by Ainsley Cole
Bones buried his head against her neck. Grunting as she milked him, his cock throbbing. His hips stilled, an orgasm ripping through him. Mind blanking as Abigail arched her back, rubbing her breasts against him. “Ah… Abigail… Fuck!”
His body emptied itself, and he shuddered. His legs shook, his body still shuddering with the adrenaline which was racing through him. His breathing was labored as he tried to calm himself.
He let go of her wrists, his hand moving back to her hip, holding her. They stood there for a moment, before Bones lifted his head, looking at her.
Abigail smiled at him, her hand moving, tracing along his scar, ending at his lips. He flicked out his tongue, bringing her finger into his mouth. Sucking on it, she moaned, her core tightening around him again. He smiled as she took her hand away, still holding him.
“I’ve wanted to do that to you since the moment I saw you.”
Her eyebrow rose. “And it’s taken you three days to do something about it?”
He chuckled, leaning in, kissing her. “Sorry.”
“Uh huh.”
He stepped back, removed the condom and tied it, discarding it in the blood-soaked rags from the minor surgery she’d done on him. He turned to her as he pulled up his jeans, fastening them. She looked incredibly beautiful, still perched on the bench from where he’d taken her.
Her face flushed, and she let herself down off the bench. “I’m going to clean up,” she said, picking up her jeans, panties and the other pot of water. She turned, showing him her perfect ass, and he wanted to go straight to her and have his way again. It had been everything he’d hoped for with their first fuck.
First fuck?
Did he think that after all this they’d see each other again? Turning, he went to the clothing he’d stolen, finding a shirt which would fit his huge chest and pulled it on. He picked up a pair of jeans and a shirt and turned, looking for Abigail.
* * *
He had stretched her more than any man had done before. She ached where he had fucked her hard against the wall. Her body sore but satisfied. Cleaning herself the best she could with the little they had, she turned, ready to pick up her jeans and put them back on.
“Here.”
Bones was standing at the door, fresh jeans and a shirt in his hands. Abigail smiled, taking them from him and put them on. She’d have to forgo panties, for now. Doing the jeans up, she picked up her bra, putting it on as she spoke to him. “What now?”
“What now? I’m bloody tired… Fucking you took a lot of my energy.”
She turned to him, rolling her eyes. “Ass.”
He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as she continued to get dressed. “We’ll try to get a couple hours sleep, then we’re going to have to keep moving. I don’t want to stay in one place too long.”
“Where are we going to go?”
“We’ll head for the border. At least if we get picked up there, we can show them our documents, and we can get into Uganda and to safety. The boys will know where we are then.”
She nodded, picking up her ruined clothing, bundling them together. “And if we don’t get that far? If the militia catch us?” Abigail knew she was playing the worst situation out in her mind, but she had to know. If they didn’t make the border, what would happen to them then? And if they did make the border, she’d never see him again. He’d be back off to the USA, and she’d be in London. A world apart.
There was no winning scenario in her mind.
“Hey.” Bones stepped forward, crooking his finger under her chin, making her look up at him. “Relax. I won’t let them get you.”
He leaned forward, kissing her, his mouth hot on hers. Tears formed on her lashes, hot and stinging. Her ruined clothes fell to the ground and she doubted she’d pick them up. She pulled away, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head going to his chest.
Bones held her, his scent engulfing her, and she hoped he was right. They’d be safe. They’d make the border and be able to go home.
* * *
She lay with head on his thigh. Bones leaned against the wall, his eyelids heavy, but sleep didn’t want to claim him, although exhaustion wrought through him.
They’d been through so much today. Then for them to waste energy like they had. It might not have been such a good idea.
He smirked to himself. But it was energy well spent.
His cock twitched with the memories of how hot she had been. Of the stroke of him inside her. His hand went to her shoulder, running up and down her arm as if soothing her. She was beautiful, fierce and courageous. There couldn't be another woman in the world who could have gone through what she had been through, and then fucked like she had.
“Have you ever been in love, Bones?” Her voice was soft, sleepy, and he looked down at her. She rolled to the side and looked up at him.
He smiled. “Once.”
“What happened?”
He frowned, leaning his head back, looking up at the decaying roof. “I was deployed for eleven months in Afghanistan. My fiancé was waiting for me at home.” His hand went to her shoulder again, and she lifted her hand, holding his. “I came home, expecting a warm welcome. What I got was a pregnant fiancé.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Put me off relationships,” he muttered. “I’m more of a one-night stand kind of guy now.”
She was silent, and he looked down at her. Her mouth turned down in a frown, and his stomach roiled. Was she thinking of after? When this was all over?
She looked back up at him, lifting her hand and caressed the side of his face. “Well, one day, you might find someone who changes your mind.” She rolled, turning her back to him.
Bones frowned, his stomach fluttering.
Soon she was snoring, and Bones tipped his head back, trying to get into a comfortable position. They needed all the energy they could muster. They weren’t safe yet.
Chapter Seven
Abigail woke with the feeling something wasn’t right.
Sitting up, she looked around the room. All their things were still there. But Bones wasn’t.
