“Our plane crashed. Three of us were killed. Lando and I, my name is Christy…” Christy began, but the large blond man cut her off.
“You out here with your husband?” he asked.
Christy noted the now apprehensive look on his face. He seemed pensive, as were the others. Their gazes shifted around nervously.
“No, he’s not my husband. He’s the only other survivor from the plane crash we were in,” she explained, though she began to feel her own apprehension mounting. Her intuition began screaming something wasn’t right.
On further inspection she could see two of the men appeared to be spattered in blood. Their backpacks were large and overstuffed. Grayish fur was spilling from one. When one of the men shifted she could see a large rifle strapped to his back. Christy stepped back, sensing she should listen to her inner female voice. Perhaps it was the men’s own apprehension. The way they surrounded her. Her apprehension intensified.
“He’s close by. I’ll just call…” Christy stated, now feeling a desperate need, wanting Lando close. The blond man moved, lunging for her. Before Christy could offer a protest he had her crushed painfully to his chest, and a large dirty hand secured over her mouth.
Christy struggled, kicking her legs and pulling at his hands and sleeves, to no avail. The powerful man had her in a firm grip, pinning her arms to her sides. He tightened his large hands on her, squeezing until her struggling slowed, then ceased. Her pained whimpers came on softly expelled amounts of air. She ceased struggling and held still.
Christy’s breath became labored. She looked up at him imploringly, desperately. She could hardly breathe. She was terrified. Her eyes began to tear. She began to shake. Her ribs throbbed painfully with the pressure he exerted. She sobbed up at him as old fears surfaced. Christy could hear his rough voice a breath away from her ear.
“Now be good, honey, and maybe we’ll be gentle with you.” The man again squeezed once more making her groan before loosening his grip. She slumped within his grasp. He chuckled.
Lando?
The large blond man lifted her off her feet. He carried her back behind the bush, but not before he instructed the others to do away with the man, Lando.
* * * *
Lando walked back to where he left Christy. He hated leaving her alone, but knew she was tired and he could scout a larger area without her. He came to an abrupt halt when he noted Christy was no longer on the rock where he left her. The food he’d given her lay resting on the ground near where she sat.
“Christy?” Lando’s voice boomed with urgency. There was no way she would leave a place he put her unless there was trouble.
“Oh, she can’t answer. But don’t worry, I bet Rick is taking real good care of her.”
Lando spun in the direction of the cocky voice. A fist connected with his jaw from a different direction. Lando recoiled, then reacted; his foot came up and smashed with vehemence into another’s face. Blood spattered. The man went spinning, and tumbled to the ground.
Another blow connected at Lando’s temple. He spun and sent his fist into a man’s belly. He heard the answering groan; the man’s knees buckled, sending him to the forest floor, rendering him incapacitated. The smallest of the men who had been standing back swung hard and a large heavy piece of wood connected with Lando’s head, sending him into oblivion. He sank to the ground.
“Damn, the man’s got an iron jaw,” one of the men complained, grasping his hand.
“Damn iron foot, too,” another man complained while holding his chin as blood dripped from his nose and mouth.
“Just get him up,” the third man said. It wasn’t long before Lando’s limp body was tossed into the frigid water, where the current carried him downstream.
* * * *
Christy’s hands were tied behind her back. Not far from where she and Lando stopped was an overgrown road. Once the other men returned she was thrown into a jeep and they left to return to a tiny cabin not far away. Christy was thrown over the blond man’s shoulder and carried inside the cabin. Her pitiful struggles stopped when the large blond man whacked her behind, painfully, demanding she keep still.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Christy pleaded once more as the blond man fondled her with rough hands for a few moments before wandering off to the fridge. He cracked open a beer. Upon entering the cabin, he tossed her onto a couch. Christy scooted as far into the corner of it as she was able. She pulled her legs up to her chest.
“Well, it doesn’t get much better than this, does it, boys? Kodiaks for the taking, wolves and cougars for the taking, and now a woman for the taking,” the blond man joked, and then downed half of his beer.
