by J. A. Dennam
“Whose plan?” Brunette Bitch answered. “Yours? Or mine?”
“Does it matter? We all got what we wanted.”
“You mean... it’s here?”
As they stared each other down, Rena slowly nodded her head and held out her hand.
After some hesitation, the woman took the bullet from her palm and slipped it in her pocket as if it held no significance whatsoever.
In turn, Rena nodded toward Derek. “Can I see how he’s doing?”
As Melanie’s attention volleyed between them, she desperately tried to decipher Rena’s intent. She still seemed to care about the man who broke her out of prison, but was it enough?
Finally, she was given assent and Rena went to Derek’s side. The restraints made it difficult, but she found his pulse. “He can’t maintain this heart rate for long.”
“Don’t worry,” the older woman said with affection as if they were the only three in the room. “I’ve become way too attached to let him die now.”
“Please,” Derek pleaded in his demon voice. “Help me, Rena!”
Her hand found his sopping wet hair and she gazed sadly into his wild eyes. “I’m sorry, Derek. You’ll have to ride this out, I’m afraid. Just do as you’re told and you’ll get your medication. Right, mother?”
Two pairs of blue eyes met over the man on the table. Melanie’s breath caught as Rena’s words finally hit home. Mother?
“As soon as he fixes his mistakes,” Old Bitch said, glancing at Melanie, “he’ll get his next dose. Did he speak with anyone else?”
Rena looked over at her for a scant second and Melanie held her breath. Would she start dropping names? But she shook her head. “No. Just her. I’m going to shower.”
As soon as Rena said the word shower, Melanie sensed a change in the man behind her. When she looked back, her attention was drawn to the bulge rising beneath the zipper of Rafferty’s slacks. He winked. When she turned back around, Rena was gone and her mother was standing just inches away. The glasses were off. It startled her for a bare instant until she remembered the partition between them.
Melanie narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’re Miss Hellberg?”
“Derek calls me Sophie,” she purred in response. “Unless I have his cock in my mouth. Then he calls me Baby.”
Chapter 16
Before Melanie had time to react, Rafferty grabbed her from behind and pressed her firmly against the glass wall. The old bitch laughed and observed as Derek rode out another wave of pain with a tortured yell. Eyes shut tight, it was clear he was becoming more oblivious to his surroundings.
“Shhh,” Sophie soothed, running a hand up his inner thigh. “Just one more thing before I let you go, darling.” Then she was touching him through the fabric of his black athletic pants, caressing the part of him she had just claimed to know quite intimately. Derek was already hard, but when her palm slid up the length of his shaft, his whole body jerked and expanded.
Melanie closed her eyes for a moment, tried to pull herself together while Sophie Hellbitch stoked the raging beast. Suddenly it was all making sense. Who better to see to his virile health than a woman of power with a wild crush?
Dark blue eyes peered at her beneath drooping lids. Taunting her. Manicured fingers curled beneath his testicles and stopped. “This might hurt. Just a little.” And she squeezed.
His roar of pain rattled the steel trays beside him. Melanie screamed, feeling every bit of his suffering as he wept in the way of the broken. At this point she just wanted him to be released. To hell with the consequences.
But the woman only squeezed again. And again. And he screamed, raged, pulsed against his bonds.
Oh, God, she was killing him and Melanie was helpless to stop it. As she cried for him, Rafferty pressed his own organ into the small of her back. “Now is the time to ask yourself,” he murmured against her hair. “How deep does your faith in him run? Because that doesn’t look good to me.”
“That’s right, Derek,” Sophie said sternly. “It’s even worse than before and it will continue to worsen until one day you won’t survive this. Do you understand? You cannot survive out there. You are tied to us. Completely. Wholly. This is something you must accept.”
Melanie swallowed back her sobs, opened her mouth to beg the woman to stop, but something caught her eye. Something that wasn’t there before. Something shiny that barely poked out from the center of Derek’s tightly clenched fist. Whatever it was, she suspected Rena put it there when she checked his pulse.
But in the agony of the moment, Derek was slipping. And if it was a diversion he was waiting for, he needed it now.
“I choose you,” she moaned through the emotion.
Rafferty’s hold intensified. “What was that?”
“Please. I can’t take this anymore.”
“Just so we’re clear... you choose to have sex with me.”
“Yes.” When he released his weight, she turned toward him and pulled him down to her. “Yes. Anything, just make it stop.” And she closed the gap between their mouths, effectively drawing his attention away from the exam table. It was a revolting, dry connection of lips that he broke within seconds.
He held her off before she could attempt to do it again. “You’re willing to trade pussy for his comfort?”
The blood drained from her face. “Yes.”
His mouth split into a broad smile. “You’re cute.” When she blanched, he said, “I was always going to fuck you. I just wanted your boyfriend to hear you beg for it.”
His hand wedged beneath her chin and she was flung backwards to the table. Covered dishes scattered across the floor rending the air like cymbals. Her head hit hard and she went limp for a moment. The sash was yanked loose, the robe parted. When the fog cleared, she came alive, fought, clawed at the hand around her throat.
