell.” The man turned and raised his hand, but the other stopped him.

  “Wait! Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way.” He stood back and folded his arms, thinking. “She’s your granddaughter?”

  “To be,” The duke answered warily.

  “Going to marry your grandson, eh?” He looked pleased. Brett didn’t like the way he sounded either. “Yes, definitely the wrong way.” He walked over to Brett, grabbed her long braid and yanked her head back. She muffled a cry of pain.

  The light fell on her face, showing the duke the bruises, the clever bastards. Her right eye had to be black and blue, her cheek bruised also, and her tongue felt the small split on her bottom lip.

  The man stood behind her and with the other hand ran it down her throat in a caress as Brett suppressed a shudder, but the duke’s flinch gave him away.

  “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she, Hugo?” It was the first time he had used a name. They were getting sloppy in their rush to get the info.

  Hugo nodded, licked his lips, and ran his hand over her throat and down to her breast to fondle her. Brett continued to stare straight ahead letting no emotion betray her thoughts.

  The first time the man had touched her throat she had decided she would kill him. Now she knew she would kill them both. She would get her opportunity when they untied her to rape her.

  “Untie her, Hugo.” He grinned at the duke, who had just turned a shade paler. As he realized what they were going to do he gasped for air. “Of course, all you need to do is tell us where the disk is and we can avoid all this unpleasantness.” His voice tried to sound reassuring but only came off smarmy.

  “They’ll do it anyway, sir, don’t tell,” Brett spoke quietly, her voice flat. The duke remained silent, but his gaze darted between her and the man as he untied her from the chair.

  Hugo jerked her to her feet. He reached behind him and pulled out a knife, about six inches long and shiny. He showed it to her and grinned.

  “Hugo is going to take her into the next room,” he told the duke. He walked to Hugo, grabbed Brett by the arm, and went to the door. In a lowered voice he said, “Take your time and make sure she makes a lot of noise. It’ll convince him to talk.”

  “How long do I have to wait?” The big man practically drooled in anticipation.

  “I’ll knock on the door when he breaks, then you can fuck her. But don’t kill her, I want a turn.” He gave Brett a leer, leaned over, and slowly licked his lips. “Don’t cut her either, I want her pretty.” Hugo grabbed Brett, opened the door, and pushed her inside. She stumbled forward, then spun around to see the duke. She had to let him know she’d be all right.

  The man turned back to the duke and shrugged. “Who knows how long he can hold off? He hasn’t fucked anyone in weeks.”

  The duke wept, and a small sob escaped his throat.

  “Don’t tell them anything, sir!” Brett shouted just before the door slammed shut.

   •●• 

  Stephen took the steps two at a time, and Blalock opened the door before he could ring the bell.

  “Any word?” Blalock shook his head.

  “Did you call the café?” Stephen wanted to shake someone, anyone.

  “Yes. They arrived, ate, and left after about an hour. The manager said they’d left a package, and the waiter had tried to catch up to them but saw them get into a large black car with another man. They drove off before he could reach them. He still has the package. It puts it a little after noon. It’s almost four hours with no contact.”

  Stephen went into the library and sat at the desk. He looked at the console and quickly scanned the incoming messages. He’d thought on the way over if it was a kidnapping for ransom, either Butler or the duke should have received some sort of note. There wasn’t anything waiting in the mail and Butler hadn’t had any either.

  He was sure if they had changed their plans they would have called someone. They certainly hadn’t mentioned meeting anyone. This was not a willing change of the plans, he wagered.

  He took a breath and opened his grandfather’s files. If they had wanted to snatch Brett, they could have easily pushed the old man out of the way and taken her. It had to be the duke; perhaps he was working on something for headquarters. They brought him problems every now and then.

  But why take Brett, what did they need her for? She could have been left behind too. But leaving one or the other would have raised the alarm a lot sooner. Four hours had passed before they had been missed.

  “Blalock, was granddad working on anything lately?” He sat back as he ran his fingers through his hair instead of pulling it out, like he wanted to.

  “Well, he has been spending a lot of time at his desk, and I came in one time and he was looking at a holo of some sort of device. He switched it off as soon as he noticed me.” Blalock gave him a wry smile. “Top secret, I suppose.”

