The small spark of joy she felt dissipated as the door to her prison was thrust open. Greta hustled in carrying an arm load of towels.
“No, please. Just get out. I’m fine,” she protested. If she was in here, it meant they knew. He knew that the time had come.
“Hush now, Miss. I’m here to help,” Greta gently pushed her until her back was propped against the pillows, her legs slightly spread.
“Ahhh,” Brooke let out a suppressed scream as another contraction rocked her small body. Wetness pooled between her legs as her back arched off the bed. The contractions were coming closer together now, the pressure building. Sweat beaded her brow as she glared at the woman.
“I. Don’t. Want. Your. Help.” she snapped through gritted teeth. Greta shushed her and put a hand on her belly as she examined her.
“It won’t be long, Miss.”
Brooke barely heard her as an undeniable urge to push overtook her. Forgetting her vow to herself to keep quiet, she let out a blood-curdling scream as she beared down.
Dazed, her breath coming in pants; Brooke’s head fell back on the pillow.
“One more push, Miss. You’re almost there,” Greta’s soothing voice was too much for her. After months of confinement, of the cruel torture—kindness was nothing a distant memory. Tears dripped from her eyes as she gave the final push to bring her child into the world, the tiny cries filling the air.
A few beats passed, and she struggled to sit up. Greta was wrapping a small white blanket around her baby. A soul-consuming, overwhelming sense of love washed over her. She stretched out her arms, begging.
“Please…”
The woman hesitated, uncertainty playing across her face as she considered her request. She took an unsteady step towards her, jumping when the door crashed open again.
A man filled the doorway, his presence filling the room with a sinister ambiance. “Greta. Leave.” His cold tone left no room for argument.
With a regretful look in Brooke’s direction, she whispered, “It’s a girl, miss.” Scurrying past the man’s scowl, she obeyed.
Brooke watched in horror as the woman left with her daughter.
“Nooooo! My baby! Please. Pl-ease, come back!” her screams grew hysterical as she fought against the pain, rolling to her side and off the bed; landing on the floor with a thud. Crawling along the floor, she was only able to move a few feet before the pain became unbearable. Digging her fingernails into the carpet, she tried to pull herself along—desperate to reach her child.
“Please! My baby! Bring back my baby!” she cried, her hand outstretched towards the door, reaching.
“Enough.” The man crossed to her and restrained her easily lifted her back onto the bed. There was no remorse, no compassion in his eyes. She was nothing but a slave to him, her child to be used as a transaction. Her attempts to fight had failed and now he’d taken her everything. He stolen a piece of her.
A needle slid into her neck and her vision began to swim.
“Please. My baby, I’ll do anything you want…please,” her words slurred as she begged.
The man chuckled at her plight. “Oh I know you’ll do anything, Brooke. I’m counting on it, love. But as for your baby, forget her now—she belongs to me. You need to focus on regaining your strength.”
With those words he patted her head and turned to leave.
Stopping at the door, he looked back. “See you in a few weeks, love. I’m looking forward to conceiving your next child. I’d like a boy this time, wouldn’t that be nice?”
Brooke’s eyes fluttered closed, her worst nightmare had come true.
* * *
In the weeks that passed after giving birth to her child and having her ripped from her arms in seconds, Brooke sank into a deep depression. All will to fight, to survive, to hope for freedom had left her; she was a shell of the woman she used to be. Grief was a suffocating blanket that had fell over her. Wrapping its arms around her and pulling her deep into the darkness, it was relentless in its persistence to swallow her whole.
Marcus never came back to her room after her delivery. Greta visited often, trying to engage her or coax her out of the room with promises of longer walks outside. Nothing could reach her, she was lost beyond the wall of her own despair as she longed to hold her child in her arms.
Greta arrived carrying a tray full of food for her breakfast. She had been allowed to deliver Brooke’s meals again after the delivery. Setting it on the table, she approached the bed where Brooke was lying, staring blankly at the ceiling. Seeing her in such a condition broke Greta’s heart. The hardest thing she’d ever done was take Brooke’s beautiful baby from her that night, it was a cruel turn of events that was slowly eating her alive.
