by Sam Crescent
Cyril Woods was tall and good-looking, which along with his ruthlessness had probably got him this far. His dark-brown hair had a few greys mixed in, and his face showed some wrinkles, but otherwise the man gave no evidence to his increasing age.
The man holding Catherine pushed her up against a tree, smashing her chest against the bark, and started patting her down, running his hands over her ass and breasts. She kicked out but he soon had her under control. Her whimper slashed across Lance, leaving him broken. The bastard had his woman and there was no way for him to help.
She wouldn’t look at him. Cyril stopped behind her and leant down, picking up her damaged ankle. Lance had no idea how he knew about her ankle but he gathered they’d been followed. Lance saw her bite her lip to stop herself from crying out.
Now is not the time to be a hero, baby. Scream, cry out and shout. Do anything, but don’t let him hurt you more.
Evil shone from the other man’s depths as he put pressure on the joint where the bruise began. Proud of her fighting, but fucking hating the man, Lance could do no more than glare.
The pain finally proving too much for Catherine, she screamed and begged Cyril to stop, collapsing in a heap at the base of the tree, hugging the bark. “Please, stop, please!”
“Such a big bad bastard, aren’t you? Can’t fight your own battles so you go and pick on a girl who’s injured. Why? Does it make you feel like you’ve got a bigger cock?” Ben shouted from his position on the ground.
Cyril left Catherine slumped against the tree, the man behind her moulding his dick in line with her ass to keep her propped up. Cyril moved to Ben and bent down to look the man in the eye.
“What did you say to me?”
“You’re a fucking coward, you small-dicked twat.” Ben spat at him.
Cyril laughed and started whispering in Ben’s ear. Ben struggled in his guard’s hold even after Cyril stood. “I’ll fucking kill you, you sick bastard!” A kick landed in his ribs, followed by another and then another.
“You fucking touch her and I’ll kill you!” Ben continued to shout as if he couldn’t feel the blows to his body.
Lance wondered what the hell was going on. Cyril’s words had turned Ben into a crazy, demented man.
Lance glanced around him and, like when he’d seen his sister’s dead body in a casket, a wave of hopelessness washed over him.
It was over.
Chapter Ten
Throbbing pain made her stomach turn. She held on to the tree trunk, the hard, dark bark biting into her palms, and swallowed a wave of dizziness. The man behind her kept thrusting against her ass, showing her his power. She was going to kill the fucking lot.
The humiliation was unbearable. Cyril holding her ankle, squeezing the foot, and then twisting… It made her sick. The man got off on torture.
Pulling her head up and away, she tried to look at Lance and Ben, but the man behind her grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her forehead against the tree trunk.
She saw stars.
“Let the girl go!” she heard Lance yell, his anger clear.
The world is spinning but he still cares.
“Why would I do that? She’s the only one who knows anything about me. Until my deal goes down, she’s staying by me.”
I hate you!
The man let go and stepped back. She dropped to the ground in a heap. Cyril pulled her head back and licked a line along her face.
“I might sell her to him to sweeten the deal.”
Catherine knew if he didn’t let her go she was going to vomit all over him. From the pain in her ankle to the revulsion from his touch, the whole ordeal was getting to be too much for her. His hand cupping her breast was the final straw. She turned away and threw up.
Cyril thrust her away like a bug, turning his attention to Lance. “You thought I didn’t know who you were. Your sister talked about her saviour brother Lance all the time. It made the fun in watching her suffer that little bit sweeter. Up until the last minutes, she cried out for her big brother to come and save her.”
Everything he said made the sickness worse. How could anyone be so heartless?
“You touch her and I’ll fucking end you!” Lance’s anger was clear, and Catherine shuddered where she lay collapsed.
“I’ve already touched her and I’m still living and breathing. Where’s the big bad death man?” Cyril pushed the guard aside and stepped toe to toe with Lance.
She watched the scene and knew she couldn’t do anything to help the situation. Ben looked like he was about to blow at the seams.
“You’re all talk and no bite.” Cyril smashed his fist in Lance’s face and laughed. “Fucking leave them here to rot. I’ve got bigger fish to fry,” he growled at his men when they started in on Lance.
The man who’d been trying to dry hump her picked Catherine up.
“Wait!” she cried out, moving as much as she could towards Lance.
“Let her. It’ll be the last time she sees the bastard,” Cyril sneered.
Conscious of their stares, she moved slowly and painfully over the uneven path until she was in his arms. She needed to feel him one last time before she lost everything. When she went with Cyril, her future would be uncertain. The only guarantee she had in life at this moment was that hers would either be short-lived or she’d be sold to any man who wanted to use her body.
The future looked bleak.
Winding her hands behind his neck, she kissed him, ignoring the groans and sarcastic whistles blowing their way. Lance kissed her back, neither caring about the blood dripping from his nose. When faced with death, nothing mattered but the short bursts of pleasure to be obtained.
Catherine pulled away, hoping no one would notice what she was about to do. Holding his hand, she looked into his eyes to try to make it clear that he wasn’t to respond.
