Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel

by Mari Carr

  And Jakob wasn’t coming. Walt would tell someone, someone would be looking for her, but Walt wasn’t a member of the Masters’ Admiralty. He’d go to the police. It would take time.

  Which meant rescue was hours, maybe days away.

  If this were a movie she would have grabbed something, managed to knock him unconscious, and then get away. But this was reality, in which she had considerably less physical mass than him, was hobbled by the chain, and there were no conveniently heavy objects besides the nearly empty wine bottle, which may have been enough to knock him out if she managed to hit him in just the right spot, and with enough force.

  Too many mights and maybes, especially when she knew that any aggression on her part would only escalate his own behavior.

  And so, when he grabbed her by the hair and yanked, she let go of the table, scrambling off the bench in a desperate effort to alleviate some of the pressure on her scalp.

  When he pushed her up against the wall, his hips against hers, his hand tight on her jaw, forcing her face up, Annalise closed her eyes.

  And when he kissed her, she stayed passive, holding her need to thrash and bite in check, even when he forced her mouth open. Even when his hand trailed down from her jaw as tears slipped from under her lashes.

  Jakob looked from the tracks back at Vadisk, who’d jumped out of the car and come running up beside him.

  Vadisk looked at Jakob, and together they turned and raced back to the car. Walt had just managed to get the back passenger door open and his shoulder and head were hanging out the open door, his hands scrabbling on the seat to try to gain purchase to pull himself upright, or maybe out.

  Jakob stopped, grabbed Walt’s shoulders, heaved him up, then shoved him back into the car, slamming the door. He raced around, jumping in his still-open door even as Vadisk put the car in drive.

  “What’s going on?” Walt demanded.

  “Tire tracks.” Vadisk said.

  “Fresh tire tracks,” Jakob added.

  “You think it’s Annalise?”

  Jakob wished he had a more tangible reason than some tire tracks for the instincts screaming inside his head. For his absolute, unshakable belief that Annalise was down that nearly hidden tract through the forest. He didn’t. Just a feeling that she was close. Very close. And he would give up his own life if it meant saving hers.

  “Yes, she’s there,” Jakob said.

  Vadisk steered them off the road and into the dark, cold woods.

  Annalise huddled in on herself when her stalker stepped away. Something, somewhere, in the caravan was beeping, but all she cared about was the reprieve. With the chain at its limit, she couldn’t cross her arms, but did her best to cover and protect herself.

  He’d cut her shirt off, but left on the bra.

  The part of her brain that was detached from reality, that wasn’t trembling in revulsion at the way he’d “kissed” her and mauled her breasts, was able to look at it clinically. She doubted he had sexual experience, meaning his frames of reference were porn, where the women often started out naked. But he wouldn’t have any respect for those women, so some part of him was rejecting the idea of stripping her naked and making her like those women he didn’t respect. Women he would never have called cerebral.

  On the other hand, lingerie companies regularly posted billboards in public spaces of women in bras. Branding and advertising where women wore bras were common and familiar.

  Right now he was probably uncomfortable with the idea of her naked, and so he’d left her in her underwear because it was a more familiar visual.

  But whatever he might be feeling, it ultimately wouldn’t stop him, only delay him.

  And once he did strip her naked, he might begin to feel the contempt toward her that he most likely felt for women in pornography.

  The beeping got louder, and she looked up to see that he’d opened a cupboard. Inside there was an open laptop, which continued to sound an alarm.

  He tapped the keyboard, then hissed in anger.

  Annalise froze, scared to hope, but sure that anything he didn’t like was good for her. She craned her neck so she could see the screen—a grainy security camera feed of the clearing. The camera must have been somewhere on the caravan and showed everything, including the car he’d brought her in parked on the far side, near the slight break in the trees.

  He peered at the screen, intent. There was nothing there.

  Maybe the alarm was some kind of motion sensor or early alert system that someone was approaching. Maybe that was very wishful thinking on her part.

