by Elle Rease
Piper was shrieking so hard that the veins in her neck bulged, yet it wasn’t audible. The man holding her seemed to have a death grip on her mouth. In fact, it almost looked as if he could be smothering her.
Cinnia cried out when Mr. Creep’s fists did another number on her. She tripped over her own feet and fell, bringing her knees up to her chest just as he began kicking. She rolled away and attempted to get up, but he threw her down and proceeded to thrust his steel-toed boots into her back.
It felt like her kidneys were exploding and she arched as if to get away from the pain. He stepped around and kicked her in the stomach, reminding her of the baby. Her arms were too sluggish to cover her front, though, and his kicks rained down on her. The air got ripped from her lungs every time, leaving her panting for reprieve.
And then, in the blink of an eye, it stopped. She curled onto her side and coughed, the iron taste of blood in her mouth. She dared to glance around: Piper was lying face-down a few feet away. Cinnia could see the movement of breath and felt relieved that her friend was alive, at least.
The rest of the men, however, were looking at Cinnia with a predatory gleam in their eyes, mimicking their sadistic leader’s.
“Why don’t you spread those legs for us, hmm? I’ve already given you the foreplay you need.”
No, no, no! she thought frantically. Her current position was dire enough as it was. She couldn’t let them rape her! She wouldn’t be able to fight them all off, but maybe she could…
“Help! HELP ME! Rape! Hel—”
He’d leaned down and punched her in the face, cutting off the rest of her desperate plea. “I could start by ramming my cock down your throat. That should shut you up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you dirty cunt?”
With him so close, she gave it her all, her jabs hitting the side of his face. She heard an odd cracking noise just before her wrist began pounding. She knew she was reaching her current limit, that her adrenaline has worn off and that the last punch to her face had done damage. She cradled her injured arm to her chest and wept, hoping that it’ll be over soon. No one can say she hadn’t tried.
You could’ve tried harder, her conscience told her.
What else could she have done? She was up against six men who were trained in the act of abusing women. The odds were stacked against her.
Mr. Creep grinned broadly and unzipped his trousers, his hand going under her skirt to yank her panties off. “Now we can have some fun, Miss Sloane.”
She didn’t want this. How could an evening of such promise turn into a nightmare so quickly? How could a man carry so much hate in his heart that he spent months stalking her, planning to harm her?
This is about Brennan, a voice in her head reminded her. He’s only doing this to get to Brennan.
Her fiancé will never want her again after this. She’ll be damaged goods, in more ways than one. Whatever happened next, if this asshole succeeded in raping her or not, her life will never be the same. She wondered if Brennan would stick by her for a few months to help her get over this before he decided to leave, or if he’d walk out and never return.
Why are you even questioning his loyalty? That man will walk barefoot over broken glass for you.
Would he really, though?
As the edges of unconsciousness began reaching for her mind, she thought she heard Byron—lovely, sweet Byron—yell: “Get your fucking hands off her!" But that couldn’t be right, since he wasn’t on babysitting duty tonight. She was alone and without a friend around to help her.
She let the darkness take her away from this horror scene.
Interlude—2—Brennan
You failed her.
He closed his eyes, effectively breaking contact with his reflection. He hated the damn mirror or anything that reminded him that he wasn’t the man he proclaimed to be. Fuck, he couldn’t even protect Cinnia, the only woman—apart from his mother—that he’s ever cared about, from getting beaten up by a bunch of vengeful pricks. What other purpose did he serve?
Falling in love with her at age fourteen had been a hard and fast experience. The one second he’d been kicking a ball around with his group of friends, and the next he had been gawking at the eight-year-old girl a few feet across from them, asking if she could play along.
Back then, she’d been a slip of a thing, long-limbed with a head of wild, black hair. But those eyes… God, those big, gorgeous green eyes… They’d burned the inside of his lids so that, whenever he went to sleep, she was all that he saw. He had been a kid with teenage hormones jumping all over the place and yet, looking at her, he’d calmed down. Everything had faded to the background.
