by Maya Banks
At least she still had the patch on her arm so her teammates could hear her.
“You talk too damn much,” Nelson snapped as he herded her toward the door.
She halted and made a show of getting huffy. “Then maybe you should just bring me back to my hotel.”
His hand curled around her nape and he all but shoved her inside the house. “Not going to happen, princess.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded as she tried to wrench herself free from his grasp.
But his fingers pressed tighter into her flesh and he all but picked her up, dragging her into the spacious sitting room. He tossed her down onto the couch and then wrested the bottle of tequila from her hands.
“Don’t even think about going anywhere,” he threatened.
She held up her hands hoping to hell they weren’t shaking.
“Hey, chill out. Pour us a drink. No need to get so damn rough. Are you into that kinky shit? Because let me say before things go too far that I’m not. And if you are, then let’s just call it quits right now.”
He gave her a look that told her without words to shut up. She went silent and waited, every single second agonizing.
He pulled out glasses that damn sure weren’t shot glasses and he poured a liberal amount of tequila into both. A moment later he returned and shoved one of the glasses into her hand.
“Bottoms up,” he said.
Maybe if she got him drunk enough she could toss his ass and be out of this. Or maybe she could at least buy enough time for her team to come get her. Either plan worked for her.
She gulped down half the contents of the tequila, stopping before she risked puking it all back up. She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand as he finished off his. To her surprise he didn’t get angry that she hadn’t drunk it all. He took the glass from her then touched her hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture.
He gave her a look that seemed regretful. “This isn’t the way I wanted things to go down for the evening, but the boss saw you and he wanted you. Not much I could do after that.”
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit! Her adrenaline shot up and her pulse started pounding like a jackhammer.
Despite her heightened anxiety and her increased pulse rate, the room was moving in slow motion. She tried to lift one of her arms and it felt like it was encased in lead.
“You drugged me!” she accused, hoping she wasn’t so garbled that her team heard and knew it was time to yank the plug for this mission.
Nelson grimaced. “I like my women to fight. Drugging is the coward’s way out, but my boss gets off on knowing they’re completely helpless.” He shrugged as he made his way over to where P.J. was precariously sagging toward the couch. “I don’t mind a few scratches. Makes it more exciting when I overpower them.”
“You’re sick. All of you. Sick bastards,” she croaked.
He put his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the couch and she cringed, trying to fight him off. She was as ineffectual as a kitten batting at a lion.
He pushed her down to the couch and stuck his hand in the bodice of her dress, ripping downward.
“Nice lingerie,” he murmured as he stared down at the black lace bra and panties she wore. “I’ll leave them on for the boss. He likes black.”
As he moved away she whispered brokenly, hoping her team would hear. “Please, please, you have to pull me out. I’m drugged. I can’t fight him off. Please, he’s going to rape me.”
The sound of a door opening made her slowly move her head in that direction, hope alive that maybe they’d come for her. But when she met the satisfied gaze of Carter Brumley, her heart sank and she knew there was nothing anyone could do to save her now.
CHAPTER 10
THE entire van froze when P.J.’s broken plea came over the comm. Cole punched the back of the seat with enough force to knock the headrest loose.
“Goddamn it! Where is she? We have to find her now. Those assholes are going to fuck her over.”
“I’m working on it, damn it!” Donovan shouted.
Every single one of the team members was tense. The van vibrated with rage, helplessness and dread.
“How did this happen? How the fuck did this happen?” Cole raged. He needed someone or something to blame. Hell, he blamed himself. He should never have allowed it. It didn’t matter if P.J. never spoke to him again. At least she’d be safe and not in the hands of a monster.
“Shhh!” Steele snapped. “Brumley’s there. Goddamn it. I hear him.”
The tremble of emotion in the team leader’s voice was uncharacteristic. He was generally cool under pressure but this had shaken him badly.
The van went silent as Donovan received more intel on every residence that Brumley owned or was associated with in the area.
Even Donovan looked up, his expression tense when Carter Brumley’s voice came over the wire again.
“I know you picked her out, Nelson, but there was something about this one that spoke to me. I had to have her. Did you make sure she was clean?”
“Yeah, boss. Only jewelry she was wearing was a necklace, earrings and a bracelet and I trashed them at her hotel room. She’s an American bimbo who crashed the party looking for a good time.”
Brumley chuckled. “Very nice. I’ll do my very best to accommodate her.”
They could hear his breathing, so they knew he was close to P.J., but she hadn’t uttered a sound. Had the drug affected her so much that she could no longer speak? Was she rendered incapable of fighting back?
Then he prayed she wouldn’t offer resistance. They’d likely kill her. Oh God. It made him nauseous that he actually wanted her to lie there and take it because he couldn’t bear for her to be hurt even more if she fought back.
There was a peculiar popping sound. Metallic. Cole screwed up his forehead and looked at the others. “What the fuck was that?” he mouthed.
A moment later, P.J. screamed in pain and Brumley laughed.
“It sounded like a knife opening,” Dolphin said hoarsely.
