When she gained movement, she lashed out at Alexi, her small fists landing ineffective punches on his shoulders. “Letmegooooooo!”
THWAP!
Her head snapped to the side from the hard slap.
“I cannot. Jhett would kill me if I let anything happen to you. The man is smitten.” He shot her a wicked smile. “Not that I don’t understand why. You are truly amazing.” His fingers traced the path of her tears down her cheek. “Beautiful, smart, sexy and not afraid to fight.”
What the hell? This man talked as if he knew her. Alexi didn’t know her. How could he? And how would he presume to know what Jhett would feel for her when she wasn’t even sure? She’d have to puzzle it out later. Right now, she had to do whatever it took to get to her men.
He glanced over his shoulder for a moment before looking back at her. “I have to go. Stay away from Stark, Twyla. Go back to the apartment. Someone will come and fill you in as soon as possible.” He gave her a stern look. “Promise me, sweetling. I won’t leave until you do.”
Fine, lying to this scumbag was the least of her problems. If that’s what it took to get him off her, she’d tell a million lies. “I-I promise. Just let me go. Please!”
“Do not worry. He will be back with you soon.”
She longed to believe the words, the assurance in his softened gaze. Twyla wasn’t stupid, even if she pretended to be. “Yes. I’ll wait in the apartment for him,” her voice cracked as she continued, “where it’s safe.”
The schmuck must have bought her act because his weight lifted away and Alexi helped her to stand. He brushed at the dirt on her clothes but realized the futility and gave up. “Go now, sweetling.”
Turning and heading in the opposite direction she’d been going was one of the hardest things Twyla had ever done. Alexi’s gaze burned into her back as he waited to be certain she followed his instructions. Even when she no longer felt his gaze, Twyla kept walking, only glancing back to make sure he’d left as she turned the corner and broke into a run. She channeled every ounce of energy into her pumping legs and arms, throwing on a burst of speed as she looped around the block.
As the compound came into sight, Twyla came to a shuttering halt. Lord, it looked like a scene out of a James Cameron movie with shit blowing up, guns blazing and people running everywhere, illuminated by bright security lights. She dropped to her knees in a dark corner and opened up the battered laptop. Everything continued to get worse.
The cameras had all gone dark and the GPS locator offered no help. The red dots blurred as they raced around the screen, making identifying which dot represented who impossible.
Twyla shoved a shaking fist into her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping when Jhett’s weak voice echoed through her head. Her heart pounded and icy fingers of dread sliced through her body.
“I’m hit. I’m hit.”
“Doubling back,” Tank responded.
“No! Get the package out, pick up Hestia and keep your date.” The date he referred to was with the jet that would take them back to the States.
“Homerun, cover the package,” Tank ordered. “I’m going back for Hammer.”
“That wasn’t a request, Tank. Get the package and Hestia out. I’m going to be tied up for a while. Situation FUBAR. I’m down and totally naked.” He paused before continuing. Twyla felt as if she was dying inside. Being down meant he’d sustained a bad injury and being naked meant he’d become exposed, had no cover. “Gonna try to avoid getting ill and slip out the back. If I don’t make the rendezvous by twenty-two hundred go without me. I’ll find another ride.” She searched her memory for the codeword ill, biting harder on her fist when she realized the implications. He was about to be captured.
“Negative, Hammer. No can do.”
“Tank,” Jhett’s tone turned harsh. “You double back and it’ll be two instead of one. I need you to take care of the package and Hestia for me. If…” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Tell her—”
“That’s a negative, my brother! I’m not telling any tales. You’re gonna get your ass to the rendezvous and tell her yourself. Understand?”
“Copy. Now get going.”
“Hestia,” Tank’s voice had softened. “You copy?”