“Bones?” Lifting herself off the floor, she brought the blanket closer, wrapping it around her shoulders tighter. It was cold this early in the morning. “Bones?”
Her stomach flipped. Where was he?
He could be checking the jeep, making sure they had enough gas. Or outside, using the bathroom.
Or he could be dead.
That last thought came into her mind with lightning speed.
She frowned, making her way to the front of the house, where they had come in the night before. The sunlight was streaming into the front door, dancing across the broken floorboards.
Walking out, she looked around. The nose of the jeep was peeking out from behind a tree. He’d moved it, getting it ready for their trip. She smiled, climbing off the verandah. Wandering toward the jeep, she hummed to herself, confident in their journey ahead.
The militia was long gone by now.
As she neared the jeep, Abigail threw a casual glance toward the barn.
* * *
Stay inside, stay inside.
Bones closed his eyes, his heart sinking to his feet as Abigail came into view.
His arms ached, stretched above him, tied to the pole in the barn.
The militia had come during the early morning. Enough men and guns to take them hostage and not put up a fight.
They had waited until he had woken and gone outside for his morning piss. When he had been mid-stream, they had stuck the cold metal barrel to the back of his neck.
Two of the men had managed to get him tied to the pole, another two had moved the jeep. There were eight in total. And two were standing behind Abigail.
His eyes opened, watching as she turned her head toward the barn, and froze.
The blanket dropped from her shoulders, and she turned to run to the jeep. She knew the drill, get the fuck out of there. But the two men stepped out from behind the bush, guns rais
ed, and she stopped.
One of them grabbed her, shoving her in the direction of the barn.
Bones’ teeth ground as she stumbled, falling to her knees in the dirt. Her head lifted, looking up at him. Tears flowed down her face, cheeks staining with their tracks, and his stomach lurched into his throat.
The one thing he had promised wouldn’t happen to her, was happening now.
One of the militias ran back to the jeep, starting it and drove toward the barn. The other grabbed a fistful of Abigail’s hair and made her stand.
“Let her go!" Bones' voice was rough. They’d slapped him around a bit, his lip busted from where one of the militias had slammed a gun-butt into his face.
The militia behind him came out of hiding, laughing as they stepped past him, going to the others and Abigail. He knew one of them was the leader, the taller of the eight. His barking orders making the others scramble.
He lifted his hand, touching Abigail’s face, and she slapped at his hand.
No, honey, don’t fight them.
Bones fought against the bonds as the leader lifted his arm. The back of his hand whipped across her face—hard. Abigail fell to the dirt, and he roared.
“I’ll fucking kill you, fucker!”
The militia leader turned, grinning at Bones, and crouched in the dirt beside Abigail. He gripped her by the head, lifting her a little, so Bones could see her face. She was unconscious. He looked at Bones, speaking in disjointed English. “Pretty woman. Not for much longer.”
The man raked his tongue up the side of Abigail’s face, before dropping her back to the dirt. Bones wrestled harder against his bonds. He could feel it burning through his skin, the wetness of blood, sliding down his arms. More scars to add from this bastard of a country.
The man turned, barking orders to his men again. Bones watched as two came over, picking Abigail up and placed her in the back of the jeep.
They were going to take her and leave him there.
The leader of the group came over, a knife coming to his hands from the back of his pants. “What to do with you, American.”
“Let me go, and I’ll fucking show you.” Bones spat at him, a glob of spit landing on the man’s shoes.
The militiaman looked down at it, clicking his tongue. “Filthy.”
He looked up at Bones, but Bones had his gaze on the jeep. The vehicle which would take his woman away from him.
His client. His woman.
Teeth ground painfully in his head and his attention came back to the man standing in front of him. “If you take her, you’d better kill me. Because if you don’t, I will fucking hunt you down, take your head and drink from your fucking skull.” His tone was hard, his voice low. “And if you do kill me, make sure you sleep with one eye open. Because my men will come for you and there will not be a place in this shithole of a country you can hide. You will suffer.”
The man rose an eyebrow but didn’t say a thing. He looked down at the knife in his hands, using the tip of it to clean out from under his fingernails. “No. I won’t kill you. I have my orders. Take the woman. Leave the mercenary.”
Bones frowned, tilting his head to the side.
The man lifted his hand, dragging the back of the blade across his throat, grinning. “My boss wants to play a game with you.”
His stomach contracted, heart beating faster and faster as the man stepped forward.
“We will leave you with one jeep. One can of gas. One knife and your passport. Leave if you want. But we already know you won’t.” He lifted the knife, the shine of the blade menacing. The militia slammed the knife into the beam next to Bones’ head, leaning in. “You want the woman? You know where to find her.”
* * *
Her whole skull ached. Abigail could taste blood and dust in her mouth. She smacked her lips together, trying to produce saliva.
Rough voices came to her ears, and she stilled, cracking an eyelid. She was in the back of a jeep.
Men stood over her, their voices low but rough. She tried to lift her hands, get ready to get out of the car, but she couldn’t move. Her hands were bound to her feet, and a dull ache started in her lower back. How long had she been in this position?
Where was Bones?