  “A device, you say?” Stephen punched up some files, and started to search. After ten minutes, he sang out, “Got it! Now, let’s see what we have.” He hit a few keys and the holo started.

  A device slowly rotated in the air above the console. Stephen read the files and then opened one labeled Conclusions. The duke was thorough, if anything. Stephen scanned the file and whistled softly.

  “This is it, Blalock.” He put a disk into the console and downloaded all the data onto it. Then he ejected it and slipped it into his pocket. With this data added to his own, he had the proof he needed to get someone to take some action. If his suspicions were right, and he hoped not, whoever had taken both Brett and the duke did so in order to get this info back.

  But it had been five hours.

  What did it tell him? They hadn’t talked yet, for one. If they had, someone would be here trying to retrieve this data, and Brett and his grandfather would probably be dead.

  “Old man, what did you step in this time?” Stephen muttered.

  He had to call Butler and lay it out for him. He deserved to know what Stephen suspected. After all, Brett’s life might hang in the balance.

   •●• 

  Brett stood in the center of the room and watched Hugo as he walked around her. His breath came heavy, and he held the knife loosely in his hand. Finally, he stopped in front of her and licked his lips.

  “Take off your panties,” he ordered.

  She bent over, reached under her long skirt, fumbling with her tied hands, and pulled off her panties, then clutched them in front of her. Hugo reached over, grabbed them from her, and raised the material to his face.

  Brett never took her eyes off him, waiting for her chance. He was big, yes, but he was stupid, and even more to her advantage, he was caught up in the thrill and anticipation of sex. Still holding the knife, he slowly unzipped his trousers. They didn’t fall down; he hadn’t released the clasp holding them closed. As he began to rub himself with her panties, she almost looked away in disgust, but she had to wait for her chance.

  She would only get one.

  Hugo rubbed harder, and then he moaned and closed his eyes.

  This was it, and she had to make it good. In one spinning motion, her roundhouse kick landed in his crotch. He went down on his knees, and the knife flew from his hands as he grabbed his damaged manhood and doubled over.

  She clasped her hands together for added strength and swung, catching him under the chin and snapping his head back. The large man fell over backward, but twisted and crawled toward the knife.

  Brett raced to it as it lay on the floor three feet away, beating him to it. She picked it up, her hands still bound together, but he grabbed her leg and jerked her to the ground.

  “Bitch!” His hand clamped harder as his fingers dug into her skin.

  She twisted around and buried the knife in his chest. He trembled, then collapsed as hi
s body emptied its lifeblood in an ever-growing dark pool on the floor.

  After pulling out the knife, she wiped it on his shirt, cut her own bonds, and then stood and went to the door.

  Brett opened the door a slit and listened. The smaller guy spoke to the duke, laying out in graphic detail what his friend would do to Brett. It broke her heart to hear the sobs the old duke made as he promised to tell where the disk was if the man would just not hurt her.

  They had finally used her to break him, and a wave of fury washed over her.

  The duke had been devastated about what he thought was happening in the other room. Even he’d underestimated her.

  She quietly slipped through the door, holding the knife in the folds of her skirt, and crept forward. The man stood in front of the duke, arms crossed, waiting for him to tell about the disk. He promised the old man he could still stop Hugo.

  Brett crept up behind him. The look of shock on the Duke’s face nearly gave her away. The man started, but she plunged the knife into his back, and he fell like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes frozen wide open and mouth in an “O” of surprise.

  She straddled the body, retrieved the knife, and slipped around the chair to cut the duke’s cords with the knife. Shaking badly, he needed help to stand. Once upright and steady, he pulled her into his arms and wept.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Brett. So sorry. I never thought…” he sobbed.

  Brett held the old man tight for a moment, and then she pulled away and looked deep into his eyes.

  “You didn’t really think I would let any man but Stephen touch me, did you?”

  He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and pulled himself together as he rubbed his wrists.

  “I forgot who you are,” he whispered. “I’ll never make that mistake again, my dear.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” He nodded and then reached down to the dead man, retrieved the Taser, and offered it to her.

  “No, I have the knife. You keep it, and use it if you have to.” She slipped the knife into her belt, and they went to the door. She opened it slowly and checked the room.