He hadn’t believed in “love at first sight” until he had met Cinnia Sloane.
And now you couldn’t even prevent her from getting hurt, he thought, furious. You’ve loved her forever, but couldn’t do this one simple thing!
His fist moved before he knew what was happening, obliterating the mirror above the basin. He didn’t even feel the pain. He stared at the shards as if it had happened to someone else, blandly taking note of the blood trickling from his skin.
All that mattered, that has ever mattered, was Cinnia. Why should he give a shite about his own injuries when she was being tended to by doctors?
He clenched his jaw. He was going to murder those sons of bitches. Who the fuck teamed up against two defenseless women? Cinnia had been able to fend them off for an admirable amount of time, but a woman could only do so much when facing six twisted, dangerous men.
Fuck, Byron had suffered a few injury-sustaining blows by the time he’d arrived. It hadn’t even been his turn to keep an eye on Cin but, because they’ve become such good friends while that asshole had stalked her, he’d wanted to make sure she was safe while she partied her heart out with the Raptors women to celebrate her rapidly-dwindling bachelorette status. And thank fuck Byron had a bit of brains, since that other asshole…
Brennan groaned, banging his head on the wall. There was no pain greater than knowing he couldn’t keep his Cinnia, his old lady, from getting hurt, but being betrayed by a brother came pretty close.
That call from the paramedics had been the worst of his life. It trumped Cinnia leaving town and ignoring him for two years, hands down. The one moment he’d been having fun with his brothers, looking forward to going home so he could give his fiancée that promised massage, and the next his world had been falling apart, piece by piece.
His phone interrupted his thoughts back in the present. He swiped the screen to answer, but remained silent.
“Bren, we’ve found tha’ cunt,” Reade grumbled. He sounded tired and pissed off, a threatening combination. Brennan knew that his father adored Cin. If it hadn’t been for Reade, Brennan would’ve given up after the way she’d treated him while at university.
“Where?” Brennan asked hoarsely.
“Takin’ refuge in a sleazy motel, as befits him. Ah’ve sent Haye for ye. Are ye up for wha’ has tae be done, lad?”
“You have to ask?”
“Have ye harmed yerself, is wha’ Ah mean. Ah’m not sendin’ ye in there if ye cannae use yer head.”
Brennan glanced at his bleeding hand. “I’m fine. Do you have the traitor?”
“Aye, he’s bein’ divested of his ink before we put a bullet in his brain.”
“Wait for me. I want to do it.”
“Bren, think of Cin—”
“That’s all I fucking do, da!”
“All Ah’m sayin’ is ye’re no use tae her in jail. Ye’ll get yer revenge, even if ye hand it over tae yer brothers,” Reade said firmly.
“And how many of them want to harm her?” Brennan bellowed, his voice cracking. “How many of them do we have to look out for, da?”
“Ah’m dealin’ with it, ye hear? Pull yerself together or Ah’ll phone Haye tae leave ye locked in tha’ house.” Reade was quiet for a while, as if he was battling with his own thoughts. “The cops have given us an hour tae do what we need tae do be
fore they take over. An hour. Do ye understand, lad?”
Brennan breathed for a few moments, filling and emptying his lungs slowly. His father was right, as much as he loathed to admit it. They didn’t have enough time for Brennan to get rid of every single man who’d hit his fiancée. He’ll have to be content with killing the asshole who’d planned it all.
“I understand,” he answered finally, remarkably calmer.
“Good. Ah’ll phone ye in fifty minutes, in case ye’re not out yet.”
“Aye.” He hung up and opened the tap to rinse his wounded hand, thinking, how much blood has Cinnia lost? “Jesus fucking Christ.”
He stood still, fighting the primal, raging emotions that wanted to take over. He remembered how she’d looked, getting wheeled into the emergency room… She’d been unconscious, her face nearly unrecognizable. Her clothes dirty and torn.
He had vomited at the sight.
“I stopped them!” Byron had cried, pulling against his restraints from the corner of the room. Apparently, he’d been frenzied since the ambulance had found him at the scene. A couple of nurses had surrounded his bed, waiting for his sedation to kick in. “Bren, I stopped them! They wanted to… But I wouldn’t let them! I stopped them!”