“What do we do with her, Rick?” one of the other men asked.
“Use your imagination,” Rick said, and again sauntered toward Christy, his intent clear.
Christy cowered back onto the couch she was sitting on, her tears flowing uninhibited. Her body shook as Rick sat beside her and once more reached to stroke her breasts. He shoved his large hand between her clasped thighs. He glared into her eyes. He pressed his body against her, pinning her to the couch. Christy began to sob uncontrollably, his intent was clear.
“No, I mean after we’re done here. We already got rid of the guy, but what do we do with her? I don’t care much for the thought of throwing her in the stream when we leave,” he said with some distress. “Poaching is one thing, but murder is an entirely different matter. If their plane crashed, someone will be looking for her. Besides, the other guy was huge and fought back; we can justify that, and get our story straight. But killing her won’t be in self-defense. If we’re ever caught, no one would believe she attacked us, no matter if we all stuck to the same story, she’s too small. And I can see what you have in mind; it’s what we all got in mind. You can’t say you raped someone in self-defense. Not a judge in the world would buy that one.”
“Well, maybe if she’s a good girl I might take her home with me,” Rick replied. He held Christy’s hair in a tight fist and kissed her throat, his mouth leaving a trail of wet slopping kisses on her jaw line.
“Please don’t hurt me, don’t beat me,” Christy cried out. He reeked of stale beer and he bit in tender places.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Rick said. He nuzzled her neck and nipped at her jaw.
“Much,” one of the other men said, and they all laughed.
Christy’s breathing became labored. She was too afraid. They crowded around her, intimidating her. Her chest heaved with spasms. Images of being huddled against the wall at her parents’ home while in agony flashed through her mind. Chad was over her imprisoning her in the same way. The pain of her broken bones overwhelmed her. The taste of her own blood choking her at the back of her throat while an evil encompassing shadow towered over her helpless body assailed her.
Her heart thundered filling her ears with noise. She felt as though she were having a heart attack. She could feel her face drain of blood. Her body began to shudder in a way she knew she could never control. It would kill her to be raped by four men. She whimpered pleading words around a quaking jaw until her voice could no longer be heard or understood over her ragged breathing. A terrible roaring noise started in her head. Her hearing began to fade, and then seemed nonexistent. She saw white spots of lights.
“All right now, just relax,” she thought she heard a deep voice say from far away.
Christy’s eyes rolled back into her head when she was unable to take in enough air. She jerked violently once. Her spasms then ceased abruptly. Her head fell forwards onto Rick’s surprised shoulder. He grasped her limp form, and his roaming hands stilled.
“Well crap, Rick, is she dead? We didn’t scare her to death, did we?” one of the men asked. “I don’t want to take a dead woman, and I was looking forward to this.”
“No, she ain’t dead. She fainted. She’s scared shitless. She’ll be fine in a little while,” Rick said, sighing softly. He placed his hand over her wildly beating heart. He should hav
e realized this would happen. He berated himself quietly. She might already have been in shock from the plane crash she said she was in.
He should have taken her to his room and handled her alone before she was faced with all of them. She would have been terrified by him, but four of them were enough to send any woman into a panic. Now he would have to wait. An unconscious woman would give him no trouble, yet he wanted her to cry out for him.
He could tell she would beg real nice. She was a pretty little thing. Maybe he would take her home with him after all when they were finished here. He lived in the middle of nowhere, all alone. Once knocked up, she would be trapped and completely dependent on him. He could use the baby to make her do whatever he wanted. She would be unable to escape. Rick liked the idea. Now the thought of the other men presented a problem. He wouldn’t really care whose kid it was. But maybe he didn’t like the idea of the others tasting what could be his alone. He was interested the moment he saw her.
“Let me dump her on my bed. We best get busy with the animals we got; she can wait, the buyer won’t,” Rick said. He pulled Christy’s limp body easily into his arms, enjoying the soft, warm feel of her helplessness pressed to him.
