MasterofVelvet

by Kirstie Abbot

  Beth knew she was on the verge of full-blown hysteria. Only the silver tape across her mouth was preventing her from giving in to the scream that was in danger of choking her.

  Her head was still swimming from hitting it on the wall when her assailant, who had to be Ewan Underwood, had lunged after her when she’d tried to escape from him. She didn’t remember anything else until pain had exploded in her jaw. She’d heard a man’s voice growling obscenity after obscenity at her, felt another slap and registered the sensation of being dragged into a kneeling position.

  Sometime between the two events, she’d been stripped of her coat, boots, socks and jeans. Her ankles were bound together, probably with the same tape he’d used on her hands and mouth, and her legs were well on the way to losing all sensation and feeling.

  There was the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, telling her that one of the blows she’d received had cut the inside of her lip. The taste reminded her of what Underwood had said and done after striking her.

  “Shut up, bitch!” he’d snarled when she’d tried to reason with him, before forcing something into her hands, grabbing her thumb and pressing it on the end of the tubular object and holding it there, while winding more of the tape around her wrists and hands. “This is a dead man’s switch. It’s connected to your new designer outfit. Have a look.” He’d pointed at her chest.

  She’d known it was there, felt the bulk of it wrapped around her body—but hadn’t dared look until that moment. What she saw terrified her—a vest with wires and blinking lights and cylindrical blocks of what looked like clay, except that there was writing on them. What screamed out at her were three characters—PE4. She didn’t know what that was but it couldn’t be good.

  “When I flip this switch,” he’d held up a little black box, “your nice outfit goes live and so long as you don’t let go of this,“ a shake of her wrists, “you won’t go boom. Got it, bitch?”

  Shaking with terror, Beth had barely been able to nod. Now, oblivious to the tears running freely down her cheeks, panic screaming through her mind, all she could do was stare at the switch clasped in her hands, her thumb pressing down so hard that the knuckle was already white. The way her hands were restrained meant that she couldn’t even change fingers.

  She was only distantly aware of the man’s movements as he took cover behind the open door to the family room with gun in hand, leaving her kneeling in full view of whoever might be out in the hallway…and in no doubt whatsoever that she was intended to lure the man she loved to his death.

  Adam knew he should wait for Dan to join him—it was the only sensible thing to do—but every primitive impulse in him was roaring to rescue his woman and protect her. Before he could do that, however, he needed her to know he was there so that he didn’t scare her into letting go of the switch that was keeping her alive.

  He needed a miracle.

  “Beth.”

  He couldn’t have said whether he spoke her name or just thought it but in that sweet moment, she looked up and her eyes connected with his. The fear he saw there twisted a knife through his heart and then the fear was gone, replaced with love and complete trust. He even saw the tension leave the strained, straight line that her mouth had become.

  Yet even as he smiled and nodded to reassure her, the look in her eyes changed again, became intense and focused in a way that awed him. In that instant they became a team. And she was talking to him—talking with her eyes, telling him that Underwood was hiding behind the family room door.

  He nodded. She blinked.

  He mouthed the words “I love you”, and she blinked again.

  And more blinking—now there was a frantic quality about it. She was trying to tell him something—but what? It was a wild stab in the dark but he mimicked firing a gun. The single blink was slow and controlled and told him what he needed to know. Yes.

  So he was facing a madman hiding behind the door, armed with a gun and he had nothing more than a combat knife, the shotgun an impractical proposition in the confined space of the house. The odds were not good but hell, he was trained and Underwood was deranged. That had to even things up by a significant amount.

  In a fraction of a second Adam called on all his military expertise—the training that had made him such a cool strategist under fire—to weigh the best option for tackling the intruder. He couldn’t wait for Dan to arrive. He had to do something now. If he’d had his friend’s skill with the knife, he might have waited until Underwood came into view and taken the bastard down from a distance but with Beth in such a precarious situation, Adam wasn’t prepared to take the chance—there was no way she was going to be collateral damage. He had to get in there and keep his body between her and the man who was using her to lure him into the trap.

  A shadow of movement in the tiny gap between the door and jamb caught his eye and in that instant he burst into action, forcing the door beyond the limit of the hinges and sending the intruder flying across the room. Adam hurled himself at his opponent, his eyes taking in the other man’s gun, knowing that if he and Beth were to survive this there was only one possible outcome.

  Dan went through the house, looking for Adam and Beth. He’d found nothing outside the house to indicate any trouble but as soon as he’d entered through the kitchen he’d sensed the unnerving quiet—until the sound of all hell breaking loose, culminating in a single gunshot, had led him to bypass the secure room and go straight to the family room, his gut wrenching when he took in the scene that awaited him.

  Behind Beth, Adam was down but not before he’d taken out the intruder and looking at the unnatural angle of the man’s neck, it looked like Adam had managed to take him out permanently. But it was Beth who was causing him the most concern. Dear God, what had Underwood done to her?

  She was shaking, terrified out of her mind and tears pouring down her face with a death grip on the switch in front of her. God knew how long she’d been gripping it like that but if cramps set in, they’d all be done for.

