If they get their way and take my body against my will, I won’t recover. Not from that. I’m not strong enough like other women who’ve been assaulted and come back from the dark wells of despair and self-loathing as a survivor instead of a victim. I’m strong in a lot of ways, or I was, but that… that will wreck me beyond recovery.
A blurred face appears above me.
“Get up now, you worthless cunt.” The words are hollow, like they’ve traveled through an empty barrel from far away to reach me. More words are spoken, a few shouted, but they’re too fast, too loud to understand in this state of teetering oblivion.
The blurry form shifts closer, now hovering mere inches away.
The inflexible plastic bindings tighten around my wrists before loosening, the sharp edges peeling away from my damaged skin until I can’t feel the zip tie at all. The brief feel of freedom breathes renewed strength into my soul, encouraging me to not give up, not yet. The back of my head rolls along the concrete as I shift to get a better view of the man now bending toward my ankles still secured to the chair.
Several fast blinks clear the lingering glaze from my eyes. Shawn slices through the zip tie around my left ankle before moving to the next. Both legs immediately slip, falling to the floor and leaving me somewhat spread eagle around the chair’s legs.
My frantic gaze flicks from the clearly tense Shawn to where my legs lie spread open. I still have shorts on, but I sure as hell don’t want to be in this position, even with clothes covering my lady bits. Hissing through the pain, I wiggle back enough to seal my thighs and knees together.
His perfectly plump lips press together in a thin line.
“Good, you’re not comatose. Now get the fuck up. It’s time to leave.”
The quiet crunch of leaves or debris beneath my hair sounds as I shake my head along the cement floor.
“That wasn’t a question,” he bites out. “The others will be here soon, and we need to be ready to haul out of here.”
“I won’t break, Shawn.” Speaking burns, each word torture. “Leave me. And if I were you—” Connecting our gaze, I wait a moment, ensuring I have his full attention. “—I’d run. Run, because he will find you, and he will kill you for what you’ve done.”
“I’m not afraid of that clown you call an agent.”
“You should be.” Love and conviction strengthen my voice. “You really fucking should be. And maybe this makes me a bad person, but I hope he takes his time, like you’ve done with me. Reenacts exactly what you’ve done, what you’re planning to do, on you. But it will be worse for you, because you’ll know.”
“Know what?” he huffs, crossing both arms across his chest, careful to keep the knife he used to cut my restraints away from his skin.
“You’ll know no one cares enough about you to even attempt to find you. No one will care when you’re lying broken and rotting somewhere. Because your whole life has been about manipulating those around you and lying to get your way, leaving you unremembered and forever forgotten.”
It could be the light playing tricks on my tired eyes, but I swear a hint of color leaches from his unnaturally tanned skin. His throat bobs with a hard swallow.
Well, shit, that even left a chill slithering along my spine. Guess my hate for the man runs deeper than I ever knew. The last few hours have really driven those feelings home, though it’s not like I’ve carried this hate and loathing baggage with me since day one of meeting Shawn. “I’ve got enough baggage on my own without adding that asshole.”
“Not if he kills Benson first. ” Rolling his shoulders, Shawn looks down his nose with an evil gleam. “Or maybe he’ll do me the favor and kill himself after he sees what I did. How you begged for me to stop, to kill you and end the pain.” Heat singes my lungs as my breaths turn to short gasps. “I wish I could be there when he sees the recording you and I will do together. What he’ll think when he sees his trailer trash girlfriend fucked in every hole until only a sliver of life remains.”
“Why?” The word leaves my lips before I can stop myself.
Shawn rolls his eyes. “Because I can’t deal with this heat. And I never planned for this to end here, Trailer. We’re going somewhere far away, where they will never think to look.”
“He’ll find me no matter where you take me.”
“Maybe, but it’ll be too late to save you.” He bends closer, fingers delving into the thick of my hair and tightening into a fist. There’s zero warning before he yanks hard enough for several chunks to rip from my scalp. I scurry along after him, attempting to alleviate some of the pressure as Shawn drags me toward the door.
