Provoke

by Missy Johnson

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mace

  From one of Melbourne’s best neighbourhoods to one of the worst. This was the kind of place I expected lowlife scum to live in. We followed Luke, staying back a few cars, to an industrial area on the outskirts of town.

  “What are you doing?” Leeta screeched as I flicked the headlights off.

  “It’s him and us in this street. Don’t you think headlights kinda make it obvious he’s being followed? And if he’s being followed, do you really think he’s going to stop?”

  Besides, we were barely even moving. It’s not like we were at risk of having an accident.

  She didn’t reply. We crept along the street, waiting for him to do something. Up ahead, Luke turned into a driveway. Bingo. My heart pounded. For the second time that day, I could smell victory.

  “What now?” Leeta asked.

  “Now I go down and check things out while you stay here.”

  “What?” she hissed. I winced. I should have known that one wasn’t going to go down well. “Mace, you are not going down there alone.”

  “Relax, I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just want to check the outside, try and get an idea of what we’re dealing with. Then I’ll call for some help.”

  “Help?” she asked suspiciously.

  I sighed. “Don’t ask, Leet.” She shut her mouth, instantly getting my meaning: family connections. What happened from this point on Leet was better off not knowing. In my world, getting help for a problem such as this meant only one thing.

  “Can you call for your backup before you go off leaving me all alone? Please?” she asked, frowning. Shit, she’s really scared.

  “Okay. I’ll call now,” I said, touching her arm.

  I scrolled through my contacts until I found Micky’s number. Dad had arranged everything—all I needed to do was say the word. I closed my eyes and listened as it rang. God, I just hope that I’m right.

  “Yeah?”

  “Micky. Mace Jordan. Long time.”

  “Mace, how are you going? Lemme guess; this isn’t a social call.” He chuckled heartily, which turned into a full-on throat-hacking cough. Good old Micky. A family friend, he and Dad had been exchanging favours for years. This was just another notch on the post.

  “No, it’s not. Dad spoke to you? Told you I might need some help? Well, I’m ready. I’m out the front of a warehouse out the back of Saint Meadows. Grouger Street. There is a grey Ford Laser parked out the front, and the property is lined with a tall blue fence. The driveway is open though.”

  “All good, mate. Leave it to Uncle Micky,” he said, laughing again. I smiled. Micky was one of those guys you couldn’t help but like—unless you got on his wrong side. Then he’d slice off your toes for stealing his parking spot.

  Hanging up, I turned to Leeta.

  “I won’t be long, okay? Five minutes, tops. I just want to see if there is a back way into this place.”

  “Please be careful,” she said. She reached for my neck and leaned over, her lips smashing against mine. I kissed her back, my fingers cradling her face. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” I promised, kissing her fingers. I got out of the car, zipping up my jacket. Walking up the sidewalk, I stuck as close to the fence as I could, hoping the line of shrubs would obscure me from anyone’s view.

  I crept up the driveway, listening for any sign of life. The warehouse was huge. I kept along the fence as I neared the side door. Pulling out my phone, I checked the time. It was nearly one on Friday morning. The only sounds were those of the traffic far off in the distance.

  I backed up along a row of shipping containers, slowly making my way around the perimeter of the lot. The place was deserted. As well as the side entrance, there was a huge roller door around the back.

  Squinting, I stared at a covered window. I could’ve sworn I had just seen a flash of light in there. What if he was in there alone? It hadn’t even occurred to me that the guys might not be there.

  They’ll be here. Most of their business would run at night—and why else would Luke have come here now?

  I crept back down the side, ducking out into the laneway and cutting across the neighbouring lot. Now we just have to wait. My heart was pounding in my chest, every beat ringing through my ears as the cold night air numbed my face.

  “Not so fast.”

  I stopped and turned around slowly, my eyes focusing on the gun that was aimed at my head. Shit.

