Blyssfully Undone: The Blyss Trilogy - book 3

by CLIFF, J. C.

  “Freeze!” someone yells out.

  Before Nick or I can process a second’s worth of the chaos, his body is ripped off mine. It’s Travis, and he’s a six-foot-five tiger out of control. His nostrils flare in anger, his expression murderous. His entire body hums with incredible fury, and I watch in slow motion as he pulls his fist back, and then pummels the shit out of Nick.

  “Motherfucker! Did you really think you could get away with this?” Travis bellows as his fist comes down again and again, pounding on Nick’s nose with a sickening crack. My eyes squeeze shut, and I have to look away from the gut-wrenching scene. “Fuck off, Quinn,” Travis roars. I flick my eyes back to the horrendous sight to see Quinn holding Travis back in an arm-lock.

  Chase steps in, grabbing Nick’s pants up off the floor. “Get some clothes on,” Chase says with disgust as he throws Nick’s pants at him. Nick catches them with one hand as his other hand presses against his bleeding nose.

  “Let me go, Quinn,” Travis sneers contemptuously. He yanks at both his arms, his chest heaving with breaths of a charging bull, trying to free himself.

  “I don’t think so, Trav—”

  “I’m done with the asshole…for now,” he explains, cutting Quinn off.

  Travis turns his head, and his eyes flick to mine with an intense glare that has me holding my breath. The thumping of my heartbeat thuds and pulsates in my ears. I swallow hard with the realization that I’m suddenly naked in front of a roomful of men.

  Chase suddenly appears in front of me with a lightweight blanket, and quickly shakes it out in one motion as he lays it over top of me.

  “I said let me the fuck go, Quinn!” Travis thunders out through gritted teeth. All the guys are dressed the same. All of them are wearing black pants and black jackets despite the late August heat outside. Travis’ glare eats through me, and I have to turn away from it as I wrap myself in the blanket and curl into a ball.

  “You got your shit together?” Quinn asks in a rough voice.

  “I’m good. I’m done with the motherfucker for the time being,” Travis barks out.

  I watch out of the corner of my eye as Quinn releases him. His chest heaving with barely contained anger as he visibly tries to calm himself down. Travis shakes his arms loose as he hones his narrowed eyes back on Nick, who now has his pants on. Another broad and ominous looking man I haven’t seen before has a hold on Nick.

  Nick’s nose is bleeding profusely, but he seems unaffected by it as he stands up straight, vibrating with unmitigated hate. Spitting blood out of his mouth and onto the floor at Travis’ feet, he hisses, “What’s the matter, Travis? Did you hear her calling out my name in ecstasy?” Nick taunts. “I do have to tell you that you’re wrong about one thing. Her pussy does taste sweet, but it’s even better wrapped around my dick.” He then lets out a snicker. “My cum has just filled her to the brim. Her pussy has runneth over.”

  Travis lunges for Nick again, but Quinn is quick to pull him back as he struggles to get loose. Travis’ veins are bulging out of his neck, and he’s lost his self-control. There’s enough testosterone in this room to fuel a nuclear submarine.

  Trembling, I clasp the blanket tighter around my naked body and I scramble from the bed, but my legs get tangled up in the blanket, making me stumble and fall to the floor. I scoot back and huddle myself against the wall.

  He’s ruining my plans. All of them are ruining my plans. They need to go away! Blood rushes through my veins with anger now as reality begins to catch up with me. My plans are slipping through my fingers. They had no right to barge in here like this. The glory and the revenge were mine, not his. Rage fills me. I feel like a highly prized animal, one that these men keep playing tug of war with. They act as if they each have the right to own me.

  I lower my head, withdrawing into myself as my blonde hair spills over my eyes, creating a veil. A set of heavy, dark boots come into view, and I know it’s Travis. He squats down to get on my level, resting his elbows on his knees as his voice approaches me with extreme caution.

  “Jules, it’s me. You’re going to be okay now,” he assures me.

  Travis leans in a little closer, his very presence making me lose my breath. The air grows stale in my lungs, and I can't breathe. He holds out his hand in a gesture for me to take the lifeline. My chest constricts with pain. I have no life. There is no rescuing me from my hell.

