I can get a million tattoos of her name, but it still wouldn’t express how I feel. Wouldn’t show the level of intensity she brings out in me. The night she lost her virginity to John, I nearly killed someone. Not metaphorically either. No, I had gotten drunk, and beat the shit out of some asshole until an inch of his life. The next day I felt better and decided to watch the video to see what she liked.
Everything worked out.
Until now. Now, I’m about to lose my shit because we are ending on day three, and I don’t have the ability, without burning this place down, to consider what she’s going through. Robyn is strong, but there are some things that will fuck even her up.
I feel a pain in my chest I’m not familiar with.
I might not be great with emotions, as in I don’t have any, but whatever it is she needs to be Red again, I will make sure she have it. Afterall, I’m selfish and enjoy her happiness.
“We’re ready to go Mr. York,” a voice chimes.
Once I have her back, I’m never letting her go anywhere alone. Ever. She’ll try to kill me, and if that didn’t turn me on, I’m not sure what will. God, I fucking love that woman. As much as someone like me can.
Chapter Twenty-One
Robyn
Day 4
“You’re such a good boy,” the bastard chimes. Was I a boy? Or a good girl? Or mommy? Very confused here. I’m currently sitting at his feet in nothing but this very odd tutu and a bra, thank god for the lace boy shorts because he seems to think those are necessary. My ass is sore as fuck from the damn butt plug, and my skin bruised. I’m dizzy and exhausted, bile rising in my throat. When I see my boys again, I’m demanding a fucking vacation for life.
If you see them.
I will. My head feels blurry, confused. He isn’t feeding me anything but drugged food and Thumper stew. I’m afraid to drink the water. I really thought if I were ever in this situation, I would fight back, but the only chance of me getting out is through that fucking door. The door that, I’m sure as hell, is guarded. I’ve seen the shadows every time he slips out. In some ways, I would rather take my chances with those strangers. My eyes close as he hums along to the cartoon we’re watching. He moves to sit behind me, and began to play with my hair that he put in pigtails. I’m so not a fucking pigtails girl.
I feel violated. I feel dirty. I feel a bunch of shit I never thought I would. I know this is all him, and God if I ever fucking get out of here, I will reign down shit on this psycho like he has never experienced. How about you feel what it's like to have a sore dick or a huge ass butt plug shoved up your ass. I’d fuck his throat raw with a massive dildo that he’ll hopefully suffocate on. Bastard. This is creepy, and the moment he speaks, I know he’s about to start a new game.
Yes, because that’s what we need. More games.
“Mommy said I’m not suppose to talk to girls,” he whispers under the sound of the TV.
Okay. I could do this. Mom sucks. I fucking hate his mom.
I turn to look at him with a confused face, “why Rey Rey?”
His eyes lit up at that name, and I nearly groan. This is all some sick joke, right?
“She said you’ll make me no longer want to be mommy’s big boy,” he whispers.
I hum and turn towards him. I place my hand on his unfortunately symmetrically perfect face, and say, “we can leave mommy. Just you and me.”
“Mommy will hurt you if she hears that,” he says, eyes wide.
Speaking softly, I say, “I won’t let her hurt you. We can escape, just you and me. Please?” I beg.
His eyes soften, and then something snaps. My back hits the bed, head jerking painfully against the floor, as he bares down on me. His lips press a sloppy, invasive kiss, and holy shit, this is so much worse than anything else. I let out a small sound as he pulls back and grinds his hips into me.
“I wouldn’t have to do this if you would just have gone to the fucking prom with me Ann,” he snarls. Ah, I see this has been going on for awhile.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper with actual fear as his hand closes around my throat. I can feel black spots gathering, and I try to hold onto consciousness.
When the blackness invades, I pray to God it isn’t day five yet.