“You look like a girl who’s taken it many ways, Miss Parker,” he said with a sick smile as he unzipped his slacks and released his erection. “Tell me. What’s your favorite?”
“I... can’t...”
“What? You like it in the ass?”
Lightheadedness assailed her and her brain began to cut out. He wedged himself between her legs and hiked one of her knees up to her chest with his free hand.
“That’s what I thought you said.”
Suddenly he stopped. The pressure around her neck eased and the air began to flow through once again. She took it in one gasping breath at a time as she lowered her legs. Above her, Rafferty’s complexion went hot with suppressed fury. His erection no longer grazed her thigh.
Melanie’s focus began to return. When her attacker straightened she saw Derek standing behind him. Quiet. Collected.
Armed.
“C’mon, Rafferty,” he sneered. “Cough for me.”
Rafferty pushed out a laugh, studied the ceiling. “You’d have been my bitch a long time ago if Sophie hadn’t gotten so attached.”
“And you’d have died trying to make me your bitch.”
Rafferty backed away from Melanie, moving toward the danger. “So, what’s stopping you now?”
Derek kept the proper distance. “Sophie. She happens to be attached to you, too.”
“That’s right. I have something you need.” When curiosity got the better of him, Rafferty turned and studied the carnage of the exam room.
The sterilized environment was wrought with blood. Two attendants lay dead on the floor while the one that had been in the observation room now soaked the hallway with his fatal neck wound. Sophie had managed to escape.
“What could he possibly need from you?” Melanie hissed, clutching the robe tightly around her.
Brandy colored eyes boldly explored her cleavage despite the blade cutting his skin. “Our lady felt I should have some insurance to keep a certain ghost from slitting my throat when I’m not looking.”
“That’s what happens when you break protocol,” Derek said evenly, keeping the razor-edged scalpel steady against Rafferty’s carot
id artery. “Should have stuck with the murderers who actually want a new life. They at least appreciate the change.”
“But she made you a murderer, didn’t she? Among other things.”
Melanie looked between the two men. “What else did she make him?”
“Her bitch, for one.”
The killing part sailed right past her. “So, it’s true? You and her...”
The severity of the moment was dampened when Derek’s shoulders sagged with a really?
* * *
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Derek,” he heard matter-of-factly.
He opened his eyes and her face came into focus. “Then make it stop,” he rasped through ruined vocal cords. They’d dragged him out of his padded box and hosed him off only to strap him down to a cold slab. Whatever was to come next couldn’t be any worse than what he’d just endured. At least the caged feeling and crippling body pain was no longer on the forefront. Now it was all about the brutal ache in his balls and lower abdomen.
“That is no longer in my power. Rafferty controls your medication from this day forward.” She shrugged as he closed his eyes again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you kill him. This is the only way we’ll both be sure.”
“He’ll... have fun with that... won’t he?”
“As long as you cooperate, there won’t be a problem.”
There would always be a problem between them. As long as that rat bastard continued to find crude ways to defile Melanie’s picture, the gloves would remain off.
“I can see you still have some fight in you.” Hellberg tsked as she continued to study him through the glasses. “It is good you know your strength, but you must not use it on one of our own. You won’t be relieved until we are confident you understand this.”
“Go to hell.”
Her shoulders slumped. With another sad shake of her head, she pushed her rolling stool away and signaled to someone behind the mirrored wall. “Give me twenty minutes.”
When the observation room cleared, she rose, pulled the photo ID necklace up and over her head. Next, the glasses came off. Her back was to him as she leaned against the counter. She was a petite thing, slim and curvy, but the lab coat hid it well. Her brown hair was always swept back. Now she released it and threw the clip on the counter next to the other discarded items. It was shorter than he thought.
“I’ve always been a professional woman,” she said quietly. “Always put my career ahead of everything. My family, social life... sex. You’re a remarkable man.” She turned and faced him as he watched her warily. “Now, here you are before me. Naked. Powerless. Angry and in pain. And I must ask myself... where do the lines between business and pleasure cross at this point?”
No way... Derek knew his next comment was going to produce some serious consequences, but... “You could be my mother.”
“Aaah,” and she broke into a half-smile. “That just made this a whole lot easier for me.”
While the pain in his groin continued to rule, she stepped up to the table and simply stared at his genitals. To his horror, he began to rise beneath her intense scrutiny.
“They’re purple,” she said. When her fingertips brushed his testicles, his entire lower half went up in flames. Refusing to cave, he repressed his cry of agony.
“Very sensitive. I can help you with that part, but only if you ask me nicely.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
His dick continued to grow against his belly and her hand cruised up the length of it inciting an even deeper white-hot pain in his middle. He strained against the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles.
“You are some of my best work, Derek,” she murmured as she watched his muscles pop and expand. “It’s a shame I can’t tout this in the medical books. Tell me, what is your pain level on a scale of one to ten?” And she cupped his balls, squeezed.