The sight of him tied to the post in the barn had almost killed her. She had tried to do what he had told her to. Make a run for it. She knew he wouldn’t have been able to protect her, trussed up like he was.
But the militia had been waiting for her.
Now it looked like she was their captive. And Bones, like he said would happen, no doubt had a bullet to the head.
Hot tears slid from her eyes. Her stomach roiled. Her savior, the man she had come to rely on, the man she knew she was falling in love with, was no doubt dead.
The men climbed into the jeep, starting the engine, and they started to move. It was bumpy, the dust kicking up into her mouth. She coughed, trying to clear her airways, but it wasn’t working.
Wiggling, she tried to undo the binding on her arms and ankles. She’d fight her way out. She’d make a run for the border. Surely, a white woman in Uganda with no documents would stir the police into action.
Her fingers flexed, moving against the knots around her ankles. She almost had them.
“Hey!”
Thud!
White-hot pain lanced through her cheekbone, and she closed her eyes as the darkness engulfed her again.
* * *
Using muscles he’d never used before, Bones had managed to twist his body enough to unhook the rope from the beam the militia had hung him on. He’d then used the knife to cut his wrists free, leaving the bloodied rope in the sand.
The militia had done as they were told. Left him with enough gas to get to civilization and that was it.
He now sped back to the little town they had left the night before.
Anger seethed through him. Hot, angry and ready to let loose at a moment’s notice.
The outskirts came into view, and he slowed, not wanting to draw the local police's attention. Even though he had his documents, the blood on his face and shirt would be harder to explain. Especially since he should have also been in the company of doctors and his team.
Managing to get to the center of town, Bones pulled the jeep up in front of a small hotel and jumped out. He grabbed his bag and ran inside, leaving the keys in the jeep’s ignition. He didn’t care if it got stolen. He didn’t need it anymore.
Stopping at the front desk, his voice was rough from the dust, face covered in blood. “Do you have a spare room?”
The woman stared at him and Bones closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He rattled the same question off in Swahili, and she blinked, nodding. He paid for it with his credit card, which he'd tucked into the sleeve of his passport. Taking the key, he made his way to the room.
Dumping his bag on the floor inside the door, he went straight to the phone and picked it up. Dialing the only number hot-wired into his brain, he waited for the man on the other end of the line to pick up.
“This is Milo.”
“Queenie. It’s Bones.”
“Boss!”
There seemed to be a scuffle on the other end of the line, protesting from Queenie and Wolf’s voice came over the line. “Bones?”
“Hey, chief.” He smiled into the phone. “Is everyone okay?”
“We’re fine. How about you? Are you and Abigail—”
“They got her, Ethan.” Bones’ voice cracked. His throat closed with emotion and he sniffed. “The fucking militia were waiting for us when we woke this morning. They have her.”
Silence followed. “And they left you alive?”
“Ungato.”
“Fuck. Are you sure?”
Wolf knew what he meant. He had to be certain that Ungato was the one who had her, before he went in guns blazing. “I fucking know. It’s him. His man said his boss wanted to play a game. While dragging the back of a knife across his throat. Now tell me that’s not a hint.”
“Fucking hell. Where are you now?”
“Some shitty little hotel,” Bones replied. “It’s about fifteen miles north-west from where the camp was. It’s pretty much the only hotel in the whole town.”
“Right, sit tight. We’ll get someone to come get you.”
“No, you’ll come and bring me weapons. Guns, grenades, knives. I want the lot.”
“Bones…”
“No, Wolf. I’m done. I am going after Abigail. With or without your help. I have never failed a mission. This is not going to be the first.”
He heard Wolf sigh, and he knew the Indian would follow him. He always did. Hell and back was a holiday for them.
“And Ungato?”
Bones pursed his lips. “He invited me to come find him. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. And when I get there, I’ll do what I should have done in the first place, and take his fucking head off.”
* * *
Hands still bound, Abigail almost tripped as the man pushed her into the small hut. It smelt of sweat and cigar smoke.
“So, you’re Reeves’ daughter.”
Abigail squinted, trying to see the man with the rough voice. It sounded like he’d smoked at least three packs a day. A shadow moved in the back of the room, and she shrunk back. Someone shoved her forward a little, and she gulped as the man came into view.
Huge.
He was as big as Bones, but wasn’t as toned. His skin was dark as night, the whites of his eyes yellowed. He looked at her, tilting his head to the side. He stepped forward again, the sunlight filtering into the room, hitting his face, his neck.
A ragged gash lined his throat from one side to the other and he smirked. “Like my scars?”
He tilted his head to the side, allowing her to see more of them. “Courtesy of your security.”
Abigail’s stomach roiled, and she blinked. “Ungato.”
“So, the cold-hearted fucker told you who I am.”
“The team said Bones killed you,” Abigail stammered, her voice betraying the fear she had. Bones had been right. He was still alive.
“Puh… he gave it a good shot. I almost bled out. But my men’s loyalty knows no bounds. They saved me.” Ungato moved, walking around the room. Picking up random things, before putting them back again, he looked at her. “He came here, looking for trouble and found it. I got my own back, though. I hear his face sports a pretty scar. Pity it didn’t take his eye like I was aiming to do.”