  A car shot out from between the trees, going far too fast. The driver swerved to avoid hitting the parked car and then rocked to a stop.

  The doors opened. The driver was someone she didn’t know, but the two men who climbed out on the passenger side…

  “Jakob,” she breathed. “Walt.”

  Her stalker spun to her, his eyes wide and enraged. He took two quick steps and slapped her. Annalise saw it coming and ducked, his hand just clipping the top of her head.

  Then she balled up her fist and punched him in the dick.

  At least that was her intention, but she was using her non-dominant arm, which still throbbed from the wine-bottle blow—a huge bruise was already forming.

  She hit him hard enough to make him yelp and step back, but not hard enough to drop him.

  Her stalker snarled and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her over to the cabinet, forcing her to look at the laptop. “I want you to watch this.”

  “Watch what?” she gasped, one arm outstretched to accommodate the chain, the other desperately gripping his wrist as if that would lessen his hold on her hair.

  “After this, we’ll be leaving. Don’t worry, there’s another way out, so we won’t have to deal with the debris.”

  “Debris?” Annalise stared at the grainy footage. Her men were so close. Less than fifty meters from the camper. Jakob had gone to check the stalker’s car, while the man she didn’t recognize kept his attention on the camper, standing in the space between the car he’d been driving and the one she’d been kidnapped in.

  Debris.

  The phone. The old, simple phone he’d used when they first arrived.

  A bomb. There was a bomb in the car.

  Annalise screamed as loud as she could. Hoping to warn them.

  “It’s soundproof.” Her stalker laughed, then propped the phone up by the laptop. He tapped the green send button.

  A fifteen-second countdown window appeared on the screen. Fourteen, no, thirteen seconds and then Walt and Jakob were going to be blown to bits. She screamed again.

  Her stalker turned her, forcing her against the wall once more, but this meant she had a perfect view of the laptop.

  He drew the knife from his pocket and placed the tip at the waistband of her pants.

  Annalise had no more room for fear. Her horror at what was about to happen filled her until there wasn’t space for anything else.

  There was nothing in the car. No sign of Annalise, but the plates matched the partial plate they’d seen on the video.

  “If she’s not in the car, is she in there?” Walt asked.

  Vadisk, looking at the caravan on the other side of the clearing, didn’t immediately respond.

  Every muscle in Jakob’s body was tense with the surety that she was in the caravan. That she was trapped in there with a man who would hurt her.

  Not might hurt her. Would.

  He probably already had.

  “Maybe,” Vadisk said. “But it is too obvious.”

  “No.” Jakob looked from the car to the caravan and back again. “It’s too easy.”

  “Trap?” Vadisk asked.

  “He’s smart enough to evade me for years. He left no clues. He’s organized enough to plan this kidnapping on the fly in a city he isn’t familiar with.” Jakob’s words were several seconds behind his thoughts. By the time the last word left his lips, he was already moving away from the cars.

/>   “Run,” Jakob snarled. “Into the trees.”

  Neither Vadisk nor Walt questioned him. They turned and sprinted toward the trees.

  A second later, the world flashed bright white, then a wrecking ball slammed into his back an eighth of a second before a deafening noise wiped out all other sound.

  The explosion rocked the camper slightly. The camera feed whirled drunkenly, then stilled, now pointed at the sky, only the tops of the trees visible—it must have been knocked to the side by the blast.

  Annalise forced herself to exhale when her lungs started to hurt. She’d been right. There had been a bomb in the car.

  A bomb that would have killed Jakob, Walt, and the stranger if they hadn’t moved.

  She’d seen them start to run, just before the timer hit zero.

  Had they gotten far enough away?

  Annalise stared mutely at the screen, until her stalker dragged her down to the floor, forcing her onto her back. Her pants were gone, and when he forced her legs apart, the G-string didn’t feel like much protection.

  She should be horrified or scared. Should be angry enough that she’d started fighting.

