He hung up and walked her outside. Big, fluffy snowflakes fluttered from the sky to the ground, but a heavy wind gust quickly blew them away. She snuggled closer to Brent, stuffing her hands inside her coat pockets.
No sooner had they entered the room and he turned on the light than she pushed him to a corner chair and shoved him into the seat. After dropping her coat to the floor, she kicked off her boots and wiggled out of her slacks and panties. Then she unhooked his pants, tugged them to his thighs and straddled his lap.
“Slow down, baby,” he said, laying his hands on her thighs.
“I can’t.” Her pussy was already drenched, and she shared the wetness by rubbing herself up and down the underside of his cock. “I told you I needed you now, and that was ten minutes ago.” The satin-smooth skin massaged her clit. It swelled on contact, becoming more sensitive with each scrumptious stroke. “Give me a condom. Hurry.”
Despite the aching passion consuming her blood, he smirked while he leisurely reached for his pants, removed the wallet from the back pocket, unfolded it and held it open so she could help herself. Which she did quickly.
After rolling it into place, she took hold of his penis, came up on her knees and positioned the head at her opening. Painstakingly slow, she lowered herself onto the shaft. Doing it that way gave every internal nerve time to rejoice in the pleasant intrusion. And it felt so damn good she bit her lip to stifle a moan. Ah, she’d died and gone to heaven. Tingles raced up her spine while delicious prickles ran rampant through her veins.
When she’d taken it all, she settled her ass on his thighs. “Brent, look at me.” After his narrowed gaze locked on her eyes, she placed her hands on his cheeks.
She wiped his cocky grin away with a soft kiss. Then she raised her hips and kissed him again, squeezing his cock with her vaginal walls. On the descent, he jutted upward and slammed into her. Whoa, the shocking awakening nearly threw her into a climax.
The sensation weakened as he stilled, drifting through her body like a gentle wave. And then she gave in and rode with it. Leisurely at first. Then hard. Then fast as sensation and instinct took over.
Grinding her cunt into his groin, she plastered her mouth to his in desperation, clutching fists full of hair on the backside of his head. As the pressure built to an unbearable level in her womb and branched to her chest, she released his lips and suckled the thick vein throbbing in his neck. She increased speed on his slippery cock, straining and reaching for the breaking point. It lingered at the tips of her fingers, but she couldn’t grasp it.
And he knew.
And she’d realized he’d kept her in that state of pain on purpose, because, other than one lone thrust, he hadn’t moved. And she felt his eyes on her while she struggled to the top for the magical blow that would free the pressure and shatter her insides to pieces.
“Talk to me, Annalee.”
“Ahhh, fuck me,” she begged. “I can’t do it alone.”
He grabbed her hips and plunged deep. Deeper than she could take him while in control. And it felt so fucking magnificent, her mind spun, body quivered and the climax exploded in a vibrant burst of tingly spasms rushing throughout her body. Her tummy jerked and her pussy clenched his cock. And it held tight as he kept ramming in and out, in and out, driving her insane until he finally succumbed and came inside the condom.
She lay snuggled against his cold leather, breathing heavily and holding him tight while his heartbeat thumped against her breast. She reveled in the security of his arms until the room’s cool air seeped into her bare skin.
The food was probably ice cold, and after peeling herself from his body, she grabbed her purse, panties and pants off the floor. Despite having goose bumps on top of goose bumps, she waited for Brent to dress and turn up the heat before she walked into the bathroom to clean up. Having one sole pair of panties, she couldn’t afford slopping them up with her escaping body fluids.
She turned on the bathtub faucets, waited for the water to heat then pushed the shower button. Steam filled the small room and hazed the mirror. After she flipped on the exhaust fan switch she removed her socks, blouse and bra, knotted her hair in a bun to keep it off her shoulders then climbed into the hot spray. The relaxing massage from the pulsating beads was the next best thing to sex. She sighed, unwrapped the bar soap and swiftly washed her body, saving some hot water for Brent.