She had to pry her teeth from her hand before she could reply. “Putting on my dancing shoes now.” Another lie. She was really racking them up, but no way would she be sitting in the apartment waiting to leave without Jhett. Unh-uh. Somehow, someway, she was going in there and getting her man out.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then went for a mental walk on the wildflower path to her mountaintop waterfall in search of guidance from the past. When she reached the top, Twyla met up with the pin-up girl.
“Use the natural assets God gave ya, sugah.”
A dangerous plan formed in her mind, one she had no doubt the entire team would object to. She didn’t have many “assets” to work with, but did her best to vamp up her normal sedate appearance. She wasn’t sure if she could pull it off or convince the guards she was a hired whore if confronted, but she’d give it her best shot.
After tucking her equipment behind a dumpster, she set her hair free from its braid, the long waves trailing along her back, brushing the upper curve of her ass. She unbuttoned her shirt, rolled up the tails and tied it beneath her breasts. There wasn’t much to be done about the jeans or shit-kickers she wore. The damn abrasions would show too. Twyla fluffed her hair, sucked and nibbled on her lips until they swelled and reddened, put some major swing in her hips and walked straight toward the front gates of hell.
No one was around to stop her or question why she was there. The guards were occupied, busy handling the security breach. The fight seemed to be centralized in the rear of the compound, which worked well in her favor. Shell casings littered the ground and there were several dark pools of fluid she presumed to be blood. She approached an area of the concrete building with a huge hole that had charred edges, figuring one of the explosions had created the portal. As she stepped through, a hand grabbed at her ankle, surprising a strangled gasp from her throat.
She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming at the abomination dragging itself with one remaining arm. Blood covered what she could see of the guard’s flesh and half of his face appeared to have melted off. She hated to cause him further injury, but shook off his weak grasp and kicked out before racing down the corridor in the opposite direction. Yanking open the first door she came to, thankful to find the room unoccupied, she collapsed against the wall and cried. The guys had been right—she wasn’t prepared for combat. Too bad she didn’t have the luxury of not facing its horrors.
* * * * *
If there is a God, please, take me now! Jhett repeated the prayer for deliverance over and over again in vain. No merciful entity came for him. For the second time in his life, he’d been cast into the pits of hell. He feared there would be no escaping. Most people didn’t experience that kind of luck once. To do so twice would be a true miracle and he’d run clean out of those.
He never should have given in to the call of the action and the lure of a beautiful woman. Still, the brief period he’d spent with Twyla would sustain him through what he now faced. He planned on immersing himself in memories of long brown hair flowing over his skin or fanned out over his pillow, legs that went on forever wrapped tight around his hips and falling into mesmerizing green eyes. He’d dream and plot his escape.
All in all it was a great plan, but then the blonde devil herself walked through the door and incandescent sparks of remembered pain screamed through his shivering body, combining with the very real pain of torn flesh in his thigh.
“Akh! Zaichik,” she crooned.
Fuck, he hated those words. He wasn’t her bunny rabbit or any other damn thing. He held still as she tested the chains and straps holding him to the metal table then gave his flaccid cock a rough squeeze. Zoya leaned over his chest to whisper in his ear. “Soon, I will fu
ck you and it will be like old times, zaichik.”
Jhett closed his eyes as the needle pierced his right leg. She depressed the plunger, releasing a burning stream of drugs into his muscles. He tensed, waiting for the heat to fill his veins, whimpering as his cock began to rise no matter how he willed it to resist. His will lost the fight and his body betrayed him, skin becoming so sensitive and charged that the very air in the room created waves of pleasure.
A crack rent the quiet, followed by a painful lash from her whip over his balls, his sac tightening as the zing rolled through his flesh, turning into pleasure. His hips tried to thrust, but she had him strapped down too tight.
The routine was one he knew too well. First the escalating pain the drug tricked his body into deriving pleasure from, then the sexual teasing and finally the rape. What his body longed for his mind would battle. His mind would weaken until she won and he broke. She hadn’t gotten him to that point before and saw him as a challenge. Zoya would use paddles, probes, cock rings, electricity and medical devices including urethral sounds, among others. She probably had a few new tricks up her sleeve too.
