Her thoughts were cut off when strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, spinning her. Gasping, Nora raised the pitchfork in defense. Gabe plucked it from her hands with ease and tossed it aside. Keeping her in his grasp, he brushed her hair away from her face and leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Baby, I’d say there’s plenty for me to remind you of,” he nipped lightly at her ear, causing Nora to inhale sharply at the desire that pooled low in her belly. “Especially how I can make you moan and scream my name.” Gabe pulled away and looked deep in her eyes. Blue eyes that had haunted him every night since the day he left. Now that he was back, it was his intention to remind Nora of who she belonged to. She was his; he knew it and her body knew it even if her mind still had to catch up. Reminding her of that fact was going to be such delightful fun. Ignoring her sputter of protest, he placed a light kiss on her forehead before turning to leave.
“See you soon, neighbour,” he called over his shoulder.
Nora stood there fuming after his departure. Just who in the hell did that man think he was? Strolling onto her ranch and into her barn as though he’d never left? It was infuriating. Her body shook with temper and something else…desire. Not that she’d ever admit it, but seeing him again—feeling his skin next to hers, it awakened a longing for him she had hoped was dead and buried. She would rather burn her own skin off than give in to those desires. Gabe Thornton was not the man for her, she had been a fool to think they ever had any chance at a future. He made it very clear when he left that she was not his priority.
“Stupid, cocky asshole. Strutting in here with a sexy smile. Did he really think that would work? I’m not a fifteen year-old teenager anymore,” she muttered under her breath. Lost in thought and fury, Nora didn’t realize she was flinging hay around the stall in a haphazard manner.
“Whoa, whoa! I’m all for a roll in the hay, sweet cakes, but this isn’t usually how I accomplish that.” Theo’s annoyed voice called out from behind her. Glancing back at him, she stifled a giggle at the sight of him covered head-to-toe in hay.
“Did you know about this, Theo? Is that why you brought him up to me this morning? Hoping it would save you from my wrath?” Nora shook the pitchfork at him like a ruler. “If you’re helping him get to me, I swear…”
“Nora, love—you know I adore you. But have you been drinking out here?” Theo cocked an eyebrow at her. “I haven’t got the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”
“Gabe. Gabe was just here,” she explained. “You knew about it, didn’t you?” Her accusation hung between them as Theo looked everywhere but in her eyes, confirming her suspicions.
“Ugh, Theo! A little heads up would have been nice.” Irritated beyond belief, Nora tossed her pitchfork to the ground and stomped out of the barn.
“I had every intention of telling you about his plans,” Theo attempted to defend himself. At Nora’s stern glare, he admitted. “One day…”
Exasperated, Nora huffed and pushed past him. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I have no intention of getting involved with him again. As long as he stays on his side of the border, he will keep all of his body parts.” Not waiting for a reply from Theo, she headed for the house.
Gabe’s family property bordered Jacobs’ Ranch on the south side. With its sprawling acreage and impressive palatial home, it was one of the most sought after homes for miles. Nora had practically grown up between the two family homes, Gabe’s house always feeling more like home to her. Gabe’s mother had always had a soft spot for her, which was more than she could say for her own family.
When the two had been caught at sixteen making out in the back of Mr. Thornton’s pick-up truck, it had been Gabe’s mother that had sat her down and gave her “the talk.” Her own mother had brushed off the situation with a simple, “it was bound to happen sometime,” a fact that seemed to infuriate Mrs. Thornton. When they had gone to their high school prom together a few years later, it was Mrs. Thornton that had pinned a beautiful corsage of pink roses on Nora’s slender wrist and sent them off with tears shining in her eyes. Nora’s own mother had been too busy fucking one of the stable hands in the back card room to even take a photo of the occasion.
