He laughed. “You can scream as loud as you want. No one will hear you out here. We’re miles away from anyone.”
God, she felt ill. She’d fight to the death rather than let this man touch her. He moved closer to the bed. She was going to go the opposite way of him. He put his knee on the bed, she moved to the end of the bed. He put his foot down, she moved back to the other side. He sighed with frustration.
“I’ll have you, Ginger. One way or the other.”
No one called her Ginger. She thought of Colt calling her princess. Suddenly, that didn’t bother her at all. In fact, it was growing on her just like him calling her Bella. But to have this…this pig call her Ginger infuriated her. Hating the name and hating him, she glared at him. He laughed and flew across the bed. She ran, but he caught her by the hair. She screamed at the pain, but swung around and tried to knee him.
“I won’t fall for that again, bitch!”
Blackman laughed and dragged her to the bed, throwing her down on it. She fought him and raked her nails down his face. He yelled and slapped her. She tasted blood when her lip slammed against her teeth.
He got her under him and straddled her. He placed her hands above her head but she bucked under him. He continued to laugh as he leaned down and tried to kiss her. She spit in his face. He slapped her again, and when he put his face in her neck, she screamed. He sat up and ripped her shirt open, exposing her bra. He pulled a knife from his pocket, snapping it open and placing the tip to her neck. Slowly, he traced the tip down her chest to her bra. He put it between her breasts and cut the bra open exposing her breasts to his greedy gaze. He looked at them and smiled.
“You’ve got some nice tits, Ginger.” He lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. He pulled hard on it causing pain rather than pleasure. She bucked hard under him trying to unseat him.
“Wait till I’m fucking you before you do that,” he growled against her flesh.
Isabella felt like she was going to pass out, but she knew she had to keep her wits about her. She needed a new tactic fast.
“Go for it, big boy. If you think you can satisfy me like Colt did, go right ahead.”
Blackman lifted his head, stared down at her, and then laughed. “You’re not going to get me to believe that. Colt would never do it. His head is too far up Barkley’s ass.”
Isabella laughed a high-pitched sound. Hysteria was taking over, and she knew she had to calm down. He moved his hand to the zipper on her jeans and yanked it down. He moved off her enough to pull her jeans lower. She tried to kick at him, which wasn’t an easy task with her jeans around her knees. The more she struggled, the more he laughed. After pulling them off, he threw her jeans down on the floor.
He stared at her boy-cut panties. Isabella was sure he was drooling. He grabbed them with one hand and ripped them off her. She screamed again. He raised his hand to hit her and she flinched closing her eyes against the pain. He laughed again. Holding her still, he lifted himself off her enough to unzip his pants.
Dear God! Please, no. Don’t let this happen…please!
Isabella prayed as she’d never prayed before. She looked down at him and watched as he maneuvered his pants and underwear down over his erection. She started laughing. Perhaps it was hysteria, but he stopped and looked at her. When she dropped her gaze to his penis and laughed, he growled and hit her again without warning.
This time, he hit her so hard she almost passed out. She lay there moaning when she felt him covering her body with his. She was going to lose consciousness, but then maybe that was a blessing. No. This wasn’t going to happen. She shook the fog from her head and began to fight him again.
“God damn it! Stop it,” he told her through clenched teeth.
Isabella refused to let him do this to her. She fought as hard as she could. Somehow, she managed to get her leg between his and raising her knee, she took aim but he moved too quickly, and jerked to the side. Blackman hit her again and she fell back on the bed, shaken and feeling defeated. He spread her legs with his knees and was about to push himself inside her when suddenly his weight disappeared as if someone had jerked him off her.
Chapter Four
Mont’s fist connected hard on Blackman’s chin, knocking him to the floor. He launched himself down on the man and proceeded to pummel his face. Blackman regained some of his composure and started fighting back. He caught Mont in the jaw, knocking him back. Blackman got up quickly, pulling up his pants and closing his zipper. Mont charged at him and caught him around the waist, knocking them both to the floor. Blackman rolled with unexpected ease, putting Mont beneath and enabling the man to straddle him.
