Hell Bent

by Heather Killough-Walden

A massage might be nice…

  “She could come here?” She asked softly.

  Alex straightened. “Yes,” he answered, trying not to sound too overly hopeful. “I can give her a call right now. She brings the table and everything.” He was about to go further in his explanation when his front jacket pocket vibrated against his chest. He took out the cell phone, opened it, and placed it to his ear. “Jackson.”

  Annabelle watched him as his eyes widened. “He what?” He asked, his tone thoroughly surprised. “You’re shitting me.” He looked up at Annabelle and then turned away slightly, as if embarrassed that he’d cursed in front of her. This brought a smile to Annabelle’s face.

  “No, I’ll deal with it myself. Trust me, you don’t want to be responsible for this one.” He closed the phone and replaced it in his pocket, returning his attention to Annabelle. “I have to go. But I’ll get the call in to Victoria on my way out. She should be here within the hour.”

  Annabelle sighed and shrugged. “That sounds fine, Alex. Thanks.”

  Alex watched her for another moment and then nodded. “Sit tight.” As he turned to leave, she called softly after him.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Alex shot her a glance over his shoulder and then left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  Annabelle watched him go. Then she stood and quickly made her way to the door, taking care not to make any noise as she moved. She pressed her ear to the door and listened carefully.

  “… Mr. Thane’s transportation… no, he’d kill you…”

  Annabelle’s brow furrowed. She cupped her hands around her ear and concentrated.

  “First time in something like twenty years, I think.” It was Alex’s voice. He was talking to one of the other men. There was movement too. A bag or jacket being zipped up. The metallic clinking of gun parts being checked and loaded.

  “Jack Thane’s fallen off the wagon.” Someone laughed and then whistled low. “Wow. What do you make of that?” That voice belonged to a young man by the name of Simon Jeremiah. He’d only been working for Jack for a few years, if she had her information correct. He was Australian, in his early twenties, and the buff blonde was very much into surfing in his spare time. Which he had little of these days. Working for Jack Thane was no cake walk. But, rumor had it that the job paid very well.

  “I think you know as well as I do what to make of it. It’s no mystery.” Alex crossed the room then, if Annabelle was hearing correctly. His boots made a specific sound on the hardwood floor in the den outside her room.

  “You know the rules,” Alex went on. “She has free reign of every public area within the building, but she’s not to leave the complex. And if she steps out of this apartment, you’re not to leave her side. Not for anything.”

  “You,” Alex said then, addressing someone else. “Call this woman and have her in Miss Drake’s quarters within the hour. Money is no concern. She knows the drill.” Alex’s tone of voice had changed to become more managerial and direct. He was giving someone orders.

  “And you two will have to meet her at the door. Check for weapons. She’s used to that as well.”

  Okay. So, if Annabelle was counting correctly, Alex had addressed three different groups of people. Simon was one of at least four men who would be left to guard her.

  She stepped back from the door and took a deep breath. There was no way she could take out four men. With a gun, yes. Apparently, that much had been proven. But, in any other way, shape or form, not a chance. And she couldn’t shoot those guys anyway.

  She was screwed on using this opportunity as an escape route.

  Which made her wonder about a few things. She paced across the room to a door on the opposite end and went through. Beyond was a complete in-home gym, set up with a steam room on one end and a sauna on the other. Between the two, against the wall, was a roiling, boiling hot tub, steaming and waiting to relieve the ache of inflamed muscles.

  She ignored all of those things and headed for the rack of weights instead. She lifted a twenty pound dumbbell in each hand and began to curl them. As she did so, she stared blankly at herself in the mirror and wondered why she wanted to escape so badly. Where would she run to? And how long, exactly, did she think she would be able to remain missing before someone – before Jack – found her?

  Not long.

  Jack…

  Her wrists and hands were still sore from the abuse they’d taken in the alley that night. Scrapes on the backs of her hands were just now healing, and the bruises around her wrists from the cuffs were deepening into their ugliest colors. She felt a mild ache in them as she worked the weights, but ignored it.