“Miss? I’ve brought you something to eat and I thought that we could get you cleaned up,” she greeted Brooke. Reaching out a hand to touch her greasy hair, her heart twisted at the state she was in. She had been trying to get her into the shower for days, but Brooke was completely unresponsive. It was as though she had retreated into her own mind.
Not ready to give up, she tried a different tactic. “Brooke,” she said her name instead of Miss. “You must listen to me. We need to keep you looking fresh and tidy or he will not let you keep this room any longer. He will know, he sees everything,” she warned. Brooke’s eyes flickered, the first sign of life she’d shown in days.
Hopeful, Greta slipped her hands under Brooke’s back and sat her up. “It’s not wise for us to keep poking the bear, you see. He is known to have a nasty streak,” Greta carried on, intent on engaging Brooke in conversation. Brooke’s eyes moved, met hers for a brief second before flicking away. Greta helped her stand up and walked her towards the bathroom, doing a happy dance in her mind at her success.
“It can be unnerving, I know, seeing his mood change so quick. He’s very charming one second and then cold the next. We have to be careful all the time,” Greta told her while setting the shower to a warm temperature. Turning back to Brooke, she helped her remove her clothing and step into the shower.
Watching Brooke’s gaze raise to hers once again, Greta’s heart broke in two. The sadness that was lurking behind those eyes was more than anyone should ever have to endure. Gripping Brooke’s hand she squeezed it tight. “I’m so sorry, Miss. I wish I could fix this for you. For all of us.”
“H-Hope,” Brooke’s voice came out like a croak. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper. Puzzled, Greta strained to hear. “What was that, Miss?”
“Hope,” she repeated, her voice getting louder. Greta smiled and nodded at her, pleased she’d gotten through to her.
“Yes, Miss you’re right. We mustn’t give up hope.”
“No-o. Hope. My daughter’s name is Hope.” Tears leaked from each of the women’s eyes as they shared the sorrow of the loss of Brooke’s daughter. Greta shut the water off and wrapped a fluffy blue towel around Brooke’s thin shoulders. She had lost too much weight in the weeks since the birth, her skin was hanging off her bones.
Entering the bedroom, both women were startled to find the guard standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You,” he said, pointing at Brooke. “Boss wants you in the lab,” he informed them.
“I’ll help her get dressed,” Greta said, frowning when the guard shook his head.
“No. Boss says now. She goes like that.” He walked over and opened the door, waiting for them to leave in front of him. Greta wrung her hands, and gave Brooke a little push to get her moving. Outside the chamber, the guard locked the door and then curled his fingers around the front of Brooke’s towel to ensure she didn’t try to make any attempts at escape.
“I’ll take her,” he dismissed Greta and dragged Brooke off to the lab. Brooke turned her head and met Greta’s eyes one last time. “Hope,” she whispered. Greta nodded sadly, understanding. She stood and watched them disappear into the lab before bursting into tears.
Inside the lab, Dr. Daniels was standin
g at attention, a solider prepared to do battle. Remembering his last encounter with Brooke in the lab, he was fully prepared to face the little tigress like a warrior heading into battle. When he got a glimpse of her coming through the door, he was visibly shocked at her appearance. She’d lost the baby weight and then some, and there wasn’t much on her to lose to begin with. Her hair was limp and sopping wet and she wore nothing but an over-sized towel draped around her; even that she was in jeopardy of losing by the way the guard was twisting it about as he dragged her along.
“Stop. Let the poor girl go, Stanley,” he ordered the guard. Grabbing a robe from the bathroom off his office, he rushed over to Brooke’s side. “Here, girl. Put this on instead.” He wrapped the robe around her first before tugging the towel off, helping her keep some sort of dignity. She might be their captive, but there was no reason to treat her disrespectfully if she hadn’t done anything to earn it. By the looks of her, she’d been through the ringer and could use a little kindness.