  “Easy, Beth,” he said softly, “it’s Dan. Everything’s okay. It’s all over.”

  He knelt down in front of her and very carefully peeled the length of tape away from her mouth. The look in her eyes was near to hysteria as he started on the tape binding her hands.

  “Just hold on a little while longer, angel,” he soothed her, keeping his voice low and calm. “I need you to hold the button just a little longer. Can you do that for me?”

  “Adam…” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “Don’t worry about him, Beth, he’s tougher than you think. Now I need to get us some help with this but I can’t use my mobile phone around this—“ he nodded at the explosives. “I have to use the landline in the hall. I’ll be as quick as I can, just don’t let go, okay?”

  She nodded stiffly. “It hurts, Dan,” she whispered. “I can’t move.”

  Jesus. Dan swore under his breath.

  “Is Adam all right?”

  “Beth, don’t worry.” He shot a glance at his friend, doing the very thing he’d just told Beth not to do. Blood was soaking into the carpet at an alarming rate. “Just stay still, and I’ll get help.”

  Dan Chesterfield could rewrite the book on frustration. After calling the emergency services, he’d gone back into the family room to tend to Adam’s wounds and reassure Beth and then been banished when the paramedics took over care of his friend, while the RLC Explosive Ordnance Disposal operators dealt with the suicide vest with the fire brigade on standby. The police were hovering around too, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with any of their freaking questions right now—not when a quick phone call to the right office in Whitehall, just as soon as he could make it, would get them off his back.

  That sense of frustration mounted while he kicked his heels at the front of the house, chatting to the second team of paramedics who were waiting to take care of Beth once she was free of the hellish device that had been forced on her. The guys from the Royal Logistic Corps had already
advised both him and the paramedics—quite forcefully—to get as far away from the house as possible, because if something went wrong it was highly likely that most of the house would go up. The paramedics had flat-out refused.

  And there was no way he was running like some craven coward. Not when Beth was in the middle of it all and had no choice. If they’d let him, he’d have been in there with her, reassuring her and encouraging her, the way her Master would have done had he been able.

  The paramedics tending Adam had stabilized his condition and taken him to hospital quite some time ago. Dan wanted to phone the hospital to find out what was going on but he couldn’t get in to use the landline in the house nor could he make a call on his mobile phone, in case an errant signal interfered with the circuits governing the detonation of the explosives packed into the vest. It was unlikely but Dan wasn’t taking any chances.

  If ever there was a time he needed to be able to split himself in two this was it. The only comfort was knowing that while he could do nothing practical for either Adam or Beth, Adam was being taken care of by the health professionals he needed, so he, Dan, could be here when Beth was free. She no doubt would need a shoulder to lean on, no matter how strong she was. He could ensure that she was taken to hospital for the care she would need and he would follow.

  The all clear, shouted by the EOD operator emerging from the front door of Adam’s house broke into Dan’s reverie. He followed the medics in, unsure of what would greet him.

  She was still in a kneeling position, crying, sobs that were damn near hysterical but at the same time she was trying to control them as she tried to stand up with the assistance of one of the paramedics. Dan flexed his fingers, gritting his teeth and trying to prevent his hands forming into fists. If Underwood hadn’t already been dispatched, he’d have been quite happy to finish off the job. “Beth, let me help.”

  She looked up at him. He could see the question forming in her mind.

  “Adam’s been taken to the hospital, angel. They’re taking good care of him, I promise, and I know he’d want me to take care of you while he can’t.”

  Ignoring the paramedics, Dan gently lifted Beth into his arms, letting her legs straighten out gradually, wincing as what must have been a ferocious attack of pins-and-needles savaged her circulation-starved limbs. She whimpered softly, burrowing her face into his neck, holding onto him for dear life. He looked at the senior paramedic, who nodded in answer to the unspoken question.

  “I’m going to take you to the ambulance now, angel,” he said softly. “They need to take a look at you and make sure you’re all right.” He started walking. “You’ve had a nasty bump to the head and a couple of other injuries we need to take a look at and any time now you could start going into shock. Ad would kill me if I didn’t take good care of you. They’re going to take you to the same hospital where he is and I’ll be right behind the ambulance in the car, okay?”

  * * * * *

  Dan paused just inside the Intensive Care Unit, his purpose originally just to check on Adam. Beth was still an inpatient under observation for a concussion. When he saw her sitting beside Adam’s bed, clad in the god-awful hospital-issue clothing they’d given her when admitted and with the plastic identity bracelet encircling her wrist, he made to go. He was unwilling to break the intimacy of the moment but then Beth softly called his name. He turned back.

  “How are you doing, angel? I’m glad they kept you in—you need someone to keep an eye on you for a while.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “I’m okay.” Her smile was weary, though—she was still badly shaken up. “Thanks to you and Adam.”

  “Hey, no thanks ever necessary. Looking after you is what we do. How’s he doing?”