  Instead, she craned her head, trying to see the laptop screen. Hoping that the camera would have shifted again. Would show her what had become of the men she loved.

  God, she loved them. Both of them.

  Her stalker slapped her, hard enough to make her ears ring.

  “Pay attention to me!” he snarled. “You can’t hide. You’re mine. Mine!”

  “No, I’m not, and I never will be, you delusional, pathetic waste of humanity.” There was no heat in her words, only disgust.

  He screamed in her face, his spittle hitting her cheek. Annalise turned her face away, breathing hard through her nose.

  “I won’t cut your hair. I only cut hers so I wouldn’t be tricked again.” He was on his knees, scrambling for the knife. “But there are other places I can cut. So you’ll know you’re mine.”

  “But you protect me,” Annalise said firmly, though she was trembling. “Is that protecting? Or are you the one I need protecting from?”

  He raised his hands, including the one now holding the knife, and clamped his hands over his ears. “Shut up!”

  “No, you have to decide. Do you want to love me or hurt me? It cannot be both.”

  “I said shut up.” The hand holding the knife rose.

  Annalise tensed to roll out of the way.

  The caravan door exploded inward, bouncing against the wall and ricocheting back only to be arrested by Jakob as he barreled into the opening.

  He was dirty, his shirt torn, blood on his face and lips, but he was here.

  And alive.

  “No!” Her stalker screamed the denial, turning toward Jakob. She could see fear in his expression.

  He still held the knife, and he was far closer to her than Jakob, though given the size of the camper, the distance wasn’t great. But she knew she was still in danger.

  Or would have been if Jakob hadn’t taken one big step, half turned, and lashed out with one foot, kicking her stalker so hard in the face that his head snapped back.

  Blood spurted and her stalker slumped to the floor, knife clattering from his hand. Jakob took two more steps, grabbed the man’s head, shoved it down, compressing his neck, and then twisted with a short, sharp jerking motion.

  Annalise scrambled to her hands and knees, crawling as far as the chain would allow. Then Jakob was there, crouching in front of her, his dark eyes haunted. He started to reach for her, but stopped, his hand hovering in the air between them.

  Walt bounded in, dropping to his knees beside them. Without hesitation, he gathered Annalise into his arms, then pulled Jakob in too.

  It was then—safe and in their arms—that Annalise started to sob.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Walt stood by the hotel window, looking down on the busy street below them, replaying yesterday’s events over and over. Annalise had fallen apart in their arms after they’d found her. It was as if she’d stored up too many years’ worth of tears and they all came out at once, the dam breaking.

  It had ripped his heart out, hearing the unadulterated terror and anguish in her cries.

  He glanced back at the bed, feeling the need to check on her again. He’d felt that same need every few minutes since he’d woken up.

  She was still in the center of the mattress, her arm curled over Jakob’s waist. Jakob lay on his back, one arm around her shoulders, tucking her close to him, the other thrown above his head.

  Both of them were dead to the world.

  Not that Walt was surprised. It felt as if they’d lived ten lifetimes in just a few days.

  Given the pain-free, peaceful way Jakob slept, it was apparent the effects from the bullet ant sting had subsided. Walt grinned as he recalled Jakob’s reaction to the nerve blocker. The medication hadn’t just loosened the tension and burning agony in his muscles. It had loosened his tongue as well, allowing Jakob to speak every thought, every feeling aloud. During the course of the day, he’d revealed quite a bit about his love for Annalise.

  Walt hoped Jakob wouldn’t retreat back to his silence. He enjoyed hearing his thoughts and for such a seemingly serious, stoic man, Jakob had a great sense of humor and a very dirty mind. Walt shook his head when his thoughts traveled to the sexy activities that had been interrupted by the fire alarm.

  He wasn’t sure how to return them to that moment.

  No, he wasn’t sure if he should.

