by Imogen Wells
“Now that, I don’t fucking know the answer to. It’s been bugging me too.”
Finally feeling able to continue driving, I pull back out onto the road. “I’m heading back to London, but if you get anything—”
“You’ll be the first to hear when I get my answers, Rick. And don’t think I’m not pissed at you for letting those bastards get their hands on my girl, but you’ll keep.”
Heading down the slip road to the motorway, my phone chimes with an email, but not recognising the name as anything important, I leave it.
Thirty-Eight
Jess
I’m lying on my back, staring at the ceiling and still unable to move. Not that I’d be able to move far even without the effects of the drug still holding my body hostage. I watched helplessly as they shackled me to the bed frame before leaving me here.
We travelled in the van for hours, so my guess is we’ve either gone back towards London, which I hope is the case, or headed further north.
At one point the feeling started to return to my muscles, but before I had the chance to use the opportunity, the bastards pulled over and injected me with more muscle relaxant shit.
Now though, the feeling is returning to the tips of my fingers and toes, and I hope they don’t give me anymore. I’m seriously getting sick of being kidnapped. It grows old quickly.
The room has grown dark while I’ve been lying here, and wherever we are, the house is quiet. I guess I should be grateful for better accommodation this time round.
Time passes slowly as the moon moves passed the only window in the room, and at some point, I must have fallen asleep.
A bang wakes me, and the moon has now been replaced with a very low and rising sun casting its ray directly across my face. I turn my head away and close my eyes again. They spring open as I realise I can move my head. Testing the rest of my body, I wriggle my toes, roll my ankle, until eventually I raise an arm in the air.
“Thank fuck,” I whisper. It takes me another minute to realise I’m no longer shackled to the bed. My brow furrows in confusion at the fact I’ve been left unrestrained.
Slowly and as quietly as possible, I sit up, taking in my surroundings. It’s a plain and average room with little to no furniture other than the bed and a small chest in one corner. White walls, no curtains and a room off to the right that contains a small sink and toilet and nothing more.
Rising from the bed, I search the room and toilet for anything useful, but it’s pointless. I use the toilet and wash my hands and face. Sitting back down, I wait. And wait. And wait.
Eventually, the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside reaches me. Closing off everything, all my emotions, facial expressions and thoughts, I lock them all away hoping to fool whoever is coming for me into thinking I’m a scared little woman. I desperately want to escape, and maybe do a little damage on the way out, but I need to be realistic. I don’t know my way around the house, and I don’t know how many men are here either.
Knowing my situation and what I’m facing is my greatest power here. It also helps that I don’t have anyone else to worry about like last time. It’s just little old me, so I’m prepared to fight with everything I’ve got.
When the door finally opens, the two men from yesterday file in. They’re pretty nondescript; one larger than the other, both have greasy, short dark hair and dark stubble covers their jaws. Their tanned skin and accents I heard from snippets of conversation yesterday tell me they aren’t British, although their English is very good.
I remain quiet as they come further into the room and wait for them to speak first. Only they don’t speak, instead they march across the room, each snatching hold of an arm and hauling me to my feet.
At which point I begin my Oscar worthy performance.
“Please, no. Please, let me go. Who are you? What are you going to do with me?” I cry, even managing to force a couple of tears from my eyes. I pull back against their hold, shaking my arms to get free, and I even relax my body slightly, so they have to drag me from the room and down the corridor. All the while I sob and cry, begging them to let me go.
I take note of every door we pass and every turn we make. There are only 4 other doors up here, so not a huge house. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I see that it’s a standard house, nothing fancy or extravagant.
The men practically carry me into a room off the main hall while I continue to struggle and cry. It’s an office come library, and every wall is shelving stacked with files or books.
“I haven’t seen you throw a tantrum this good since you were five years old, Jessica. As entertaining as this is, you can drop the act now, daughter.”
I stop struggling instantly. Everything stops; my breathing, the crocodile tears and even my heart stops beating momentarily. The shock at hearing my father’s voice is like a shot of heroin. His words are the dirty brown liquid that floods my veins making me nauseous and my skin itch. There’s no high, no euphoria, just a serene calmness that washes over me.
“Fuck you, Father.” My words are calm, just like me, but laced with poison. Turning to the man on my right, who is still holding my bicep with a steel grip, I say, “Left or right-handed?” He looks confused at my question, but I raise my brows, urging him to answer.
“Left. Wh—” Before he can finish, I raise my right arm, bending at the elbow and land a fist to his face. It’s not as hard as I would have liked, but it’s enough to force him to release his hold on me, and I quickly grab his left hand and tuck it under my armpit, then snap it back. The sound of bones cracking is drowned out by his screams, and I release him.
“Lay your fucking hands on me again, and it won’t just be a broken hand you have to worry about,” I spit at him.
The sound of clapping forces me finally look at my father.
“Bravo, Jessica. I’m beginning to wonder if I picked the wrong child. Maybe I was too hasty and overlooked the use of a daughter after all.”
