by Smyth, R. A
Chapter 27
She’s gone. She’s fucking gone, and there’s only one person who could have gotten to her on school property, but how? When Ty went to check on her in the bathroom and raised the alarm, we found her phone and shoes sitting on the floor by her locker. How the fuck did he know to take her shoes off?
“I should have gone with her,” Ty moans into his hands. He’s been beating himself up since we realized she was missing. I can’t blame him, I’d be feeling the same way, but it’s not going to do any of us any good dwelling on the past, least of all Sophie.
“Yeah, you fucking should have,” Barrett shouts at him. He’s usually the laid back one out of the two of them, but I’ve seen a whole different side of him in the last twenty-four hours.
He’s been going around like an angry bear, snapping at anyone who slows him down in his mission to find her. Obviously we tore through the entire school yesterday, searching for her and stopping every student, demanding to know if they knew anything, or if they had seen her or Kurt, but nobody could tell us a damn thing.
“I don’t give a shit how much it costs, I want the list today,” Preston snaps, hanging up the phone. He looks as strung out and exhausted as the rest of us. None of us have slept. When we turned up empty-handed at the school, we went over to Kurt’s house, but nobody was around and the place was locked up like Fort Knox. Not a single open window or unlocked door.
“My PI is sending me through a list of properties owned by the Chadwicks’. It’ll be an extensive list, though. It could take us weeks to search all the nearby properties, and that’s assuming he hasn’t taken her somewhere hours away.”
“We don’t have fucking weeks!” Barrett yells, frustrated. “He could be doing anything to her right now. I can’t fucking take it.” He collapses into the kitchen chair, his head falling into his hands.
His words reignite my determination to find her. I can’t afford to sit and wallow or drown myself in self-pity, driving myself mad with what could be happening to her this very minute. Sophie fucking needs me.
With resolve burning through my veins, I storm out the door, grabbing a set of keys from the counter on my way past. The lights on the McLaren light up as I approach. Good, perhaps hurtling along country roads at death defying speeds will help burn off some of this adrenaline.
Climbing in behind the wheel, I start the engine and am about to gun it away from the warehouse when the passenger side door opens and Ty slides in. I figured he would. He probably knows exactly where I’m going too. Not hesitating a second longer, I press the accelerator to the floor, spinning the wheels and kicking up dirt as we fly down the lane onto the main road.
Not five minutes later, we are pulling up just down the road from Kurt’s place. It’s already late in the day, the sun having set hours ago. The darkness serves to cover us as we stalk towards Kurt’s mansion. I know we checked the premises the other day, but we didn’t get inside. What if he has her tied up in there, on the second floor, and we just couldn’t see or hear her yesterday? I can’t rule anything out until I’ve checked the entire place.
Ty moves silently beside me, knowing why we’re here. Neither of us are the sit still and wait kind of people. We’re the type of men that dive headfirst into the action. We need to get our hands dirty and be in the thick of it all, and we’ve never had more of a reason to do whatever is necessary to complete a job. Sophie is our job. Bringing her home safe and in one piece. We will go to the ends of the earth for her, destroy anyone who gets in our way, burn every fucker to the ground.
We climb over the property wall and prowl through the dark gardens. The Chadwick’s don’t have half the security Kirk has. There are no guards at the gate or patrolling the grounds, no cameras mounted on the wall. It’s a piece of cake.
It’s not long before we reach the back patio doors, Ty pulling out his trusty lock-picking kit and getting to work. A few minutes later the lock clicks and he pulls down on the handle, opening the door. We hesitate for a second, waiting to see if an alarm goes off, but when we don’t hear a beeping noise asking for a code or blaring siren indicating an intruder, we hastily move into the dark kitchen, closing the door behind us as we keep our eyes open and ears alert to any noises within the house.