Brooke stood mute. Being back in the lab brought up unwanted memories. Casting her eyes around, she settled on a spot near the long stainless steel tables. There, that’s where she had been forced to suck the disgusting doctor’s cock. And over there, she glanced at another table—that’s where they roughly examined every inch of her insides. An intrusion that made her eyes burn and a slow fire to build within her. They did this, these men. They stripped away her soul, battering at her until they broke her. Stealing something so fragile; so precious. Well, it was time they went to Hell. And she was going to send them there.
“Now, girl. I just need to have a little look at you here, make sure all your parts are in working order and we can get you back into circulation,” he spoke casually, as though they were discussing the hockey game or the next day’s dinner.
Leading her to the table, he helped her up to sit. “You sit tight for a minute while I get my tools. I trust we’ve learned our lesson about acting out, now haven’t we?” Brooke nodded and lowered her head to stare at her hands. The guard moved over to the door and resumed his usual arms crossed stance. He was as solid as a brick, an immovable mountain of a man. Getting around him would be impossible.
The doctor returned, and smiled; satisfied that she was obeying. “Okay, girl, I need you to lie back—” Brooke reacted with lightning speed. Yanking the pen from his top lab coat pocket she let out a horrible bellow and stabbed him in the eye. The force behind her move broke through his glasses and the tip plunged deeply into his eyeball. Dr. Daniels screamed and fell back to the floor, clutching his face and writhing in pain. Grabbing one of his “tools” off the tray, she hopped off the table and used it as a hammer on the pen, jamming it further into his ruined eye. The doctor ceased to move and Brooke panted from the exertion. Dropping the tool to the floor she braced herself for what she knew was coming. Hearing the guard clattering behind her, she started to run but was quickly plucked off her feet when he caught her.
“You—you fucking stabbed him!” he yelled, shaking her. Brooke tried to bite his arm, but he knocked her head back with one slap. “Fucking hell! The boss is gonna have my ass for this you fucking bitch.” His hands wrapped around her slender throat and he began to squeeze. Black dots danced in front of Brooke’s eyes as she swam in and out of consciousness. Clawing at his arms, she sputtered; desperate for air. His eyes were enraged as he squeezed harder. Brooke knew she was seeing her death in those eyes. This was the final fight for her, she may not have brought them all down but she had damn well stabbed them right where it fucking hurt.
As the light behind her eyes faded from black to white, she had one last thought. I’m sorry, Hope. Mommy loves you, be strong for me until they rescue you, baby girl.
Stanley knew he’d gone too far when the light died in Brooke’s eyes and her body went limp. Tossing her onto the ground, he thought fast. The doctor. He could make it look like the doctor killed her. Grabbing Brooke by the ankles, he was dragging her body across the floor when the door opened and Marcus strolled in.
“How is our favorite patient, Dr.—” Marcus broke off when he took in the horrific scene. Stanley was dragging an unconscious Brooke across the floor and Dr. Daniels…what the fuck was in his eye?
With a roar, he ran to Brooke’s side, crouching down to feel for a pulse. Not finding one, he turned his murderous gaze to Stanley.
“What the fuck happened! She’s dead!” He was furious, angrier than he had ever been. His beautiful girl, dead on the floor of the lab, the skin on her neck purple and blue with fresh bruises. Seeing the scratch marks on Stanley’s hands, he pounced. Cocking his fist back he slammed it into Stanley’s jaw, his fury raining down like a storm.
“Boss! Boss I’m sorry, it was an accident,” Stanley tried to explain. Marcus stepped back and wiped the spit from his mouth. It wasn’t often he came unhinged but the loss of Brooke enraged him. She was special. An original. And his.
Stepping over to Dr. Daniels, he determined that he was still alive. Although how useful he would be remained to be seen after the damage that had been done to him. “Did she do this?” he asked, motioning to the doctor.
Stanley nodded, wiping blood away from his face with the end of his t-shirt. “She was trying to escape. And things—things got out of hand. I got out of hand, I admit it.”
“She was a feisty one,” Marcus said to himself. There was a tugging in his chest that he promptly pushed away, pulling his cold demeanor back into place.
