by Sandra Scott
“Helena’s knowledge of activity within the village might give us a clue to Hog’s whereabouts.” He pushed by Jayson to head for the door. “It is the only option we have at this moment. Come!”
Swiftly, the men headed for the foyer, intersecting with Helena just as she burst through the swinging kitchen door, her hand holding high a piece of paper.
“Helena!” George called out. He stopped short when she rushed up to thrust her note at him.
“Here. You might need to use this information,” she said, her voice hopeful.
George gently took the proffered paper and read the scrawled words with a confused air. He looked up. “Helena, what is this?”
“This is the address where the Texas American lives.”
Having obtained information they needed but not yet asked for, the three men looked at one another before collectively returning their amazed gazes to Helena.
“You need this, right?” she asked.
“But I do not understand. How did you know to give this to us?” George asked, handing the note to Jayson. “How?”
Her face calm, she folded her ample arms across her belly. “I know.”
Jayson turned away from her in impatience, dismissing her to focus on Stefano. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to get moving and find Andra before—”
“Agreed.” Stefano hurriedly addressed their father. “Please stay behind to watch over the ladies until we can investigate this.”
“Yes, Son, I will. Be careful, both of you.”
At Stefano’s and Jayson’s nods, Helena cleared her throat and jerked her head toward the closed door of the formal sitting room. “Ms. Sly and Ms. Racine are not there. Only Ms. Al,” she said.
“What do you mean they’re not there?” Jayson sped to the door and opened it, spying Al sleeping soundly on the couch. He whipped around. “Helena, where are Racine and Sly?”
She pointed to the piece of paper he held in his hand.
“Our Father in heaven,” George muttered. His voice rose. “Helena, what time did they set out?”
“About half hour,” she said, her body language growing more uneasy as each second passed. Her round eyes welled with tears. “Did I do something wrong, Mr. George?”
His expression showed he didn’t know how to answer the question, so he simply shook his head.
“I don’t get it,” Jayson said to no one in particular. “How did they figure out to ask for this particular information?”
Stefano suspected the younger ladies had taken lessons from Helena’s eavesdropping and gotten the information from outside his office.
“It does not matter,” he said brusquely. “We need to stop them before they too fall into this madman’s grasp.”
Nodding, Jayson stepped forward to place a hand upon George’s shoulder. “Papa, would you stay with Andra’s mother and fill her in on what’s happened?”
“Of course.” Concern for Stefano and Jayson caused George’s eyes to bounce worriedly between the two. “Again, be careful. I cannot afford to lose both my sons at this point in my life.”
Stefano sensed Jayson’s poignant stare and met it forthright, knowing his younger brother’s thoughts deliberated on his impending death. “No, Papa, you will not lose us—not yet. I promise.” Stefano broke Jayson’s stare, and his misting eyes beheld his father’s. “If we do not return within four hours, take Helena’s information to the police anyway.” He waited for George’s nod. Then, to Jayson, he said, “Let’s go.”
Not unlike the famous crime-fighting duos admired from their childhood past, the brothers quickly exited the front door and made their way—not to Batman’s Batmobile or Green Hornet’s Black Beauty but to Stefano’s powerful, sporty Jaguar.
52
Andra rolled Paulo onto his stomach. With extreme care, she positioned his head to one side so as not to cut off his air supply.
The faint moan he uttered was sweet music to her ears. It was a good sign because she knew he still hadn’t fallen into a dangerous coma—or worse.
After first dousing her hands with the liquid sanitizer Hog had brought along with extra water, she bent and carefully moved aside a chunk of Paulo’s matted hair. She examined his wound more closely. Although he had lost blood, she was relieved to find the gash was not as deep as she’d first thought. Biting her lower lip in absorbed concentration, she touched the open skin with delicate fingers, noting the blood flow had ebbed to a slow leak. Still, she would need to stop the flow completely before he eventually bled to death.
For the moment, that wasn’t her main concern. What worried her was the possibility of internal hemorrhaging or irreparable damage to Paulo’s fragile brain.
