“Asher, that’s not a good idea. Let me handle this,” Red says. “You have no idea what you’ll be walking into. I can have someone out there in about an hour.”
“Give me the fucking address.”
Red sighs and rattles off an address down by the docks. “Listen. I’m sending someone now. We can meet you. Don’t do anything—”
Asher hangs up the phone and heads to the door.
“Asher, stop,” I yell after him.
He spins and stares me down. “I’m not waiting for Red’s guys. That guy is going to kill her.”
“You’re not going alone. Let me get my guns,” I say. Intellectually, I know we should wait, but like Asher, I’m not willing to chance it.
I hurry to the safe, pulling out two handguns and load them. I hand one to Asher who nods and slips it into his waistband. I’m not a violent man and despite Asher’s childhood—or maybe because of it—neither is he, but I’m positive we’d both kill without hesitation to protect Rose.
We take the elevator down to the garage in silence and jump into the Jag. What should have been a twenty-minute drive only takes me twelve. I broke every traffic law known to man, determined to get to Rose.
I just hope we make it in time.
49
Rose
I’m running out of time and options.
My captor finishes adjusting the light and is now recording a rambling, deranged manifesto.
“My name is Larry Reid. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I promise, after today, you’ll never forget my name. By the time you see this video, your girlfriend will be dead.”
He goes on to explain why he feels like Leo and Asher need to pay. The man is truly unhinged. He blames them for everything from his mother dying of a heart attack to his wife leaving him. His rage seems to increase with every word spoken, and I know this is it. If I don’t make my move now, I’m going to die alone in this filthy cellar.
“I realize now that I can’t take away your money, but I can make you suffer,” he says with a menacing glee that grates my nerves. He grabs the camera off the table and shoves it in my face. “I’m going to break your pretty little toy.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I plead. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not important to them. Please. Just let me go.”
“That’s good, whore. I want you to beg,” he says, laughing. “I want them to see how much people suffer around them. How much pain they cause.”
He pulls a knife out of his jacket and presses it under my chin. The sharp edge cuts painfully into my flesh, and warm blood slides down my neck.
“Larry. Please stop.” I need more time or a distraction. If I go for my makeshift weapon, he’ll cut my throat before I can do anything. I can’t hold back the hot stream of tears that spill down my face. I refuse to die like this. Without any options left, I take a deep breath and try to reason with him. “Don’t do this. They won’t care what you do to me. I’m nobody. I swear.”
But it’s like trying to bargain with a rabid dog. He doesn’t even hear the words I’m saying or just doesn’t care. Either way, I know deep down that this man is determined to kill me or worse.
He holds the camera back away from his body to frame us both in the shot like a teen making an Instagram video. The knife slides from my throat down to the neck of my shirt. “What should we do first?” he says, ignoring my pleas. “Filet you’re soft skin? Get right to the point? Or put on a little show?”
He easily cuts the thin fabric of my shirt right down the middle, exposing my chest to the cold, damp air. The tip of the knife digs into the skin of my left breast. He twists the point until red stains my bra.
“I could kill you. Fast. It would be so easy.” He presses a little hard, cutting deeper into the skin. But then he pulls back the knife and steps away, putting the camera back on the table. “But that doesn’t really make my point, now does it? As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about my plan. Now that you’re here and I’ve got all the time in the world, I’m going to go a different route.” His eyes trail down my body, licking his lips. “Killing you would be too easy. I think the best revenge would be to use you up and send you back to them. Spoiled rich kids don’t like broken toys.”
Bile rises in the back of my throat as I realize what he’s suggesting. I try to scramble away as he approaches, but my left arm is still tied. He yanks at the waistband of my pants, peeling them off, leaving me in just my underwear and ripped shirt. I kick, my foot connecting with the fleshy part of his middle. But it doesn’t deter him. He just laughs and unbuckles his belt.
“Please. Don’t. You sick fuck. Stay away from me.” I search frantically for the broken spindle; prepared to fight for my life, but Larry is on top of me in seconds. His grubby hands pull at my flesh. I kick out again, bucking underneath him.
“Hold still, bitch.” He palms my head and smashes it into the wall, causing my vision to go gray around the edges.
A crashing sound from upstairs draws his attention. This is my last chance. When he looks up, I scramble for the broken spindle on the ground. My fingers finally find the splintered wood behind me.
I only have one shot. My mind goes blank with an odd sense of calm clarity. I draw back, and I plunge the wooden spike into his neck with as much force as I can manage.
Time slows, and it’s like I’m watching the scene from outside of my body. Larry’s eyes go impossibly wide, and he lets out a roar. He rears back on his haunches, both his hands reaching for the spindle sticking out of his neck. The knife clatters to the ground. The thudding sounds from above grow louder; almost like footsteps. Larry pulls out the wood and blood sprays from his wound, covering everything with thick, red liquid.
“You bitch,” he chokes as a meaty hand encircles my neck. His slick blood is covering both of us now, and his fingers keep slipping as he tries to grab hold. “You stupid, fucking bitch!” Blood and spittle spray me as he yells. He keeps squeezing until I can’t take a breath.
