The Thorntons Box Set

by Nic Saint

  “Because your colleagues did such a good job convincing everybody that Roland is a pervert, that’s why. Who would believe him?”

  “I would,” Kevin simply said, and Alicia realized she’d judged the young reporter too harshly.

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” she asked softly, studying Kevin’s features.

  Then, just when Kevin opened his lips to respond, his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell down in front of Alicia, revealing a man standing over him with a baseball bat in his hands and a nasty grin on his ugly mug.

  “Hello, Alicia. Didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.”

  She wanted to scream when she recognized Bashar, but then a hand clamped over her mouth from behind and she was lifted up and bodily dragged away.

  Grabbing a bullhorn Bashar loudly exclaimed, “Tick tock. Time to go to sleep!” and the next moment an explosion rent the air and the other boat was engulfed in flames, pieces of debris hurtling through the air and hitting the surface of the water, and before her horrified gaze, her eyes glazed with tears, she watched as the vessel sank beneath the surface and was gone in seconds.

  “Good riddance,” growled Bashar, and turned to her with that nasty grin firmly in place. “Now. Where were we?”

  She bit the hand that was clamped over her mouth, but a vicious slap from the fat drug trafficker had her gasping for breath, and then she was pushed down on the boat deck, strong arms holding her spread-eagle while Bashar started tugging at her clothes. When they didn’t come off fast enough, he impatiently reached into his back pocket and produced a knife, then sliced her clothes from her body with short, impatient jerks.

  When her tits flashed from her ripped shirt, he displayed that horrible smirk of his, and he grabbed her breasts with one hand, squeezing hard until she cried out in pain. Then he trailed the tip of his knife down her belly until he reached her softly bedewed mound.

  “A woman who doesn’t shave. How quaint,” he grunted with relish, then poked his fat finger into her cunt and pushed in deep, spreading her delicate folds with his fingers. She winced at the harsh treatment and released a yelp of distress.

  Pulling his hand back with a leering grin, he pressed his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of fresh pussy in the morning!” he cried out, and started unbuckling his pants, dropping them unceremoniously to the deck and revealing that crooked pecker of his, already on the rise.

  She wrestled with the men holding her down but it was all in vain, and she saw in Bashar’s eyes he wouldn’t let her live through this experience. Fear gripped her heart, then, as did a strange resignation. Roland was dead. He wouldn’t come to her rescue this time, and soon she would be dead too, her mutilated body dropped into the same river that had become his grave.

  “Just… get it over with,” she said in a low voice, not giving this monster the satisfaction of her tears.

  “Oh, I think I’ll take my time. And when I’m done, there’s my men to think of.” He laughed. “I’m nothing if not a democrat, Miss Sumner. I like to share the spoils of war with my compatriots.”

  She stared into the salivating faces of the men holding her and closed her eyes in despair. Her darkest hour had come, and she knew nothing and no one would leap to her rescue.

  Daddy, she thought briefly, I’m so sorry I didn’t make it…

  Chapter 20

  Bashar was jerking his cock erratically, seeming to have a slight problem with the stiffness in that area. It embarrassed the fat thug, for he growled furiously as his men sat watching with abject confusion how their lider maximo couldn’t get it up. He jerked and heaved at a feverish pace, and she wondered if his dick wouldn’t come loose from its moorings at the harsh treatment, then briefly flashed back to Roland’s majestic equipment, which always seemed ready to plunder her form.

  “You should try Viagra,” she suggested, anger trumping her fear. Suppressed snickers from the men pressing down on her arms told her she was on the right track, and when Bashar’s flushed face displayed desperate rage, she decided to taunt the beast some more, knowing her final hour had come regardless. “Franklin Costner never had trouble getting it up. One look at me and he was hard as a rock.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” he wheezed and removed his hand from his flaccid member long enough to slap her across the face, then slapped her across the tits for good measure. It hurt like hell. “Your boyfriend’s cock won’t do you much good now that he’s fish food.”