  Her mind was stuck in re-wind now, reliving the events of the last few days, from their fight in the alley to the scenes that played out afterwards, like a nightmare domino effect.

  He’d lied to her and that had hurt her. She’d run, simply wanting to get away from the craziness for a while. To hide. But, he’d caught her of course and they’d yelled at one another. Said awful things.

  She’d told him that she hated him. As she remembered the words she’d spoken, she realized that from that moment on, Jack Thane had been a different person.

  He’d brought her back to his flat at the top of Canary Wharf Tower and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she would not be leaving the premises for the next several days. She’d rebelled, going so far as to shove him square in the chest at one point. She’d told him she was not a piece of his real estate, to be bought or kept – she wasn’t property. She’d demanded that he allow her to go home, to take care of what was left of DesignMax, and to attend Max Anderson’s funeral.

  She’d been worried, over the last few days, about what the cops were going to do or say about her disappearance. And Dylan’s. And she’d been worried about Mackenzie, the jerk that trapped Max and Annabelle in a never-ending contract for a web site that would never quite manage to be to Mackenzie’s liking. Would Mackenzie sue DesignMax because of the unfinished site? Would Dylan end up suffering for that?

  Annabelle had things to tend to and she’d said as much to Jack.

  Jack, for his part, had laughed a mirthless laugh and simply shaken his head, his blue eyes blazing madly. He’d told her she would be going nowhere.

  When she made a dive for the cell phone on the table beside her bed, he’d beat her to it and pocketed the item. “I’ll be closing your account with the phone company,” he’d said, his tone matter-of-fact, his expression cold. “Since you obviously have no concept of keeping yourself safe, you’ll have no further contact with the outside world until I deem it prudent.”

  And then she had attacked him, picking up a hard-backed book from one of the shelves and hefting it at him with all of her might. He’d dodged it easily, so she rushed him. And, of course, he’d caught her, spun her around, and tossed her onto the bed with no effort whatsoever.

  But his eyes were positively ablaze. An anger such as she’d never before witnessed was radiating off of his tall frame in heated waves. “Keep it up,” he’d told her. “I can keep going.” He strode to the bed and towered over her. “Dylan Anderson can think you’re dead. Cassie Reid will never see you again. You want me to contact your mother personally and let her know her only child has decided to no longer speak to her? Or do you think it would hurt her worse if she, too, thought you were dead?” He’d hissed that last part, his expression something between deceptive control and a hellish rage barely held in check.

  She’d lunged off of the bed, wanting to rip him apart with her bare hands. He’d been right. He was capable of far more cruelty than she’d imagined, and he wasn’t holding back.

  But he made short business of her outburst, simply catching her by her already sore wrists and holding her fast in front of him. “No phone, no computer, Annabelle,” he told her, bringing his face a mere few inches from hers. “You’ve hereby signed away the last of your freedom. You’re not thinking straight and you’re obviousl
y incapable of understanding the depth of the situation.” He shook her then, causing her head to snap back before he drew her close once more. They were both breathing heavily, and she could feel his words across her lips, just as he could feel her shaking in his grasp. “You will not run again, Bella, so help me God.”

  “I can’t believe I actually thought I loved you, Jack.” Her tone had dropped and her words were barely a whisper, but they hit home. Jack’s blue gaze turned steely as she watched. His grip tightened ever so slightly on her arms.

  And then, suddenly, he was letting her go. He stepped back from her, his jaw tight. He stared at her for several long, tense moments, and then he took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. “So be it.”

  It was the last thing he’d said to her. He’d turned around and left the apartment, assigning half a dozen men to watch over her twenty-four-seven.

  She hadn’t seen or spoken to Jack since that night. It had been two days. And every minute had become an hour; every hour, a century. She had nothing to do but think about the out-of-control mess that her life had become. It was virtually unrecognizable.