“Well, why your bed?” one of the men asked angrily.
“You want to make something of it?” Rick asked, and glared dangerously at the smaller man.
With ease, Rick slung Christy’s slight form over a broad shoulder, leaving a fist free. The other, smaller man knew better than to take him on. They weren’t friends, associates was a better description, and their names didn’t matter to Rick. The puny fuck’s glass jaw showed bruising from where Lando struck him earlier. Each of the three looked a sorry sight. All of them were weak idiots. Rick’s thoughts amused him.
“Just be sure you leave some for us,” was grumbled instead, then the smaller man backed off, as the two offered no aid.
Rick strode off and was soon placing Christy down on his bed. He stroked back a long lock of her soft hair, enjoying the feel of it as he threaded it through his fingers.
She stirred slightly. “Lando,” she whimpered, then remained silent.
Rick pledged she would soon be whimpering and screaming his own name. He decided he wanted to keep this one. Binding her ankles and throwing a blanket over her bound body, Rick rose to gaze down on her supine form.
Keeping her might not be such a bad idea, he reasoned. No one would find her, after all. She would be good company for him, especially during the frigid, snowbound months of inactivity. It wouldn’t take long for him to tame someone so small and helpless.
The more Rick thought about it the more the idea appealed to him. Smiling, he gave a quick kiss to Christy’s forehead. He would help the others for a while, then return to claim her. This trip was proving to be prosperous. He would revel in his new wealth in a short time.
Chapter 10
Lando pulled his battered, exhausted, bruised body up onto a slippery rock. For a second, he rested his cheek on the smooth hard surface. The icy creek lapped at his back and ass, dragging at his floating calves and feet. His arms, spaghetti, he clung and tried to pull his tortured body up. His fingers clawed the rock for a decent grip. The higher he climbed, the deeper the foliage, and he clutched roots and grass. With agonizing slowness he rolled onto the dry bank. He pulled his arms around his chest, shivering horrifically. Teeth clacking hard enough to hurt his jaw. Lando was frozen to the bone.
He had regained consciousness after having become entangled in debris in the stream. Though freezing cold, the stream was only a little less than waist deep. The current had been strong. His frozen, aching fingers felt as though they’d been smashed in a door, he couldn’t feel his toes. His mind worked from a deep fog, and it took him a while to maintain a decent hold to disengage his thoughts from a jumbled mess.
“Lando.” He heard a small, soft cry.
He knew it was Christy calling to him. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain it was her.
“I’m coming, sweetheart, just hang on,” he said aloud, though his voice was tired and he never in his life remembered feeling so weary.
Lando rose and his bones creaked as he tested his joints. Nothing was broken, though his head throbbed. More than once his ex-boss told him he had the mind of a steel trap. Apparently the steel part was right.
Lando walked dazed, stumbling from tree to tree, realizing he needed to warm up or he would die of exposure or hypothermia. If he were to die he couldn’t help Christy. Reaching ice cold fingers into his wet front pocket, he had some difficulty removing the lighter; he fumbled, trying to maintain a good grip. He gathered kindling and small pieces of dry leaves and moss for tinder, at first using his wrists pulled together. He stuck his fingers in his mouth trying to warm them. His teeth still clacked adding to his discomfort.
His mobility was helping his blood flow faster, though he couldn’t seem to make his frozen thumb strike down hard enough to cause a spark on the lighter. Instead he took the lighter to a branch. Holding the bottom of the lighter, he pressed the igniter up against the branch, giving it a shove. The flame burned bright and, using his other shaking hand, he held up a few dry leaves. Once they caught he placed them on the kindling he already set out nearby.
Lando huddled as close as he dared to the flames, his hands needing warmth. He was exhausted. A foreign feeling of aloneness entered his brain. He was surprised. He hadn’t had that feeling since he was a little boy. Long ago he’d hardened his heart to the feeling of abandonment, as he’d hardened his heart to a lot of feelings.