Brennan would never be able to repay the lad for that simple kindness. A few scars, he could eventually forgive himself for, but if those fuckers had succeeded in raping her… He would never recover from that, would never forgive himself.
Either way, he was no longer worthy of Cinnia’s love and trust. He’d failed her.
So, his stomach having upended all of its contents, Brennan had gone to her side. He’d wanted to touch her, but he hadn’t known where he could. There had been so much blood, all over…
“Bren, it’s not as bad as it looks, okay?” Jemma, having volunteered to watch over his fiancée, had said to him, giving his hand a squeeze. She’d sobered up pretty quickly, but the hospital preferred that she didn’t assist with anything except moral support. “They’ll clean her up and send her to X-rays.”
He’d nodded absently, gaze glued to Cinnia’s battered face. If it hadn’t been for her long black hair, he would’ve been convinced it was someone else in front of him.
“There’s nothing you can do here. Bren, go to the waiting area.” Jemma’s eyes were kind and worried, all at once. “I’ll call you once they’re done.”
Slowly, he had walked away from his reason for existing. He’d stopped at Piper’s bed to listen to her version of events. Two detectives had been asking her to give her as many details as possible. It had made him both angrier and more hurt to hear.
“—they were just standing there, letting him kick her!” she had sobbed hoarsely, not seeming to notice that Teagan was stroking her hair. “And he… he wouldn’t stop! I tried calling for help, but this guy…” She’d trailed off, absently rubbing her bruised wrists. “And then I got really faint. I wasn’t getting enough air, ‘cause that asshole had his hand over my mouth—”
“Did you get a good look at their faces?”
Her eyes had filled with fresh tears. “I’ll never forget.”
“Okay good, we’ll get a sketch artist in to get those details from you. What else can you remember?”
“I passed out, but when I woke up, there were sirens in the distance and the men were gone. Byron was covering Cin’s body as if he was fighting off an invisible man. He had this weird look in his eyes, frantic… And then the police got there. I don’t know who tipped them off.”
“Byron,” Brennan had choked out, drawing everyone’s attention. “He called for help once he knew what was going on.”
“Bren, I’m so sorry!” Piper had stared at him with earnest, haunted brown eyes. “I was so fucking useless! I tried to help but… I should’ve…” Her body had shuddered. “Cinnia was so brave, so brave, and I just—”
“Don’t blame yourself, lass.” Brennan had hugged her tightly, trying to tame his emotions and barely succeeding. “You did what you could. I’m glad you’re okay.” But there had been a huge part of him that hated that Cinnia wasn’t…
“Bren!”
He shook himself, closing the tap and digging in the cabinet for a bandage. “I’m up here,” he called as he began wrapping it over his cuts.
Haye appeared a second later. “We’ve gotta roll, man, don’t have much…” He trailed off, taking in the shattered mirror and blood. “What the fuck happened here?”
Brennan gave him a look. “What do you think?” He tucked the bandage in and pushed past Haye. “How is she?”
“Stable,” his best friend replied. “Dawn says they’ve taken her into the operating room for her broken nose, wrist and ribs.”
An involuntary shudder raked down Brennan’s spine as he pulled his Raptors cut on. That sadistic prick had used brass knuckles to bash his Cin’s face in. Broken ribs… How many times had they kicked her? “She’ll be okay, right?” He didn’t realize he was crying until Haye dropped a hand on his shoulder. He hastily wiped his tears away. “Right?”
“Cin’s a fighter, Bren,” Haye confirmed. “She’ll be fine as long as you’ll be there when she wakes up. So, let’s go nail this son of a bitch, okay?”
Brennan inclined his head. “Okay.” He followed Haye downstairs and out of his own house, still stunned that his father had locked him inside to stop him from doing something stupid. He shut the door and walked to the passenger side of the Raptors van. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“You would’ve done the same,” Haye shrugged, turning the ignition. “Your gun’s at the back.”