  Walt didn’t have a clue how long he and Jakob had held Annalise on the floor of that caravan before Vadisk had cleared his throat and told them he was going to make sure the car they’d arrived in hadn’t been damaged by the blast. Really, Vadisk had been giving them a few minutes to pull themselves together, as well as telling them it was time to leave.

  It spoke to Walt’s intense fear for Annalise’s well-being that he’d forgotten about the man lying just a few feet away from them.

  Walt had released Jakob and Annalise, crawling over to Axel’s body. He’d witnessed the kick, seen Jakob’s boot connect with Axel’s face, and he’d known immediately that the man was dead. And if that hadn’t done it, the terrifyingly professional and efficient way Jakob had broken the man’s neck would have.

  Walt had taken a pulse, but hadn’t searched for a breath. Axel had died instantly, his spinal cord snapped. Most likely if they looked on an X-ray, he would have died from atlanto-occipital dislocation—commonly referred to as an internal decapitation.

  After that, things had moved in slow motion, as every action felt like they were performing it neck-deep in thick mud. A fog had settled in all their brains, their motions performed by rote. They’d found a clean T-shirt and sweatpants in the caravan—Annalise’s clothing had been sliced to ribbons—and helped her dress, then Jakob had carried her to the car.

  Vadisk had promised to call and make arrangements for someone to take care of the clean-up at the site, then he’d driven them—in a car that now sported some serious dents and a missing back passenger window—to the hotel just as the sun was setting.

  None of them had spoken a single word during the ride. Annalise looked shell-shocked, battered and bruised—inside and out. Meanwhile, he, Vadisk, and Jakob appeared as if they’d just walked out of a war film, filthy and bloody after coming far too close to being blown to Kingdom Come by the car bomb.

  Exhaustion—mental and physical—had taken them all down quickly last night. Walt had wanted to take Annalise to the hospital. There was a severe contusion on her arm, as well as several on her shins, and the start of two black eyes. But he’d held his tongue. Not forcing her to go to the hospital was only the second-worst medical decision he’d made yesterday, after the blind injection he’d given Jakob.

  They’d returned to the room they’d vacated earlier in the day, climbed into the bed together, and fallen fast asleep. They hadn’t even undressed or washed up, hadn’t done more than slip off their shoes.<
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  Walt glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly noon, but he didn’t have the heart to wake them. He’d only spent a few days aware of Annalise’s stalker, of the horrors the man had subjected her to. Meanwhile, she and Jakob had spent years wallowing around in that nightmare. With the threat removed, they were obviously catching up on years of lost slumber.

  If they weren’t still knee-deep in the hunt for a serial killer, the doctor in him would have suggested at least a few days of serious bed rest for both of them, and he probably would have prescribed a sedative to ensure that happened.

  Glancing at his phone, he realized he’d missed an early-morning text from his new friend Vadisk. The man said they were getting a one-day reprieve, but that the admiral of Hungary intended to pay them a visit.

  Apparently, the admiral was looking for answers. Answers Walt knew they couldn’t provide. Not without betraying the fleet admiral.

  Walt sighed as he looked at the bed once more, surprised to find Annalise had turned toward him, her gaze on his face.

  “How do you feel?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb Jakob.

  Annalise’s brow furrowed, and he got a sense she was genuinely searching for a response to his question. He could almost imagine her doing a mental check-in, trying to analyze her condition. Finally, she said, “Numb.”

  After the avalanche of emotions she’d released yesterday, he wasn’t surprised. “Maybe that’s a good thing for now.”

  She gave him a ghost of a smile. “Maybe it is.” Then she twisted her head to look at Jakob. “How is he?”

  “The effects of the venom, and the nerve blocker, should have subsided by now.” Walt walked over to the bed and sank down next to her. “I would like to examine you.”

  He’d wanted to do at least a field exam last night since they weren’t going to the hospital, but Annalise had refused, allowing him to do little more than a cursory exam, insisting she was fine.

  “I’m fine,” she persisted.

  “You aren’t getting another bye, Annalise.”