She dried off, pulled on her socks then stepped into her underclothes, blouse and pants. She’d undress again before she climbed into bed. As it stood, it was just too cold to wander around half nude. Besides, she didn’t know how soon Brody would arrive to pick up his key.
After wiping the haze off the mirror with a hand towel, she slung her purse over her shoulder, opened the door and stepped into the room. Then froze. Oh God! No! Brent lay facedown on the floor beside the bed. Blood trailed from a gash above his eye to the underside of his chin.
Oh no. No.
Had he slipped and fallen?
Had someone broken into the room?
Was he dead?
She dropped the purse, flew to his side and fell to her knees. “Brent? Brent?” Carefully, she lifted his head onto her lap. “Oh God, talk to me. Please?” Tears rolled from her eyes as she stroked his cheek with her palm.
No. No. No. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. Because she loved him. And he loved her. And they were meant to be together forever. He’d proved it by coming back. After a four-year separation. No. No more separations.
Was he breathing? She tried staring at his chest but she couldn’t see beyond the tears blurring her vision.
Oh God! Oh God! “Brent!” Just as she lowered her cheek to his nose to feel for breaths, someone slapped a hand over her mouth from behind and yanked her backward. Brent’s head dropped off her lap and hit the floor with a thud. She struggled to gain footing but was back-slammed into a stiff chest.
“Make more sound, I kill you,” a foreign voice warned, dragging her toward the door.
He flashed a knife in her face. Her eyes bulged. Her heart boomed from her chest to her neck to her ears and skull. This can’t be happening. Dear God, please. This can’t be happening.
It’s him. The sadist. The torturer. The cold-blooded murderer.
“Understand?” he asked, holding her firmly against his body.
She nodded. Despite his thick accent, she understood every word. Her breasts heaved as she breathed heavily through her nostrils. Each loud exhale drowned the thumping of her painful heartbeat. For the first time in her life, it hurt being alive.
“Mmm, you worth fortune,” he said, grinding his crotch into her rear end. “Men pay lots to fuck firm ass.”
Sweat broke along her forehead and her heartbeat rumbled louder and faster. Sexual slavery. He intended to sell her on the black market? She’d rather die.
“Move.”
Move? Where? How? What did he want her to do?
He removed his hand from her mouth and wrapped an arm around her neck, tugging her backward. Her foot slipped and she stumbled, but he caught her by a squeeze to her throat. Despite her arms hanging free at her sides, she refused to use them for fear of the knife.
The door barged open.
Brody! Please be Brody. Please.
Her heart vaulted. Then a string of foreign language assaulted her ears. Two? There were two of them?
She tried to scream but the arm tightened, cutting off her air. As she was dragged toward the open doorway, she dug her feet into the floor.
I can’t breathe.
Dear God, I can’t breathe.
She gasped, fighting for breath. Tears filled her eyes. She squeezed her lids shut, dug her nails into his forearm and pried. But he was too strong—his arm wouldn’t budge, proving he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Thick muscles dug beneath her chin and into her throat. Then finally his arm slackened just enough to let in a trail of air.
Gasping and coughing, she sucked in every ounce she could.
Her knees were weak
and wobbling, but she willed herself not to collapse. She had to do something. Whether it provoked him to murder her with his bare hands or the knife, she refused to be abducted without giving a fight. With all her strength, she plowed her elbow into Rashand’s gut. He grunted and buckled. She flew out of his grasp, spun and kicked him in the face. Blood poured from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth as he flailed backward into the other guy, knocking him halfway outside.
She dove for her purse. “Brody, where are you? Oh, God, where are you?”
Her hands shook as she poured the contents on the floor. She grabbed her cell phone, woke it up and opened the dialer pad.
Just as she depressed the number nine, Rashand stood upright and took a step forward. She scooted across the floor on her ass to Brent, darting her gaze between him and Rashand. If they wanted him, they’d have to kill her first.