“You,” he stalked toward Stanley and grabbed him by the cuff of his shirt. “You’re fucking lucky that I have a bigger plan in mind. And if you fucking step out of line once during the execution—I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the dogs while you watch. Get out of my sight,” he pushed Stanley back, watching disgusted as he scrambled out of the lab.
Taking his cell out of his pocket, he placed a call. “It’s Marcus Drake. I’ve got a pickup for the graves.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Life on Jacobs’ Ranch was a flurry of activity as wedding preparations were in full swing. Quinn was in her glory as Nora’s maid of honor—it was in her head that the title gave her full rights to boss everyone around, making them bend to her will. Nora thought she was adorable, Gabe thought she was a living nightmare and he regularly plotted ways to stuff her in a box and send her and her “preparations” off to sea. If he heard the words, “well I’m the maid of honor,” one more time, he was going to snap.
The investigation into the missing women and children had stalled for Gabe, Theo and Brady with the arrival of the Feds and State police in town. They immediately took up residence and assumed control over any potential leads. Brady tried to convince Gabe and Theo it was for the best seeing as they couldn’t officially work the case. The new team in town did however request Sheriff James to consult on the case with them and he was planning a return at the end of the week to offer his official assistance.
Mr. and Mrs. Thornton were thrilled at the news of Nora’s pregnancy. Mrs. Thornton gushing about how she had known the two would end up together. “A mother always knows, dear,” she’d told her, a knowing smirk on her face. Nora was glowing with happiness as she neared the eight month mark in her pregnancy. With the wedding only weeks away, she secretly hoped for an early birth so that their little bundle of joy could be with them on the day they said their vows.
Nora was stacking baby books on a white shelf in the newly set up nursery when Gabe came up behind her and drew her back into his arms. Reaching around her, he popped up a bouquet of colorful carnations.
“Oh Gabe, they’re beautiful! Carnations. My favorite,” she stuck her nose in the arrangement and inhaled deeply.
“I know they are, baby.” Nora turned to smile up at him and couldn’t hide her giggle. There he was, this tough, sexy cowboy covered in tattoos holding a bouquet of sunny flowers. He was a walking contradiction and she loved that about him.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded, a little annoyed. Seeing his disgruntle
d expression just made Nora laugh harder.
“Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean I won’t throw you over my knee and give you the fucking spanking you deserve, Nora,” he warned. Seeing her smile and laugh warmed him, thawed out his annoyance at her laughing at him.
“Ew, gross!” Quinn’s voice called from the doorway. “Gabe! Make sure you are alone when you say that kinda shit. No, don’t be alone—just don’t say that shit. At all. Ever. To anyone.” Quinn entered the nursery with her usual flair of dramatics. Her outburst caused another round of laughter from Nora who was now doubled over in uncontrollable hysterics.
Exasperated, he glared at Quinn. “Quinlan, don’t start,” he told her, moving to set the flowers on the change table that was set up under the big bay window. The nursery was decorated in light pastels with a zoo animal themes. Nora and Gabe had both agreed to let the sex be a surprise—since it was their first child. Nora was giddy with the anticipation and had teased Gabe several times she was going to find out and hold it over his head until the birth. Gabe shut that disobedience down with a few lessons in the bedroom.
Coming to stand beside Nora, who was still bent at the waist, he lightly touched her back. “Baby?” he asked, concerned that she hadn’t straightened up. Nora let out a long groan and clutched at her belly. A sloshing sound followed and suddenly his shoes were soaked.
“What—?” he started, but Quinn butted in. “Oh my Gosh! Her water just broke! Quick, we need to get her to the hospital, I’ll get her overnight bag,” she called out, racing from the room. Gabe was speechless, having no idea what just happened.
“Nora? Baby, are you okay?” Gabe helped her stand up straight and looked in her eyes. “I’m fine, Gabe. Go get the truck, its time.”
Racing into the hospital, pushing Nora in a wheelchair, Gabe yelled out for help. “Baby! We’re having a baby here!” A few nurses dressed in brightly colored scrubs rushed over.
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