It could have been minutes or hours, but cold water is thrown on me, waking me and I squirm. I hear a door shut and realize someone must have been standing over me. Fucking terrifying shit right there. Although, not the worst that's happened to me. Small blessing. There are bindings holding me to the bed. I let out a pathetic sad sound as I look around, a new letter is drawn across my stomach, and the room is bathed in this weird lamp that looks like it belongs in a child’s nursery, casting stars over the ceiling. ‘R’ stands out on my skin and my legs start trembling in the quiet room. I can feel the fucking dehydration and the drugs he’s been feeding me messing with my system. Worse? I can feel the heat boiling the room, making me so fucking hot. It’s painful. I’m nervous about not being able to see in the hazy room even though I don’t sense anyone around me.
I almost wish he was here just so I can keep a fucking eye on him.
Everything has slowed down and I can’t tell you if its due to fucking exahustion or maybe the dehydration. Both? All of the fucking above. But the light begins to change as daylight filters in from somewhere, and my eyes flutter with thoughts of my boys coming across my vision.
Thoughts of the future I’ve never fucking considered until now.
Images of stupid Richard and his beautiful face on a little boy, telling us about something happening at school. Images of Archie laughing about something while making dinner in our huge house. Not my brother’s brownstone, but the one I’ve been salivating over the last couple of weeks. Images of John saunterring towards me in our bedroom with a bed big enough to fit all four of us. Images that make me so fucking happy. I can feel tears dripping down my cheeks.
I really thought they’d get here in time.
I also thought I’ll have more of a chance to escape.
Life doesn’t end like that though, does it?
No, in real life, the fucking serial killer murders you, and your boyfriends grieve over your death.
But I’ve never had a normal life.
I’m fucking Robyn Loxley Hood. I just know this shit will work out. It has to. I will be such a bitchy ghost. I cringe as the door opens after some time, but Reynolds pauses, slamming it shut again. Right before the soundproof door closes, I hear guns.
My lips curled up. Like I said. I’ll never have a fucking normal life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Archie
I’ve never moved so fucking fast in my life. The jungle isn’t travel friendly, but money bought speed, and luckily, the location is fairly fucking obvious since there aren’t many large structures visible from the skies in the rain forest. Our Jeeps move silently through the forest as we speed forward, the rest of the cars following behind. Apparently, York called in some favors with Brazil’s government because I’ve never seen so many dangerous armed men before.
Don’t get me wrong, I know how to use a fucking gun. I have mine ready to blast through that fucker’s head, but these guys are an actual militia. I used to assume that Richard’s confidence when it came to his families reach was a little overstated, and possibly, just cocky. Now, I am retracting that statement because he most definitely has reach, and the lawyer part of me is curious on how they keep it all secure. Questions for later though, because apparently I’d be living with the fuckers. John wasn’t as surprising because he’s been around fairly often as it stands. I’ve become used to him, even if he wasn’t my favorite fucking person in the world.
I snap out of my thoughts as the Jeeps comes to a halt. We stopped about 50 yards back, and slowly begin to remove ourselves from the vehicles to draw closer to the building. I’m thankful now that I have a friend like Sheriff, because if I hadn’t been around his shit, I wouldn’t be ready for this. After all, I was like every other fucking rich kid in Ne
w York. Except, I wasn’t, was I? Now, I have a few things that pull me apart from society. One element are the men walking on either side of me and the final is in that fucking building somewhere.
My eyes track the area around us, and the massive monstrosity that has ruined the natural beauty that the rain forest could have had. The windows are small little vents, and the doors look oddly insubstantial in comparison to the structure of the building. Feeling the sweat drip down my neck, a bit of panic rings through me. What if there’s no air conditioning? I mean fuck. I don’t want to imagine Robyn in that situation. I don’t want to think Robyn was in there at all.
The worst part? We have no fucking idea what we’re looking at timeline wise. We’ve yet to come across that damn dagger, and a bad feeling in my gut tells me someone else found it first. That someone else could have easily been working for this fucker. That someone else who hopefully didn’t fucking make it here on time, or else this will be so much worst than we imagined.