All is quiet as we make our way silently through the ground floor. We open doors, inspecting rooms as we pass, but we don’t come across anyone or anything of interest. Once we’ve cleared every room, we move up the staircase and begin the process again, coming up empty with every room we search. My rage and desperation to find her builds once again as I close the door to the final room on my side of the hall. Ty steps back out of the room he was checking, shaking his head. She’s not here. Where the fuck is she?
Pissed off, I storm back down the stairs and through the house, back out the way we entered. I’m over the wall and nearly back at the car before I let loose the overwhelming rage mounting inside of me. Yelling out my anger, I punch the nearest tree over and over again, until I’m breathing hard, sweat coating my skin. I faintly register the sweet sting as the thin skin on my knuckles splits, the warm trickle of blood running over them as I continue slamming my fist into the tree, undeterred.
I don’t stop until Ty’s hands firmly grip my bicep, spinning me around. He pushes me back against the same tree, stepping in close to me. “Snap out of it,” he snarls, grabbing my shirt and pulling me towards him, before slamming me back against the tree, again.
I growl at him, too lost in my fury to think straight as I try to shove him away. He stands his ground, not letting me push him back.
“Aiden!” He snaps again. “Stop it! This isn’t you. You need to get your head in the game.”
“Where the fuck is she?” I roar at him, every negative emotion inside me bubbling over and threatening to drive me insane if I don’t expel some of it.
“I don’t know, man,” Ty answers wearily, his own despair and dejection clear in the subdued tone of his voice. His anguish is enough to pull me out of my explosive episode, my fists dropping to my side as the fight drains out of me and I sag back against the tree. “I don’t know,” he reiterates in a broken whisper.
We both stand there, in the dark, for god knows how long, leaning on each other for support. Each of us taking a moment to fall apart in our own ways. I watch as each emotion flits across his face. I see his heartbreak, his misery, the despair and hatred he feels towards himself for letting her leave his sight. The same emotions tear through me, ripping me apart, until I’m nothing but tattered pieces that could blow away with a light breeze.
The only reason I don’t cave and give into the feeling of never ending hopelessness is the sudden change in Ty’s demeanour. He lets himself feel all that loss and heartache, but, before my eyes, he rights himself, standing tall and staring me in the eyes, his own hardening with fierce determination.
This is a sudden role reversal for us. Usually I’m the strong one, the leader. I never break, never let anything get to me like this. But Sophie is different. She means as much to me, if not more, than Ty does, and I’d go fucking apeshit if something happened to him.
I’m not used to feeling this weak and powerless. I don’t fucking like it. Lifting my chin, I steel my resolve, and meet his unwavering stare with one of my own. A silent promise passing between us. A promise to never give up on her, to do whatever the fuck it takes to get her back.
He nods his head sharply, silently asking if I’m good. Nodding tightly, we stride back to the car, our steps steadfast and determined, the two of us once again ready to get back in the fight and fuck shit up to find our girl.
When we make it back to the warehouse, Preston shoves a handful of pages into our hands, not even bothering to ask where we disappeared to or if we found any new leads. It’s obvious we didn’t. “This is a list of all commercial and residential properties owned by the Chadwick’s,” he tells us, sitting down at the table and going through the pages himself, circling some of them.
Sitting
down opposite him, I flick through the pages he gave me. Fuck, there are a lot of properties on his list. Too many. There’s no way we can go through each and every one of them.
“Why are you circling some of them?” Ty asks, watching Preston closely.
“I’m picking out the ones that are abandoned, or unused. It’s more likely he’s keeping her somewhere no one is likely to stumble across her.”
I nod my head in agreement, seeing Ty do the same out of the corner of my eye. Once Preston has finished circling the properties on his list, Ty grabs his pen, turning the pages round so he can read them better, and circles the same properties on his list. Barrett and I follow suit until we all have a list of empty properties sitting in front of us.
“We should split up and check the properties near here. We’ll take the first page, you two can take the properties on the second page,” Preston says, getting to his feet. He’s all business, putting the page in his pocket as he straps several guns to his body, over his black camouflage gear. Barrett, dressed in the same dark attire, does the same and the two of them leave without another word.
