Tested: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #3

by Felicity Brandon

  Connor gazed up. The cars passing at a snail’s pace ahead were a testament to Wallace’s point.

  “Double check the registration.” Connor fought to compose himself. “We want to be sure.”

  “Copy that.” There was a pause—radio silence when it seemed neither he nor Marks took another breath. “Confirmed, registration AE19 6RV. It’s Hyland’s alright.”

  “Okay. Keep eyes on that car. We’ll get in position, but we’ll need to know when it approaches the intersection.”

  “On it.”

  Connor turned to Marks. “Get us out there.” He gestured toward the line of cars, all waiting to join the main road. “Push, shove, but get us out. I don’t care if you have to take the wing off every vehicle between us and the junction.”

  Marks’ lips curled, but they were already moving, pulling out alongside the existing row of traffic and crawling forward.

  “Car two, where the bloody hell are you?”

  “Almost there, Connor.”

  A pulse of anger surged through him. “You said that already. I need you in position. Time for some aggressive driving, Kenny.”

  “You got it.” He heard Kenny’s dark laughter down the line, but it did nothing to assuage his rising alarm.

  This was it.

  All the hours they’d planned and the caffeine they’d drowned in, it all came down to this one moment of precision. Could they all come together and take down the sons of bitches who were holding Delilah? Could they save her for Dalton?

  Connor’s attention was diverted by the loud noise of a car horn, which tooted directly to their right. Looking up, he saw Marks giving the other driver a one-handed gesture before he pulled into the space in front of his car.

  “Nice work.” He smiled at the driver.

  “I don’t think I’ll be making many friends,” Marks chuckled, checking his rear-view mirror.

  “Fuck it,” Connor replied. “You don’t need friends. You have The Syndicate.”

  Staring out of the windshield, his gaze searched for the sedan.

  “It’s on its way, Connor.” Wallace’s voice burst out of the speaker again. “Reckon it should be with you within the next minute or so.”

  From the other side of the junction, an abrupt chorus of car horns rose in the air—the evidence of car two’s journey, no doubt.

  “We’ll be there just as soon as we can.” Mitchell sounded frantic. “We only have one more vehicle to get past.”

  “Step on it.” Connor’s voice lowered to a growl as the registration of the sedan finally came into sight. “We’ll need your support as soon as possible.”

  Glancing out of his window, he saw Wallace wander into view. “Get ready.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Everyone, get ready.”

  Chapter Nine

  Delilah

  Bound with her wrists tied behind her back and the obligatory black ball gag shoved between her teeth, Delilah was bundled into the heated backseat, between two of Hyland’s morons. She was on her way to Lauper’s again, forced to make the humiliating journey in only her underwear, but there were bigger worries on her mind as the dark sedan negotiated the city traffic.

  Where the hell was Saul with this stunning rescue plan Lauper kept reassuring her about? It had been days already—days of going there and pretending to be used and abused, only to be funneled straight back to Hyland’s bloody cage afterward. And she would have been used too if Lauper had turned out to be the man she’d initially dreaded. Delilah’s only reprieve was the fact he was a double agent, and while he wouldn’t let her go free, at least he wasn’t hurting her.

  Like Hyland will. Like they all fucking will if you don’t get out of here soon.

  Delilah pushed those thoughts away, curling up into an even tighter ball on the black leather seat. Being crippled by anxiety wasn’t going to help her, yet it was becoming difficult to avoid the inevitability. She was damn lucky no one had done more than fondle and insult her so far, but the grim reality was that could all change in a heartbeat. Hyland could decide he wanted a piece of her at any time, and sooner or later, he would offer her out to his other lousy men. She had no doubt about that. He’d do it just for kicks.

  “Ready for another day of fun, sweetheart?”

  The guy sitting to her left laughed at his own idiotic question, and she tensed as his palm swatted her exposed backside. As usual, she hadn’t been allowed the luxury of sitting upright. Her head was shoved awkwardly against the leather, trying not to make contact with the hulk of the guy who was sitting on her right side, and despite her best attempts to make herself as small as possible, the blanket only partially covered her body.

  “Fuck you.”

  She hissed the words around her gag, grimacing at the dark chuckle which met her retort.

  “What was that?” His mocking tone ripped right through her. “Best take out the ball for a minute, so we can hear the words of the condemned woman.”

  The large, grubby fingers of the other one appeared in her line of sight, and she struggled against her binds as he yanked the gag from between her lips.

  “That’s better.” It was the same, disdainful tone that floated toward her. “Now, what did you just say?”

  Delilah turned her head as best she could. “I said, fuck you.”

  “Not today, darling.” The other one chipped in, and she could sense the weight of his stare drilling into her. “Today, Lauper gets to have all the fun, but don’t you worry. All that’s coming to an end.”

  Her belly knotted at his assertion. “What?”

  The one by her arse chuckled. “Hyland ain’t told her yet.”

  “Ahh, I see.” The one nearest her head shifted in his seat to glory in his moment. “Then let me be the one who breaks it to you. This is your last day with Lauper, darling. As of tomorrow, you’ll be mine, his, and anyone else who Hyland decides to farm you out to.”