Ten years ago, I would have been so fucking happy to hear those words, to hear that my father was even the smallest bit proud of me, but now, they are empty, pointless and mean nothing. Ten years ago, my life was changed, and every dream I had as a little girl was shattered. The man before me, my father, betrayed me in a way I never thought possible. I picked myself back up, moved on, met a man and got married to spite my father. Only it turns out that was a betrayal too. Once again, my life was sent in a direction I never imagined.
Then five years ago, the only good person left in my life, the one person I trusted above everyone else, was taken from me too.
I didn’t think my hatred for my father could possibly sink any lower, but I was so wrong.
Standing before me is the man responsible for every tragic event in my life, and now is no different.
“What’s the matter, Father, regretting your decision to murder my brother? Destroying my life wasn’t enough for you, so you had to destroy his too.” I take a step forward, but a hand on my arm stops me. I brush it off and move forward again. My father’s eyes flick to the man behind me, and I wait for the touch that I know is coming.
When it does, I don’t waste a second. I spin out of his hold and follow up with a solid punch to his nose. He lets out a cry of pain as blood begins to pour from between his fingers, and as the shock of my hit wears off, he comes for me.
I let him, and when he’s within reaching distance of me, I swing a leg out low and take his feet from under him. He hits the floor with a dull thud, and I wait for him to get back to his feet. He does and I expect him to come at me again, but he steps to the side as the sound of footsteps and the door opening behind me catches my attention.
My mother enters the room, but she’s not alone. Following behind her, his hand in hers, is a boy with dark hair and green eyes like his father. Time seems to stand still as they walk further into the room and stop beside my father. My father moves to stand behind Max and rests his hands on his shoulders. I see a small wince as my father tightens his grip
on Max.
A rage so immense blankets me, and I step forward unable to hide my intentions. But I’m stopped in my tracks when the sharp point of a blade meets the middle of my back.
My body and mind are in turmoil, battling one another. Rage versus reason. My rage is tearing down the walls of reason my mind keeps putting up and is desperate to rip my father apart, but I know my father has taken Max to make me compliant. He knows I won’t do anything to cause harm to this boy, the son of the man I love, and that means, he knows more than I gave him credit for.
Ripping my gaze away from my father, I look to Max. My gaze softens as his eyes meet mine, and though I know he’s terrified, he’s his father’s son and not showing an ounce of fear.
“Are you okay, Max?” He gives me a small nod. Satisfied that he’s okay, for now, I move my attention to my mother who stands unemotional next to my father.
“How could you? Are you that desperate for a lavish lifestyle and the love of a man that makes the devil look like an angel that you’d condone this?” The blade at my back digs in deeper, piercing the skin. I let out a snarl, turning my head a fraction to the man behind me. “I’m going to fucking gut you, you piece of shit,” I whisper-growl out of the side of my mouth.
“Enough. Okay, now that we all know where we stand, let’s talk about how this is going to go. Sit, Jessica,” he says, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. The guy behind me shoves me forward, keeping the blade at my back and forcing me forward.
I sit, and the blade moves from my back to the side of my neck, just out of sight of Max. My father also takes his seat before turning to my mother.
“Take Max back to his room, Gigi, and remember why you are doing this.” I watch as she swallows thickly before moving out of the room, her hand still gripped onto Max’s. I turn, without thought for the knife being held against my throat, watching them as they reach the door. Before they disappear, Max looks back at me, and I almost come undone as I see the first real sign of fear on his face.
“It will be okay, Max. I promise.” The words taste like death in my mouth, and I’ll go to hell for making a promise I’m not sure I can keep. I’m going to do everything I can, whatever it takes, to make sure he gets back to Rick in one piece and unhurt physically.
As soon as the door closes behind them, I turn on my father. “So, Daddy dearest, what’s the master plan?” I ask, crossing my legs and leaning back in my chair. The movement causes the knife to slip, nicking my skin.
“Careful, Alonso, I need her alive for now,” he admonishes the man beside me. He’s the taller one of the two. The shorter one left the room cradling his arm to his chest and blood dripping from his nose, and a little beat of joy skips over me at the pain I inflicted. I’m seriously beginning to question my own sanity and what it means to enjoy inflicting pain on people.
“Before we begin, let’s clear up the little matter of your brother’s death. I had nothing to do with that. Well, not directly anyway. It was a misunderstanding, and Christian was caught in the crossfire. You, however, have been a thorn in my side since the day you were born. Not only were you an unfortunate accident but a girl too. Something else your mother kept hidden from me. Had I of known, I would have had you aborted. It seems I didn’t quite knock all the maternal sentiment from her,” he mumbles, and it’s said almost as an afterthought, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“Way to make a girl feel wanted, Father.” I scoff. I’m not bothered anymore. I’ve always known, felt, like I wasn’t wanted. Surplus to requirements.
“I never wanted you. You were a noose around my neck. Another damn leech, just like your mother. And unfortunately for you, I have no real need of you now. Besides, you’ve been meddling in my affairs for far too long. It has become a very big issue for me. Much like your friend, Rick Sullivan.”