  And that wasn’t all. She was filled with a much deeper ache. A horrible, gut-wrenching, throbbing kind of ache that threatened to engulf her entirely.

  She loved Jack Thane.

  She’d loved him since that first night, on her twenty-first birthday.

  And yet, she’d told him that she hated him. He’d lied to her, hurt her, locked her up and threatened her. And she loved him. Why?

  Why…

  Because she knew how safe and solid he felt when she had her arms wrapped around his waist while they were rocketing down the interstate at ninety miles an hour on a Harley Davidson machine. Because he was the only assassin who didn’t kill women and children. He didn’t even kill single fathers – or soldiers, for that matter. Because he looked at her in that hungry, determined way full of angst and hope and human fear that could only come with the strongest emotion a being can feel for another. Because he was always there for her. No matter how small or mundane the problem was, he deemed it worthy of fixing it for her immediately. And the big problems were dealt with just as efficiently. He was protective, strong, and confident. He knew what he was doing and never held back in doing it for Annabelle’s sake.

  He’d saved her life countless times.

  Come to think of it, she had even saved his.

  And, when they made love… They claimed each other body and soul, in a tangled desperation that refused to be sated – a heat that could not, would not cool.

  She loved him because he loved her.

  And here they were, hurting each other. So badly.

  Annabelle put back the weights and straightened. She stared at herself in the mirror, this time actually seeing her reflection for what it was. She was dressed in a tight white tank top and black jeans, with her typical riding boots finishing the ensemble. And though her physique was defined, and her muscles were certainly more cut because of it, it was suddenly obvious to Annabelle that she’d lost a significant amount of weight.

  She was wasting away in this situation. She’d had little appetite and it showed. Soon, she would become weak. She would lose what little edge she had.

  She needed to get out. Fast.

  That thought came with one piggy-backing on it. If two of the men outside were going to leave in order to meet the massage therapist at the entryway to the complex, then only two would be left behind with Annabelle – for just that short space of time.

  Two men instead of four. Was that do-able?

  She thought about it seriously for a moment and then sighed, shaking her head. She had no weapons, but for the weights in this room and her own strength. And the men outside were prepared for such an eventuality. They weren’t stupid. They’d been trained by Jack.

  With a strangled sound that bespoke of desperation, she ran a hand through her hair and left the at-home gym, heading for the massive shower in the other room. The hot water would feel good. And she could prepare herself, because when Alex got back from wherever it was he’d gone, she was going to tell the man that she was finally willing and ready to talk to Jack Thane.

  And she knew Jack would come.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jack exited the bar, holding on to the door a little as he did so in order to keep his balance. His eyes scanned the bikes lined up along the sidewalk.

  Either he was more plastered than he thought, or his bike was gone.

  “No bloody way-”

  “Mr. Thane.”

  Jack turned to face the source of the voice. Alex slowly approached him, a concerned look in his hazel eyes. “Sir, can I get you a ride home?”

  Jack’s gaze narrowed. He swayed slightly in his stance, but at least his vision wasn’t blurry. “You’ve got nerve.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I had no choice.”

  “Oh?”

  Alex smiled a nervous smile. “As per your own orders, Mr. Thane, I am to keep Miss Drake safe at all costs. If you get on your bike right now, a number of things might happen. You could kill yourself. You could kill someone else. You could actually make it back to the apartment, with a long angry ride behind you, and then you and Miss Drake could fight. Again. All of those things would hurt her in some way.”

  Jack stared at Alex. For a long time, he didn’t speak. And then he turned to face him fully and closed the distance between them in two long strides. To Alex’s credit, the man didn’t back up.

  “Where is my goddamned bike, Alex?” Jack’s tone had lowered to a growl. His teeth were clenched. His blue eyes sparked dangerously.

  “I’m sorry, boss, but I can’t-”

  Alex was cut off when Jack suddenly grabbed the younger man by the neck and swung him around to slam him up against the nearby brick wall. Despite his altered state of mind, Jack’s body moved as it had been trained to, like lightning. The attack was so fast, Alex hadn’t seen it coming, and his breath left his lungs with the impact.