Straightening, she placed her hands on her hips and surveyed her surroundings. Upon inspecting the old cellar walls more closely, she noted a crumbling, dry claylike substance holding each layer of bricks together. She crossed over to one wall, ran a finger along a groove between two vertical rows, and then brought her dust-covered finger to eye level. Although she knew the crumbly material was unsanitary, she could use it to plug up Paulo’s bleeding gash.
Andra made her way over to the door left ajar by Hog. Cautiously, she poked her head out and listened. When she was assured Hog was nowhere in the lower-level vicinity, she pulled the door closed.
Quickly, she unbuttoned her blouse, stopping every once in a while to listen for any movement from upstairs. When she was sure she only heard silence, she removed her shirt. Using her teeth, she caught hold of the lower section of the garment and tore off a half inch all around the base. She paused as her mind replayed what Hog had suggested she do for a bandage.
Glancing over at her patient, determined, she reached behind her to unsnap her bra. Removing it, she hissed as her swollen breasts popped free to settle heavily unencumbered, their weight sending stinging sensations into both nipples. She forced herself to breathe deeply while her upper body got used to being unbound.
After a moment, she probed the cushiness of her sports brassier, which was made from a heavy, absorbent fabric. “Jay, buddy,” she whispered, smiling, “I’m glad I followed my first instinct this morning and threw this on instead of the slutty lacy bra you usually like.” She sobered, speaking to her undies. “Find me, baby.”
A thump overhead caused Andra to pause. Not hearing an accompanying approach of cowboy-boot footsteps, she quickly slipped on her torn top. It was then that Lady Andra spoke up.
You might as well be naked. Do you not think that peasant above is not going to notice the absence of your bra?
Yes, she knew he would take notice.
Determined to push aside thoughts concerning the perverted Texan, she focused on Paulo. After grabbing two waters, she used bottle number one to soak the torn blouse piece. Kneeling next to the cot, she proceeded to use the remaining water to rinse Paulo’s wound while she dabbed at it with the saturated cloth. For several minutes, she cleansed the area as best as she could, and then she pressed the bloodied strip tightly against the broken skin to stop any fresh blood flow.
Groaning, Andra stood to massage her stiff knees, brushing off the dust on her jeans in the process. After hobbling over to the section of wall offering the most crumbling clay, she used her finger to painstakingly dig for granules until pieces filled her palm. Satisfied with the amount, she carefully poured water, a few drops at a time, onto the clay until it formed a thick Play-Doh-like substance.
Upon returning to Paulo, Andra dumped her clay onto the wet rag and then swabbed the open gash with liquid sanitizer. Next, using her thumb and finger, she pinched the wound shut with one hand while packing the clay mixture atop the closed wound with the other, until it was completely covered.
“How’re you doing, buddy?” she asked her unconscious patient. “I’m almost done. Don’t you worry; you’re going to be okay. You hear me?”
Vaguely,
she heard another distant thump overhead, but she chose to ignore it to focus on her task. She opened the second water and rinsed away the remaining blood and leftover plaster from the torn cloth. After wringing it out thoroughly, she folded it into a thick square bandage and covered the wound.
Andra placed one bra cup over the cloth. She worked economically, her hands steady as she wrapped the rest of the bra around his head and fastened the hook and eye together securely against his forehead.
Her task done and her fastidious focus broken, she once again noticed the cellar’s chill. Retrieving the only chair in the room, she pulled it near the cot and sat down. Wrapping her arms about her, she watched Paulo like a dutiful sentry, realizing she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
To take her mind off the brisk temperature, she occupied herself with something that would at least warm her spiritually.
“Lord,” she prayed, “please touch Paulo’s body for a complete recovery. I also pray for the safety and well-being of my and Jay’s family.” She paused. “Oh yeah, Lord, please help Jay find me.”
