by Imogen Wells
Redemption
Triple R Security Book 3
Imogen Wells
Contents
Foreword
Redemption
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Thank you for reading!
Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 Redemption by Imogen Wells
* * *
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
* * *
This eBook is ONLY available via Amazon. If you obtained a copy elsewhere, it is a pirated copy and illegal.
* * *
Cover Design by LJ Designs
Created with Vellum
Foreword
This book contains scenes and themes that some readers may find upsetting and/or offensive. Scenes of explicit sex, violence and profanity can be found in the pages that follow.
* * *
The author is British, and British English spellings and phrases are used throughout. If there are any words or phrases that you are unsure of, please do not hesitate to contact me.
[email protected]
Redemption
A simple moment in time, an action, a decision is all it takes for the dominoes to fall.
If it’s meant to be, it doesn’t matter which path you take, you’ll always end up right where you were meant to be.
One
Jess
“Lottie,” I whisper, but the only response is a small groan as I try to shift closer. “Fuck’s sake,” I curse as my movement is halted by these damn fucking chains around my wrists and ankles.
Realising it’s a useless waste of energy to try and shift closer, I move back to the damp cobblestone wall, chains rattling and clanking as I shift. I drop my head back and close my eyes.
I listen to the constant drip of water as it runs off the walls and ceiling along with the scratching and scraping of claws as a couple of rats scurry across the concrete floor nearby. There’s a small, high window on the opposite wall, but it’s barely a couple of bricks high in size. Whilst it’s enabled me to keep a track of the days and nights, it’s also allowed the bitter cold to cut through in the evenings when the temperature drops even further.
As far as I know, we haven’t left the country, but I was out for some time, so I haven’t ruled it out. When I came round, I was blindfolded and couldn’t see shit, but I knew we were in a vehicle, and we travelled for several more hours after I woke.
It’s been three days since then, and other than one man, who brings a pitiful meal once a day with a small, bottled water, I’ve not seen anyone else, until today.
A bang comes from the floor above, and then the scraping of metal on metal before the faint sound of voices reaches me. I can’t make out their words, even though they appear to be arguing.
I scan the room that’s been our home for the last three days again in the hope there’s something I can use as a weapon. Something I may have missed the other half a dozen times I searched, but there’s nothing except the bucket that was placed in the middle of the room for us to use as a toilet. My nose has become accustomed to the rank aroma that’s coming from it, and unless the stench is potent enough to knock someone out, it’s of no fucking use to me.
I try rousing Lottie again as the sound of heavy footsteps thud from above, but other than another groan, there’s no response from her. I have no idea what the fuckers did to her, but she didn’t come down here with me when we arrived. They kept her somewhere else for almost a day after I was thrown in here. She’s been in and out of consciousness since then.
The footsteps close in on our door, and despite not being able to see anything, I can feel the energy from whoever is standing on the other side. It sends a shiver over my skin, and I prepare myself for whatever is coming.
I close my mind off, like I did the last time, and I allow a veil of invisible protection to douse my body. My body is just that, but I know the importance of protecting my mind, and that’s what I concentrate on now.
The snick of a bolt being drawn back pierces the darkness, and as the heavy metal door is pulled open, light pours into the room. I close my eyes for a split second, and when I open them again, it takes a moment for them to adjust enough for me to see two figures standing in the room.
“Levantate. Levantate, ponte de pie,” one of them shouts, telling me to get up on my feet, and he steps forward when I don’t move fast enough. He snatches my arm, attempting to lift me, but I relax my body making it difficult, and instead, all he manages to do is drag me forward a fraction. “Levantate, puta!” he spits at me in anger.
‘Fuck you’ flows through my mind, but I say nothing as the other man steps forward.
“Get the fuck up!” he tells me, and there’s not a hint of a Spanish accent in this man’s words. The other man looks to Lottie, then back to me before he stalks towards her. That’s enough to get me on my feet.
“Hey, over here, arsehole,” I say, getting to my feet and drawing his attention back to me. He hears my words and turns, stomping back to me with rage swirling in his eyes. So, the fucker does speak English.
“Who you call asshole, puta?” he says, spittle landing on my cheek before he draws a hand back, slapping me hard across the face. Before I can recover, a fist lands in my gut, and the air rushes from my lungs. I suck in a breath, fists clenching with the need to lash out, but I hold myself because it’s not just me I have to worry about. As I right myself, another man steps into the room.