Everything is silent for a moment. The cicadas and jungle life around us move to the muggy, barely there breeze that only makes my clothes stick to me more. I dry my hand on my leg before inhaling, and then watch Richard motion for them to move forward. Fucker acts like he has military experience. Does he? Actually, I don’t even want to know if there’s any truth to that. He’s a fucking psycho. I grunt, but I trust him with one thing. One thing super fucking important to me. Robyn’s life. So I guess he can fucking stay. Not that he’ll leave.
John speaks as his hands work quickly over a small tablet attached to his wrist. I have no fucking idea where this kid gets his tech. Richard raises his eyebrows as the small screen showed a full detailed map of the inside that the tech had drafted. “The body heat sensors show the majority of the guards are on the first floor.”
Richard says something in Portuguese, something that’s obviously fairly useful being it’s the country’s primary language. The man, with a rigid scar flashing down his face, nods and speaks orders into a small wrist watch. Damn. I thought my life was interesting as a lawyer.
“Do you see her?” I ask my throat tight.
John flips through a few floors and then grunts, tilting it so we could both see. Now, we can’t technically confirm it’s her, but do you know why anyone else would be on the only fucking bed in that paticular structure. The one a good distance from the others? Of course, it’s a fucking assumption she’s being kept in there as we gauge the building’s height off the floor. Everything is a fucking assumption and I don’t miss the temperature easily reaches over 100 degrees in there. Yet, a cold shiver works through me.
I’ve always been calm and rational. I’ve never been one for blood lust. But right now? I could feel it growing, and I fully fucking plan on making this guy suffer. He’s so fucked. A dead man walking.
“Rich,” John snaps the panel down, “we need to go now. Someone is walking down the hall towards her.”
Richard’s jaw clicks as he shoots the commander a look, and with one fucking whistle, all hell breaks loose. I curse as gunshots ring out and I duck down as the two of us follow Richard. We’re able to stay within the treeline as the fucking security guards floods the front, all rushing forward. Obviously very inexperienced. At least, I fucking hope so because I’m not positive how the three of us against a group of them will face. Then again, images of previous victims now with Robyn’s face on them has me shaking. Never fucking mind. It wouldn’t be a problem.
The back door is stiff as I hit my shoulder into it, and it opens into a small service hallway that leads up. The sound is muted from outside as we enter the cement structure. I’ve never climbed up stairs so fast in my life, and the temperature has risen nearly thirty fucking degrees. It spurs me on, and when a security guard turns the corner, John easily punches him and the man falls off the railing, down onto the floor of the foyer six flights below.
“Oops.” John offers a small smirk as if he didn’t just kill someone.
A door stands open at the end of the hallway, just slightly, and I can feel my heart pumping overdrive. I push the door open and my eyes widened in horror.
Well, if this isn’t one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever witnessed.
Remember, I’m a partner at a law firm that handles serial killer cases. This though? Oh, this takes the fucking cake. The smell coming from the room is burnt plastic, and the sun streams down in small slats, nearly making some of the children’s… toys look melted. Is this a kids room? Richard’s roar has me looking away from the fucked up children’s room that reminds me of a Barbie mansion.
Reynolds, naked and covered in sweat, his boxers down to his thighs as he struggles it seems to move closer to Robyn. The kid has an expression on his face like he’s a kid caught doing something bad. Then it twists in pain, and the sound of his body hitting the wall has my dazed observance of the room cut short. Immediately, I’m running across the weird ABC rug to a princess bed with plastic sides where Robyn is tied up. Distantly, I can hear Richard’s furious words but my eyes are on her stomach. Fucking shit.
He’d found the dagger. Clearly.
