Freed (Assassin's Revenge Book 3)

by Crescent, Tara

  She was ready for the cane.

  I had broken the cane Sylvia had used on her in an excess of angry, frustrated rage. I reached for a different one, a rattan cane with a leather handle, swishing it in the air a couple times.

  Her eyes clouded with fear at the sound of the cane slicing through the air. I watched her struggle to push her panic away and to keep her breathing even. “Relax.” She responded to the order by inhaling deeply and locking her eyes onto me. “Show me how brave you are.”

  She was stronger that anyone I’d ever met. She’d survived Dylan and she’d survived Sylvia, all while retaining her own sense of self. “Yes Sir,” she replied.

  To help distract her and also because the sight of her body quivering in pleasure was about the sexiest thing in the world, I turned the vibrators back on. She stiffened instantly, then surrendered. As she fought the waves of lust the dildo and the butt plug were setting off in her body, I started tapping at her body with the cane.

  These weren’t full, painful strokes. They weren’t soft taps either. Each stroke was controlled, just enough that it would send a sharp stab of pain, but not so much that her skin would bruise and tear.

  I tapped at the soft inside of her thighs, the spot where taut muscle gave way to smooth silkiness. Her creamy breasts received attention, as did the soles of her feet.

  I watched her balance at the thin edge between pleasure and pain. I noticed the precise instant when the vibrating fullness in her pussy and ass pushed away her panic at the sight of the cane.

  I watched Ellie face her fears and I saw her triumph over them and it was the most amazing sight in the world.

  Chapter 22

  Alexander:

  At eighteen, I am young and idealistic. I leave France for Algeria. I’m determined to make a difference. I’m determined to spend my days countering the effects of Dylan McAllister. I’ve sworn off relationships. A girlfriend or a wife will only weigh me down and distract me from the road ahead.

  In the hot desert, I am recruited as a mercenary in one of Algeria’s incessant wars. There’s always skirmishes that need to be won and a man who is willing to fight is valued. First in Algeria, then in Morocco and then in the disputed lands of the Western Sahara, the boy that left the comforts of Provence becomes a man.

  At first, I’m naïve enough to think that I’m fighting for good, but after a few years, the truth is gradually revealed. Concepts like right and wrong, good and evil, these aren’t as black and white as they might appear from the comfort of distance. I’ve seen soldiers fighting for freedom, pillage and rape to celebrate their victories. In the Maghreb, I realize the truth that should have been clear to me right from the start. Money matters. Nothing else.

  After a few years, I am sickened enough to return. At twenty-two, I finally pursue my undergraduate degree. In my spare time, I study the stock market, looking for patterns and signs and portents. In four years, I make my first million.

  I learn another important truth. The first million is the hardest.

  When I’m twenty-seven, I finally pretend to reconcile with Dylan. I need to be closer to him if I am to undo the damage he’s caused. I need facts and information, knowledge that only he can reveal.

  Dylan is, of course, thrilled. As he ages, the idea of his own mortality looms in his mind and suddenly, I am more significant. I am someone to be nurtured in a way that I never was when I was a child. I matter now.

  I am cynical enough to realize that Dylan’s pile of money is diminishing rapidly. Kidnapping girls is expensive. Moving countries every four to five years is even more so. Add in the costs of the mercenaries, the secure compound, the guns and the many servants that he cannot survive without, and Dylan finds his fortune isn’t quite as vast as he thinks it is. He needs me for my financial skills as well.

  I pretend to help, yet where I can put a wrench in things, I do. I don’t act openly, not yet. First, I need the names of all the girls and I need to find them, even if it takes every euro of my fortune. Money is unimportant compared with my need to help these women.

  At the end, when all the women have been found, I promise myself I’ll take care of Dylan. Destroy him so thoroughly that he’ll never be able to do this to another innocent young girl again.

  I want to be able to say that I will be able to kill him, but I know I’m lying to myself. That child that clutched at a teddy bear in an airport in Kingston hasn’t receded entirely.