“I’m going to fuck this bitch after I kill you,” Blackman growled with a sadistic laugh.
He pulled his knife again, snapping it open and raising it to plunge it into Mont, but Mont reacted fast, catching the man’s arm, and holding it aloft. Both men struggled to better the other.
Soon Mont got the momentum to roll Blackman over, putting the knife between them. Blackman got the better of him for a moment, and Mont hissed in a breath when the knife tip entered his left shoulder. Blackman pulled it out and tried to plunge it in again, but Mont stopped him only the pain in his shoulder was making everything blurry. He shook his head quickly and threw a punch at Blackman’s face, landing it hard. Blackman fell away, dropping the knife. Mont pounced on it, grabbing it in a tight hold and then plunging it into Blackman’s heart.
Blackman froze, a stunned expression covering his face as he grunted. Mont heard the last breath leave Blackman’s body in a wheeze. Mont crawled off him and sat on the floor breathing hard. His shoulder was bleeding profusely. He glanced over to the bed and saw Isabella lying there. He pulled himself up off the floor and went to her. She had a blank look on her face and her eyes looked glassy. He tapped at her face lightly careful not to touch the bright red marks where Blackman had obviously hit her. She suddenly screamed and tried to fight him, but he wrapped his arms around her.
“Isabella! Hey, Bella, it’s me,” Mont yelled in her face.
She stopped struggling and looked at him with glazed eyes. When she finally realized she was safe and that he wasn’t Blackman, she let out a cry and threw her arms around him.
“You left me…you left me,” Isabella cried against his neck.
“No, darlin’, I didn’t leave you. I just went for a ride. Barkley was supposed to stay here to watch you. I’m sorry, so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.
Isabella looked up at him. “Barkley was here. But, then Blackman came in…” She began to tremble in his arms. “He tried to—tried to…” She suddenly pushed herself away from him and ran for the bathroom.
Mont followed her and stood in the doorway while she vomited. She fell down beside the toilet. He moved to help her up, handing her a towel. Her torn shirt and bra hung on her. Her breasts bore red marks that angered him. He saw her eyes shift, taking in his wounded shoulder.
“Oh, my God! Colt, you’re bleeding.” She pulled away from him to get a clean towel. He tried to grin at her, seeming to be oblivious to her nakedness.
“I’ll be fine. It’s not that—” Dizziness suddenly overwhelmed him, and he fell back against the doorjamb and started to slide down the wall.
Isabella caught him with a groan and helped him to the bed, where he collapsed onto it. She finally noticed her state of undress and tossed off the torn clothes and pulled on fresh ones then disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth to clean up the blood. She pulled his shirt up and he watched her go pale. He knew the wound was bleeding a lot but had hoped it wasn’t too severe. She pressed the cloth to it trying to stop the flow, and after a few minutes, the bleeding finally slowed. She disappeared into the bathroom again, this time returning with gauze, and applied it to his wound. When she finished, she stood there looking at him, and then glanced to the floor where Blackman lay dead. She walked over to him and kicked him, and then she continue
d to kick him, over, and over again.
“He’s dead, Bella. He’s not feeling a thing,” Mont said in a slurred voice.
“He may not be feeling anything, but I am. I’m feeling damned good with every kick.” She kicked him one more time before turning back to the bed to gaze down at Mont. He was losing consciousness but he saw her glance toward the door. He knew what she was thinking. This was her chance. The door to the bedroom was open. All she had to do was walk out of it. She started toward the door.
“Don’t do it, princess. I’ll come after you.”
Isabella walked back to the bed and stared at him, her hands on her hips. “You’re in no condition to come after me. I’m walking out of here, Colt, and you can’t stop me.”
“Bella, please, I need you to take care of me. I could bleed to death,” he said with a grimace while trying to pull himself up on his elbow.
She blew out an aggravated breath. “You’re not going to bleed to death. It’s not even bleeding anymore, Colt.”
“I will come after you,” he said gazing up at her. “I saved you, doesn’t that count?”
