Protector's Claim

by Airicka Phoenix

  “That’s enough, Cordy,” David intervened smoothly. “There is nothing he can do.”

  Brave words from a man I could see sweating slightly beneath his carefully placed façade.

  “On the contrary, I can do plenty. I have—”

  Marcella took that moment to sway into the room. Her movements were just a little too careful, as if she was trying her best not to trip. I had never noticed that before. In my mind, she’d always been so graceful. Now, all I saw were the flaws in the Thornton portrait. I saw the cracks and chips along the edges, the fine slivers up the glass. They were so broken and none of them knew it, except for Gabby.

  “Kieran!” A delighted smile swept across her beautifully made up features. “We weren’t expecting you ... were we?” She cocked a questioning glance in David’s direction.

  “Not at all,” David replied curtly. “Kieran isn’t here as a guest and he’s about to leave.”

  “Leave?” Marcella blinked big, doe eyes. “Already? But you’ve only just arrived.”

  I never took my eyes off David. “Don’t worry, Marcella.” I dared a smile her way. “You will be hearing from me again very soon. I have a reporter friend I’m dying to get in touch with. I have a story for her that I’m sure will make her whole year. Would you like to know what that story is?”

  Despite whatever fog she was under, Marcella recognized the signs of danger, at least enough to study her husband’s face for the proper response. Her smile was gone, replaced by uncertainty and just enough fear to make my day.

  “David?” she hedged.

  “He’s lying.”

  “Am I?” I straightened. “Tell me, Mrs. Thornton, were you aware your husband gets off on torturing, raping, and mutilating young girls?”

  It was Cordelia who sucked in a breath. Marcella only stared, wide eyed and open mouthed. Her gaze jumped from me to her husband, not out of shock, I noted. There was panic there, a realization that the secret was out, that someone else knew. I was surprised by that. I never pegged David as the sort who would confide such a thing to his wife and yet...

  “Prove it,” David said instead. “You have nothing, and it’s your word against mine.”

  I momentarily ignored the barb.

  “There’s also the identity of Gabby’s father ... her real father,” I corrected when Marcella opened her mouth. “Yes, I know about that. I know about the affair. I know the name of the man who did help conceive her.”

  “That isn’t possible!” Marcella croaked. “Even I don’t—”

  “Quiet!” David growled. “He’s bluffing. He’s trying to get you to give him what he’s looking for.”

  I rounded my focus back to him. “The only thing I’m looking for is Gabby. I only want her. I don’t care what you people do with your lives, just give her back to me and this will end.”

  “Gabrielle?” Marcella blinked at David. “What’s wrong with Gabrielle? Where is she?”

  The concern in her eyes, in the tremor in her voice took me off guard. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected from the woman who’d turned a blind eye on the things her husband was doing to her daughter, but worry wasn’t one of them.

  “She’s fine,” David bit out through clenched teeth. “Kieran is confused.”

  I didn’t bulk. “He’s been hurting her. I don’t know how, but she’s terrified of him.”

  “Hurting her?” Marcella—the need to appear sober forgotten—staggered closer. “What have you done to—?”

  “I have never touched her,” David snapped.

  “And that,” I added with deadly calm, “is the only reason you’re still standing.”

  “Where is Gabrielle!” Marcella cried, cutting us both off.

  The muscle in David’s jaw flexed rapidly. His eyes promised me a slow and agonizing death.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  So close.

  “I have pictures, David. I have documented proof of everything you have ever done, every girl you ever hurt, every illegal act you’ve ever committed. I have it all and I am going to start sending each piece to the media on the hour, every hour until I have Gabby back.” I waited a full heart beat to let that sink in before continuing. “I don’t imagine your partners and the members of the board are going to look too kindly on you once that dirty laundry hits the air, nor will the women who read your magazine.” I rounded my attention to Cordelia, who had gone very still and white a few feet away. “I don’t think anyone will want anything to do with someone who knew what her father was doing and did nothing to stop him.”