  I shake my head back and forth, whispering a despondent, “No, go away.”

  “Jules, it's me,” Travis pleads.

  I lift my chin in defiance, narrowing my eyes on him, sounding harsh this time, “Go away, Travis. Leave us be.”

  His stone wall has crumbled, leaving him exposed as a look of distress and pain flash across his eyes. I’ve shocked him.

  He shakes his head, refusing to believe me. “You don't mean that, sweetheart,” he whispers, and then repeats, “You don't mean that.”

  “Leave Nick and me alone.” The anger in my tone cannot be mistaken.

  Travis’ eyebrows narrow, and he stands and stumbles back a step as if I’ve slapped him. A large man dressed in the same black outfit as everyone else squeezes Travis’ shoulder. “Let me handle her.”

  I hear a soft chuckle coming from the other side of the room, and I know it is Nick. His laughter becomes sinister as he proceeds to arrogantly tell Travis, “Don’t you see, Travis? She wants me. She’s always wanted me.” Then his voice rises in anger as he bellows, “She chose me!”

  Quinn’s deep voice cuts through the chaos. “Take him out of here…now.”

  The last thing I hear Nick say as they escort him out the door is, “Has she told you that she loves you yet, Travis? She told me. Why don’t you ask her about it?”

  Suddenly, Travis has found his bearings, and his voice. “I’ll fucking kill him!” he grits out, and then he makes a move for Nick.

  “Jackson, stand the fuck down!” someone bellows from the doorway, his words slicing through the air with finality.

  “You fucking went rogue, didn’t you?” The man punches the wall beside him with his fist, the sound of drywall crackling from the force. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe what this man is feeling. “I fucking knew it!” His face twists in fury.

  Travis turns around and squares off, confronting the burly man with hands balled into fists. “I answer to no one. You knew that when you hired me, and you didn’t seem to mind that when my life was hanging in the balance every day.”

  Quinn pushes the stranger aside and squats down in front of me. Travis stalks off toward the man standing by the door, and their conversation dissipates in the background as soon as Quinn reaches out to me. His rich blue eyes pierce mine as if he’s trying to hypnotize me. “Let me help you,” he softly whispers.

  I stare blankly into his eyes. There is no help for me now.

  I close my eyes and shut the world out, letting my hair spill back over my face. I start to rhythmically rock myself back and forth.

  So many people are talking and arguing, and it’s too much auditory stimulation. It all blends together, and I grab at my tousled hair and tug at the roots. I’ve slipped deep inside my own head, and into a crazy state of mind. I’m drowning in the darkness, and there is no climbing my way back out of this black hole.

  Quinn tries to whisper something to someone, but his deep voice carries, “She’s going to need some help, Travis. I’m talking serious help.”

  Travis’ voice bellows throughout the room, silencing everyone, “The fuck she’s getting any help other than mine. She’s going with me.”

  Travis squats down in front of me again, trying to disengage my fingers from my hair, but it’s no use. He uses his fingers to lock around my chin, tilting my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. I can tell he’s trying desperately to bring me back from the dead, but it’s too late. I’m ruined, scarred for anything remotely normal. I’m a hazard to anyone who comes within a foot of me. I close my eyes tightly, wishing them all to go away, wishing I was simply
dead.

  “Jules,” he whispers to me, "no one is going to hurt you anymore." What he fails to realize is he has just hurt me ten times more than my father or Nick ever could. With my plan of revenge plucked from my grasp, I have no other reason to live. It’s game over.

  “Travis, she’s already checked out; just look at her. She’s rocking back and forth nonstop. How can you think she doesn’t need help, man?”

  “I don’t give a fuck. She needs me, not doctors.” Travis turns his head to address his men, or the one supposedly in charge, using a sharp tone. “I’ve brought the crime syndicate of the century to its fucking knees. The very least you can do is let me handle this.”

  “You went and made this personal, Jackson, didn’t you?”