  At the end of the day, there is too much longing in me for a family. I can’t bring myself to shoot my own father.

  ***

  Ellie / Jenny:

  We were in Hanoi. The road was finally coming to an end. We were in a car, speeding towards the fortified compound where Dylan had taken refuge. The deepest desire of my heart – the death of Dylan McAllister – was minutes away.

  I had wanted to do more in preparation, but I couldn’t. I’d spent most of the previous week recovering from Sylvia’s beating and in any case, what could I do? I didn’t know if either Alexander or I would be searched for weapons, so I couldn’t risk bringing one. I hadn’t even been sure if Alexander would take me to Dylan’s compound, so I’d tried to think of options if that happened. Perhaps pretending that Alexander had forgotten something? I would be trusted to a degree because I was travelling with him.

  But for six years since Abeokuta, I’d trained for this moment that I was hurtling toward. I’d spent countless hours in dimly lit MMA gyms, in the boxing ring, on the shooting range. I’d killed four men, the guards who had raped me at Dylan’s behest. The only guard who was yet alive was Daniel Schneider. For six years, everything else had been put on the back-burner as I gave in to my burning desire for revenge.

  Alexander had taken such good care of me after Sylvia had left. He’d held me in his arms and stayed till I fell asleep. The next morning, he’d brought me breakfast in bed. Two nights after, he’d taken possession of me in the playroom.

  After that night, I’d hoped that whatever was bothering Alexander had receded, but as our trip to Hanoi drew closer, it seemed that a distance grew between us. No more sessions in the playroom. We still slept in the same bed, but when I reached to him and we made love, he looked torn. Almost tortured.

  We’d always kept secrets from each other. In a few minutes, all of mine were going to be revealed. But Alexander’s secrets remained his own. What happened to Sylvia? I didn’t know. I didn’t dare go to the prearranged café in Paris for the burner phone to call Lucien. It was too close to the end-point and I couldn’t risk Alexander finding out, not when my revenge was almost at hand.

  ***

  The man who let us in was Daniel Schneider. He gave Alexander a meaningful look as we entered. His eyes ran over me briefly, but there was no recognition in his gaze. I wasn’t surprised. I was not the same girl I’d been in Abeokuta.

  Dylan was about to discover that, to his detriment.

  “He’s in the living room,” Daniel informed Alexander. “He told you to go on in.”

  Alexander nodded. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked casually.

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “Dylan had a tiff with Scott yesterday and fired him. Scott, furious at that, walked off with half his guys. A few of the others are in town recruiting.”

  “Typical,” Alexander muttered. “Is it just you then?”

  “Me and two others,” Daniel Schneider replied.

  I stood off to one side, listening to this exchange intently, while trying to look bored. Dylan had only three guards at the estate at the moment? I wished there was some way to get this information to Lucien. He was out there somewhere. Three guards we could manage. All I needed was a gun and I could get out of here alive.

  Daniel didn’t search either of us. Either it was because he was short-handed or perhaps Alexander was never searched. I was surprised at this. Alexander was carrying a gun. My eyes had registered it when I’d come out of the shower this morning. If I could see it, Daniel should have been able to as well, but h
e didn’t seem to object. Strange.

  But then again, if Alexander was trusted with the intimate details of Dylan’s finances, perhaps he was also trusted enough to be allowed in with a weapon.

  Standing to the side, I wondered if I could overpower Alexander and reach the gun. Would it even be loaded, or would I lose a moment of crucial surprise? Should I first go for Dylan, eschewing the gun for my bare hands? My trained brain ran probability calculations until Alexander turned to me. “Can you leave us now, Daniel?” he said politely.

  Daniel nodded and left. Alexander’s eyes searched my face and he must have seen something there, because his expression became bleak. “Cherie…” he started, then he stopped. His eyes clenched shut for many seconds before he opened them. There was a look of hopelessness that I’d never seen before from him. He laced my fingers in his. “I wish things could have been different.”