  Delilah’s breath caught at the way he put that. “That’s not going to happen.”

  She had no idea why she said it. She was bound and being ferried around for sexual favors, and while Lauper had bought her some time, Delilah was conscious that was all he’d done.

  She was still at the mercy of Hyland.

  She was still fucked.

  “Oh, really?” The one by her arse, smacked it again, harder this time. “And why’s that, ginger? Do you reckon Lauper’s fallen in love with you and won’t want the boss to share?” He snorted at the idea. “As if anyone could want a whore like you for more than a few minutes. As if anyone would care.”

  His words sliced at Delilah like a knife, but as normal, she refused to let it show.

  “A few minutes, you say?” She chuckled dryly. “No wonder neither of you has a fucking girlfriend.”

  “Shut up, bitch.”

  The one to her right was already grabbing at the ball gag and lifting the thing back toward her mouth.

  “No way,” she muttered, arching her face away from him and turning her head left to right to avoid the gag. “I’m not having that—”

  It was too late.

  The other guy lurched toward her, his large hands holding her head steady while the other brute-forced the plastic inside again. Delilah screeched into the ball as he pulled the strap tight behind her head, then flung her unceremoniously back against the seat.

  “Whores don’t get to have an opinion.”

  She panted against the leather as pain and indignation surfaced.

  “Whores are only good for one thing.”

  “Well, three actually,” laughed the first idiot, his hand stroking the vulnerable curve of her arse. “And based on what Lauper has said, I can’t fucking wait to try all of them.”

  The other one laughed. They were, apparently, completely oblivious to the seething, frustrated anger pulsing from Delilah. Most likely, they just didn’t give a shit.

  “You’ve always been an arse man.” The one who’d shoved the gag back into place made the statement sound like an accusation.
>
  “What’s wrong with that?” balked the other guy. “This whore has a fine arse. Good for squeezing, good for spanking, and I’m sure it’ll be good for fucking.”

  His words were met with a roar of amusement. “That’s what I’m talking about. It’s all about the—”

  He never finished his sentence, or maybe he did, and the sound was just drowned out by the gut-wrenching sound of crunching metal, exploding around them.

  Delilah gasped as best she could around the gag, but with her head tucked down on the seat, she couldn’t see the source of the noise. What she could sense, though, was the way the car jerked and the way her body reeled to the left.

  For the first time, she was grateful to the sleazebag at her arse since it was his body she fell against and not the interior of the car.

  “Shit!”

  She didn’t even know which jerk-off spoke.

  “Shit, what was that?”

  “Someone hit us.” The angry yell of the driver clarified what Delilah’s brain was trying to decipher. “Some fucking idiot had the temerity to hit us!”

  “Fuck.” That was the one she’d half-landed on. “Fuck. My head.”

  The other guy pulled in a deep breath. “Your head?” He demanded in a shaky voice. “Look how close the metal came to fucking impaling me.”

  “Get this bitch off me. I can’t see shit.”

  Rough hands were at her shoulders, and as unceremoniously as she was bundled inside, Delilah found herself righted. It took a couple of seconds for her head to clear, then her gaze wandered to the place the moron had been complaining about. To her horror, she found he was right. Whatever had collided with them must have been large and moving at speed.

  “Get out there and see who it is!” The guy to her right was clearly in shock. “My door won’t even bloody open.”

  She glanced back at her other babysitter.

  “Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “I’ll go, but don’t expect me to—”

  Once again, those words were lost to the same thunderous sound of metal, but this time it was to her left. Delilah screamed as far as the plastic ball would allow, watching in slow motion as the sedan was rammed on the other side. The impact was largely on the empty passenger seat this time, but it twisted the apprehension in her like a blade all the same.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  The driver turned back toward them, his eyes wide with horror.

  “Who is it?” The guy to her left had already unfastened his safety belt. “Can you see from the front?”

  “It’s two different cars, man!”

  “Well, get us out of here!”

  “I can’t.” He was practically hyperventilating. “There’s traffic in all directions. We’re stuck here.”

  “Call for help.” The guy at her left shifted forward in his seat. “Hyland can send someone, and in the meantime, I’ll go and introduce myself to these fuckers.”

  At that moment, the door behind him burst open, and the barrel of some sort of automatic weapon was shoved into his neck.

  “I wouldn’t go anywhere if I were you.”

  Delilah couldn’t see the face of the one holding the gun, but she froze with terror. She hated firearms with a vengeance. Over the years, Delilah had seen the damage they did, and it never got any better.

  “Get your hands in the air.” The order was a snarl. “All of you.”

  She panted into the plastic as all three men around her slowly complied.

  “Whoever you’re working for, I hope they’re worth it.” The one at her left spat the words out in a pretty cocky tone for someone who had a gun pointed at him. “Because you’re a dead man.”

  “Think again.”

  The barrel of the weapon pressed into the back of his head, and for one, nausea-inducing moment, Delilah thought the unknown assailant was going to blow his brains out.

  Time protracted as the scene unfolded in front of her, and all the while, she was bound and gagged, unable to get away, unable to even call out.