“Basta!, Raul. We don’t want her unable to talk,” he says, stepping up to the man who hit me and laying a hand on his shoulder. This man is clearly Mexican, but his accent is less pronounced, and his English is clear. Raul steps back, allowing the new guy through. I keep my eyes trained on Raul as my mind takes in every detail of his face, so I can be sure he’ll remember me when I deliver my punishment. “Hello, Jessica,
my name is Jorge.”
I finally pull my focus away from Raul and look at Jorge, but I don’t give him what he was clearly looking for because he snaps out a hand, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“You will look at me when I speak, and you will answer or every time you refuse, I will have a man come down here and show your little friend over there how good Mexican dick feels again. Do I make myself clear?”
Bile rises in my throat as his words sink in, and I now have my answer to where Lottie was before here. I grit my teeth, biting back what I really want to say, and clench my fists at my side.
“Yes,” I bite, trying to yank my face out of his grasp. He releases me, then pats my cheek.
“Now, let’s have a little chat about—” His words are cut off as breaking glass sounds from above. Jorge turns to the English guy, telling him to go and check it out. Looking less than pleased, he trudges from the room, cursing under his breath.
“Raul, levantarla,” he says, waving to Lottie, and I step forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding me.
“Leave her the fuck alone. What do you want?” I ask, anxiety rising in my gut as Raul reaches Lottie and begins lifting her to her feet. She’s barely conscious, and now with the light spilling from the hall, I can see her torn and bloody clothes. Smears of red run the length of her thighs, and it looks like someone ran their fingers through the blood. I begin shouting louder, thrashing my arms as my heart breaks for her and the pain that will inevitably come when she wakes to her new reality. Suddenly, a hand wraps around my throat as I’m forced back several steps, meeting the cobbled stone hard.
“Shut your mouth or I’ll have Raul give you a demonstration of how much your friend likes to be fucked in every orifice,” he snarls, squeezing my throat in his hands, and all his earlier fake pleasantries have completely vanished. He steps forward until we are almost nose to nose, and his rancid breath ghosts across my face as he begins talking again.
He doesn’t get more than two words out before a loud bang rattles through the foundations. Jorge stumbles, forcing him to release me, and as he regains his balance, I realise how close he is to me. Without thought, I raise my fists and bring them down on his head. I hear the chain cuff connecting with his skull before he falls to the floor unconscious, or if I’m lucky dead.
Movement in my left eye has me snapping my head that way to see Raul surging toward me, leaving Lottie to slump to the floor in a crumpled heap. The fraction of a second in which my attention is drawn to her allows Raul to lash out, but the blow glances off my cheek, losing its power. He roars before coming at me again, and this time he makes sure not to miss.
Tackling me to the ground, my back slams into the unforgiving concrete, and he attempts to pin my arms over my head, but no fucking way is he getting the better of me. The wall comes down as adrenaline floods my system, and my fight or flight response kicks in. Only I don’t have a flight response anymore. Fighting is my primary reaction now.
I focus all my strength into my arms and stopping Raul from restraining me. One hand slips free, and I quickly use the opportunity to slam the heel of my hand into his nose. Raul is no longer roaring but crying like a fucking baby as his nose pours with blood, and it drips down his throat causing a wet gurgling sound. He topples to the side, and I scramble away from him and get to my feet.
“Lottie. Lottie, it’s me—” my words are cut off by a sharp tug to my hair, and a scream of anguish tears out of me. I spin round, my hair tightening in Raul’s grip as my scalp mirrors my scream in protest of the harsh treatment, and my left arm swings in a low arc, landing keenly to Raul’s right kidney. Some of the force of my hit is lost from the awkward angle, and instead of him releasing me, he hooks my leg, taking my feet from beneath me.
My head hits the ground and spots dance in my vision as the room blurs in and out of focus. My eyes close, and when they reopen, a figure is standing over me.
Two
Rick
6 hours earlier.
As the chopper comes in to land, Tobias’ property and vast wealth is exposed. The fact he has his own helicopter shouldn’t really be a surprise when the guy is a media tycoon who has made his fortune building and selling websites with his company Lux Designs, whilst his daughter is a huge influencer in the beauty and fashion industry.