Please let death come before my mind fractures! The familiar prayer whispered through his head. Jhett held no false hope of being saved. At least he could count on Tank to follow his orders and get Twyla stateside where she’d have a shot at a safe and normal life. Something a lot better than he could give her.
Just thinking of Twyla brought both misery and joy. He’d never hold her again, kiss her sweet lips or drink her pleasured moans into his body. Never get to tell her how wrong she was in thinking of herself as a computer geek when in truth her beauty outshone the sun. Twyla was perfect. Full of strength, courage, and for whatever reason, she believed in him.
Realization hit him hard, electric pulses arcing through his body, jolting him before Zoya had attached the first electrode. He loved Twyla, with all his heart and soul. A difficult idea to believe since he’d never felt the powerful emotion with anyone before.
Knowing he’d never get to tell her hurt worse than any torture his skilled interrogator would deliver to his body. His only regret was that he’d waited too long to figure it out and would never have the opportunity to say those important three little words.
Chapter Twelve
She had no clue how long it took to get her emotions under control. When Twyla emerged from the room, she raced from one doorway to another for any sign of where they held Jhett. “You’d better hang on, flyboy, or I’ll kick your ass myself.” She would not leave here without him. He would not be left behind again. She’d have none of that history-repeating-itself bullshit.
Racing around a corner, she ran right into one of the guards. He shouted questions at her rapid fire. Twyla only managed to catch a few of the words, but enough to let her know he intended to stop her. She spied a fire extinguisher hanging from the wall to her right, took a breath and grabbed for the metal canister. The guard, apparently stunned by her actions, failed to react in time to prevent the hard blow to his skull. The sickening crunch of bone churned the bile in her stomach and a blast of warm liquid hit her face. She lifted her arm and rubbed the blood from her cheek onto her shirt sleeve.
With precious seconds clicking away, she didn’t allow her conscience to kick in. Twyla dropped the canister and kept moving. Along the way, she picked up a weapon from an armory room. Either she’d use it to hit the guards over the head or if all the shit hit the fan, she figured it couldn’t be that hard to operate—point and shoot, right? Piece of cake.
The stress got to her and she pictured herself as one of those Hollyweird action heroines wearing not much more than a bra and panties, one of those thingies with all the bullets strapped to it slung over her chest like a beauty pageant sash, hair flying wild around her and with a gun in her hand as she struck a pose. A buff A-list actress like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2 or Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. The image in her mind almost drove her to fits of hysteria.
Lord, she had to find Jhett and get them the fuck out of here before she lost what little of her cool still remained.
Stark gave her the creeps. The halls of the compound were empty and silent. There were some bizarre and wicked-looking devices in several of the rooms she came across. She presumed they were for torture. In fact, one of the damn things looked pretty similar to an electric chair.
“Sick fuckers!”
An idea took form in her mind. She remembered Jhett telling her he’d been to the Ukraine when working as a mercenary. Tank had said he’d heard rumors of Jhett winding up in some enemy torture facility, which jibed with his nightmares. Add in the increasing distance he put between himself and everyone else since they first learned where Hillman was being held and she didn’t like the conclusion.
Oh crap! Could Stark be the place where Jhett…
Nah! If it were, he wouldn’t have been able to force himself to come back here. Hell, nobody in their right mind would.
She came to a room filled with monitors and controls. The name written on the door was in a foreign language, but she didn’t have to read the words to get the idea. Hot damn! She’d discovered the computer core of Stark. This would be a natural for her.
One no-so-little problem, a beefy guard sat before the console. Lifting the gun, she swung, aiming the stock for the base of his skull just as the man turned. The momentum swept her off balance. Before she realized what had happened, the guard had her pressed against the wall, one hand at her throat. With each word the angry man bellowed a disgusting spray of spittle hit her face. She couldn’t get adequate oxygen through her compressed airway and into her lungs. Twyla wheezed as her vision began to narrow and darken.