  She was so consumed with the horror show playing out before her, she never heard the approach at the other window. It wasn’t until the glass smashed and the end of yet another gun was shoved inside, aiming at the other moron, she realized they were surrounded on both sides, and whatever the hell was going on, it was playing out in the middle of the central London rush hour.

  Delilah screeched, scooting left to avoid the fragments of glass, though she was already sure a few were lodged into her flesh.

  “Don’t even think about doing anything stupid like reaching for your weapons.” Another voice, this time from the right. “Do as you’re told, and this will all be over and done with.”

  “Get out and down on your knees. Hands behind your head.” The command was called from the open doorway, and the gun was jabbed harder into the side of Hyland’s guy’s face. “Now.”

  For a lingering second, she locked gazes with the guy who’d taken such pleasure in degrading her, then he was gone. Easing out of the car backward, she watched as he was kicked to his knees, the gun insistent at his temple.

  “Do it.”

  The growl of the unknown male voice resonated, and from somewhere at the back of her mind, Delilah thought she recognized it, but she couldn’t allow herself to believe this was some sort of twisted rescue attempt. She couldn’t hope. Men like Hyland had lots of enemies, and the gun-wielding men could still represent danger, maybe more danger than Hyland.

  “We don’t have time for this shit. Just do it.”

  Her heart seemed to stop beating with the instruction. She had no sympathy for the man who now knelt beyond the car door, but she also had no desire to see him executed. Acting on instinct, Delilah squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the sound of gunshots, but it was a dull thud which inspired them to flicker open once more. She just caught sight of the wrong end of the weapon colliding with his skull before the light went out in his eyes, and he collapsed to the concrete.

  “Get around there and cover me. He won’t be out for long.”

  The sound of heavy footsteps conveyed the fact someone had responded to the order, and stepping over the body of the guy who she’d been sandwiched between, someone new appeared.

  Except it wasn’t someone new at all.

  It was the face of someone Delilah assumed she might never see again.

  Connor Reilly.

  Chapter Ten

  Dalton

  As Dalton slammed the door closed behind him and ensured Molly was safely strapped in the back seat beside him, he began to wonder if this really was such a good idea. It seemed as though every part of him hurt, from his pounding head to the consistent ache in his chest, and he’d never been so weary in his entire life, but the image of Delilah drove him on. Molly had given him a letter from his firecracker just before they left the hospital, and those words played in his head on repeat, like a melody that was stuck on a loop. He needed her back. This had to be a good idea.

  With a sigh, he gave the order for them to leave.

  “Where are we headed, Mr. Reilly?”

  Saul’s driver, Marco, looked rightly suspicious about the change of plan. Somehow, Dalton had to persuade him to keep the details of their destination a secret. The last thing he needed was Saul to find out—or worse—Connor. Right now, his brother would have enough shit to deal with.

  “I want to drive the route from Zander Hyland’s headquarters to the place Lauper is holed up.” His stare pinioned Marco’s in the rear-view mirror. “You know it?”

  “Yes, sir, but…” Marco hesitated, alarm flashing in the older man’s eyes. Marco, who had been driving Saul for more years than Dalton could remember, knew better than to query an order, but evidently, he couldn’t help himself today. “Are you sure that’s where you’d like to go.”

  Dalton pressed his lips into a hard line. “Yes. Thank you.”

  Marco nodded before he signaled to pull away.

  “Should I call this in, Dalton?” Prime glance
d over his shoulder from the front passenger seat. “Mr. Morrison asked to be kept updated.”

  “Saul will be too busy with the morning meetings.” Dalton’s tone was dry. “Don’t bother him now.”

  Prime’s brow furrowed. “Okay, but I had specific instructions to—”

  “What is it with everyone today?” Dalton snapped. “I nearly died, so everyone can tell me what to do?”

  Molly pulled in a deep breath from the other side of the large backseat.

  Fuck, I’ve never seen Dalton like this.

  Her thoughts radiated out at him, and something about them instructed him to get a grip.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, raising a palm to Prime. “Please, just leave Saul Morrison to me. I’ve known him longer than you.” He glanced around the luxurious confines of the car once more. “Longer than any of you, actually.”

  Dalton had known Saul since they were kids. Saul had just finished school when their paths had crossed, and they’d been as thick as thieves ever since. It was Saul who had helped him and Connor through the shit house of their parents’ suicides, and Saul, who’d offered them the chance to join the new organization he was building. Dalton had been with The Syndicate, right from the beginning. He reckoned by now, the place was as ingrained into his blood as hemoglobin.

  “No problem, Dalton.” Prime turned back to face the morning traffic. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  “How are you feeling?” Molly’s voice was soft as though she didn’t want the others to hear.

  Dalton feigned a smile. “I’m fine, really.”

  She scowled at him. “You’re a liar, Dalton Reilly, and not a very good one, at that.”

  He laughed at her accusation. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right.” Molly’s expression was serious. “You barely look well enough to stand for too long. The doctors are going to go berserk when they realize you’ve discharged yourself and…”

  God knows what Connor will say.

  “And what?”

  She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Worrying about my little brother again?”