A cracked shriek erupts from my throat. Wrenching my arms up, muscles screaming in protest, I clumsily smack at his forearm and wrist before wrapping it in a tight hold to help support my dragging weight. Bright sunlight sears into my overly sensitive eyes as I’m hauled from the small dim room into the main warehouse. Bare heels scrambling to gain traction on the dust-slick warehouse floor, I thrash from side to side, struggling to dislodge his grip.
Each of his steps is slow with my added weight and the fight I’m putting up. Shawn yells over his shoulder for me to stop, but that only reinforces my efforts, knowing it’s causing him more work.
My cracking voice is barely a whisper as I try to call out for help while also cursing Shawn and his pencil dick.
Between shallow inhales is when I hear it. It’s faint, but I’d know that sound anywhere after riding in Marine One so many times.
Helicopters.
I hold in my loud breathing, straining to hear the sound again, hoping like hell I didn’t imagine it. This time the distinct rhythmic thump of the blades sounds closer, like they’re flying as fast as they can in this direction.
Shawn’s hurried steps halt as if he also heard the sound.
Releasing my held breath, I pant, joy and relief now flowing through my veins.
They found me.
Despite the pain I know the movement will cause on my scalp, I twist to watch an army of soldiers and agents bust through the door and high windows. Frantic, I flick my gaze around the empty warehouse, but no one crashes through armed and ready.
“You won’t get away with this. They’re here.” I fight Shawn’s grip, this time digging jagged nails into his skin, ripping and shredding as I scratch like a deranged kitten. “Get off me, you psychotic freak,” I snap at the top of my lungs, which comes out more like a rasp.
Instead of releasing me—let’s be honest, that was a false hope anyway—Shawn raises the fist wrapped in my hair, hauling me upright. The concrete slides beneath the soles of my feet as my noodle-like legs scramble to find footing.
The deep groan of heavy metal scraping against stone halts my frenzied attempts to break free. A furious curse vibrates in my ear as my back seals against Shawn’s chest and hard, warm metal digs into my temple.
Scanning the desolate warehouse for whatever made him tense, my eyes land on a man dressed in all black, an angel of death, standing in front of a closed metal door, gun raised, the barrel pointing slightly above my head.
“I suggest you drop my girl.”
Chapter Fourteen
Trey
The fact that I haven’t pulled the trigger and splattered the bastard’s brains against the dingy warehouse wall is a testament to my willpower. Before Randi, I would’ve fired without thinking of the consequences. But now, my life literally stands between me and the man I want to slowly torture to death.
The gun grip digs into my palms, my fingers aching at the firm hold.
I could take the shot. I would make the shot. But that slim chance Whit could move, putting Randi in the direct path of my bullet, keeps me from pulling the trigger. The odds of that happening are slim, but if it happened, then the next bullet fired from my gun would be lodged in my own skull.
I wasn’t prepared for the first thing I saw after slipping through the door being fucking Whit himself dragging her behind him by her hair. I almost lost it t
hen, almost went apeshit like Tank was adamant I not do. Since that one glimpse, I haven’t dared look at her again. That was enough to recognize the treatment she’s received up to this point in her captivity.
“I won’t ask again.” My voice is cold, calm, deadly. “Release the president.”
“The president or your girlfriend, Benson?”
“They’re one and the same. Drop her.”
“Not a chance.” For emphasis, he tightens his hold, adjusting her limp body tighter against his. A whisper of a pain-laced whimper reaches me. I grind my teeth, tightening my jaw from the force to keep my eyes on Whit. “How does it feel, rent-a-cop? Knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable?”
“Half the military is on standby just a couple miles away, waiting for my command. Three helicopters, a few fighter jets, and more guns than in all of Russia are ready to blow you into dust, yet you think you’re the one holding the cards.”