“Don’t come after me. Promise me, Lance. I’ll be fine.” She said each word slowly but with meaning.
“I can’t—”
“No…promise me.”
Lance nodded and from the look in his eye she knew he’d got the message—at least she hoped he had.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m bored. Grab her and let’s go. I’ve got a meeting and she’s already damaged merchandise,” Caleb said.
She was grabbed and hurled away from Lance. The guns being pointed at each of them made sure Ben and Lance couldn’t make a move without risking her life. She kept her gaze on him for as long as possible. She didn’t want to give him up or let him go. The man she barely knew owned her heart.
Strange—never before had she been so sure than in the moment she’d thought he was going to be taken away from her, but she loved him. Loved him so much she’d do anything to keep him safe.
Catherine smiled but didn’t know if he saw it. Ben lay on the ground, heaving, and Lance just stood and watched them take her.
I’ll be okay, I promise.
Nothing could guarantee her safety, but she hoped this one time she was right.
Ben cursed behind him. Lance heard him rolling over and swearing with every breath he took.
She’s gone…the woman I love is gone. Lance didn’t know how he knew, but like the sun rising in the morning—its presence there and knowing it was so with no real knowledge of how it truly came to be—the love he had for this woman. Catherine Hart, you own my heart.
When he was sure that none of Cyril’s men had been left behind to finish them off, he opened his palm to stare at the tiny USB key she’d placed in his hand. “Do you have a computer?” he asked Ben. The other man continued to kneel, now coughing up blood. “Fuck, are you all right?” The guy was in terrible shape.
“Do I fucking look all right? The bastard fucked over my ribs. One is either cracked or swollen. Fuck, it hurts to breathe.” He stood. “Everything contained in that file is shit. We can’t get it back and my head is as good as dead.”
“Not if we can find what is on this,” Lance said, holding up the USB. Ben made a sw
ipe for it. “Hold on. You threatened me with a gun, then you went mental on Cyril. What’s happened to you?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got news that can hurt me if I don’t put this guy away. Give me the key,” Ben ordered, reaching again for it.
“I said no. Where’s the laptop?”
Ben hesitated but evidently thought better of turning on Lance. They moved back through the woods and found the car in a terrible state. Their guns were gone, the windshield smashed, tyres slashed. The bonnet was open and the engine torn apart.
“Looks like someone wanted us to stay here and miss the party.”
“Yeah and every second brings Catherine into a worse kind of trouble. They must have been waiting for us. I knew we got through London too easily.” Lance shook his head and followed Ben around to the boot of the car.
“Apparently they didn’t think to check the boot.” Ben popped it open, and inside lay a black sports bag. Ben unzipped it and pulled out his spare guns then a black case. Opened, it revealed a tiny notebook. “Only a short battery but enough to see what’s on this.” Ben took the key and inserted it into the port.
They waited and finally the documents loaded.
Both men watched as what appeared to be all the backup files of what Cyril had just taken loaded up. Pictures and folders and even a few videos.
“All this will put the guy in jail.”
“Yes, all we need now is to get the girl.”
“I’m not letting him live, Lance. I promised myself—no matter what we got, Cyril would end up dead. There is too much that can go wrong with our justice system. We know. We’ve worked it, mate. We can’t give him over to the chance a bent judge tries his case.”
Lance knew exactly what Ben was concerned about, but he also knew he couldn’t risk Catherine.
“What do we do now?”
And that was the million-pound question.
* * * *
For the past half hour Cyril had cursed and begged and spent every available minute on the phone. Catherine stared at the floor, the very same floor on which her sister had lain dead and lifeless. Her heart pounding, her foot aching, she stood and waited for the worst to happen.
His men were off to the side, leering at her, and she wrapped her arms round her chest trying to cover every part of herself from prying eyes. Her feelings towards Lance allowed her to try to forget about her surroundings and think about her time with him and what had led up to her falling in love with him.
They’d been through shit loads of crap, had sex and shared the connection of Cyril, but other than that, nothing had really taken hold and told her a reason she’d fallen in love with him. Maybe it was the fear of death that had her confused? She couldn’t love Lance. It wasn’t possible…was it?
“My life has turned to shit ever since you and your fucking sister came into my life.” Cyril came charging over to her, livid. “All this madness for a fucking pussy!” he screamed as he backhanded her.
She landed on the floor, her ankle useless as support against the blinding assault. He hauled her up, spinning her around. Catherine shivered and imagined from the way he was treating her that he would end up doing much more than merely breaking her ankle.
“What is it about you two fucking women that keeps me up all night, that makes me doubt myself?” he shouted.
“You’re a monster,” she gasped out.
Her words were heartfelt and all she wanted to do was lash out and kick him but she refrained and waited. She wondered if Lance and Ben had been able to get the outdated USB key working. Sidney had been the one to make sure they’d backed the whole thing up. Catherine had thought she’d worried about everything, but she’d never expected in all of her life she’d be in this situation now. Nothing would be better than going back in time and just running…getting Sidney and running.
“Your sister never thought I was a monster,” he growled, dropping her in a heap on the floor once again.