  Travis doesn’t answer back, and the entire room is silent with tension. “Dammit, Travis, you don’t know how many strings I’ll have to pull for this.” Travis turns back toward me, trying to lock his gaze with mine, but he doesn’t have the effect on me like he used to. The man behind him lets out a huge sigh. “Fine, I’ll give you a week with her, but you are to report back to me daily. Am I clear? If she gets worse, and I mean in the slightest, I’m coming for her,” he threatens.

  “Got it.” Travis’ voice is low and rough, and I can’t help but think I’m being bargained for yet again. As I pull harder at the roots of my hair, Travis pleads with me on a choked whisper, “Shit, Jules, stop…you’re killin’ me.”

  He drops down on his knees and pulls me into an embrace, drawing my lifeless body against his broad chest. His arms squeeze me tight, but I don’t feel him. I’m numb.

  “All right, men, show time is over. Let’s get this wrapped up.” Quinn claps his hands loudly, and I hear multiple heavy footsteps moving about on the hardwood floor.

  Travis scoops me up into his arms and orders out, “Someone find me something for her to wear. I’m not having her traveling in a damn blanket.” Traveling to another unknown destination again, I see. Whatever Travis’ plans are, they will be in vain. I’m hollow inside. Desolate. There is nothing left for me to live for. I curl up inside myself, denying my surroundings as I shake with violent tremors. I’m nonexistent.

  Travis

  My adrenaline was running so high it was all I could do to wait for the signal for the guys and me to bust through the door together as a team. With my heart hammering in my chest, I somehow knew what was going on behind those closed doors. A large part of me didn’t want to open them, because I knew it would be an image that would take years to work out of my mind. I counted to ten, focusing on each breath, preparing myself against what lay on the other side of those walls. I held my hand up and gave the three second countdown to my men, who knew the drill.

  The second I busted down the door and saw Nick's naked ass as he was dick-deep in my girl, all I could see was fire engine red. I do not see myself getting over that scene anytime soon; the very memory twists in my gut to the point I want to vomit. Someone may as well be driving a hundred ice picks into my heart right now. I was seriously planning on killing the motherfucker until Quinn pulled me off him. I couldn’t hear or see anything except for wanting this man's blood on my hands.

  Only God knows where Julianna's mental status lies right now. She’s been pushed over the edge one too many times. Judging from her tremors and blank stares, she’s not in a good place. Her despondency has me more than concerned. She probably does belong in a psych ward right now, but I will be damned if she winds up in one. I blame myself for not having heard her escape in the night. She should have never been able to crack the window without me knowing about it.

  I hold her in my lap, my arms wrapped tightly around her as I rock her listless body soothingly. Stryker is driving us back to the cabin. I plan on rehabilitating her myself. I don’t know what the fuck to give her or what the hell she needs, but I will die trying to figure it out. I refuse to leave Jules to the professionals, the ones who don’t understand. Just because they hold a degree, doesn’t mean they are the ones who can always heal. They weren’t there, and they sure as fuck didn’t help Clarissa. They say they can relate as they relentlessly poke and prod into the victims’ psyche, asking inane questions, which only serve to set them back. They would probably condemn Jules to a life of prescription pills and doctors.

  I was the one who was there, and I lived with her turmoil every damn day. There is no one better or more qualified to handle her than me. I will not let her leave the confines of the cabin until she faces her demons head on, because dammit, I have a fear I got to her too late, just like Clarissa. Two days of torture is all it took for Clarissa, and I pray to God those few days with Nick didn’t destroy Jules.

  I thought I was going to have a fucking heart attack before we got to her father’s house. I remembered going numb on the inside when I heard through the transmitted receiver what her father had confessed to. Thankfully, Quinn had their conversations recording onto his laptop, because I was stunned. I knew something wasn’t right with her father, but holy shit. There are simply no words.

  When her father took her medallion, Quinn couldn’t scramble fast enough to get systems in place to sync his software with her hip tracker. Yes, when Stryker removed her GPS tracker, we put one of our own in. Quinn was able to get his hands on one. How the fuck he did that in a matter of a couple hours was a mystery to me. Since he’s the guru of all this shit, it seems as if he has contacts in every corner and facet of the world.