  She scowled at the beast. “He’s still twice the man you are. In every department that counts.”

  Finally the asshole gave up the struggle and gestured to his men. “She’s all yours. Give her the royal treatment. Front and back.”

  She screamed as they dragged her to her feet, then the biggest of the two positioned himself behind her and spread her asscheeks wide, pressing his cock against her sphincter with obvious relish while the other’s monster cock pushed up against the dry lips of her cunt.

  “No—don’t!” she cried as they held her in place, suspended between them, grinning viciously at the rare treat they’d been granted.

  “What are you morons waiting for? Destroy the bitch!”

  She closed her eyes in anticipation of the searing pain she was sure to come, but before they violated her most sacred places, there was the sound of wet slaps and she snapped her eyes open in utter confusion as she felt herself falling backward onto the deck. As she hit a soft body cushioning her fall, she reached down and found herself slipping in warm wetness. Staring back, she saw to her horror that the goon’s body was drenched in a dark red substance and his eyes stared listlessly into her own.

  She cried out in agony as she scrabbled for purchase on the slick surface of the man’s body, and as she rolled away, she saw that the other thug, too, was lying dead on the deck, and Bashar stood gurgling at her, his eyes wide and blood spilling from his lips as he tried to speak. Then she saw the knife lancing out from his throat. A moment later it was pulled back with force, almost taking his head off, and as he dropped to his knees, massive amounts of blood streaking from his neck, she found herself staring into the face of her rescuer.

  “Roland! You’re alive!”

  He grinned at her, holding his knife firmly in hand, and when she felt someone stir behind her, she looked over her shoulder and saw Pablo, also armed with a knife, inspect the thugs who had tried to rape her.

  “Three down—two more to go,” Pablo whispered, and sprang into a crouch as he searched the deck.

  “Get down, honey,” gestured Roland, also crouching low. “And stay out of sight.”

  She briefly touched his arm, and a wealth of gratitude and relief surged through her. “Thank God you’re alive.”

  “Takes more than Bashar to kill a Thornton,” he croaked, then pressed a brief kiss to her lips, stared at her bare breasts for a moment, mesmerized, then blinked and strode off into the darkness, leaving her with three corpses for company.

  She quickly retrieved what was left of her clothes and put them on. Her blouse was ruined, so she simply tied the parts together into a makeshift bustier, and slipped into what was left of her slacks, then finally broke down, the tension of the past half hour getting to her at last. Sobbing inconsolably, she leaned over the edge of the boat, and threw up into the black water.

  At last Bashar was dead, she thought as she stared at the gangster’s remains, and could no longer harm her or her loved ones.

  There were scuffling sounds coming from the other part of the boat, and then a gun was fired. She hit the deck, fearful of more violence, and when a dark figure loomed up, she momentarily lost it, her heart beating frantically with renewed terror.

  Then a familiar sound announced the arrival of a friend. “It’s all right, Alicia. They’re all gone now. Pablo is dumping the last of the lot into the river as we speak.”

  With a stifled cry, she accosted Roland and threw herself into his arms, sobbing against his chest, and as he held her tight, she thought sh
e’d never been more relieved in her life.

  “Everything is fine,” his deep voice sounded in her ears. “You’re safe now.”

  She looked up, gazing upon his now so familiar features through tear-filled eyes, and offered her lips for a desperate kiss. He fulfilled her wish and more, by leaning in and rocking her gently in his arms, his lips pressed to hers, and then suddenly heat surged through her body, releasing something of the tension she’d been bottling up all this time, and she thought she could feel his cock hardening against her stomach as they sank against the railing. He went down and she straddled him, pressing his powerful arms against the wooden deck, then quickly unfastened her blouse and her breasts spilled out against his bare chest, the sensation of his chiseled pecs stirring the delicate softness of her hardening nipples arousing to a degree.