  “But ... I didn’t...”

  “You did.” My lips trembled in revulsion. “You knew exactly what he’d been doing to Gabby, to your sister. You never once did anything to protect her. Instead, you made her life hell.”

  Her head was slowly rocking from side to side, but I had already turned to Marcella.

  “And what will the women in your circle say once they learn what you allowed your husband to do to those women, to your own daughter? They will crucify you ... if the media doesn’t first.”

  All thoughts of Gabby’s welfare seemed to vanish from Marcella’s drug riddled mind. I had hoped she would scream that she didn’t give a shit about that, all she wanted was her little girl back, but despite her earlier bout of motherly affection, Marcella cried something about not being able to handle this and fled the room. Sobs muffled by her hands followed after her down the hall.

  Then it was just the three of us once more, only Cordelia no longer appeared haughty, or collected. The way she kept swaying slightly, it was a wonder she was still upright.

  But I only cared about the man looming before me, enormous in his rage. It billowed around him in fiery tendrils of hate.

  “How dare you!” his ferocious snarl barely made it through the vicious clamp of his teeth.

  “I want Gabby,” I told him simply. “Return her unharmed and no one will hear of any of this. You have my word. All I want is her.” I checked my watch. “You have one hour.”

  “Do you really think you can threaten me, boy? I have faced bigger men then you. I will not be intimidated.”

  I wondered if I shouldn’t just leave. I’d given my warning. I had no reason to stay. But I couldn’t help myself.

  “No, you’ve never met anyone like me.” My fingers looped the button on my blazer through the hole. “One hour, then I start taking your world apart brick by brick.”

  I left father and daughter staring after me and made my way into the hall, but not before I heard Cordelia’s shrill exclamation bursting into the air behind me.

  “What have you done?’

  David’s answer was lost in the distance as I made my way to the front.

  Jameson greeted me at the door, my coat in hand. I studied the old man and wondered just how much he knew, how much he’d seen. The staff were usually privy to everything that happened in a household, an audience to every joy and misfortune. But if David was as careful about his people talking as my mother had been, he would have signed a strict confidentiality agreement as iron clad as the president’s.

  Nevertheless, it couldn’t hurt to try.

  “Jameson?”

  The man immediately straightened. “Yes sir?”

  I accepted my coat and slipped it on.

  “You haven’t seen Gabrielle, have you?”

  “Gabrielle, sir?” the man mimicked with just enough confusion to make me think he really was confused by the name.

  “The youngest Thornton,” I supplied.

  “Oh! Of course, sir. No, I haven’t.”

  I tugged the lapel of my coat down, never taking my eyes off the man.

  “How long have you been employed here, Jameson?”

  Worn fingers clasped together in front of him, squaring his shoulders. “I was employed by Mr. Thornton’s father.”

  “So, a while then,” I mused, but didn’t wait for confirmation. “And you don’t know Gabrielle’s name? What do you normally call
her?”

  I knew I had him when his lips pulled together in a tight line. Whatever his name was for Gabby, he wouldn’t say it out loud, nor did I want him to. They had an hour before I fully decided all their fates and I didn’t want to rush my plans by killing him first.

  “Enjoy the rest of your day, Jameson.”

  Leaving the man and the manor behind, I climbed back into my car and maneuvered my way through the narrow path, struggling against the flood of memories that followed my taillights, images of the first time I held Gabby, the first time I kissed her and claimed her. It all circled around the cabin, momentarily distracting me from my roiling fury.

  I didn’t have time to let my mind wander. I didn’t have the luxury of getting distracted. Gabby needed me, needed me to stay focused and bring her home.

  I took a deep breath and tightened my grip on the wheel.

  In an hour, I would have her back. Then I would dedicate the rest of my life to making sure her demons never darkened her doorway again.

  Just one hour.

  Chapter Seventeen — David

  Useless.