  Unfortunately, we didn’t bank on this happening. It’s unusual for us, but yes, we were unprepared. It took hours to get the new software downloaded and installed. Then he had to work through the system bugs to get it working. By the time it was operational, she was gone, off the fucking radar.

  Needless to say, when we got to her father’s house and he didn’t know where Nick could’ve taken her, he was worthless to me. Thank God for Chase getting shit lined up ahead of time with the authorities, because if they weren’t there, I would have killed the bastard with my own two hands. As it was, my own men had to hold me back, authorities and legalities be damned.

  I could now see Nick’s frustration with the new tracking technology. There were too many false positives, and if they wound up going somewhere out of range like the mountains, we were screwed. Most definitely we wound up being fucked, because that’s exactly where they took off. Every hour that ticked by, all I could think about was history repeating itself. I fucking couldn’t sleep, and I was a hateful son of a bitch to deal with. Once Quinn pinned down her coordinates, we were able to call in for backup. I wanted a fucking army charging in, and thank goodness that’s almost what I got. I feel like I’ve failed the most important mission of all, and that was keeping Jules safe.

  “Trav, let me give her a sedative,” Stryker says, glancing at me from the driver’s seat.

  “No, she will just feel like I’m betraying her all over again, using drugs on her. I can help her through this.”

  “Shit, Travis, she’s shaking like a leaf. That’s not good, dude. She needs something to take the edge off. I don’t want to knock her out either, but maybe a Xanax or something?”

  I contemplate Stryker’s words as I cradle her head to my chest. Since my adrenaline rush is now dissipating, I’m starting to notice small details about her, such as her wrists. They’re chafed and red. I clench my jaw, trying to suppress the rising anger. The fucker tied her up again. Maybe she does need something to help her with the initial shock.

  “Jules, sweetheart, I don’t want to give you anything unless you want to take it. I’m not gonna drug you,” I softly say while stroking her hair. “Would it make you feel better to have a little something to calm your nerves? Stryker’s probably right, you know. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  I imagine she’s dehydrated too, but she doesn’t answer me. I look into the rearview mirror, and meet Stryker’s gaze. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he keeps silent. She’s probably not in the right mental state to know what she needs. “All
right, Stryke.” I let out a sigh. “Why don’t you pull out your bag of tricks? I’ll see if she’ll willingly swallow a pill for me, but if she doesn’t, I’m not gonna force it.”

  “You got it. Give me a sec to pull over and I’ll get her something.”

  Holy shit, what a long day. I step out of the vehicle and arch my back, stretching out. We spent seven hours on the road, and after the morning we had, both Stryker and I look like hell. Jules finally did take some medicine to calm her nerves, which made her sleepy, so she slept half the way. When we stopped for dinner and fuel, I could barely get her to eat. Stryker assured me this was normal, and the most important thing was to push the fluids, so I did.

  It’s about eight o’clock, with a little bit of daylight left. I turn around and look at Jules. She’s laying down on the back seat staring blankly at the ceiling. I rub my forehead, the tension mounting.

  Stryker comes up behind me and slaps my back. “Buddy, it’s late, and by the looks of her, she ain’t walkin’ in. Let me go unlock everything so you can carry her in.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I agree in a tired voice. Once Stryker is inside and flips on a few lights, I give her a light kiss on the top of her head and heave her into my arms. I damn near break my back getting Jules out of the car. She’s dead weight.

  Just before we hit the first step of the cabin’s front porch, she starts to push against my chest, making my step falter. “Jules, what are you doing?” I ask, my brows knitting together.

  She starts to come alive in that moment, like a light switch has just flicked on in her head, and her motor skills kick in.

  Highly distraught, she puts up a powerful struggle, fighting to get loose. I wind up losing my grip, and she falls to the ground. She starts screaming, and I stand here looking down at her in bewilderment. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “No...no...no...no,” she screams profusely, shaking her head. I bend down to try and pick her back up, and she goes ballistic, uncontrollably thrashing around on the ground. Stryker leaps off the porch and skids to his knees beside us, grabbing her face in his hands.