  He understood she needed this and didn’t argue when she gently released his cock from his pants, then slid out of her own undergarment and when she sank herself onto his towering rod, his strength throbbing deeply inside her belly, she reared up and closed her eyes, her lips trembling and her eyes fluttering closed.

  This was what she needed now—what she wanted—and he was here to give it to her, offer her his protection and his burgeoning rod. Stemming the flood of mischief that had washed over her with the touch of love. After the violence and brutality she’d been subjected to she needed his loving touch, and when his hands cupped her heavy breasts, squeezing gently, she leaned in and let him take her hardening nipples into his mouth, sucking hard at her delicate areolae while his cock, fully erect, reached the depths of her womanhood, healing the pain that had been inflicted.

  She slowly started bucking and writhing on top of him, riding him like an amazon, and as the rhythm intensified, so did their arousal. She slicking the base of his cock with her flowing juices, he grasping her hips and pushing her down into the saddle of his loins as their sex connected deeply, and then they both reached the point of no return simultaneously, and with a loud groan, he released his seed into her center, shooting up into her vagina what heavy load was left in his balls. She felt his sperm launch into her belly and welcomed its arrival with a soft whimper as her own body was slammed into oblivion and she fell on top of his broad chest, her face cradled in the hollow of his neck.

  They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity, until a soft cough warned them they were no longer alone, and when Alicia looked over her shoulder, she saw an obviously flustered and embarrassed Pablo trying to attract their attention.

  “We better clean up this barge, chief. Blood everywhere.”

  Roland grinned up at Alicia, and she dazzled him with a smile of her own, and reluctantly released his cock from her cunt, letting it slip from her center, as a mixture of cum and her own ample juices oozed from her slit. As he got up, he helped her to her feet, and gave her a kiss that made her dizzy with the passion that united them.

  “Be right back,” he whispered, cupping her chin in his hand, and she thought she could have drowned in his eyes, dark and lustful.

  And then he was gone, leaving her breathless and feeling as giddy as a teenager experiencing her very first crush.

  Chapter 21

  Roland surveyed the wreckage. Five men dead, blood all over the place, and one traumatized woman. He gritted his teeth at the thought of what they’d had in store for her, and was glad he had shown no restraint. Bashar wouldn’t leave a heart aching for his demise. On the contrary. With him gone, perhaps the world would look a little brighter. If only no one took his place, as he was sure someone would.

  He shook his head slowly. His work was done here. And as he walked the deck, he suddenly came upon a body that was not covered in blood, and he started violently. “Kevin!” He’d forgotten all about the young reporter. Kneeling down beside his limp body, he stirred him gently, then pressed his fingers against his aorta for a pulse. When he found one, he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t just that he needed the reporter to nail HdM to the wall, he’d grown quite fond of the young man.

  He stirred the limp form of his ‘son’. “Kevin,” he called out. “Kevin!”

  He then reached over the bow of the ship and scooped a handful of water from the river and gently ladled it on Kevin’s brow. The young man stirred briefly, then let out a yelp of surprise.

  “Hey! What the heck—who are you?” He opened his eyes with a jerk and sat up, searching around for a sign of his attackers. “What happened?”

  “Bashar’s men,” explained Roland briefly. “They must have followed us in a faster boat than this one. The moment the cops pulled out, they lay in wait for us, luring me and Pablo away from the ship so they could take over this one.”

  Kevin stared around him, and when no other ship came into evidence, he said stupidly, “where’s the other boat?”

  “Blown up. Pablo and I just managed to escape in the nick of time.”

  “And Bashar? What happened to him?”

  “I killed him,” Roland said simply.

  Kevin arched his brow. “Good for you.”

  “Please don’t write anything about this in your article, huh?” Roland quickly added. He’d seen the look of delight in the reporter’s eye.