Being with Christy had given him a taste of what he was deprived of his entire life. Warmth, a sense of caring for another, knowing he was needed. Christy accepted him even knowing he would have to leave her. She feared him, to a small degree, but wanted him close. Lando was positive a wall had fallen after her outburst. The way she made love to him was uninhibited, she was so beautiful the way she accepted him.
Lando was guessing at the amount of abuse she’d suffered when she’d given him brief inside images of a life turned to hell. What kind of man would turn on his fiancée after her parents died? Unless it was money Chad was after all along.
Lando’s teeth slowed their chattering. He reached up absently to rub at his jaw, stopping the noise altogether. The coldness in his bones made him feel like a wet dishrag. If he didn’t keep thinking, his brain would turn to mush. A sudden thought entered his mind. Christy felt so terribly alone when the plane crashed. She had been so cold, and he callously took Sam’s jacket away from her. She was in terrible pain, terrified of him, and he thought it best to end her life, to put her out of her misery assuming he knew what was best.
When did you become God? a voice questioned.
Lando gave his head a shake. When indeed?
Christy had persevered. She’d thwarted his attempt—the only one to ever have. Her spirit was strong, a lot stronger than many men he had known. She overcame astronomical odds and lived. Well she won’t for long if you don’t do something, the voice casually mentioned.
Lando sighed. When had his mind gotten so annoying? Though right, a thought flashed.
Lando dragged his sorry ass to his feet and stomped out the fire. His feet, calves and thighs were frigid; pins and needle pain shot up through his muscles. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself; he needed to take action, now. Christy was depending on him; she needed him, the only person who ever needed him.
His movements shaky, he backtracked to their last position. The faster he moved, the harder he concentrated. Lando’s mind cleared. Once again he became a predator. The hunter stalked his prey as he had no other before. All business now, his skilled senses honed in on the ground and the telltale map of drag tracks. The bastards weren’t strong enough to carry him. Lando’s intensity engulfed him. He was furious. No one took what was his. Christy was his. She belonged to him alone.
Lando came across the tiny clearing where he’d last seen her. There were signs of a struggle, his. H
e noted beyond the bush there were only the men’s tracks retreating. One of them had obviously picked Christy up to take her away. The tracks in the road from a vehicle were fresh. They kidnapped Christy. She wouldn’t have been able to thwart the attempt. What was it the man had said?
Lando’s mind reflected back, searching. Rick was the name he referred to. There were at least four of them. Christy would be so terrified. He remembered how frightened she had been of just him. If they hurt her, he would kill them all. Who was he kidding? He planned to kill them all regardless, he thought with furious intensity.
Playing God again? the voice questioned.
“No, I’m not God. I’m just really pissed,” he raged aloud.
* * * *
Christy woke, her eyes blinking as she tried to focus. “Lando?” she whimpered, frightened. She tried to rise, then noted her hands and feet were bound. A blanket had been thrown over her. The fact she remained dressed and felt no telltale pain made her realize none of the men had touched her—yet.
Christy shuddered. Wherever they were, they would be back. They would hurt her. She yanked at her bonds. She managed to squirm out from under the blanket. Being agile, she slipped her bound hands under her bottom and down her bent legs. Her shoes were gone. Struggling, she slipped her wrists past her feet. Once her hands were in front of her, Christy pulled at the rope with her teeth.
The knots were tight and she was having a great deal of trouble with them. She felt elation as one finally came undone and, with the rope now loosened, she was able to slip her hurting wrists free. Christy deftly began working on the ropes at her ankles. It was with great relief when they, too, were free. Christy rubbed at her ankles and wrists.
“Well, you just saved me a lot of time and trouble.” Christy jumped at the hard voice.
Rick was leaning casually against the doorframe of the bedroom, his huge body filling the entry way. His cruel devilish gaze was penetrating, as though searching her very soul. She realized he had been watching her attempts at undoing herself. She wondered with trepidation if he was angry, but his look was that of slight amusement.
Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] Page 12