  “You’re so keen to look around, why don’t you come inside and check the place out properly?” The man flicked his wrist, motioning for me to walk in front of him.

  All I could think about was Leet. I prayed that she stayed put, and didn’t try to come looking for me. But I also knew her better than that.

  Come on, Micky. Hurry the fuck up. Thank God Leet insisted I ring first, because that was all I was clinging to. I was fucked, and I knew it. The dude holding the gun certainly knew it, too. That put at least two of them here.

  This guy, and Luke.

  #

  “This is a turnaround, hey, Mace?”

  I looked up. A very happy Luke walked over to me, holding a baseball bat loosely in his right hand, swinging it around as though he were going out for a casual hit. I flexed my wrists against the ropes that tied me to the chair I was sitting in. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “You’re not a very smart man, are you?” he asked, leaning the bat against the wall.

  He walked in front of me and crouched down. I studied his face. A black eye and some bruising was the only evidence of earlier. The blood, the sweat . . . it was all gone.

  “You think I didn’t know you were following me? Did you think I was that stupid?” He laughed and then swung his fist at me.

  I groaned as it connected with my chin, knocking the wind out of my chest.

  “You know, the best part of all this is the fun I get to have with your pretty little girlfriend. I couldn’t believe my luck when you landed on my doorstep with her in tow. She’s a sexy piece of meat.”

  “You touch her and I’ll kill you,” I spat, rocking violently in my chair.

  “Yeah?” He laughed. “Pity you’ll already be dead. I just hope she’s as much fun as your sister was.” He picked up the bat and cracked his neck as his mouth broke into a grin. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this, Mace.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Leeta.

  Where the hell is he?

  I craned my neck and peered into the darkness, looking for anything that could be Mace. I glanced at my phone. Something had to be wrong. He’d been gone for more than forty minutes. It didn’t take that long to walk around a freaking building.

  Come on. I tapped my phone on my leg as anxiety filled my stomach. Where the hell was he? Should I call the police? Go down there? No. Do not leave this car, Leet. Just stay here and wait. Wait for what?

  Tap, tap.

  Relief raced through me as I turned to face who I thought was Mace at my window—only it wasn’t. I froze, my eyes glued to the gun resting against the glass, aimed directly at me.

  “Open the door, sweetie.”

  Leaning forward, I unlocked the door and opened it. I wasn’t stupid enough to argue with a guy holding a gun. One hit and that glass would shatter. This would go so much better for me if I just did what they told me to.

  “Get out of the car, nice and slow. Don’t try and be a smartass and I might not shoot you, okay?” he said.

  I nodded, stepping out onto the footpath. My heart raced as I stood up. He grabbed hold of my arm and shoved me, sending me sprawling onto the concrete. I had no fucking idea who this guy was, but he seemed intent on hurting me and the sheer size of him scared the fuck out of me. I blinked back tears as I examined my grazed palms.

  I stiffened. I felt the barrel of the gun in the middle of my back.

  “Get up, or I’ll get you up myself.”

  He laughed, using the gu
n to trail down my body. I shuddered, and struggled to my feet, refusing to let him see me cry. I couldn’t think about Mace. If I did, I’d break down. One foot in front of the other, I walked toward my target, the huge warehouse in front of me.

  This is it. I’m going to die. So much for blocking out the negative thoughts. My head was a mess of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.

  What if Mace is dead?

  You haven’t heard a gunshot, so stop thinking that way.

  We neared the side door. The man grabbed me around my arm and yanked me inside. I breathed in, trying to calm myself. The warehouse had a distinct smell of grease and fuel.

  As he walked me down the corridor, I tried to catch as many details as I could: that we turned left just after the wallpapered lining on the corridor had ended, the huge open space that it led into.

  “Sit. Over there.” He shoved me to a chair. I sat down. He pulled out a set of handcuffs and slipped one over my wrist, and the other over the wood railing of the staircase I was sitting next to.

  “Wait there.”