  What was he talking about? Instinctive fear gripped me. Had my cover been exposed? What lay ahead for me in that room? “What do you mean, Alexander?” I whispered. “Are you going to hurt me?” Somewhere since Bangkok, I’d come to trust him. I didn’t think I was strong enough to survive his betrayal.

  He shook his head. “I will never hurt you intentionally, cherie.” He gestured towards that door. “Let’s go in.” His voice was devoid of emotion.

  I straightened my shoulders. There was a man with a gun next to me. I had no idea what lay ahead for me, but I was an assassin. I had trained for this moment and ready or not, I was going to face what awaited me with bravery and courage. This time, there would be no tears.

  ***

  The first thing I noticed was that Dylan was older. Noticeably so. It had been six years, but I was still unprepared for the grey hair and the lined face. The years had not been kind to Dylan McAllister.

  The second thing I realized was that despite my surface bravery, I had been terrified inside. When I saw this old man in front of me, my fear faded.

  My cold anger remained. My desire for revenge did not leave me.

  But the third thing that happened was the most shocking of all. “Who’s your friend?” Dylan said to Alexander. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  I realized with a start that Alexander hadn’t spoken yet. He hadn’t greeted Dylan, he hadn’t walked forward to shake Dylan’s hand. He’d just stayed where he was, his back pressed to the door.

  Dylan’s words seemed to release something in him and a careful mask slid over his face. I was looking into his eyes at that moment and the sudden ruthlessness and resolution in his gaze hit me like a blow to the head.

  “Hello father,” Alexander said and my world froze to a halt.

  ***

  “Don’t you recognize her?” Alexander continued. His voice was flat and unemotional. He stayed where he was, his back to the door. I was slightly ahead of him, just inside the room, facing the man who had raped and tortured me for two long, painful years. “After all, she’s one of yours. Ellie Samuelson. You held her for two years. You haven’t forgotten?”

  Blood was pounding in my head. This was his secret. This was why he visited Hanoi. He was Dylan’s son. And he had just named me Ellie. He knew who I was.

  “Bright star,” Alexander said to me. His hand reached out from behind me to lace his fingers in mine and to hand me a gun. His gun. “You are owed your revenge. Dylan has stayed alive for too long. I share the blame in that.” His voice spoke at my back but I was immobile with shock. I couldn’t turn and look at him. “There’s more than one bullet in the gun and it’s ready to fire.”

  My fingers automatically curled around the grip. My index finger hooked around the trigger. I slid the safety off.

  He knew who I was. He knew I was Ellie. He remembered that night in Saint Denis. He knew everything and he’d still brought me to Hanoi. He’d given me a gun.

  He had known I was going to kill his father. His words implied that he thought I should kill him too.

  The images flashed before my eyes in one giant jumble. Dylan beating me. Alexander rubbing lotion on me and holding me. Dylan caning me. Alexander holding me close. Dylan throwing me in a cage and withholding food until I learned to behave. Alexander wandering through the night market with me in Bangkok. His careful attention to my comfort. His obvious pleasure when I came to him, bold, unafraid, letting my need shine through.

  Blood might have bound them together. But they were not cut from the same cloth. They could not have been more different.

  Blindly, I shook my head in rejection of the idea that I’d ever want to kill Alexander.

  There was no thought in my brain, not even a single one. But there was instinct, honed by years of hard training. I saw my hand raise and I registered the way the barrel lined up with Dylan’s forehead. I saw Dylan’s eyes widen with terror. His lips formed one word. ‘Son.’

  I’d had a speech planned. “Remember me?” I should have asked. “My name is not slave. Not girl, not cunt. My name is Ellie Samuelson. And you are not my Master.” Yet those had been the dreams of an innocent girl. Trained assassins didn’t delay enough to voice pretty speeches. They shot quickly before a counter-attack could be made.

  It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

  My finger squeezed the trigger. The weapon fired. Dylan crumpled to the floor and the gun fell from my nerveless fingers.

  Chapter 23

  Ellie:

  “Come, we must go.”