There’s yelling from above. I strain to look, hoping beyond hope that someone is here to rescue me, but I can’t see anything. White spots cloud my vision, and the sound seems farther away. Larry collapses, crushing me beneath his weight. What little air I have in my lungs is pushed out by the force of his body hitting mine.
Above, I swear I hear my name. I try to call out, but I can’t take a breath. I can’t get enough air in my lungs. The gray edges close in. The last thing I hear before the world goes black is Asher’s voice.
50
Asher
The address Red gave us was in a rundown neighborhood near the docks. The house is a sprawling Victorian mansion on a private drive. The mansion was probably stunning in its day, a pillar of the community, but it’s seen better days. It’s obviously been years since someone actually lived in the house. The white paint is peeling, and a few windows are cracked and broken. There is faded graffiti on the second story, and the yard is an overgrown jungle of weeds and tall grass.
Leo turns off the headlights and pulls up the drive, stopping a few yards away. We get out and walk the rest of the way, hoping to maintain some element of surprise. There is a beat up white sedan parked behind the house and light coming from a window. Someone is here. I just hope this is where Rose is being held.
“Let’s go in the side door,” Leo pointed. “Once inside, we should split up to cover more room. I’ll search the upstairs. You check the main floor.”
I nod. “If I find that bastard first, I’m putting a bullet in him.”
“We need to find Rose first. After that.” Leo shrugs and checks his gun. “The asshole deserves whatever he gets.”
Of course, the side door is swollen shut with disuse. I have to use more force than I wanted. Once free, the door crashes open with a loud bang.
“He probably heard that. We should hurry.”
Leo runs ahead to the stairs and takes them two at time. I head for the front of the house. The air is stale and thick with dust. A quick
scan of the front rooms turns up nothing. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here for a very long time. As I go from one room to the next, I start to panic. What if we were wrong? What if she’s not here?
A muffled scream from somewhere in the back stops me in my tracks. I strain to listen and hear a faint male voice. I can’t make out the words, but they sound angry.
“Leo,” I call, thinking he’s found something.
“Nothing yet,” he calls back from a different part of the house.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I run to the rear of the house. “Rose. If you can hear me, scream. I’m coming for you.”
The only room in the back is the kitchen. I look around, listening intently for any sounds. The room is eerily silent. I’m positive the sound I heard was coming from here. I pull open the door to my right door and find an empty pantry. Another door on the left holds a narrow set of stairs leading up. The last door in the kitchen leads down.
There’s a light at the bottom of the stairs. I bound down the stairs and freeze at the sight before me. There’s blood everywhere. An overweight middle aged man is lying lifeless on the floor. Long, dark hair peeks out from beneath his body, and my heart stops. It’s Rose.
“Leo!” I yell up the stairs and go to her.
She can’t be dead. I refuse to let things end this way. I grab the guy’s shirt with both hands and haul him off of her. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive and I really don’t give a fuck right now. I need to get to Rose.
She’s covered in blood and not moving. Her skin is a deathly white.
“Leo get the fuck down here! Now!”
I fall to my knees and cradle her face in my hands. She’s so pale, and the blood it’s everywhere; covering her body, splattered across her face and running down her neck. I search her mostly naked body, looking for wounds. I find a few superficial cuts, but nothing to explain all the blood. Looking over at the guy I pulled of her, I assume most of it is her attacker’s. Thank, God.
“Rose, baby. Wake up.” I can’t tell if she’s breathing, and my panic swells. “I need you to be okay. I love you, damn it. Do you hear me? You were right. I was afraid to admit it. Now come back to me.” I check for a pulse. Her skin is cold and clammy, and my hand shakes as I try to find the right spot. There’s a steady thump-thump of her heart beating under my fingertips, and I nearly collapse with relief.
Leo comes trampling down the stairs, and his reaction is pretty much the same as mine.
“Is she…” He chokes on the works.
I shake my head. “She’s still alive,” I look back to her naked body and flinch. That psychopath has had her for hours. “But she’s not waking up. I don’t know what he did to her. Call an ambulance.” I pull off my jacket and lay it over her still form. I want to pull her into my arms, but I’m afraid to move her. Please, let her be okay.
“We’re in the cellar,” Leo says from behind me. “No, I don’t know what happened, damn it. She’s unresponsive, and there’s a lot of blood. Yes, she’s breathing. The other guy is dead. Just get someone here fast.”
Leo ends the call and falls to his knees. Her arm is still tied, and I try to untie her, but the knot has been pulled tight, and I can’t get it loose.
“Here. Let me.” Leo picks up a knife that’s on the ground and cuts the rope.
Rose’s body crumples limply onto the ground with a groan. It’s the first sign of life she’s given us.
“Come on, Bambi,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Open those pretty eyes for me and let me know you’re okay.”
“I told you,” she says with a cough, “don’t call me Bambi.”
I suck in a breath. It’s the first deep breath I’ve been able to take for hours. “You’re going to be okay. We’ve got you.”