Several years later, when Gabe up and left out of the blue; it was Mr. and Mrs. Thornton that picked up the broken pieces of Nora’s soul. Nora’s mother had long since left the picture, and her father was as engrossed with ranch life as he ever was. His daughter’s devastation wasn’t even a blip on his radar. Neither of Gabe’s parents could offer a valid explanation as to why he left, and it wasn’t long before contact between them became unbearable.
If Gabe Thornton thought that he could just waltz back into her life after the way he broke her, he was severely mistaken. She was over him, didn’t need or want anything to do with him…butterflies and clenching vagina or not—she was determined to resist him. He was a complication she just didn’t need now that she had everything she always wanted. What she didn’t want, was Gabe. He was a temptation her mind didn’t need and her heart couldn’t handle.
CHAPTER THREE
Brooke lay curled in a fetal position on the thick carpet. Every inch of her body pulsed in a dull, throbbing pain. The horror of what had happened to her played on repeat in her mind. A sickening re-run she could not turn off. Closing her eyes didn’t help, it only served to call up the image of hard, cold blue eyes. Eyes that had never left hers as he thrust into her at a ruthless pace over and over. Her screams had gone unanswered. Her frantic pounding on his back as she struggled to squirm away had only increased his pace until he finally finished and collapsed on top of her. His parting promise had her hugging her knees tightly to her chest as she replayed them—“Not bad for your first day, beautiful girl.”
The tiny screw she had pried free from the door in the cell was her only glimmer of hope, one she clung to like a lifeline. I’ll gouge his damn eyes out. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she pulled herself onto all fours and peered at the large bathroom several feet away. Her instincts told her that her legs weren’t strong enough to support her if she tried to walk, and her face was stinging from where she had caught a fist on the left side. Crawling on her hands and knees, she dragged herself into the bathroom. Grimacing as her knees hit the hard tile floor, she sat back on her heels. The large space was beautiful, had her circumstances been different, she would have marvelled at her surroundings.
Reaching her hands up to the counter, she slowly pulled herself to feet. Gasping, she stared at her reflection. The woman staring back at her was unrecognizable. Her brown hair was sticking up on one side, plastered to her face with sticky sweat on the other. A dark bruise was starting to form around her eye, but thankfully it hadn’t swollen shut. The vacant look in her eyes was unfamiliar to her; she was a stranger in her own skin. Gingerly prodding the raised flesh on her face, she hissed between her teeth at the tender flesh. Be brave. Be strong, don’t give up.
Searching deep in her soul for a strength she hoped hadn’t left her, Brooke took a few deep breaths. “You can survive this, you are not a helpless victim.” Saying the words out loud gave her a small sense of power. Shuffling over to the large shower enclosed in glass walls, she turned the water on as hot as it would go. Peeling off her clothes was a painstaking process. She throbbed from head to toe, each movement awakening a new injury she had yet to discover.
Stepping under the spray of water, she sighed at the contact of the scalding water. Letting it pour over her, Brooke desperately tried to wash away the horror she had endured. The smell of the man’s skin, the filth from the dank cell, the scrape of fingernails digging into her skull. The weight of what she had been through pressed down on her like a rock, threatening to shatter what was left of her spirit. Grabbing blindly at a bar of soap, she scrubbed at her skin in a furious motion. A sob escaped her as her tears mixed with the water flowing over her body. Mad with her obsession to get every inch of herself clean, she scrubbed until her skin was raw and chafed, the water having ru
n cold.
Turning the nozzle, she shut the water off and moved to open the glass door. Spotting a figure out of the corner of her eye, she let out a shriek and slammed back against the tiled shower wall. A tiny woman with her gray hair pulled back in a military-style bun stood just on the other side of the glass doors, a fluffy white towel in her hands.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, miss,” she spoke in a calm voice. Gesturing at Brooke with the towel, she stepped forward a few feet.
“I’m here to help you get settled. My name is Greta,” she informed her with a smile. Brooke stared at her, unblinking.
“Get settled? Get settled?! You have to help me!” Brooke exclaimed, darting out of the shower, uncaring that she was completely naked.