  I looked up from my daze. That wasn’t Alexander’s voice. Jean-Luc was speaking to me and Alexander was over by the body, just looking down at his father.

  What was Jean-Luc doing here? Where did he come from?

  “Now. Both of you. Move.”

  At the snap in Jean-Luc’s voice, Alexander looked up. His eyes seemed to focus again and he nodded. “Make sure Bethany gets out,” he said. Then he fell silent again. He wouldn’t look at me.

  “Ellie, come on,” Jean-Luc urged. “We’ve got to go. Dylan’s guards will be here any second. The cops could be behind them. Let’s go.”

  I looked up at Alexander, who was still avoiding my gaze. “You want me to go with you?”

  “Seriously,” Jean-Luc grated out. “Is this the time for this particular conversation? Leave now. Alexander – your plane is waiting. I’ll follow on a separate flight. And Ellie?” He looked at me. “Do not try and kill Daniel Schneider on the way out.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I said flatly. My mind was still reeling. This haste, this bustle, it was essential unless I wanted to rot in a Vietnamese prison. But the end of the road had been reached and it felt that there should have been more ceremony to mark it. “He never raped me,” I continued. “He just watched.” I shuddered slightly. “I have to respect the difference. Else, I’m no better than Dylan.”

  Alexander looked up sharply at that, but he still didn’t speak. He hadn’t said a word after I shot his father. I wondered if he hated me. He had given me the gun, but now that I’d acted, I couldn’t tell if he regretted the gesture.

  There was no turning back now. The deed was done.

  We stayed in silence as we left the compound, encountering no one. The Jeep’s tires squealed as the driver drove us straight to the airport. Once we were loaded into the waiting plane, it taxied off.

  ***

  “Won’t we be the only suspects because of how quickly we left?” I was desperate to hear what Alexander had to say, even if those words were words of reproach and hatred. I had to know how he was feeling.

  “Jean-Luc is laying some false trails right now,” he replied quietly. He didn’t meet my eyes. “That’s why he isn’t on the plane with us.”

  “Ah.” I fell silent. “Alexander,” I started again, after a few minutes of quiet.

  He shook his head. “Not now, Ellie, please?” His voice was strained. “I just want to sleep. Can we talk when we reach Paris?”

  A month ago, on a flight from Bangkok to Paris, I’d slept with him. This time, he didn’t want me around. A lead we
ight settled in my heart.

  “I’ll stay here then?” Though it was a sentence, the way I phrased it was as a question.

  He looked at me and smiled. For a second, the old Alexander was back. His dimples indented his cheeks, and a familiar, amused light gleamed in his eyes, but only for a second. “You should do whatever you want, Ellie.”

  Ellie. I had wanted him to call me Ellie. But not like this, with an abyss between us.

  “I want to come and sleep with you.” My voice was bold. I wasn’t his slave. Though he could reject me, I had the right to ask.

  He didn’t turn me away. Some nameless emotion flickered in his eyes. Did he feel the same longing I did, with no knowledge on how to cross the chasm that had suddenly divided us? I couldn’t tell. I took a step towards that precipice. He did too. We both moved towards each other. We both hesitated.

  There was nothing in my prior experience that provided any sort of guidance on what I should do now. I just had instincts. The same instincts that had correctly told me I could trust him.

  My hand reached up and I touched his cheek. There was a trace of stubble on his skin and my thumb traced soft circles on his face. “Ellie,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the engines.

  “Please, Alexander.” This was not a situation in which we kept our feelings from each other to protect our pride. We were past that point. Too intimate, yet too disconnected. The truth brought us together yet kept us apart. “Just hold me.”

  He took a deep breath. I waited, my heart in my mouth. Finally, he smiled again, a real smile that reached his eyes. “I can do that.”

  For the moment, I was content with that. So much was uncertain now. Lucien was still in Hanoi. I’d killed Dylan. Everything I’d worked towards in the last six years had come to a culmination, but life was not the movies. There was no curtain that fell down; no pretty ‘the end’ sign that flashed on the screen.