  I was surrounded by incompetent, mindless idiots. Even my own daughter, my flesh and blood, the little bitch I trusted to have my back turned on me when I needed her most. I don’t know why I was surprised. She was, after all, nothing more than a cunt who believed herself worthy of something more than some whore.

  Well, I didn’t need her. I didn’t need any of them. They’d all outlived their purpose. I should have rid myself of them years ago.

  “Father!”

  Cordelia’s incessant shrieking splintered sound barriers. It punctured a hole in my eardrums, making my eyeballs rattle.

  It reminded me of her mother. That was another useless twat who never could keep her hysterics under control. That high pitched whining was apparently hereditary. On any other day, I would have happily indulged the little bitch, given her what she wanted to make her stop, but I was in no place to pacify her antics. Not today.

  “Shut your fucking mouth.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d spoken until the sound stopped. Cordelia, my angel, my reason for putting up with the useless gash upstairs, gaped at me, her mouth wide as if expecting a cock.

  “What...?” she choked out, as if not trusting her own hearing.

  So, I turned to her and repeated myself very slowly so the empty space between her ears fully registered every word.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Oh, it felt like heaven to finally render her silent. For years, I imagined doing it in various manners, most of them ending with my fingers locked around her throat, squeezing until her tongue swelled and her eyes bulged.

  Useless whore.

  Christ, I loathed them all.

  I almost loved Cordelia. Maybe not loved, but appreciated her. She was supposed to be my meal ticket, my fucking stool into the Prime Minister seat. All the little bitch had to do was shut her fucking mouth, open her legs, and do what she was put on this earth to do. She couldn’t even do that properly. What the fuck did I need her for now? Just another flapping hole. Like I didn’t have enough of those sucking off me. Vile leeches draining me of my hard earned money while they ruined everything.

  “You had one job,” I raised a finger in emphasis. “Just one and you monumentally fucked that up.”

  “Daddy...?”

  “I told you!” The sweet crack of my hand making contact with that delicate line of her pretty jaw sent a thrilling hum coursing up my arm. My whole body sang with it, sang with the sheer power of watching her fly sideways into the sofa. She bounced once and nearly slid to the floor. “Shut your mouth, Cordelia.” I rubbed my palms together, the beautiful sting making me want to pull her back up and go for another. But I resisted. “You have failed me. I no longer have any use for you.”

  Hand clutching the brilliant welt blooming beneath her whore paint, she stared up at me from her huddled horror. Her blue eyes shone with tears, confusion, fear, but it was the disbelief that made me want to hit her again.

  Was she really that stupid? Did she honestly believe I cared about her?

  “Christ, you’re fucking stupid,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “Got that from your mother, I imagine. Two, stupid whores.” I pinched the bridge of my nose where a headache had begun. The tension pulled at the backs of my eyes, making them feel gritty. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were the one least likely to fuck up. Maybe I should have chosen your brother. He’s a cocksucking moron, but at least I wouldn’t be leaving my company to a whore.”

  “I ... I don’t understand...” she squeaked, bottom lip trembling.

  Her lipstick had smudged, the red mixing with the blood staining her teeth. The sight of it made my own blood hum; how I loved the sight of a woman’s bloody mouth. There was just something so erotic about it, so right. Not just their mouths, everywhere, ribbons of it trailing down torn and ruined flesh. I loved the sight of it on the sheets, on my hands, staining the floors and walls. Blood was such a beautiful substance to paint with. It reminded me that I hadn’t had a release in weeks, weeks where I’d been building myself up for when I finally had Gabrielle, for when I could finally lose myself in everything she’d been taunting me with for six years. I’d been so fucking close.

  “Please talk to me.” She was openly crying now, deep, ugly sobs that turned her face into a deformed vagina. “What have I done?”

  “You were born.”

  How much more obvious could it be?

  But I had no more stomach for her. She was of no more use to me. If anything, she was the one who had ruined everything.