“Ah, but they won’t attack, just like you, with her in the crosshairs.” Her grip on his arm tenses at his demanding shake to my girl. Breaking our stare-down, he surveys the abandoned building. “Now where’s your friend?”
“Didn’t come.” He knows it’s a lie, but I have to give Tank and Smith time to get into position. Even if that means having to keep hearing this fucker’s annoying-ass voice.
A harsh laugh rattles in the emptiness. “Lie. You two fuckbuddies never go anywhere alone.” An evil glint flashes in his eyes as he leans forward, putting his lips beside her ear. Fury builds, fighting for escape as his lips move, his malicious gaze locked on me. “Call out for him.”
Randi shakes her head, then winces as Whit jams the barrel of the gun harder against her temple. “No.”
Whit tsks. “Wrong answer.”
A broken scream erupts from her parted lips. Unable to fight it any longer, I steal a glance down at Randi’s battered face. Eyes sealed, a pain-filled grimace scrunches her features.
What the hell is he doing to her?
“Stop,” I shout, the word out before I can hold it back. “Stop whatever the hell you’re doing.” Sighing in defeat, I call out to Tank. “Davis, come out where he can see you.”
Randi pitches forward with a relieved gasp only to be snapped against his chest once again. Her head lolls to the side, but still that gun stays firmly held to her head.
To the left, several feet from where I stand, a shadow shifts. Davis moves into the light, his own gun raised and trained on Whit.
A commotion in the back of the warehouse catches my attention. The way Tank inclines his head in the direction of the new voices suggests he hears it too.
“Ah, perfect timing.” From somewhere in the back, coming out of nowhere, a group of men dressed similarly to me swaggers closer. “Now. You two will put your guns on the floor and kneel.”
“Fuck you,” I seethe, but my confidence is waning as more men pour into the room—none of them ours. “Let her go, Whit, and take the last few minutes of your life like a man not hiding behind a woman.”
“Hmm.” The sound and sight of him running his nose through her hair makes every muscle twitch in eagerness to wrap my hands around his throat. “For a trailer park whore, she’s a damn good fuck. I don’t mind being behind her.”
No. I don’t dare search Randi’s face to see if his words are true.
“Get on the floor and remove all your weapons. She and I have some… unfinished business.”
A pitiful whimper and string of begging pleas snap my full attention to Randi. Pain laces her features, and tears streak her dirty, bloody face.
Desperate to find the cause of whatever excruciating pain he’s causing, I scan the two. The gun barrel hasn’t moved from her temple, still digging into the tender flesh. The other arm is wrapped around her ribs, Whit’s forearm and bicep flexed.
“You don’t have long,” Whit says, snapping my attention away from his hold. “I’m assuming it’s a broken rib that’s on the verge of puncturing a lung based on her excruciating pain and short breaths. It hurts, doesn’t it, Trailer?”
Those split, bloody lips press into a thin line in defiance before parting for another pain-filled scream.
“Stop. Fucking stop,” I shout. “Fine.” This is a mistake. He’ll have me shot the second I put my gun on the floor. But maybe that’s the opening we need. If he moves the gun to shoot me, Tank can take his own shot. Then there’s also Smith out there somewhere who can pick off the group of men watching, waiting.
If I die for her to live, that’s fine. She’s the one who matters. She’s all that matters. No one will miss a disinherited playboy like me. But millions would miss her. Taeler would be devastated, and that sweet baby needs to know her grandmother.
Me, no one will miss.
Her, the world would tip on its axis with the loss. Not because she’s the president but because she’s Randi Sawyer. Crazy, beautiful, foul-mouthed, and heart of gold. The impact of her death would be a ripple spanning out from this warehouse to the world.
“Don’t,” Randi pleads. “Trey, don’t.” The last word is more of a sob.
Bits of crumbled cement and a thick layer of dust brush against my fingertips as I place the gun on the floor. Glancing up through my lashes, I lock onto those wet hazel eyes and wink. Straightening, I give her a confident smirk.