Andra jerked awake at hearing a low moan. As she blinked, her vision came into focus. Paulo was lying on his stomach on the cot with one arm hanging off its side. To her relief, his eyes were open, yet they registered confusion. They searched the dimly lit room to ultimately land upon Andra’s face.
“Well, hello there, Mr. Sleepyhead.” Smiling gently, she rubbed her outer arms to warm them and then scooted her chair closer. She reached out to smooth the side of his face. “How do you feel?”
Paulo closed his eyes, as if blindly gauging his status. When his lids reopened, Andra read more disorientation within them. Deliberately, she held back a pity-filled sigh.
“Dr. Andra, my head hurts. I do not know where I am.”
Andra bent closer, brushing his thick black hair away from his bra-covered forehead. “We’re in Harlan Grainger’s cellar. Can you remember anything prior to him bringing you here?”
Confusion and disbelief warred upon his face. Andra waited, knowing the disorienting amnesia would clear soon.
I hope.
“Yes,” he groaned after a long moment. Attempting to push himself up with weak limbs, he grunted in frustration when he couldn’t. “It was that terrible Mr. Hog. He told me he would bring me to you to make sure you were all right.”
Andra straightened. “I see.”
But she didn’t. Many questions swirled inside her head concerning Paulo’s relationship with her hated captor, yet she bit her lip to hold them back, knowing now wasn’t the time for an interrogation.
She placed a restraining hand on his back when he again attempted to get up. “Paulo, don’t move! Try to get some more rest.”
Agitated, he stirred. “This Hog. Trying to take the family business.” With much difficulty, he inhaled in order to continue. “Kidnapped you to make sure he would succeed.”
“With Paulo’s help, of course.”
At the voice behind her, Andra jumped to her feet. She whipped around to witness Hog’s presence fill the doorway.
Immediately, the Texan’s blue eyes alighted upon Andra’s breasts, whose unbound heaviness jiggled in her startled state.
Trying not to show fear, she stood her ground and endured his penetrating gaze. Still, she couldn’t help but flinch when he licked dusty lips.
“Well, I’ll be. Looks like you took my advice after all.” His eyes still glued to her breasts, he slowly approached. “Beauty, your turnaround in obeying me was quicker than even I expected. It’s gonna be so special when we finally come together; you’re gonna enjoy—”
“Never,” she said, interrupting. “I will never enjoy anything with you.”
Paulo coughed in agitation. “You leave Dr. Andra alone, or I will …”
The Texan stopped, looking amused. “Or you’ll do what—with that bra tied around your head? Get real, son.” His ancient blue eyes returned to Andra. “Besides, you’re one of the reasons my Beauty’s here with me today—so I guess I owe you that much.”
Andra stood between Paulo and Hog, her stance protective. She glared at Hog. “What do you mean Paulo’s responsible for me being here?” she demanded.
“Dr. Andra.” Paulo coughed weakly. “I can explain.”
“Don’t bother, boy; she won’t believe you.” Hog chuckled. “You see, your friend here wanted money and power to get over on the Theonopilus clan.”
“Please, Dr. Andra. It was nothing like how he—”
“And he needed me to help him do it,” Hog said. He shook his head. “I guess living in the shadows of those Theonopilus young’uns all this time finally got to the boy.”
“My family. Dr. Andra,” Paulo said, tears running sideways over the bump of his nose to hit the mattress in tiny splashes, “I was stupid. I was trying to provide for my family.”
“Enough!” Andra cried. She pivoted to kneel beside Paulo’s bed, looking directly into his watery eyes. “It is okay, Paulo. I understand you’re not to blame.”
Hog grunted indignantly behind her. “Then who is to blame? Me?”
Andra leaped up on angry feet. “Yes, of course you!” Agitated, she crossed her arms under her breasts to give them some support. “Who else could it be, you sick, perverted maniac?”
Hog locked in on her front again, his blue eyes ablaze with a lusty fire.
“Beauty, come with me,” Hog said suddenly. At her wide-eyed hesitation, he glanced briefly at Paulo before returning his gaze to her. “Come with me upstairs if you want your patient to live. I’ve waited long enough.”