  Kevin deflated slightly. “Oh.” Then he bristled. “Why the hell not? Why did you bring me along on this trip if I’m not supposed to write about anything that happened?” He summed up on his fingers. “I can’t write about Alicia, I can’t write about Bashar, I can’t write about Bashar’s death.”

  “You can write about Bashar as much as you want, just not right now. First we need to free Alicia’s dad. If HdM gets word we killed his associate and plan to expose his links to Colombia’s drug trade to the world, the professor will simply disappear and never be heard from again. Trust me. He wouldn’t be the first victim of Harlan’s thirst for blood.”

  “Oh, all right,” grumbled Kevin. “I won’t write about what happened just yet.” He let out a long, frustrated growl. “You really are impossible, you know that, Roland? Asking a reporter to sit on the most exciting story of his life?”

  “You can write all you want. Later.”

  Kevin grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and shook his head in disgust. “Fine!”

  Roland slapped him on the back. “Great. I knew I could count on you. Son.”

  A long and very colorful curse escaped Kevin’s lips, and Roland grinned in appreciation of the young man’s loyalty.

  “You know what else irks me?”

  Roland cocked an eyebrow.

  “That you’re getting all the nookie and I ain’t getting squat.”

  “Can’t help you with that, buddy.”

  “And rubbing it in my face like that! Christ, can’t you just—you know—fuck in the confines of your cabin for once instead of doing it out here in the open? What the hell are you, anyway? Some kind of exhibitionist?”

  “Hey, however the lady likes it.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Kevin. “I wouldn’t say no to whatever she suggests either.”

  Roland didn’t respond to that, his thoughts drifting back to Alicia. She wasn’t merely hauntingly beautiful and incredibly sexy, she had a vulnerability that touched his heart. And he liked her, too, which was a first for him. A lot of the women he’d known back home had been extremely sexy as well, but they had a callousness and hardness that put him off.

  Alicia was sweet and innocent, in a sense, which greatly appealed to him. She was, to use an overused term, unspoiled somehow. Pure. Natural. The way she made love was with an abandon that took his breath away. She gave herself completely, without holding back, without calculation, without trying to tie down Roland Thornton, multi-billionaire.

  She didn’t care about his money, that much he knew, and he wondered what she actually saw in him. He was a brute, with very little sophistication. He didn’t mince words and he could be tough to the point of cruelty when called upon. He liked her, and liked her more and more. He just hoped she wouldn’t merely see him a
s a means to an end. A way to satisfy the urges of her flesh and secure the return of her father.

  “So? What happens now?”

  “Now we return to civilization, my lad.”

  “Finally,” grunted Kevin.

  Finally, agreed Roland, though he also had to admit he dreaded his return. Out here in the middle of nowhere, in this vast expanse of untainted wilderness, he and Alicia had been like Adam and Eve, discovering a passion he hadn’t known existed. Back in the States? Who knew what would happen between them.

  Somehow he doubted whether she’d still be as interested in him as she was here…

  Chapter 22

  Alicia stared out the plane window at the fleecy clouds drifting below, lit up by the light of the moon. She knew she should sleep, feeling exhausted, but too much adrenaline was still pumping through her veins for her to find peace.

  They’d finally arrived in Guatamore and after they’d said their goodbyes to Pablo and thanked the Colombian once again for his help, things had progressed very quickly. Roland had chartered a chopper to take them to the capital and check-in had been completed in record time—one of the perks of traveling in Roland Thornton’s company, Kevin had assured her.

  Now a plane was taking them back to New York where probably more adventures awaited. Roland was flying under an assumed name—a habit he’d grown accustomed to for years but which came in very handy now that he was embroiled in a media frenzy—and was once again Franklin Costner. Kevin was Kevin, though, having grown tired of posing as the older man’s son.

  “Time to spread your wings and leave the nest, huh?” she’d asked.

  He’d grimaced and mumbled, “something like that,” and she had the distinct impression the young reporter had something on his mind he didn’t care discussing with her. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t his keeper, nor was she Roland’s for that matter.