Brennan made sure the magazine was stocked with bullets before sheathing it back in the gun, cocking it. “This is so fucked up. I can’t believe his idea of retaliation for what we did to him—because he’d beat up that girl, for fuck’s sake—was to beat another woman. And Cin, at that. Why?”
“He must’ve found out about her complicated relationship with you and the club from Ike.”
“It’s my fault,” Brennan agreed. “I’m the reason she’s hurt.”
“Bren, stop. You’ll only drive yourself crazy.”
“My fiancée is lying in hospital, Haye. I’m already crazy.”
“Look, this can’t be fun for you and I get that, but she needs you, Bren. I want you to promise that you’ll be at her side within the hour. We can’t afford a rampage, since that’ll mean you’re off to jail while she recovers without you. You don’t want that, do you?”
The mere thought… Brennan choked on his own emotions. “Of course not.”
“Then be smart about this, okay?” Haye let that sink in. “In and out. Got it?”
“Aye.”
“And I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.”
Brennan cracked a smile. “I figured.”
“I want you to keep talking to me, Bren. Let me know what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Brennan gazed out the window at the changing scenery. He wasn’t even sure what was running through his mind. “She told me she’s pregnant.”
Haye cursed under his breath. “When?”
“Earlier tonight, when I was dancing for her at her party. I wanted her to do body shots, and then she explained why she couldn’t.”
“That’s great news, man. I know how much you’ve wanted it. Is that why you didn’t drink at the bar?”
“Yeah, I was going to spoil her when we got home and figured being drunk wouldn’t do the trick.”
“Good thinking.”
“Yeah.”
Silence descended in the van, leaving Brennan alone with his haunting thoughts. He should’ve insisted that they hold the bachelor and bachelorette parties together, at the same venue. He shouldn’t have left her side after she told him about the pregnancy. He should’ve—
“Bren, talk to me.”
He cleared his throat. “There’s nothing more to say.”
“There’s always something to say,” Haye insisted. “Tell me about a h
appy memory.”
“Are you fucking kidding me with this shite?”
“Trust me, okay?”
Brennan sighed and pushed his hair back, out of his face. How was he supposed to do this while Cinnia was lying in the goddamn hospital? Why was Haye making him do this?
“When she was thirteen, I went to a school dance with her. She was still developing, not even close to being a woman, but she was so fucking tall.” He smiled forlornly. “She looked so beautiful, wearing a dark blue dress. She always acted nervously around me, as if she thought she wasn’t good enough and that I’d move on, but that night she shone. She was confident and happy. Gorgeous.”
“Why didn’t you move on?”
“I’ve never wanted anyone else. I mean, I wanted sex, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with one of those… bimbos. To them, it would be about status.”
“What is it about with Cin?”
“Jesus, Haye.” Brennan couldn’t describe it in a way that would make sense to anyone. All he knew was that, the second he’d laid eyes on her, he had felt something. He’s never felt that with anyone else and he doubted he ever will. It was as if his soul had been craving its other half and she was it. “Is there a reason for this?”
“I want you to calm down and think clearly. Cinnia should be the only thing on your mind right now.” Haye glanced at him, somber. “I know you want to fuck this asshole up and believe me, I’d want the same, but remember why you’re doing this. Don’t get carried away with vengeance.”
“Got it.”
“Good, ‘cause we’re here.”
Brennan looked up at the two-story motel. He put his gun in the holster at his hip and covered it with his hoodie. “Let’s do this.”
They exited the van. He followed Haye—who had all the details and knew where to go—up the stairs to room 207. He breathed deeply for a few moments, picturing thirteen-year-old Cinnia at that school dance. A sense of calm washed over him.
Brennan inclined his head at Haye, who kicked the door in and raised his gun as he stepped over the threshold. Brennan trailed behind his best friend. The light was on inside, revealing the asshole on the bed with a towel around his waist. He’d probably just showered, not expecting company. It pissed Brennan off more than anything else, the fact that this man could carry on with his life, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just beat the ever-loving shit out of Cinnia.