Isabella leaned down and pressed her lips to his mouth.
“Goodbye, Colt,” she said on a sob, moved toward the door, and then turned to look back at him.
Mont struggled to get up. He knew he had to stop her.
“Barkley will kill me…” he said with a loud groan before falling back onto the bed.
* * * *
Isabella cursed under her breath. She knew Colt was telling the truth. Barkley would kill Colt because Blackman was dead, and she was gone. With a loud exhalation of resignation, she walked back to the bed and took a seat next to Colt. She brushed unruly hair back from his damp forehead. It was something she’d wanted to do since that first night he spent sleeping in the chair against the wall.
Colt suddenly grasped her hand and held on to it. His eyes opened and he stared up at her. His green eyes suddenly glazed over with pain.
Damn it! She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t walk out. She was a fool but she nodded at him. With relief relaxing him, he closed his eyes. She lay down beside him, wrapping her arm around him, and soon they both fell asleep.
Isabella woke to the sensation of something wet on her arm. Glancing at Colt, she saw his shoulder was bleeding again. Her arm had been laying over it. She hurried to the bathroom to get some more towels and gauze. She pulled back the soaked gauze and saw the wound was weeping a lot of blood. She realized he needed stitches. He needed to go to a hospital.
“Colt.” She shook him lightly making him moan. “Colt, you need to wake up. You’re bleeding again.”
He opened his eyes and stared up at her blinking. “Am I dead?”
She smiled and tried not to laugh. “No, you’re not dead. But you might be, if we don’t get you to a hospital.”
He shook his head, groaning as he reached into his jeans, and pulling out his cell phone. He dialed a number and told someone to get here as soon as possible. After hanging up, he closed his eyes in a cringe. She knew he was in pain.
“Princess, could you find me some aspirin?”
“Aspirin? Are you serious? You have a stab wound, not a damn headache.” She jumped off the bed and stared down at him.
“Just find me some, please,” Colt pleaded closing his eyes again.
She took a deep breath and blew it out. She returned to the bathroom to search for something resembling aspirin but came up empty, so she headed for the kitchen. She found some aspirin there, filled a glass with water, and headed back to Colt. She helped him sit up, handing him the aspirin, and holding the glass to his lips. He swallowed the pills and lay down, closing his eyes. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and she held tight.
Forty-five minutes later, Smitty arrived. He took one look at Colt on the bed then Blackman lying on the floor, and raised an eyebrow at Isabella. She shrugged. He moved toward the bed and shook Colt.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked when Colt opened his eyes.
Colt explained what happened. Smitty looked at Isabella.
“I’m sorry Blackman did that to you. He always was a son of a bitch.”
Smitty left the room but returned a few minutes later with a black box. He set it on the bed and opened it. Isabella glanced over his shoulder and whistled when she saw the syringes, gauze, tape, and medications. She looked up at Smitty, but he was too busy to notice her. He removed the bloody gauze from Colt’s wound, gave him a shot of something, and irrigated the wound. He then took a thread of some sort and a curved needle from the box, and went about stitching Colt up. He gave Colt another shot then shook out a pill from a bottle, and told Colt to take it.
“I don’t need anything for pain,” Colt tried to tell him.
“Just shut the hell up and take it. I already gave you a shot for the pain, but the pill will help too. Be macho some other fucking time.”
Colt smiled and took the pill. Smitty closed up the box and took it back out to his car. When he came back in, he stared at her as if trying to figure her out. “Why didn’t you run?”
Isabella lowered her eyes looking to the floor. She’d asked herself the same question several times. Smitty lifted her chin so she was looking into his eyes and shook his head.
“Tsk, tsk, Isabella, don’t fall in love with him,” he muttered in a low voice.
“Too late,” she whispered, glancing away.
Smitty shook his head, looked down at Blackman, and then back to Isabella.
“I need to call Barkley about this. We’ll just tell him the truth, not much sense in lying about it. He’d warned us all not to try anything with you.”