Oh fuck no! This Hussy was not going down without a fight.
Her arms flailed, grabbing at anything she could reach, gouging his face and pulling out a tuft of wiry black hair. Focusing every ounce of remaining energy, she slammed her knee into his groin. The second he let go of her neck, she lunged forward, teeth bared, and bit into his vulnerable neck.
He collapsed, clutching his balls with one hand, and still managed to drag her down with him. Lucky for her, Twyla landed on top. She ground her knee against his abdomen and held on with her teeth, tasting a combination of salty sweat and the bitter copper flavor of blood.
The guard let her go and rolled into a tight ball. Staggering to her feet, she picked up the gun and aimed. She held the barrel in a two-fisted grip and feeling like Tiger Woods lining up the crucial shot needed to win that butt-ugly championship jacket, she swung with all her might, knocking her opponent out. She could almost hear the polite round of soft golf applause for nailing the birdie, or whatever the hell they called making the shot.
Twyla grabbed the handcuffs conveniently attached to the unconscious guard’s utility belt. After she had him restrained, she turned to glance at numerous switches and dials, hoping something would stand out. Pressed for time, she opted for experimentation and hit buttons at random to see what would happen. Before long she landed on a row that affected the monitors. Switching from one view to another, her heart nearly leapt from her chest when she stumbled across an image of Jhett.
“Oh. My. God.”
Shock chilled her body and froze her feet in place as she tried to comprehend what she witnessed. Her mind struggled to assimilate the image.
The metal table reminded her of the ones used for autopsies with a channel extending around the periphery to drain fluids, collecting them in a basin at the foot of the monstrosity. He lay naked on the cold steel, secured by chains, cuffs and straps. Blood seeped from various wounds and ran into the channel. A nearby cart on wheels held scary shit she didn’t want to consider. Some of it looked to be medical devices, the rest were definitely implements used for torture.
Wires ran from different points on his body—nipples, several points on his erect cock, his scrotum and one disappeared beneath the sac. The wires connected to a box that sat between his spread knees. Someone outside the picture reache
d in, turned a dial and pressed a button. Jhett’s entire body tensed and bucked against the restraints. They were administering electric shock.
“Oh Lord, help me.” A diagram she’d found of fire exits showed there weren’t many rooms she had not checked yet. Twyla raced out the door with a general idea of where to find him. Seeing through the tears was a challenge and she made several wrong turns before finding the right room. Of course it had to be the last one, although a higher power must be working in her favor because she didn’t encounter any guards along the way. If her luck continued, the door wouldn’t be locked.
Holding the gun at the ready, she turned the knob and thrust the door open. It hit the wall with a resounding bang. A very different scene from the one she’d seen on the camera met her stunned gaze.
Jhett gasped as Zoya stopped moving over him. “Who the hell are you?” she screeched. He glanced toward the door, shocked and distrusting the reliability of vision, thinking his stressed mind had created what he wanted to see, what he hoped to see. But deep down he knew she was real.
Twyla looked amazing, a kick-ass seductress, armed and ready to fight. Jesus, how’d she get here, inside Stark? Where the hell was Tank? And she’d caught him with his dick in another woman.
A compromised and defenseless position.
Busted.
He was so fucked, and not in a good way. She would never believe he’d been drugged and raped.
“I’m your worst nightmare, bitch. A Hussy warrior. Now get your scrawny ass off my man before I knock you into next week!”
Holy shit! She didn’t condemn him for a response he had no control over. Instead, she fought for him. He’d never been more proud or felt so loved before.
Zoya tossed back her head and laughed, thrusting her hips for emphasis. The move further blurred the lines between pain and sex, making it more difficult to not let either show in his expression. “Idle threats. I bet you don’t even know how to fire that weapon.”
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