I have money, more than enough, but it doesn’t extend to a 10-seater helicopter with a damn toilet and a twenty-acre property in Scotland, plus several properties in London. I must be in the wrong fucking business.
I’m not going to complain too much about the chopper. Without it we would have still been at the airport waiting for a flight, and this one is big enough to accommodate the seven of us.
Laughter comes from behind me where Seb, Jamie, Scott, Dean and Drew are all sitting and currently taking the piss out of Jamie and her recently discovered fear of flying. Ryder is sitting in front of me still pouring over the floorplan of where we believe Lottie and her bodyguard, Jessica Fisher, are being held following an anonymous tipoff.
I was surprised to learn that Lottie’s Close Protection Officer was a woman, not because she’s a woman, but because Tobias is a typical old school male chauvinist. Even though Lottie works in the world of media, I get the impression he’s just humouring her until the day he can pass her off to a suitable husband and she can pop out a few heirs, male preferably, to his multimillion-pound enterprise.
The chopper bounces as we hit the ground, and the pilot switches the engine off, waiting for the rotors to wind down before jumping out and opening the door for us.
As we exit, I see two cars winding down the road to the helipad and stopping a few feet away in a layby. Thanking the pilot, we begin to walk towards them as Tobias steps out of one.
“You must be Rick,” he greets, holding out a hand for me to shake. “Welcome. Come on, let’s get back to the house. I’ve set up the war room for you.” Tobias turns and climbs back into the car. A soft snigger comes from behind me, and I turn to see Jamie covering her mouth with her hand. Seb stands beside her mouthing ‘war room’ to me with a raise of his brows.
“Knock it off you two. Did you leave your manners and professionalism back in Manchester? Seb, you’re with me and Blue in this car,” I tell him, driving my point home and pointing Jamie to the car Dean, Scott and Drew have climbed into. Seb looks like he has something to say, but Jamie’s hand on his arm stops him.
“It’s fine, Seb.” Turning to me. “Sorry, Rick,” she says before heading off to the other car.
I can see Seb is still desperate to say something but thinks better of it when he sees the look on my face and follows Blue into the car.
The drive to the house takes less than ten minutes, and as soon as we arrive, Tobias leads us to his war room.
Despite the fact I think he’s an arse, the room has everything we could need. It’s occupied by a huge oval table and along one wall is a bank of computers. As for the other walls, they are made up of a series of maps of the area and plans for the house we will be infiltrating. Lottie’s movements for the day she was kidnapped and a list of possible suspects are pinned to a board beside the table.
After a quick round of introductions, my suspicions about Tobias and his chauvinistic attitude are confirmed when he barely even looks at Jamie as I introduce her. We all take a seat at the table, while Tobias hands out individual copies of all the information on display.
Taking a seat, the agitation at the situation is clear on his face and in the bite of his next words. “Why have they not made contact? It’s been three days and nothing. Not a fucking word.”
I ignore his biting tone given his daughter is missing. “It’s a little unusual to leave it so many days without contact, but it doesn’t mean there won’t be a ransom demand. What can you tell me about the list of suspects? Why these people specifically?”
The list is short with only five names: a couple of disgruntled staff, an unhappy customer, and two fellow web design owners. I
’m surprised there aren’t more to be honest, but somebody like Tobias Harris is blind, or ignorant, to the fact people might dislike him. After taking a closer look at them all, only the competitors seem the most likely with the means and capability. But I’ve learnt that when desperate, people are capable of anything.
Tobias goes over the list of names one by one, and other than the obvious reasons, there’s nothing solid for us to go on. Dean sets to work checking the backgrounds of them all, while we discuss how we’ll enter the building.
With only the seven of us, we have to hope luck is on our side when it comes to the number of targets inside the building. Situated in the middle of nowhere, the site is an abandoned mental hospital. A logistical nightmare for any rescue team due to the sheer size of the building and made even worse for us as we have no intelligence on what to expect once we get inside.
The only solid information we have is that they are positioned in the largest out-building as it’s the only one with any working electricity and water. Even the tip-off, which came from an anonymous caller to a friend of Tobias’, can’t be confirmed until we have eyes on the place or get inside. The plans show there are only two entrances, but there are a series of underground tunnels that lead to the main building. We haven’t been able to establish if they are accessible or not and means we risk losing them if they are.