She nodded and listened as Smitty spoke to Barkley on the phone. When he hung up, he looked at her and shook his head again, and then smiled at her.
“He’s shocked you didn’t run too, but I told him you were too shook up to even think about it. I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”
Did she? She’d had a chance to escape and she hadn’t taken it. She looked at Colt lying there on the bed. She was a fool. She’d fallen in love with a man who, in all likelihood, would go to prison if he survived at all. She’d never see him again. She just hoped she’d get another chance to get out of here. Maybe Colt would help her now. No, she knew he wouldn’t. He was too loyal to Barkley. For some unknown reason, she knew he would never betray Barkley. She glanced at Smitty.
“I have no idea what I’m doing. You’re right. I should’ve run. I had the chance and I blew it.”
Smitty nodded. “Yeah, you sure did. You could’ve been long gone before any of us would’ve known.”
“He tried to get up and come after me. I—I had to get him to lie back down. He was bleeding so badly,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders and squeezing Colt’s hand.
“Barkley’s on his way here. Just tell him exactly what happened. I wouldn’t tell him you had a chance to run and didn’t take it, though. He’ll figure out how you feel about Colt and that wouldn’t go well for either of you. Just let him think you were too shook up to run.” He glared at her. “It really wouldn’t be good if he figures out how you feel about him. He’ll think it will be too easy for you to persuade Colt to help you escape.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “He won’t, Miss Lofton. I can promise you that. Colt will not help you.”
Isabella looked at him with tears in her eyes, nodding her head. “I know he won’t.”
“Quit talking about me like I’m not here,” Colt said from the bed. Both Smitty and Isabella glanced over to him. Smitty moved closer to the bed.
“Why aren’t you knocked out? I gave you enough to knock an elephant out.”
Colt gave them a goofy grin. “I’m tougher than an elephant.”
Smitty chuckled. “Hell right you are. More hardheaded too.”
Colt sobered and squinted at Smitty. “Barkley on the way?”
Smitty nodded and went on to explain to Colt that Isabella wouldn’t let Barkley know she�
��d had a chance to run. It was better he didn’t know, Smitty told him, and Colt nodded in agreement. He glanced at her from under black lashes, making her blush and look away.
She may be a fool where he was concerned, but she refused to let him see how she’d gone and fallen in love with him. He’d never love her and even if he did, there was no future for them. Her family would have a fit if they knew she’d fallen in love with her captor. They’d try to convince her it was Stockholm syndrome and nothing else. She knew better. She was twenty-six years old. She knew what love was. She just didn’t know how to fall in love with the right man.
She took a seat in the chair by the bed, watching Colt and Smitty as they talked in low voices. They seemed to be close, like they were good friends. Smitty was close to Colt’s height, and just as muscular as Colt. In fact, he was actually very good-looking. He had dark brown hair that was a little too long but pretty, dark brown eyes. They both shifted their eyes, glancing in her direction, but she turned away from them.
She wondered what they were saying about her. Probably how big of a fool she’d been to think Colt would actually try to run after her in his condition. It wasn’t what stopped her. It was his saying Barkley would kill him. That, she’d believed. With Blackman lying there dead and her gone, Barkley wouldn’t believe Colt for a minute. He would kill him. She couldn’t let that happen. Colt had promised her he wouldn’t let Barkley kill her, so she couldn’t let Barkley kill him either. However, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to run again. She had to and she had to do it before her father made the mistake of meeting with Barkley, because she knew Barkley would kill her father. She had to get away and get home—one way or another.
It wasn’t very long before Barkley walked into the bedroom. He looked down at Blackman on the floor. He frowned in disgust, and then looked to Smitty.
“Get him out of here. Take him somewhere and bury him. Dayton, go with him.” Barkley looked at the fifth man of the group. Isabella shivered at the thought of the man buried in an unmarked grave in the woods somewhere, even if he was a bastard who’d tried to rape her. Barkley stared at her. “He knew better than to try that with you, Miss Lofton. He was an idiot.” He walked over to Colt. “You okay?”
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