  I rolled my eyes as he walked away. Really? Where else was I going to go? I yanked at the cuff, trying to pry it free from the staircase. Despite its rickety appearance, the staircase was quite sturdy.

  I jumped as a scream echoed through the room.

  Mace. Thank God. A scream meant he was alive.

  I looked up, alerted by the sound of footsteps walking briskly across the floor. Luke was strolling toward me, a smile etched on his face.

  “Leeta. Lovely to see you again.”

  My stomach turned at the sound of him speaking my name—like we were old friends catching up for a coffee. He uncuffed me and took me by the hand, leading me out of the room. I wanted to resist, I wanted to fight, but the gleam from the handgun he held in his right hand stopped me.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. I had to keep him talking. Whatever he had planned, I had to try and put it off for as long as possible.

  “Why didn’t you stop your boyfriend from punching the shit out of me back at my house?” he shot back. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

  He threw me into the room, laughing as I tripped over my feet. I winced, gripping my hands tightly together, trying to ignore the pain that was searing through them.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, “I just need to take care of that boyfriend of yours, and then you and I can have a little fun.” He winked at me before backing out and closing the door.

  I got up and raced over, my hand on the handle. It was locked. I laughed bitterly. Why the hell would he leave it unlocked?

  Wiping away tears, I paced the small space, trying to think up some way out of this. Only this time, I had no ideas. I was locked in a room, separated from Mace…I had to be honest with myself: we might not be getting out of this.

  Turning to face the wall, I banged my hands against it, dried blood from my grazes rubbing off against the white of the paint. My heart raced. I had to have a plan. I always did. I refused to just sit back and give in. That wasn’t who I was.

  I ran my fingers through my knotted hair and tied it back up.

  Okay, think. Focus. It had to have been close to an hour and a half since Mace had called Micky. They had to be close, right?

  Yes. They would be there any minute. All I had to do was play along until then, buy myself some time. I closed my eyes and ran back over everything in my mind. If I could get out of this room, then maybe there was a chance.

  I looked up as the door opened. Any hope I had of escaping was crushed when I saw Luke standing there along with another man. This was not the man who had forced me out of my car, which put at least three of these fuckers here.

  Luke whistled as he walked over to me.

  “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this.” He smiled as he nodded toward the door. “Come on. It’s time.”

  I felt sick as I was forced out the door. Luke walked behind me while the thug with the gun walked beside me, both of them chuckling like they knew something I didn’t. Where the hell are they taking me?

  No sooner had the thought left my head than I was shoved inside another room. This one mirrored the one in the abandoned house—sterile, cold, and empty except for a metal table and a small trolley.

  My eyes darted from one camera to the next, to the mirrors lining the walls, and then fell on the table in the centre—and the trolley that lay beside it, covered in a full spread of tools. My eyes fell on the scalpel. I swallowed, trying to dissolve the lump forming in my throat. Oh, God.

  “Guess who is going to be the star of our show tonight, little Leeta?”

  Luke walked around from behind me until he stood in front, his cold eyes staring right into mine.

  “We normally don’t offer the full snuff service, but tonight we’re making an exception. You’ll be excited to learn you’re fetching quite a price. There is a hell of a bidding war happening right now with buyers who want to watch me rape and kill you.”

  “You’re a piece of shit,” I spat. I was past fear. Now all I felt was anger and pure hate for this asshole.

  “Ah, yes. There’s that fire.” He laughed and shook his head. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  He walked over to the trolley and stood there, as if the decision to choose an instrument was so damn difficult. Finally he picked up a pair of scissors and turned back to me, smiling.

  “You and your team,” he began, stretching out each word, “The DPP. Put away my nephew last year over a fucking drug possession charge. He would’ve been twenty this month, had he not been knifed to death over a fucking phone call inside.”

  I remembered. He’d been caught red-handed with nearly two kilos of heroin in a stolen car. And then pleaded not guilty. I laughed. Was he seriously pissed at me for doing my job?