“Don’t worry, Mess. We’ll get you out of this.” A hard mask slips over my features as I shift to Whit. “You won’t get away. Even an arrogant ass like you can see that. You’ll be dead before you even step a fucking foot out that door. There are at least a dozen snipers out there itching to take out the fool who took her. And when they see her, see what you did?” I click my tongue and shake my head. “Not only did you hurt the president, but you hit a woman. A bastard like that doesn’t deserve a quick death. No, that bullet will hit where it hurts, to incapacitate. The killing will come later.”
“Good thing I don’t plan on walking out of here. On your knees,” Whit growls, the confidence in his tone and choice of words confusing me. “Hands behind your head since I know you have more weapons on you than that one.”
Slowly lowering to the ground, I don’t look away from Randi. Dust wafts up in the wake of my knees crashing to the floor.
“Baby, you’re okay. Maybe need a shower and a couple ice packs, but you’re okay.” Something blooms in my chest at the sight of her lips twitching upward in an attempt at a smile.
“That’s what you’re going with?” she wheezes. “Get off the floor, Trouble. Kill him. Don’t let him take me.” The tremble in her usually strong voice shreds my heart. “Don’t let him take me. I can’t—” A scream vibrates through the still air. “Fuck you,” she pants like each breath is more difficult to take in than the last.
“Later.” He laughs into her hair while raising a single brow in my direction. “Your turn, Davis, or Trailer here will have a perfect bullet-sized hole in her ignorant little head.”
“T, kill him.”
“Can’t do that, Randi,” Tank’s deep voice rumbles.
“Think of your wife. You can’t leave her. He’ll kill you and then rape me,” she cries.
My shoulders stiffen at that word. Sweat slips down my spine and temples from the need to kill burning through my veins and the stifling heat inside this shithole. Eyes narrowed, I shoot a glare across the room to my friend, begging him to do what that fuckstick asked.
A minuscule nod eases the grasp fear had around my chest. Smith is out there, watching, waiting. I know that, Tank knows that, but Whit does not. He thinks he has us trapped, but we might still have the element of surprise on our side.
The moment he swings that gun to me, thinking both Tank and I are unarmed and the threat’s only outside these doors, Smith will take the shot.
In my periphery, Tank sets his gun on the ground, then sends it skittering across the floor with a hard shove.
Deep breath. This is it. We’re both disarmed, prime targets for Whit to take the kill shot.
Shifting my focus from Randi, I narrow my brows at Whit, who’s still focused on me, a wide smile on his face.
“Don’t look so surprised. You’re worth more to me alive than dead. Plus, taking you will make that coward livid that I took your life instead of him. Serves him right for leaving before the contract was fulfilled.”
Come on, move the gun. Move the motherfucking gun from her head.
All Smith needs is one clear shot and all this will be over. Once Whit is dead, the merry band of idiots along the wall will run back the way they came.
“Trailer here wasn’t as… forthcoming as I hoped. Yes, you just might break what little resolve she has left.”
“No.” Randi’s cry is a bullet to the heart as she jerks in Shawn’s hold. “I’ll do it, whatever you want.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says as a new guy, walking with an air of importance, strides from an office-looking room. Whit chuckles at Tank and me on our knees. “If either of you make a move, I’ll paint the walls with her blood.” The new man, dressed in all black like the others, stops beside Whit and whispers something in his ear. “Good. We’ll need it after all. Search those two, leave cell phones and any guns you find, and then tie them up. They’re coming with us.”
The man beside Whit calls out to the others. They shove off the wall, eager to do his bidding. Five march in my direction while eight or ten head for Tank.
Where did these fuckers come from? There’s no way they got through the secured perimeter the military and agency have set up by now, and their laughter and sick jokes tossed back and forth would’ve been audible if they were here earlier, even with the thick walls of the warehouse.
Power Term: A Secret Service Romantic Suspense Series (Power Play Book 5) Page 14