She was really getting sick of seeing a fucking, bastard floor. Getting to her knees, she looked him dead in the eye. “Sidney hated everything about you. You were a fucking lech to her.” Deep down she knew her defiance would do her no good but it no longer mattered. Catherine was in far too much physical and emotion pain to care what the consequences of her brash tongue would be.
“You better shut your mouth,” he warned.
She smiled and knew her teeth shone with the blood she could taste. “Or what? You’re going to rough me up a little bit? Guess what, big man? Take a long fucking look at me. I’ve already been roughed up. There’s nothing more you can do to me.” She wiped her lips.
“Yes, there is. I can fucking kill you.”
Chapter Eleven
He’d been told a lot could happen in twenty-four hours, and he’d seen it before. But if someone had told him an entire operation could be set up and waiting for the word to be executed in only an hour or two, he would have laughed.
Not anymore. Lance stood outside Cyril Woods’ warehouse in the inner city near his club. He couldn’t see a fucking thing through the binoculars.
Since uploading the USB key, men in army vans had come to pick up Ben and Lance. He knew some of the faces of the men in uniform but no one spoke. While Lance had been using the underhand legalities to hit back at Cyril Woods, Ben had used the forces in which they’d once served. The police force was hopeless, but the men who’d served their country were worth gold. It took a lot to make a man like that change his word.
“How did you manage this?” he asked Ben, who stood beside him looking around the outside of the building.
“I have contacts, and when a man is pushed to his limit he pulls them out of the bag. Plus I’ve got a woman counting on me being here today.” Ben left him to speak quietly into his radio, and Lance went back to staring out of the binoculars.
Ben had to get in there. Beth was there, and her little boy, Peter. Waiting for the signal had been like waiting for death—slow, long and painful. Moments before Cyril had attacked him, kicking his ribs, he’d told him what he’d done to Beth.
Ben felt sick to his stomach thinking of the woman who’d stood by him when he was at his worst and still dealt with him with love and care regardless of whether he could give it back.
While he stood waiting for the signal, he thought back in time to the period after Lance’s sister’s death…when he’d crushed the woman who’d done nothing wrong except love him.
“I can’t live without her. I loved her and I thought going on this last fucking mission would cement us for life,” Ben sobbed.
“You can’t blame yourself, no matter what.” Beth reached out to touch his knee, her beautiful shining smile lighting up the darkness within him. She’d always had the power to make him feel special, wanted and—God forbid—loved.
Her light brown hair fell around her in a mess, making it clear she’d just woken up to let him into her house. Beth Woods was a good woman who came from a long line of bastards. Other men might have come and sought their revenge between her thighs. Cyril’s one and only daughter. But Ben knew deep in his heart that if she could’ve changed fathers she would’ve…a long time ago.
“You’re too good, Beth. A nice woman like you should be married with a couple of kids and a husband who’ll screw you every night,” he slurred but didn’t stop, even as a blush rose along her cheeks. He knew she was innocent and it was one of the things he loved about her. “You’ve such a pretty blush.” He stroked a finger along her cheek where the blush had spread from her neck to bloom in her cheeks. “Why don’t you have a husband?” he asked, pulling back.
Beth bit her lip and glanced down at her fingers. “I haven’t found the right man who I love.”
“Baby, it’s not all about love. Some men just want to have a good time.” He took her hand and placed it against his pants, stretched tight over his aching cock. “You feel that? That is what you do to me. You make me hard and full and I shouldn’t feel this way with you because of another gir
l.” Beth tried to pull her hand away but he held tight and firm, not letting her go. “Don’t let me go… Never let me go. I know you want me, Beth…and for tonight you can have me.”
Ben didn’t give her a single chance to change her mind. Holding her hand in place, he covered her lips with his and took control—kissing, sucking and biting at her lips. Never before had a woman been so responsive yet so vulnerable.
That night, he’d taken Beth, taken her innocence. She’d been a virgin. Then he’d given her the morning after from hell—one that would haunt him forever.
Ben came out of his memory cold and tired and saw a man move outside and flash his light up to the building.
“That’s the signal.”
It was show time.
Picking up his gun, he moved down the hill to the woman to whom he owed his life.
* * * *
Cyril Woods stood in front of her with a gun pointed at her head—a déjà vu moment, only, instead of her sister being in this position, she was finally here…and she knew she was going to die.
Tears threatened. She would never see Lance, never get to tell him how much she loved him.
“So, should I kill you now, or wait until Mr Clay gets here and then shoot you?” Cyril was taunting her and had been for the last half an hour. Pointing a gun at her face and then moving off. Threatening her. Pulling out a bullet then pressing the trigger. She didn’t know what kind of gun it was other than being big, shiny and able to kill her. He’d finally loaded it with bullets and now any slip of the finger would see her dead within seconds.
Her life was over. Taking a deep breath and cringing every time he moved forward and pressed the barrel to her head, she thought, This is it—over, done and finished. Catherine thought of her sister and the parents who should’ve been caring for them. She thought of Lance and Ben and their losses, and of everything she’d experienced throughout her short life…but most of all she thought about her brief time with Lance.