Ty and I aren’t far behind them, already armed and ready from our failed mission to Kurt’s house earlier. Not wanting to waste any more time, we stride out of the warehouse, heading to the first destination on our list.
________
Dawn is creeping across the sky when we return—exhausted and heavy-hearted—to the warehouse, finding Preston and Barrett already there. They are still dressed in the same gear they were wearing last night and look just as dog-tired as we do. They both look up when we enter, but quickly collapse back into their positions on the sofa when they find us empty-handed.
“Nothing?” I ask as I set my weapons on the kitchen counter, already knowing their answer.
“No, you?” Barrett gets out around a yawn. Ty collapses down beside him, shaking his head. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the table along with four tumblers, two of which are already filled with the dark brown liquid.
Ty pours out a measure for both of us, and I down the whole thing as I collapse into the remaining seat.
“What do we do next?” Ty inquires, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands over his face as though that will be enough to wake him up.
“We can try searching the properties further out of Crescentwood,” Preston suggests, but there’s none of the same fire and resolve that was there last night. “But it seems like a long shot.”
Yeah, that was my thinking too. I just don’t think he would have taken her that far away. He’ll have stayed close to town, but where? That’s the million-fucking-dollar question.
Chapter 28
The clicking of the lock echoing around the room wakes me. Dammit, I must have fallen asleep again. I’ve barely slept since I got here, but I swear, every time my eyes drift shut, he somehow senses I’m at my most vulnerable, and comes to find me.
Once again, I pretend to be asleep. He’s getting more physical with me, and things are only heading in one direction. I’m too sore from his rough hands earlier, and I’m still weakened from my lack of food. I need more time.
I feel him standing over me, watching me. It takes everything in me not to move or give away the fact that I’m awake.
My heart skyrockets as he slowly drags the bed covers off me, unveiling my body. I try desperately to focus on breathing in and out at a slow, steady pace, but every nerve in my body is alert, on edge, waiting for his unwanted touch.
His hand strokes up my side until he’s grazing my bra covered nipple and squeezing my tit before drifting down to my pussy, cupping it. He proceeds to rub his finger lightly up and down over my panties and I hear his breath become ragged as a low moan leaves his throat.
The sound of his zip being lowered sounds like a death knell. The marking of my demise. This is where he will claim a vital part of me that can never be replaced. After this moment, I will be forever stained.
His fingers move from my pussy to the lining of my panties as he slowly starts to pull them down my thigh.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he moans quietly.
There’s no way I can fake sleeping for much longer. Soon I’ll have to fight back. I don’t feel ready yet; I don’t have the energy, but it’s the only chance of survival I’ve got.
As I try to quiet my mind and ready myself to attack, his phone rings, the distraction pulling his hand away from me as he answers his phone. “What?” He snaps out in a harsh whisper. I can’t hear what the other person says, but he sighs before saying, “Fine. I’m coming now.” With one more frustrated sigh, he zips himself up and leaves the room.
The minute he’s gone, I rush to the bathroom and dry heave into the bowl. I spend the rest of the night fighting sleep, terrified of closing my eyes again, but I must succumb into a restless sleep filled with nightmares.
Eventually though, my dreams turn to Barrett and Preston. I’m back home at the warehouse, Barrett between my legs, his mouth sucking on my clit while Preston fondles my tit. This feels like heaven compared to the last unwanted orgasm I was forced to give.
My hands wander down my body until I’m gripping tightly to Barrett’s hair. I can feel a fuzzy sensation at the back of my head, like my conscience is trying to tell me something, but I don’t want to leave this moment so I push it away.
As I run my fingers through Barrett’s hair, something flashes through my head. His hair is shorter than I remember, not as soft. Ignoring it, I focus on the feel of Preston as he pinches my nipple, making me moan, the noise encouraging Barrett to up his ministrations. With the expert flick of his tongue, he sends me head first into pure bliss.