Her eyes flutter, trying to focus up. “How—” Her voice cracks, and she coughs again. “How. Did. You. Find me?” Each word seems to be a struggle.
Leo leans down and kisses her. “Don’t talk, sweetheart. An ambulance is on its way.”
Her eyes drift closed again, and I can’t help but think about what she must have been through. I glance to Leo. His lips are pulled tight as he strokes her hair. I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.
What seems like hours tick by until the ambulance arrives. The paramedics have to pry Leo and me away from Rose as they take her upstairs on a stretcher. It feels like just yesterday we did the same thing after the car accident. We stand out back and watch as they load her up and drive away. The police have a million questions, but they can go fuck themselves. I have to get to the hospital.
“You say this guy made threats before,” the officer says, “Has he ever tried to hurt Ms. Morningstar before?”
“No,” Leo answers. “He’s never even mentioned her in the letters.”
“We’re going to want to see those letters,” the man says.
I glance over to the car parked behind the house and notice the front end damage. My gut clenches when I realize that it was the car that hit us.
“I shouldn’t have let her leave,” I say more to myself than to anyone else. “This is my fault.”
Leo puts a hand on my shoulder and turns to the cop. “I understand you’re just doing your job, but we need to be at the hospital with Rose.” He hands the man a card. “My lawyer has all the details and if you have any more questions, run them through him.”
Leo pulls the car around, and we head to the hospital. The image of Rose naked and covered in blood is forever burned in my memory. I can’t stop thinking about what she must have gone through.
“Do you think he hurt her?” I ask aloud, my voice coming out hollow.
“She’s alive,” Leo says. “That’s all that matters. We can deal with anything else later. But you need to pull your shit together before we get to the hospital. We need to be strong for her.”
Leo is right. I wasn’t there for her before, but I’m determined to be there now. No matter what happens next.
51
Leo
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you back there unless the patient has given us written permission,” the young girl at the reception desk says to us for the third time. “It’s the law.”
I take a deep breath, trying not to lose my shit. I realize this girl is just doing her job, but I really don’t give a fuck about the law. Rose needs us.
“Listen—” I look down at her badge and smile. “—Amy, I realize it’s the law, but she was unconscious when they brought her in. We need to be with her when she wakes.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I can’t let you go back,” the woman repeats.
“We were there when they picked her up in the ambulance,” Asher says and waves his cast. “See this blood. I was holding her while we waited. She’ll want to see us.”
“I understand, sir,” she says. “But my hands are tied.”
“Is there a problem here?” A rather large man dressed in a security uniform approaches the desk and crosses his arms.
“No, problem,” I say.
Amy smiles up at the guy. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’ve got this under control.”
The guy looks over at Asher and narrows his eyes. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
“Fuck this. I’m calling Roger,” Asher says from behind me. “He’ll rattle some chains, reach out to the administrator, or something. They can’t keep us from seeing her.”
“Amy,” I say patiently as Asher walks away from the desk. “I know you’re just doing your job and I don’t want to get you in trouble. If you could just tell us what room she’s in. You wouldn’t be letting us in, and no one needs to know how we found out.”
“Sir. I can’t.” She looks around, checking to see if Security Steve is listening. “I really am sorry. I can get a note back to her if you want.”
No, I don’t want. The only thing I want is to see that Rose is awake and safe. I want to touch her. Hear her sweet voice. But I can tell, Amy isn’t going to budge. �
��Fine. Do you have some paper?”
Asher is pacing the hall, yelling into the phone. “They can’t keep us out. There must be something you can do.”
I find a quiet spot in the waiting room and watch him, watching for signs of a meltdown. It won’t do Rose any good for us to be kicked out of the hospital. This is the second time in almost as many weeks that I’ve found myself on the other side of a hospital security door waiting to hear the fate of someone that I care about.
The institutional blue and green room is suffocating. Other people surround us. Worried families and friends are huddled in small groups, whispering words of support. A tired toddler fusses in his mother’s arms as she tries to entertain her other two kids. I’m tired of it. Asher is right. There has to be something Roger can do legally to ensure that this doesn’t happen again. A power of attorney or something.
After getting off the phone, Asher stalks back over. A dark cloud of anger and frustration swirls around him, and the rest of the waiting room gives us a wide berth.
“Roger is going to see what he can do, but it doesn’t look good.”
“The girl at registration said she’d pass along a note,” I tell him. “Once she’s awake, she can sign the papers to let us back there.”
“What if she doesn’t want to see us?” Asher asks, echoing my own concerns. After all, she was taken because of us. Asher rakes a hand through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut. “What if she doesn’t wake up?”
“Yeah, and what if aliens land and we’re all enslaved,” I snap back. “This isn’t like you. We deal with the facts at hand and make plans. It’s how we always solve problems.”
Asher opens his eyes and stares back at me. With a nod of his head, he straightens, and I know he’s pulled his head back in the game.
“So a note, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to figure out what to say.”
Brothers Next Door: A MFM Menage Romance Page 25