“You mean the man who was tortured alongside my brother, your own son, and watched as he was murdered because of you. Yeah, he’s a real pain in the arse,” I snap, not caring that I’m being a bitch right now because I know my father has a bigger plan, and if it’s going to work, he needs me and Max alive to do it.
I feel the blade at my neck twitch, but my father shoots another warning glare to Alonso.
“Yes, well, sometimes in this life we have to make sacrifices. It’s how the world works. Whilst I’m upset about what happened to Christian, he wasn’t cut out for this life. He was too soft. As for Mr Sullivan, he and his friends have made my life incredibly difficult recently, meddling in my business and causing me a great deal of trouble. Perhaps you should be grateful it is only him that I’m interested in and not the lovely Camryn, or should I call her Kasey. And it is me you have to thank, with the help from Seb’s father, of course, that Seb and Miss Morgan are both still breathing.”
I keep my face poker fucking straight, but inside I’m screaming at myself and wishing I could leap across this desk and rip his eyes from his head.
“You’re a fucking monster! If Christian knew what you were doing and was here now, he’d rip you a-fucking-part.”
My father laughs. It’s sinister and full of mirth. “Oh, Jessica, don’t be so naive. Your brother knew, why do you think I had to let him go. As I said, I may not have planned to end your brother, but it was a welcome mistake. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get rid of your mother so easily. Besides, she still has her uses.”
I feel sick. Sick in a way that can never be washed clean. The blood that runs through my veins is tainted, touched by the devil. This man before me has no shame and not an ounce of remorse for the things he has done, and I just can’t get my head round it.
“I’m going to put you in the fucking ground, Father! I’m good at getting my own revenge, my own justice; I’ve had to be. It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all, but I’m not as rotten as you. I haven’t sold myself to the devil yet, but I’m more than happy to meet you in Hell.”
My father gets up, rounding the desk and striking my face with the back of his hand. I don’t feel the pain, not even when he grips my face. It does nothing but fan the spark of disgust, hatred and an unimaginable thirst to see his blood spilt. A spark that ignited the night he betrayed me, allowed three men to violate me and turned a blind eye just to keep his good name from being tarnished.
“Shut your fucking mouth before I have Alonso here show you just a taste of what that poor girl you were meant to be protecting went through. Trust me, it will be nothing like what you suffered before.”
This time I can’t keep my shock from flashing like a beacon on my face, and a grin so dark and full of satisfaction kicks up the corner of Archie’s face.
“I want Rick Sullivan out the way, and you’re going to help me with that.”
“And what makes you think I would do that?” I mumble, unable to do more with the tight grip he has on my face. We both know I’m just posturing, feigning indifference at this point.
“Because if you don’t, that lovely little boy of his will leave this house in a box, Jessica. And I don’t think you’d want that on your conscience.”
He’s right, I don’t. And I’m more than prepared to sacrifice my heart, my happiness and even my life to ensure that never happens.
Thirty-Nine
Rick
When I reach the small safe house on the outskirts of London, it’s almost dark, and I’ve not heard anything from anyone, which is worrying.
After I got off the phone to Roxy, I realised that I was still wearing my wet jeans from where we… I shake the thought away feeling a spike of anger and an even bigger one of fear at what’s happening to my son and Jess right now.
I carry my stuff to the bedroom and have a quick shower before making some calls.
I already checked in with my dad, but I didn’t tell him about Max not wanting to worry him while my mum is still recovering.
Scott is with them at the hospital, and he told me Jay is on his way here. Apparently, he has some information on Rendezvous that mig
ht be helpful.
Roxy, Ryder and Seb aren’t answering their phones, so when Jay arrives, I’m sitting in the dark with my head in my hands, anxiety and agitation running amok through me.
“Hey, man. I brought you some food,” Jay announces as he strolls in, switching the lights on as he goes.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to eat while I talk, Rick. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.” I hear the clang of plates and cutlery as he dishes up the food.
When he comes back out, he’s carrying a plate and two beers. He passes the plate to me and puts the beers down as he sits across from me.
The smell of the food makes my stomach growl, but I’m not sure I can eat without vomiting everywhere.
“Eat.” And he waits for me to pick up the plate and take a mouthful before he starts talking. “You said Jess mentioned a girl named Alicia Masters working at Rendezvous, right?” I nod, and he continues, “Well, when I was having a look on the website for her, I noticed a small insignia at the top of her profile page. I remember seeing it on several other profiles but not all of them. It’s not your standard run of the mill insignia, Rick. It’s a link to the dark web.”
I stop eating. “Let me guess, auctions.”
“Yes, just like the ones at Tempest, but on a much grander scale. That insignia ear-marks all the girls as a lot in an upcoming auction and allows bids to be made early or at the very least to declare your interest.”
“Fucking hell. Can anyone access this back door?”
“No, you need the Tor browser and an account to login. If you click the insignia and you don’t have the browser, it just takes you to their home page. I spent most of the day trying to hack into the damn thing, and I even spoke to Natalia, but she couldn’t help.”
I run to the bedroom and grab Jess’ folder. “Tell me more about how the back door is created,” I call, flicking through the pages of the folder until I find Jess’ note on Adam Masters and his sister.