“I’ve been kidnapped. Please. Give me a phone, a pen, a smoke signal! I have to get the hell out of here,” her frantic babble had her words tripping over each other as she implored Greta to help her.
“Miss. Miss, please calm down,” Greta stepped forward and enveloped Brooke in the large towel. Patting her arm, she guided her over to a large vanity—pushing her to sit on the small stool. Bewildered, Brooke twisted around. “No. You don’t seem to be listening to me! I’ve. Been. Kidnapped. There is another woman in chains in a fucking dungeon!”
Greta stared into Brooke’s eyes for a long moment. This one was different. She had a spirit and fire that many of the girls who ended up in the house lost on that very first night. Deep down, she prayed that she would be strong enough to withstand what was coming, and hopefully be the one to end the nightmare they were all trapped in.
“Dear. Please, l need you to listen to me. There is nothing that I can do to help you escape. Escaping from here is not an option. The only thing I can offer is assistance and preparation. Mr.—” she caught herself before she let his name slip past her lips. “The boss is not a man to be reckoned with. Please, trust me on that. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Frustrated, Brooke grabbed Greta’s arm and shook her. “I’ve already been hurt! Please, please, please. There must be something you can do,” she begged. Prying her hands off her, Greta shook her head while opening the drawer and removing a brush.
“I’m sorry, miss. Truly. Now, let’s get you dressed. That will make you feel better won’t it?” Defeated, Brooke sat frozen as Greta worked the brush through her tangled hair. This is madness. A mad house with dungeons and chains, a sadistic monster and a motherly woman here to wait on her hand and foot. It was a twisted fairy tale of the worst kind. Somehow, she didn’t think there would be a knight in shining armour showing up to rescue her—it would be up to her to rescue herself.
Deciding to play along until the opportunity presented itself to get the hell out of there, Brooke slumped down and allowed Greta to brush her hair. Leading her into the bedroom, there was an outfit laid out on the bed, waiting for her. Dazed, went through the motions jerkily as Greta dressed her in the simple pants and blouse. The material was smooth against her skin; expensive.
“You look lovely, miss. Beautiful,” Greta whispered. Across the room, there was a small table with a single wrought iron chair. A tray of food had been placed on top at some point—when it had arrived, Brooke didn’t know. Her dry, sandpaper mouth craved a glass of water from the sparkling pitcher and moving past Greta, she headed to the table. Her body moved as though in a fog, her movements automatic.
Greta joined her, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. This woman was affecting her more deeply than any other. She felt a connection, a strong will to want to help her—even though there was truly no point. Still, the desire to try was there, unfamiliar territory for her.
“I had a daughter, once,” she suddenly blurted out. Brooke raised surprised green eyes to hers at Greta’s confession. “You remind me of her,” she continued. “I will—”
Whatever Greta was going to say was cut off by the door opening. The man with the tattoo filled the space, his presence menacing and unwelcome. Brooke noticed that even Greta seemed frozen in place, her fear of the man evident.
“Come here,” he commanded. Neither woman moved, unsure whom he was referring to. Annoyed, he pointed at Brooke. “Girl, come here. Boss wants you to see a few things.” Seeing a few things was the last thing that Brooke wanted to do. She began to protest, then stopped herself. Leaving this room might not be a bad idea, she needed as much information on where she was being held as she could get, to plan her escape.
“Fine,” she snapped. The man was mistaken if he thought she would go willingly without some sort of fight. Placing her glass back on the table, she walked towards him. A small groan escaped her at the discomfort between her legs, a reminder of what the “boss” had done to her. The man’s smirk at her obvious pain lit a fire inside her and she vowed before this was over, she would see him die a slow, painful death. Fucking asshole.
Shoving her in front of him, he leaned down and inhaled, his nose against her hair. “Can’t wait to get my taste of you, girl.” His sickening words caused a shudder to run through her, her temper to spike.