The first two letters are bleeding and it’s clear he was in the process of carving them deeper, the blood soaking the race car sheets. So fucked up man. I pick up the dagger and easily slice through the bindings as Robyn’s eyes flutter. The knife is cold in my hand, and dangerous looking, but my focus is solely on her. Her body is covered in blood and her hair matted to her face is drenched in sweat. Her lips and skin are as pale as a fucking ghost. I hear Reynolds let out a cry, and I snarl under my breath at the fact we can’t kill him.
Yet.
I lift her into my arms and, instantly, I’m aware of how bruised her pale skin is. She’s essentially unconscious, nearly drugged out, wearing a pair of lace shorts and this see through half top that looks like it was made for someone under the age of five. I shoot a look over to Richard and fight a small satisfied feeling that the man is making Reynolds unrecognizable, his pretty face bloody and bruised. But he continues to go at him as the Senator crys out weird fucking shit. John is trying to get her to drink water, but it keeps spilling out of her mouth because she refused to swallow.
“Richard, figure out what the fuck he’s been giving her,” I growl, making him look over. “If you fucking kill him before then, she might as well be dead.”
Richard’s eyes meet mine and flicker down to her, and a truly menacing expression fills his face. I don’t pay attention to what happens next, but I can hear the Senator.
“Mommy always gives her big boy the best medicine,” the Senator sobs. “Please mommy stop.”
Something crashes as the Senator goes flying and this eerie children’s song begins to play as John starts to check her vitals, and I watch the sick motherfucker across the room. Reynolds is now naked in a ball crying and whispering, “mommy just wants her treat.”
I really, really, really do not want to know what the fuck he means by that.
“Her pulse is slowing down,” John grunts as I look down at the woman I’m holding. The woman who has been everything in my life for so long now.
“Rich,” I snap out, “leave him for a fucking moment. We need to get the fuck out of here. She needs medical attention.”
“Archie,” she mumbles as I look down at her, my heart throbbing in pain.
“I’m here sweetheart. I’ve got you,” I whisper against her temple, “so fucking much. God, Robyn. I love you so much. I promise it's done now. You’re safe.”
Her eyes are hazy, but she grasps my shirt, coughing in pain. Alright, fuck this. I look at John, “grab her.”
I’m across the room, ripping Richard away from the man, and pinning him to the wall with an elbow to the throat. I speak in a low whisper to York, who’s covered in blood and wearing an expression of murderous rage.
“She’s going to fucking die if we don’t get her out of here,” I snarl. “Have Brazil’s governement fucking hold him. I don’t care, but the woman you are so
furious over? She’s fucking dying, Richard. Dying.”
I honestly think for just a minute he may hit me.
His body deflates as he shoves me off him, kicking the large man sobbing on the floor. I don’t have a lot of medical knowledge, but I lean down and press on his pulse. The soldiers rush in and Richard shouts orders at them as John stands up with Robyn in his arms. I can hear the fucking medical helicopter over the building. The dagger that’s been the cause of this entire fucking mess? It’s in my hand, and I don’t plan on letting it out of my sight.
“Come on,” I motion, and the two men follow. Richard takes her from John’s arms and John narrows his eyes, but turns his attention to the satellite phone Richard gave him earlier and starts speaking in low tones over the phone. Probably contacting the hospital.
I squint as we break through to daylight, and the medics from the helicopter practically have to rip Robyn from Richard’s arms. I squeeze his shoulder as he looks back at the building. John says, “make sure they keep him alive.”
Richard’s face hardens as he looks at John, then nods. A small, sick smile flits on my lips. As I said, I haven’t felt blood lust like this ever, and it’s bound to get even worse, because John hacked into the buildings cameras.
“I want him interviewed before we do anything,” I murmur. “I want to know where the other bodies are.”
Richard’s lips twitch. “We can get those answers without the courts.”
I sigh as I watch them start to hook her up to IV’s, flying across the jungle. I look at the two of them, and place the dagger between us. Stupid fucking dagger. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the importance of it, I would have fucking chucked it off the helicopter. I mean shit, it’s covered in her blood.
Stolen Hood Page 14