His threat was unmistakable; she truly believed the older yet powerful Texan psycho wouldn’t hesitate to carry out his plans to finish off Paulo.
“No, Dr. Andra, no,” Paulo said, his weak voice determined. “I would rather die at his hands than allow him to touch you.”
Looking over her shoulder at him, Andra shook her head. “But I prefer you don’t, Paulo.” Praying her expression conveyed her forgiveness for whatever part he’d played in her present situation, Andra smiled gently. “It’s going to be okay. You hear me? Okay.”
Paulo closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to watch her sacrifice for him.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Hog asked. The lust inside his orbs caused them to burn brightly. “Whether he lives or dies, whether you resist or comply, I’m still gonna have you.”
“Curse you.” Andra threw her captor a freezing glower. “Lead on, crazy Captain Bligh.”
Hog chuckled. “Beauty, you’ve just bought your patient a little more time.”
“No, Dr. Andra,” Paulo whispered. His voice then grew stronger to spit out, “You are a pig, Mr. Hog!”
Ignoring Paulo’s pun insult, Hog stepped to one side, sweeping an arm toward the cellar’s open door. “You lead the way, Mrs. Christian,” he said, his voice conveying his delight at her Mutiny on the Bounty reference.
Throwing her shoulders back, Andra walked past Hog, through the door, and into territory she had no knowledge of. Cautiously, she made her way to the stairs which led to the upper level—and her unknown fate.
She felt her skin crawl when she not only heard, but also felt, Hog’s evil presence close behind her.
53
With total abandon, Sly plowed her brand-new RAV4 through the wooded green hillsides of Greece.
Fearful for her life, Racine gripped the safety handle above. Her seat-belted body jerked with each jolt of Sly’s speeding vehicle. The car sped along as if it were part of the wind that blew over the dirt country roads. Her mind shifted into a state of continuous prayer to God Almighty for their safe arrival at the appointed destination.
Yet she also prayed that if they did make, God would grant her enough restraint not to jump from the vehicle and quickly, without mercy, beat the driver to death with her bare hands.
A fe
w times, the tires hit a prominent bump only to momentarily sail airborne before landing on all fours again. During one extremely hard bump, Racine gathered enough mettle to turn Sly’s way. She couldn’t help but marvel at the determined, ecstatically charged expression of the driver. Random strands of Sly’s black hair whipped violently about her face inside the vehicle, while other tresses were sucked outside her window, billowing with curly abandon against the current.
Racine could almost imagine Sly sticking her head outside the open window at any moment to holler, “Yahoo!”
Yet she had to admit, despite the frightening excessive speed, she was glad to know they would get to Andra sooner—that was, if they survived the ride there.
“Hey, when did you get this car?” Racine yelled her way.
Her sights glued to the road, Sly laughed with delight. “It was a present from my brother only yesterday!” she yelled back. Her glowing eyes shifted to Racine. “You like?”
Racine wanted to shrug in an “I couldn’t care less” fashion, but she was too busy hanging on for dear life. “Sly, do you even know where you’re going?” she asked even louder over the rushing wind and racing engine. “Do you have a clue?”
Unexpectedly, the utility vehicle lurched to one side and back again. Racine could only assume some woodland creature crossing the road at its own risk had been given a divine reprieve from being squashed to death beneath Sly’s speeding tires.
“Yes, yes, Racine—I grew up around here.”
Racine struggled not to imagine mangled human bodies and automobile parts intertwined, burning inside a fiery crash, and instead focused on Sly’s animated profile. “What do you mean you grew up around here? I thought you lived next door to Jayson’s family all your life?”
In horror, Racine watched Sly remove one hand from the steering wheel to brush aside a bothersome strand of hair that whipped across her eyes. A shriek formed at the base of her throat and she wanted to scream, “Keep both hands on the wheel, crazy!” However, Racine realized screaming hysterically at the driver might place them in graver danger, considering the speed at which they traveled.