  The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart. He loved her dearly as his best friend’s soul mate, and to see her like this—after all she’d been through, all her bravery through an ordeal that would test anyone to the extreme—left a solid lump in his throat.

  It also made him wonder what it would be like to have someone care so very much about him.

  Her lower lip trembled a little before she spoke. “They’ve been really good about letting me stay with him for awhile. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. They said the surgery went as well as can be expected so now it’s just a matter of waiting.”

  Dan looked at the unconscious man, the wires, the tubes, the beeping monitors and the drips. They’d intimated that it could have been worse and as a former medic, he knew that there could have been major organ damage. As it was—well, Adam had been bloody lucky even if it didn’t look that way right now. “Beth—he needs you now more than ever. You have no idea how good you’ve been for him.”

  Holding Adam’s hand in both of hers, Beth looked up at him, clearly puzzled by the gravity of his demeanor. “What do you mean? The nightmares?”

  “The nightmares he hasn’t had since you’ve been more than just his assistant. Until you he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in over ten years.”

  “Ten years?” Now she was even more confused, if that were possible. “But the IED was fifteen years ago. What happened ten years ago?”

  “You mean he hasn’t told you yet? Shit.” He frowned. “Beth, I really don’t think you should hear about it from me.”

  At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a nurse. The doctor was on his way, so would they mind leaving for a few minutes?

  “Certainly. Mr. Chesterfield was just going to take me for a cup of coffee, weren’t you?” Beth dropped the hint with all the subtlety of the Royal Tank Regiment on maneuvers.

  The best thing that could be said about the coffee was that it was hot and wet, she thought ruefully as she faced Dan over a table in a quiet corner of the hospital coffee shop. “Right. You’d better start talking.”

  “And to think I kept telling Adam about your submissive tendencies.” He pulled a face after his first sip of coffee. “Are you sure this stuff’s fit for human consumption?”

  “Stop trying to avoid the issue. What happened?”

  Dan’s blue eyes began to look into the past. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. And don’t think,” she continued, her voice low but no less determined, “that using your Dom voice will work because I’ll tell you now it won’t. I want answers.”

  “Bloody subs. You don’t let a Dom get away with anything.” He sighed. “We left the service a couple of years after Adam was injured in the IED incident and like a lot of people in that position we went into private security.”

  “Hence GC Security?”

  Dan nodded. “Some of the lads who left around the same time joined us and then we went back.”

  “Back? To the Middle East? But why?”

  “Initially it was a means to an end. There was a lot of money to be made. We figured we’d do it for a couple of years then come back to the UK and start our real lives.”

  “What did you do there?” Beth wasn’t sure whether she was more afraid of asking the question or hearing the answer.

  “Security at high-profile installations, personal protection, that sort of thing. There were—are—a lot of very wealthy, powerful people over there who like to feel secure as they go about their daily lives.”

  Dan’s eyes became a little bleaker. “After the IED incident, Adam changed. It was as if his life didn’t mean that much anymore. Oh, he never endangered anyone—in fact, he became more protective of everyone around him but less protective of himself and that didn’t change when we started the security business. He took on the riskier jobs.

  “This particular assignment was as escort to a foreign diplomat’s son. Several threats had been made against the family before we even got there, so that’s why Adam took that duty. Usually there’d be one of the other lads with him but that particular day, we were short-handed so he was on his own.”

  Dan emerged from his plunge into the past. “Look, Beth, what happened
to Adam isn’t good to remember and it’s even less pleasant to hear. You should really let him tell you about it.”

  “So he can gloss over it and miss out the details? You know he won’t tell me everything. I need to know what’s made him the man he is. I need to know why he asked me to…”

  She looked straight at him. “Tell me everything, Dan.”

  Dan drained his coffee, grimacing at the taste. “Beth, yours is a thousand times better than that stuff.”

  He contemplated the cup for a moment, choosing his next words. “Adam and the boy were kidnapped by insurgents. For the first week, ten days, we had no idea where they were being held. The boy’s father insisted on paying the ransom they were demanding—it was just petty cash to him—but the kidnappers didn’t leave the boy and Adam where they said we could find them.

  “Eventually, a few days later, we got some intel that led us to an abandoned house. When we got them out the boy was pretty much fine physically but Adam was more dead than alive.”

  Beth looked at Adam’s friend, her eyes as stricken as his. “What happened?”

  “They hated the boy’s father. They wanted to get at him through his son but the boy was their bargaining chip—no sense in torturing him to the point where he couldn’t plead with his father to comply with the ransom instructions. So instead, to make the boy’s pleas more desperate, they tortured him psychologically by physically torturing Adam in front of him, with the implication that they’d do the same to him.

  “You see, during the time Adam had been the boy’s personal protection they’d built up a really good relationship—I think the boy almost saw Adam as a surrogate father figure.

  “God knows what goes on in the minds of bastards like that. Adam’s back was raw when we got him out. He’d been severely beaten, there were burns all over his body and they’d broken half of his fingers. He was severely dehydrated and starving—what little food and water he’d been given, he gave all the food and most of the water to the boy. There were other injuries, too.”