“You? Pfffft.” She glanced down at the front of his pants and scoffed. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much to work with.” His face turned red with anger, his hand grabbed her hair and forced her head back, ignoring her yelp of pain. Walking her back until she hit the wall, he ground his hips against her, his erection digging into her stomach.
“You mouthy little bitch. I’ll show you just what I’ve got. Gag that smart mouth of yours full of my cock. See how much of a smartass you are when I’m hittin’ the back of your throat,” his voice raised with each word, his hand moving to his belt. Squirming, Brooke struggled to get free.
“Get off me, you limp dick prick!” she shouted. Her struggles only seemed to entice him further, his hand sliding down to cup her through her pants.
“I bet you’re wet, aren’t you, you fucking whore.” His breath was hot on her face as he panted and he began to push her shoulders, forcing her to her knees in front of him. He unzipped and just as he reached to free himself, a throat cleared behind them.
“Milo. That’s enough, let the girl up.” Milo let out a frustrated, “fuck,” but he loosened his grip on her and pulled her to her feet. Brooke wiped impatiently at the tears that had escaped, her relief at avoiding Milo’s assault mixing with her fear of the boss standing in front of them.
“Come.” He didn’t wait for a reply from either of them, just turned and walked down a short flight of stairs and across a long landing, disappearing into a room.
Milo grabbed her hand and dragged her along. Reaching the room, he gave her a dark look that suggested what they had started was far from finished. Shivering, Brooke was left with two choices. Kick up a scene that would likely get her dragged off with the horrible Milo where he would do God’s know what to her, or enter into the unknown room with the man that had already done unspeakable things to her. The choices were dismal and either she knew would have unbearable consequences. Deciding that perhaps the boss was the lesser of two evils, she quickly stepped into the room, promising herself that she would stay alert and sharp. Anything that she could get her hands on as a weapon would be a welcome addition to her arsenal of a little screw.
The boss stood waiting for her in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. His stance was unthreatening, however Brooke still approached with caution. She knew all too well that his strike was as quick as a snake’s. She would be prepared and ready to fight this time.
Looking around, it appeared they were in some sort of doctor’s office. Or a lab? There were several stainless steel tables, tall glass door fridges, cages with shelves of tubes with small white labels and a few people in white coats roaming the area. Her curiosity got the better of her and she raised questioning eyes to his.
“You look well, Brooke. Did you get some rest?” his tone was friendly, a fact that infuriated her. Did he think they were friends? Refusing to dignify his ridiculous question with an answer, she s
tared at him silently. It had been twenty-four hours since he had attacked her, but looking in his eyes the rape came flooding back as though it had only happened moments before.
“Ah, well perhaps I should start by introducing myself. My name is Marcus Drake. And this,” he swept his arms wide. “This is my business. I thought it might be a good idea for you to understand why you are here and what my expectations of you are.”
Taking a closer look at her surroundings, Brooke began to pick up things she missed. The small metal chains attached to the stainless steel tables, the absence of any chatter amongst the workers, the row of tiny bassinets in the corner of the room. Just what in the fuck was going on here?
“I don’t understand,” she finally answered. “What type of business do you run where you need to kidnap women, and—and,” Brooke couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.
Marcus offered her a smile and crossed the room to her, drawing her into his arms. She stiffened and struggled, but he proved to be too strong for her to break his hold. Releasing her, he slung an arm around her shoulders as he guided her around the room.
“Well, beautiful girl. I’m a business man. And quite a successful one, I might add. This operation here has proven to be very profitable for me, especially when delivering a pure product, as opposed to one engineered in this room.” His explanation made no sense, although something was starting to niggle at the back of her mind. “They take the tiny lives…”
Her blank stare must have alerted him that she wasn’t following as he continued. “Consider this house like a factory. We manufacture the best product that money can buy. Our satisfaction rate is 100%, our repeat business numbers are through the roof. It’s quite spectacular,” he beamed at her with pride.
Evanesce (The Darkness #2) Page 3