I soon go crashing over the cliff and the body between my thighs moves until he’s kissing me. The taste of me on his tongue is wrong. He doesn’t taste like Barrett. He doesn’t taste like any of my guys.
My eyes fly open as he roughly bites my lip, the final remnants of my dream shattering around me. I knew it wasn’t real, knew it couldn’t possibly be them, but I feel my heart fracture as my dark reality settles in once again.
This can’t be my future. I can’t be reduced to only memories of them, to only having them in my sleep. Clinging to the reminder of them, I gather every ounce of determination I have, picturing each of my guys faces in my head and promising myself and them that I will see them again soon.
Kurt finally pulls back from his attack on my mouth. “I don’t have time to do everything that I want right now, but I needed to taste you,”
He perches himself above me, his hand once again roaming over my exposed body and grabbing painfully at my boob. The guy seriously needs to learn how to fondle a tit. You don’t just latch on and squeeze it like a stress ball.
Licking his lips, he reaches down into his unbuttoned jeans, lifting out his below average sized dick and grinding it against me, working himself into a frenzy.
“Come for me,” he snarls, annoyed at my lack of response, but really what the fuck does he expect?
“I can’t,” I protest, shaking my head. I’m emotionally drained from my semi-dream orgasm and my harsh landing back to reality afterwards. I don’t have it in me to try and work myself into another one so soon.
My refusal pisses him off as he once again reaches out to grab my throat, his hand clamping tightly around it, cutting off my oxygen supply. His thrusting becomes even more frantic as my breathing turns labored.
I seriously don’t understand this guy. His emotions are all over the place. Why the fuck does he even care if I orgasm or not under his touch? Aren’t psychos like him meant to be all about self-gratification? The only explanation I can think of is that it’s a power thing. He gets off on thinking he has the power to make me come. He fucking wishes.
I just can’t do it this time. I can’t push myself to do as he wants. So, as he ejaculates all over me, I fake it, croaking out his name through my squashed vocal cords, knowing he’s narcissistic enough to just want to hear his name on my lips as I
supposedly come for him.
I’m right. A pleased, haughty grin crawls across his face. Combined with his empty eyes, he’s the poster child for psychopaths everywhere. Everyone looks at photos of Ted Bundy and claims he doesn’t look like a serial killer, well, neither does Kurt Chadwick, but in this moment, he looks every bit the psychopath he is. I wonder if Ted Bundy had a similar expression he reserved solely for his victims. I bet they wouldn’t look at photographs of him and think he was just like everyone else. They’d see the deadened eyes, the false smile. The imitation of emotion. The signs that are only visible after you’ve experienced what it’s like to be up close and personal with the monster himself.
“I’ve given you enough time. Tonight I’m making you mine. Wear the clothes I brought you.”
Climbing off me, tucking himself away, he leaves me a broken mess on the bed, his cum dripping down my sides as he closes the door behind himself.
I jump off the bed, rushing into the shower. Washing him off me and once again scrubbing myself until my skin is bright red and bleeding in places. I’m never going to be clean again.
I spend the rest of the day pacing back and forth across the small room, trying to come up with a strategy. I have to be ready when Kurt comes to my room tonight.
As the sun sets, I grab the bag of clothes he left in my room this morning, taking them to the bathroom. Lifting the items out of the bag, I see his idea of clothing is just more lingerie. I’m starting to see what my wardrobe would look like if I gave in and just accepted my fate here. The thought alone has shudders wracking my body. That’s not happening. I won’t fucking let it. I’d sooner kill myself than give in.
Once again putting a hole in the bra's lining and inserting my needle, I take a final look in the mirror, ignoring the drawn, pale look on my face and focusing on the defiance in my eyes. So long as I’m breathing, I’ll fight to survive, for the life I want to live.