  “Do you have any idea how stupid it is to touch another man’s ride, my friend?”

  The voice that asked the question was not Jack’s. It came from behind him. Jack released Alex and turned around. Alex dropped to his feet and managed to at least catch himself solidly.

  Avery stood a few feet away, half of his Hell’s Angels chapter behind him. It was a motley looking crew, at best.

  Alex found himself taking that step back after all.

  Annabelle started the water running in the shower and quickly disrobed. She let the clothing lay where it fell and made certain the water was hot enough that it would cloud up the glass door in a matter of short minutes.

  Then she got in and let it soak her through. She was already clean, having just showered the night before, but once you’re under the hot water, it’s sort of automatic to go ahead and wash up anyway.

  After she’d shampooed and conditioned and soaped and rinsed, she shut the water off, and the multiple angled shower heads surrounding her stopped spraying hot water.

  She stepped out, toweled off and pulled on one of the plush robes hanging in a closet within the giant bathroom. It felt good on her skin, warm and comforting. She didn’t bother dressing, as she knew the massage therapist would only have her undress again anyway.

  She left the bathroom just as there was a knock on her door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened slowly “Miss Drake, this is Victoria Albrecht.” Simon stood in the doorway and motioned to a woman who was two steps behind him. “She’s the massage therapist that Alex hired.” He stepped into the room, retaining a respectful social distance between himself and Annabelle, as she was only wearing a robe. And none of Jack’s employees wanted to cross him on that particular matter.

  Victoria Albrecht was a large woman, and Annabelle would have placed her somewhere in her late fifties to early sixties. She was big boned and stout and her skin had that ruddy Germanic complexion that said her body possessed of purely An
glo-Saxon genes and nothing more.

  She smiled at Annabelle, flashing teeth that were well cared for. Annabelle figured a lot of that had to do with how much the woman was most likely paid. Jack wasn’t known to stiff people on tips.

  “Hi, Miss Drake. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance,” she said as she came forward, offering a strong-looking hand. Annabelle took it and smiled back. She was warm to the touch and immediately imparted a sense of calm and trust with that simple gesture. Her smile was honest, and her manner was easy. And instead of the Germanic “Helga-esque” accent Annabelle had been expecting, Victoria’s accent reminded her more of Mary Poppins.

  It was instantly endearing. Annabelle was beginning to relax already.

  Simon waited in the doorway until he could see that Annabelle was comfortable in the woman’s presence. “I’ll just bring in the equipment,” he told them and then ducked out of the room. He came back in carrying a large plastic case. He set it down in front of Victoria and then straightened. Can I get you anything else, Miss Drake? Mrs. Albrecht?”

  Annabelle turned to him. “No, I’m fine – unless there’s anything you’ll need, Mrs. Albrecht?”

  “Victoria, dear. And, no. I carry everything in there.” As she spoke, she opened the case and Annabelle and Simon could both see that it contained a portable, retractable massage table and various bottles of oils, a selection of CD’s, and a few scented candles.

  Simon waited until Annabelle looked back up at him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Will you be okay? His expression asked.

  Annabelle nodded. Simon smiled and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  Victoria asked Annabelle a couple of medical questions as she took things out of her case and began to set up. Annabelle answered the questions to the best of her ability and watched as Victoria lit a fire in the hearth in the master bedroom and set the table up a few feet away. She then took out a CD from the case and turned back to Annabelle.

  “Now, I can tell that you’re one who really needs to relax, so I don’t want you trying to make idle chat with me because you think I’m uncomfortable,” she said, smiling. “Is that clear, luv?” Her eyes twinkled and Annabelle couldn’t help but smile back. It was funny because Annabelle had been worried about exactly that. She really just wanted to slip away from herself for a while, and talking would force her to stay in the moment.