  “Stop crying.” My snarl only seemed to make her weep harder. “You disgust me. What good are you? I practically handed Kincaid to you on a silver platter and you couldn’t even finish the job. Pathetic. But you can’t blame him, can you? No man wants a whore.” I turned away from her, the sight of her fanning the urge to break her face until her tears were blood and every bone was a sharp shard jutting from flesh. “Pathetic.”

  I left her there, needing space to coordinate the dilemma ahead. Kieran wanted Gabrielle within the hour. I wasn’t ready to hand her over, not until I’d had my taste of her, and that was a problem, especially when I knew for a fact Kieran was full of shit.

  He could claim whatever he wanted about having damaging information about me, but I knew the truth — he had nothing. How could he when I already bought my folder back from Walter? I had it nestled away somewhere nice and safe. As if I would ever allow some asshole to hold something that important over my head. The way I saw it, I had the bigger bargaining chip. I had the thing he wanted, and there were ways of enjoying myself with her that wouldn’t leave a scratch on her physically. I’d had years to hone my craft, to perfect the art of torture. I could make her scream in pain even while her body shuddered in orgasm. I would make her hate being touched. I would make the very idea of coming ever again a nightmare. The act of fucking would forever be marred with images of me. I would have liked to see Kieran want her then, a damaged, dirty doll all used up.

  The idea made me snicker as I walked to my office, especially since he’d given me a whole hour to play with her.

  Chapter Eighteen — Gabrielle

  No one came for me. The door remained a firmly sealed obstacle keeping me from freedom, from Kieran, while the rest of the facility continued to run as per usual.

  From my glass prison, I watched the other girls get whipped, caned, tied up, and fucked. Each visit was monitored by a Lady clone. Every so often, one would intervene, not to assist the girl, but to adjust an abusing hand, or dictate a process. Any other time, any other place, it could have been a dance school training clients on how to properly position themselves during a routine.

  The women were stripped of everything and made to endure acts that—under different circumstances—may have been beautiful and inspiring, but in my position, each one terrified me. After watching as one girl get slapped in the face by her owner, then spa
t on, I concluded I didn’t like it. Nothing about humiliation appealed to me. If anything, it made me want to cry for her. But the girl had smiled up at him and he’d kissed her. The whole thing had been so confusing I couldn’t watch anymore.

  Unfortunately, there was nothing else to do. Sleeping was out of the question. Any sort of vulnerability immediately spurred my senses on high alert. Even the thought of closing my eyes sent a current of terror through me. The only thing remaining was to huddle in my corner, swaddled in my blanket, and wait for it all to end. I didn’t want to believe it would be much longer. I couldn’t even be sure how much time had passed. I guessed a day, maybe two, but without windows, even that was out of my control.

  After what felt like hours later, the men were ushered from the cubicles. The women were taken to be cleaned and bathed, and returned. The Lady clones sealed them into their proper places, pretty dolls returned to their shiny boxes, and left for what I assumed was the night.

  Visiting hours must have been over.

  Tiberius Rutherford visited me just when I was beginning to think I’d die in that room. He entered my cube clad in a flat, gray suit, his expression polite with just a hint of annoyance that he concealed by lifting his chin up a notch, narrowing his eyes. Behind him, Lady sealed the door and stood mute just over his shoulder

  I scrambled out of my corner, my blanket securely fastened around me, not that he seemed to care that I was practically naked.

  He clasped his hands together before him and observed him down the length of his nose.

  “I was told you requested to see me.”

  I nodded hastily. “Yes, thank you.”

  He inclined his head, gaze unwavering. “I don’t normally accommodate a doll, but Lady has been quite insistent.”

  I couldn’t help it, I frowned at him. “I’m not a doll, Mr. Rutherford. My name is Gabrielle Thornton and I’m being held here against my will. I am not a submissive. I’m not a slave. I’m not David’s. He does not own me. He’s a liar, a rapist, and a kidnapper, and you’re an accomplice.”