  His fist came out of nowhere, connecting with my left eye. Pain throbbed through my face as he grabbed hold of my tee shirt, ripping it open. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head to the side, the scalpel positioned under my chin.

  “You want to keep laughing, whore?” he challenged. Tears stung my eyes. He smiled. “That’s better, bitch. Show a little more respect to the man calling the shots here, okay?”

  Luke stepped back, wiping his forehead. He waved his arm at me.

  “Get her clothes off and get her on the table. Leave her underwear on.”

  Hands came at me from behind as the thug tore what remained of my tee off over my arms. He reached down and yanked my sweats off, pushing me forward. I struggled to keep my balance, my arms closing over my chest, trying to cover as much of myself up as possible.

  I baulked as his thick, rough fingers enveloped me, hoisting me up onto the table. He reached into his pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs, which he looped around a loop at the head of the table, cuffing my wrists into place over my head.

  I stared at the ceiling, my breathing erratic as my heart pounded in my chest. It was like a bad dream. It didn’t feel real. Please let me wake up. Please, someone help me.

  “Do you know what the funny thing is?” he asked, laughing. “I had no idea of your connection to Mace until you landed on my doorstep.”

  He shook his head as he approached me, his fingers running over my bra, and down over my stomach as I tried to cower away.

  “I kind of feel like I’ve won the lottery with you, little Leeta.”

  I stiffened as his fingers dipped under my bra, his fingers rolling over my nipple. I fought to keep my expression empty, as if nothing he did affected me. Don’t give in. Don’t give him what he wants.

  “Now, you’ll be happy to know that your little boyfriend is still alive. I didn’t want him missing the show.”

  My eyes darted to the door as it flew open. Mace. Oh God, what have they done to him?

  His face was almost unrecognizable. Covered in blood, his eye was swollen shut, and a deep purple in colour. His once white shirt was now soaked with b
lood. He looked broken. Defeated. A man—the one who’d taken me from the car—shoved him into the corner, laughing as he all but collapsed to the floor. A low groan was the only indication that he was still alive.

  They are going to torture me and make him watch. And then they were going to kill him.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I stared above me.

  “Turn the cameras on,” Luke voice ordered. “Are you there, Dan, Clark and Percy? Congratulations, this is your prize.” He pointed to me. “Sexy huh? She’s a little fighter too.” He laughed. “We’re going to run things a bit differently tonight. I’m playing, but you three get to watch.”

  He grinned as he appeared over me, his fingers roaming over my stomach. I breathed in sharply, refusing to give him the fear I knew he wanted. His eyes narrowed. Reaching forward, he grabbed my bra and tore it off my chest.

  I gasped as the elastic from the band burned into my skin, pain searing through me.

  “Now the tough decisions,” he muttered. “Do I blindfold you or let you watch?”

  He turned around. The sound of metal rustling filled my ears as he fiddled with the contents on the trolley.

  Turning back, he smiled, his hand moving toward my breast. I stared at the ceiling, focusing on a tiny black dot that could have been an insect, or maybe a spec of chipped paint.

  I inhaled as his fingers grasped my nipple. He rolled it between his fingers, squeezing them together as pain rushed through me.

  “Come on, Leeta. You know I need more than that,” he chuckled. “These lovely men are paying top dollar. Don’t you want to give them their monies worth?”

  He picked up a small, thin-bladed knife and traced circles around my hard nipple, threatening to cut through the skin.

  Don’t touch me. I held my breath as he lowered his head, his mouth closing over my breast, his hands all over me.

  “Ahh,” I cried out, shutting my eyes as he bit down on my nipple. I felt sick as he sucked, his hand moving dangerously south. A sob escaped me as he slid a finger inside of me. I can’t handle this.

  “That’s good, you’re nice and wet,” he said, placing the finger into his mouth and sucking my juices off of it.