“Dear God,” Renshaw whispered. “What is that sick fuck doing to her?”
“What have you got for us?” Cole asked Donovan in a desperate voice. “That son of a bitch is cutting her up.”
Another scream rattled the entire team. Baker was driving and he slammed on the brakes, pulling to the curb. He stared back at Donovan, his eyes blazing with fury.
“You pick a location, Van. Use the info she gave us. There can’t be that many that fit the bill. Get me a goddamn coordinate so we can go in and get our girl. This is bullshit!”
Two more screams sent the hairs on Cole’s nape straight up. And then complete silence followed by the unmistakable sound of thighs slapping against thighs. There was a quiet sound that Cole had to strain to catch amid the other noises, but he heard it.
It was soft weeping.
He buried his face in his hands, his own eyes burning with tears. Having to listen as P.J. was violated was the worst thing he’d ever endured in all his years in the military and in KGI. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
Donovan thrust the map with shaking hands at Baker. “Here,” he said hoarsely. “This has to be it. There are only two locations that work with the information she gave us, and given the time frame in which they arrived, this one has to be it.”
Baker gunned the accelerator and roared into traffic, causing everyone to brace themselves as he swerved around cars.
Brumley let out a satisfied grunt, and then the sound of flesh being struck echoed over the comm. The bastard had slapped her. And then the unmistakable sound of pants being zipped back up.
Cole’s stomach revolted. He punched the back of the seat again and then the window. Dolphin jumped on him, restraining him before he shattered the glass.
“Save it, man,” Dolphin said quietly. “Save it for those assholes and save it for P.J. She’s going to need us.”
“She’s all yours, Nelson,” Brumley said, a clear smirk in his voice. “
I know she’s messier than you usually like them, but I don’t think you’ll have any complaints. She’s a damn fine fuck. If I didn’t have other matters to attend to, I’d take her along. She would have made a very good temporary mistress.”
“Yes, sir,” Nelson replied.
“Kill her when you’re done. Make sure you clean up the mess. I need you for the exchange Sunday night. The girls are coming in on a plane at eight P.M. The buyer will be there to inspect the goods. I don’t want any issues.”
“Wainwright going to take possession then or are we shipping to his choice of location?” Nelson asked gruffly. “Will I need to bring along extra firepower?”
“No, he’s coming alone, except for his usual three who accompany him everywhere. He won’t do a thing because he wants those girls very badly. We’ll off-load the plane and he’s going to have a truck parked at the airport that the girls will be herded onto. It all should take five minutes tops, and then we’ll fly out on the plane the girls came in on. Easy transaction and I make another ten million.”
“We could take this girl with us,” Nelson hedged. “She’s not so messed up I can’t have her cleaned up in half an hour. I’ll keep her drugged enough she won’t be a problem.”
“Get us the hell there, goddamn it,” Cole barked to Baker. “This is bullshit!”
Brumley chuckled. “Have your fun with her then silence her for good. She saw your face and mine, not to mention Colin’s and Isaac’s. I don’t take chances. Especially not over some two-bit whore.”
Steele held up four fingers to signal the number of people in the room.
The sound of footsteps echoing through the comm and then the shutting of a door signaled Brumley’s departure.
Son of a bitch!
“What’s the ETA, Baker?” Cole demanded.
“Fucking traffic!” Baker snarled. “It’s not far but this is balls, man. It’s balls!”
They all went quiet again when more came through P.J.’s wire.
“Why the tears?” Nelson asked mockingly. “Surely he wasn’t that bad. Most women fight over the honor to be his lover. But maybe you’ll like me better.”
Cole covered his ears, no longer able to bear to hear anything more. When he looked up, he could read the expressions of the others.
They’d gotten the information they’d needed after all. Brumley had spilled the details of the shipment of girls.
But at what cost? At what fucking cost? Something so precious that it gutted Cole to even dwell on what the success of this mission had cost P.J.
As much as it shamed Cole, he’d give it all back and never know how to save those girls if he could take back what had just happened to P.J.
CHAPTER 11
P.J. lay sprawled on the couch, pain knifing through her body as surely as the blade had cut into her skin. Nelson loomed over her but he was frowning. He didn’t like passive women. He’d said as much.
Well that was fine because the drug was starting to wear off and if the asshole gave her just a little more time, he was going to have one hell of a fight on his hands, because she wasn’t going to lie here and take it like she’d been forced to do for Brumley.
Rage ate at her. It was acid in her blood, eating a hole in her very soul.
There was nothing more horrific than being so helpless that she hadn’t been able to move. She could barely speak. And it hadn’t been enough for the bastard to rape her. He’d gotten off on making her bleed.
The smell of her own blood gagged her. It was an assault to her senses. Smeared all over the front of her body where he made the jagged cuts. He hadn’t minded the mess. He’d wallowed in it like a gluttonous pig.
Nelson left the room and P.J. immediately tested her ability to move. Some of the lead had left her limbs and she could move both arms and legs. She looked around for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. She wasn’t strong enough to get off the couch yet, but she could make the bastard sorry he’d ever touched her.