The moment Rashand peered over his shoulder at his accomplice she stuffed the phone inside her sock then used her body to barricade Brent’s head. But she had nothing to brace herself against when both men ambled across the room, closing in on her.
“Get away from me,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Brody. Someone help me. “You fucking cowards, get away from me.”
She punched and kicked to deflect their hands as they reached forward and each grabbed her by an arm. Neither flinched from the quick blows of her feet to their legs as they tugged her off the floor.
“Bitch,” Rashand seethed. “You will beg me to die.”
Her blood turned to ice.
She thrashed her body back and forth, trying to knock them off balance, but they twisted her arms. The grinding pain in her shoulders hurt so badly, she stilled to relieve the strain. When the twisting ceased, she kicked at their shins.
A hard fist punched into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. As she fell forward, limp and gasping for air, something wet was placed over her mouth and nose. A nauseating stench infiltrated her brain. The room faded to gray, spun in dizzying circles then fell to black.
Chapter Thirteen
“Smack me again and you’ll be eating your next meal with your fucking feet,” Brent warned after a third crack landed on his cheek.
“Then get up,” Brody said. “Annalee is gone.”
“Mother fuck. They have her.” Brent tried jumping to his feet, but he fell back down on his ass. “There’s two of them. Rashand and a sidekick.”
“A black four-door sedan barreled ass out of here when I pulled in. I only saw one person inside, but it headed east.”
“How long ago?” He took Brody’s hand and pushed himself forward while Brody pulled. When on his feet, he took a deep breath and steadied his legs.
“Maybe twenty minutes,” Brody responded, following him out the door.
“What the hell took you so long to get to my room?”
“I was inside in thirty seconds. The additional time I spent trying to rouse your ass.” He trotted around Brent to the driver’s side of Annalee’s SUV. “Give me the keys.”
Brent dug them from his pocket and tossed them to his brother while he checked the time. He and Annalee had registered at 9:20—it was now 11:15. “Brody, did you feed the cat?”
“Yeah, he was happy to see me.”
Brent punched in Sterns’ number while Brody drove through the parking lot and turned right onto the street. The call immediately went to voicemail. “It’s Delaney. Rashand has Annalee, and an approximate twenty-five-minute head start. Call me ASAP.”
He disconnected the call and opened the browser on his phone.
“Where am I going?” Brody asked.
“Stay east on Hilliard until I get a trace on her.”
“You track her? Isn’t that illegal?”
“It’s mutual. We just set it up a little while ago online.”
Brody glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Does she have her phone?”
“Let’s hope to hell she does, or we’re fucked.” As soon as the website downloaded, he logged in and highlighted her number. “What’s taking Sterns so long to call back?” he blared. “Time is wasting.”
“It’s only been a few minutes.”
“Rashand’s going to be halfway across the fucking county.” A map appeared on the screen. He inhaled sharply. “She has her phone, thank God.” He zoomed into an area where a blue line butted into a red, balloon-shaped dot.
Brody squeezed Brent’s shoulder affectionately.
“I’ve got her. Take I-480 East to 71 South.” If Rashand lays one hand on Annalee… He’d beaten and raped women for no reason other than to satisfy his demented cravings before selling them to the black market. What were his limitations for getting even? The possibilities churned Brent’s guts.
“How in the hell do I get to 480?” Brody asked, looking back and forth across the road.
“Make a right up here on Wagar Road. I don’t know the following street names, but I know the route. Speed it up. I’ll tell you when to turn.” He rubbed the tension knots at the base of his neck, but it made them worse. What the hell was he doing? Why’d he let himself get tied up in all this bullshit? His job should’ve been done when he’d originally handed Rashand to the authorities. Anything beyond that scope should’ve been their problem, including his escape.