Good God, the agony tore from him then. He’d already used up his voice but somehow managed to knock out another meaty roar.
“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” She took his pulsing member in her hand, bent and licked the tip. “All you need to do is ejaculate a few times.”
He coughed, wheezed out a meek denial, mentioned something about doing it himself. Not for the first time, he began to pray for the good ole’ days when he’d been paralyzed from the neck down.
“Nicely, now. Ask me nicely.”
The ludicrousness of it all made him break out into a maniacal laugh. “Goddammit, just suck it already!”
It had been his last brave face. Things had gone dim for him after that, but the woman eventually got what she wanted.
So, to answer Melanie’s question... “Only when necessary,” Derek said dryly.
Rafferty took advantage of the distraction and ducked from beneath the blade, then followed up with an attempted knife-hand strike to the neck. But Derek was quicker and blew past his reach. When another attempt was made, Derek bared his teeth and jammed the short blade into Rafferty’s left eye. The man released a scream that rivaled the ones Derek had produced earlier and collapsed to the floor.
While he slithered in pain, Derek took Melanie’s hand. “I need him alive for now, but at least he won’t follow us. We have to leave this building now.”
“How did you recover so quickly?” she asked with fascination as he pulled her through the open glass door. They headed left then jerked to a stop. She couldn’t hear them, but there were at least three ghosts coming down the hallway, so he yanked her toward the right and followed the opposite corridor.
Rafferty continued to howl, his full attention on the copious amounts of pain and blood loss.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
Derek put a finger to his lips. Even the slightest whisper could give them away. Luckily, her feet were bare which made her a ghost in the making. It gave him an idea, which he cultivated on their way down the stairwell. Unfortunately more pursuers were closing in from the top and bottom floors. Luckily, they were on the fourth level, which was one he was quite familiar with. But they’d need to move fast.
Once they cleared the stairs, he led her to a darkened closet and closed them inside. But only because he knew there was another way out in case they were surrounded.
He attacked the clothing racks. “Here, put these on.”
She blinked at the items he shoved into her hands. “You want me to wear this creepy thing?”
“Better than what you have on unless you’ve regressed.”
He was pissed. The longer he saw her in that nothing of a robe, the more he wanted to go back and take out Rafferty’s other eye. “What were you thinking coming on to him? He would have killed you!”
The robe puddled at her feet and she jammed a leg through the black pants. “I was trying to help you. Once I saw that scalpel in your hand, I knew you had a plan, I was just hoping you wouldn’t die from agony before you could see it through.”
He donned his own fresh set of clothes. “It didn’t hurt as much as I let on.”
“I’m getting that now, but it hurt the hell out of me!” she griped, tackling the hooded top. “And contrary to what you might think, I don’t cower on the sidelines anymore. Parenthood took care of that.”
Heaven help him. “I know.”
“Where is DJ? Is he still with the others? Is he safe?”
“He’s with Danny and Austin. He’s fine.” Aside from the high-speed car chase. But he wouldn’t mention that.
Melanie’s face fell and she straightened. “What happened?”
Holy crap, how do women do that? “Nothing,” Derek said, convincingly enough. “And don’t do the truth stare thing. My mother has exclusive rights to that.”
She recognized his tone and softened as she tied her damp, tangled hair back in a loose knot. “Speaking of motherhood, Rafferty was quite enthralled with my lack of stretch marks. It weirded me out. Made me think he knew about DJ all along.”
When Derek remained tight-lipped as he dressed, she regarded
him worriedly. “ How do you feel?”
His head popped through the mushroom shaped hood. “Like Captain America.”
He grabbed an extra uniform and stuffed it beneath his shirt as they cut through the shelf-lined closet toward the back.
“But, how?”
“That syringe was loaded with my dose. A friend on the inside made it happen.”
“What friend?”
“Lana. Another one of Rafferty’s victims. She has hair just like yours.”
“If Lana knows where your medication is...”
“It was prepared ahead of time for when I came back. Usually it’s in pill form, but injections work faster and Sophie doesn’t fuck around if she thinks I could crash.”
“Derek?”
He opened another door and they entered a darkened conference room. Windows were plentiful here, though the shades were pulled.
“What exactly is your relationship with this Sophie woman?”
A yank of the cord exposed one. “Mel, this isn’t the time--”
“Tell me. Please.”
The tone meant there was no hope for redirection. He stopped everything, cupped her face in his hands and paused for the right words. “Every time I found myself in her crosshairs, I knew it would be a painful experience.”
Derek looked past her, focused on the whiteboard that still mapped out the detailed plans of Rena’s prison extraction.
“This is the third time you’ve failed,” Sophie said quietly as she sat beside him with her back turned.
“It’s a maximum security psych ward. You’ve reduced her to a vegetable. It may take a few tries.”
The woman studied the crude drawings given her by their inside informant. “He said these were accurate.” The glasses came off and she frowned. “Perhaps you’ve lost focus.”
“My focus is fine.” He yanked on the bonds securing his wrists to her bedposts. “Yours is a little fucked up, though.”