To her utter shock, the knife that Brumley had used on her was on the coffee table just a few inches from her grasp. She leaned as far as she could, straining and reaching for the blade.
She bumped it, sending it into a slight spin. Swearing mentally, she tried again, wincing when the edge sliced into her fingers. It was a small price to pay for pulling it closer.
She turned it so she could grasp the hilt and then she took it, transferring it to the hand closest to the inside of the couch, and then tucked her hand between the back of the couch and her side.
Nelson returned a moment later with a damp cloth and set about cleaning the smeared blood. He frowned when he realized she was still bleeding from the cuts.
He looked . . . pissed.
“There was no point in this,” he muttered. “No need to cut you at all, much less so deep. You need stitches.”
An odd thing to say when he planned to kill her. What the fuck did it matter if she was sliced open?
“Please,” she rasped out, trying to buy more time. “I’m just an American college student. I was out for a good time. I don’t even know who you are. I just want to go home. No one will ever know.”
Nelson’s lips thinned into a firm line. “I have orders.”
He wiped at most of the blood and then finally gave up. He rose, and she was appalled to see the bulge at his groin. Despite his seeming disgust, he was certainly turned on, blood or not.
“I wanted you to be able to fight,” he said in irritation. “It’s not fun when you just lie there.”
Come get some, bastard. You’ll get your fight.
He unzipped his pants, not even bothering to remove them. He shoved them down his hips and then he yanked her legs apart and was on her and inside her in a brutally painful thrust that momentarily paralyzed her in her shock.
“Come on, bitch, fight me,” he snarled.
“Be careful what you ask for, asshole,” she hissed.
His eyes widened in surprise just as she nailed him right in the jaw with enough force to break it. Pain lanced through her fingers, but she ignored it. Then she raised the hand holding the knife and plunged it into his back.
He howled in pain and immediately rolled off her, ripping himself from inside her. She struggled upward, fighting the effects of the drugs. Her weapon was gone and now it was up to her wits to escape alive.
And then the roar of an engine and bright headlights flooded the entire living room. It was obvious that whatever it was, it was coming straight for them.
Nelson scrambled away and bolted for the back, his hand reaching for the knife as he went. The knife clattered to the floor and P.J. lunged for it, prepared to defend herself however necessary.
A moment later the living room exploded in glass and debris as a utility van crashed through the front windows. She threw herself onto the floor and covered her head to protect herself.
“P.J.! P.J.! Goddamn it, where are you?” Cole roared.
She sagged in relief, her strength gone. Her team. It was her team. Finally here. She was safe. Nothing else would hurt her.
Suddenly Steele was over her, his eyes so intense and full of hatred that she flinched.
“He escaped out the back,” she said hoarsely. “He’s bleeding. Don’t let him get away. Don’t let that bastard get away.”
Steele turned and barked to the others. “Stay with P.J. Van and I are going after Nelson.”
Steele moved beyond her, Donovan on his heels. And then she found herself carefully enfolded in a strong pair of arms.
Cole.
She’d know him anywhere. Could smell him.
She buried her face in his chest as shame crashed over her.
“P.J., P.J., sweetheart. Oh my God, baby. Oh my God.”
It seemed to be all he could say as he rocked her back and forth, his heart beating like a drum against her broken body.
“I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly. “I’m so damn sorry.”
Pain screamed through her system and she let out
a whimper she could no longer call back. Now that she was safe, her barriers were down. The adrenaline rush was gone. She had nothing, no buffers to what had happened. She’d been raped by two men and sliced open like some piece of meat.
Where was there for her to go? To hide? They would all see her. Her shame. And know that she hadn’t been able to prevent what had happened.
She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
“I’ve got you,” Cole whispered, his voice choked. It sounded like he had tears, but she was nearly unconscious now.
“Blood. All over you,” she managed to whisper.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he said fiercely. “I’m getting you the hell out of here. You need medical attention.”
She shook her head, trying to grasp his shirt to gain his attention. But there was something wrong with one of her hands, and in the other she still gripped the knife she’d plunged into Nelson’s back.
Cole gently took hold of her hand and pried the knife away, closing it with a click.
“No!” she protested.
She struggled, trying to reach for the knife again. She wanted it, damn it.
Cole pressed the closed knife into her palm in an effort to soothe her and she gripped it until it left indentations in her skin.
She had to remain conscious. This was too important. It could mean her life. It could mean the lives of those baby girls. She would do anything to spare them what she’d endured, and they’d fair much worse. They didn’t have her team. They had no one. She had to save them or her very soul had been sacrificed for nothing.
“P.J. Ah hell, P.J. Talk to us. Don’t go out. Not yet. Come on.”
It was Dolphin. He’d hunkered down next to Cole. And Baker. She could hear him and Renshaw arguing over who stayed and who went to help Steele and Donovan go after the bastard who did this to her.
She smiled faintly, so in shock that it seemed appropriate to smile even amid all the blood and horror of what had happened.