This wasn’t the life Brent envisioned. He was perfectly content protecting ships at sea. How often would a similar situation like this develop? The next time he prevented an attack on Whiltby’s freight and another greedy pirate sought revenge? Sadly there would always be some type of threat lingering in the background. He clearly saw now what he couldn’t see before. When he had no one to worry about but himself, it didn’t matter. But now he had Annalee. And having exposed her to Rashand tore his heart from his chest.
His cell phone rang. He quickly lifted it to his ear. “Delaney.”
“Rashand stayed clear of the downtown area, but someone matching his description was spotted boarding a small Cessna about fifteen minutes ago,” Sterns said. “We’ve received word he’s heading back to Miami.”
“That’s bullshit.” Brent glanced at Brody. “He’s on—”
“That came straight from our snitch.”
“The son of a bitch who said Rashand was planning a disturbance when he’d obviously been following us? He’s leading you on a ghost chase. We’re—”
“He’s been apprehended and taken into custody for giving false information. Let’s just say he’s being more cooperative right about now.”
“He’s feeding you—”
“Listen, Delaney, we have proof to back up his claim. Five foreigners were spotted boarding that aircraft, along with a bound, dark-haired female in yellow sweats and brown coat.”
The woman probably worked for him, and they’d staged the abduction while he inconspicuously dragged Annalee down a different route. Even had Brent not been tracking her, he wouldn’t have believed it. Yellow sweats? No fucking way. “It’s a damn decoy. Brody and I—”
“You’re delusional.”
“God damn it, Sterns, will you let me talk?”
“What?”
Brent slid a hand through his hair. “We’re tracking her right now. They’re on 71 South in Medina County.”
“Damn you, Delaney, why didn’t you just say so?”
“Sterns?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss my ass.” Brent hung up the phone and checked the map. “They’ve stopped someplace on 130th. Take exit 222 to Route 3.”
Brent’s heartbeat thundered while he called Sterns back. The call went straight to voicemail. “They’re on 130th Street. You’ll see Annalee’s SUV parked on the street. We’re fifteen minutes away, and we’re not waiting on you to go inside.”
* * * * *
Annalee awoke to faint, mumbled voices, but she couldn’t open her eyes. As hard as she struggled, they wouldn’t budge. It was as if something heavy tugged on her lids, holding them closed. Even her body felt weighted down and partially numb. What w
as happening to her? Why couldn’t she move?
A thick haze fogged her brain, chopping her thoughts into bits and pieces. She’d never been so groggy and dizzy and utterly helpless in her entire life.
The smell of mildew and musty, dirty clothes invaded her nose, and cool, damp air wrapped around her body like a wet blanket. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed. Was it her?
Where am I? Where in the hell am I?
Deep, subdued voices intermixed with loud thumping sounds above her head. Footsteps?
Was she in a basement? Underground?
She gulped and as she strained to open her eyes, her heartbeat accelerated. The boom-boom throbbed in her chest, pulsated in her jugular and it muffled her ears.
Finally her lids popped open, but pure blackness surrounded her. She tried to focus through the heavy, frigid darkness where not even a slice of light bled through. She gasped, darting her gaze to her left, then forward, then to the right.
Little by little, the fog in her head cleared and her body tingled painfully as if being revived from a deep sleep. One rapid thought after another charged to her brain. The last thing she’d remembered—being punched in the stomach when struggling to escape from two men.
Rashand.
Again she heard the painful female cries. They were so chilling. And blatant. And profound. And close. And…and they weren’t hers.
Goose bumps prickled her skin as dread mixed with fear crawled up her spine. She trembled and snapped her eyes shut. Maybe when she’d reopen them, the nightmare would stop. She’d be lying on her own bed, snuggled in Brent’s arms while waiting for the alarm clock to buzz.
But when her lashes fluttered open again, it was painfully clear she wasn’t dreaming.
Was Brent okay? He’d been bleeding from an area close to the prior injury. What if he’d been pistol-whipped again? What if his brain couldn’t take any more trauma? What if a second case of swelling caused severe damage? Please, God, let Brody find him.
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