RELENTLESS

by Christy Reece

  “What’s your favorite flower?”

  “Pink roses.”

  “I’ll be carrying a bouquet of pink roses.”

  She breathed out a little laugh. “You’ve got yourself a date.”

  Doors creaked, heavy footsteps came closer. It wasn’t time for their one measly meal, which meant their time was up. What happened next was all that mattered.

  “Remember what I said, Cat,” Liam whispered. “Stay strong. You are an amazing person and can survive anything these bastards throw at you. You can do this.”

  Her cell door squealed as it opened. Liam could picture it in his mind. Soulless men with grim faces and conscienceless hearts stomped inside her cell.

  “What are you doing?”

  Liam knew Cat had meant the words to sound demanding and angry, but the shaking in her voice ripped out his heart. She was terrified but trying her best to sound brave.

  “Leave her alone, asshole,” Liam growled. “It’s me you want, not her. She doesn’t know anything.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ. She knows much more than you give her credit for.”

  What did that mean? And who was this new guy? He had a British accent, sounded older than the other men, and was most definitely the one in charge.

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want,” Liam said. “Just leave her alone.”

  “You mean you’ll tell me whatever you want me to hear. Believe me, when we’re through with your little Cat, you’ll tell me everything down to your shoe size.”

  “Lion!” Cat screamed.

  “I’m here, Cat. Fight them. Fight them for all you’re worth.”

  Unable to do anything else, Liam gripped the bars of his cell door and tried to angle his head so he could see what was happening. They were out of his line of vision. All he could do was listen to Cat’s terror-filled voice pleading with them to leave her alone.

  Liam yelled obscenities, expletives, insults—every derogatory word he knew and some he just made up. Every word he screamed was from his heart. And he would keep his promise, every one of them would pay for what they were about to put her through.

  Cat screamed and fought. Liam heard every gasp, every cry. They didn’t say anything, but he had a clear image in his mind of the horror she was experiencing. The screams grew fainter and fainter as they carried her out the door.

  The screams cut off abruptly, leaving him with only a stark silence and the gut-sick knowledge that he was responsible for what Cat was going through. He shouldn’t have talked to her, shouldn’t have tried to comfort her. They’d seen that, and now Cat was paying the price.

  The quiet, dead and still, permeated his surroundings. Gripping the bars of his cell, Liam felt tears fill his eyes. He hadn’t cried in a long time. It’d been longer since he’d prayed. He did both now.

  How long he stood there he would never know. Every nightmare, every ounce of fear he’d ever felt were wrapped up in what Cat was enduring. His heart ripped to shreds, and his soul screamed at the cruel injustice for the innocent and the wickedness of monsters.

  When he heard the doors creak open again, he braced himself for the worst. Footsteps sounded, belonging to only one person—a heavy, booted male.

  Liam gripped the steel bars, waiting and dreading. Was Cat being carried back to her cell? Was she unconscious? Was she dead?

  The door to the cell next to his opened, and someone entered. Something dropped on the ground. Liam heard a low curse, but the sound was so soft it was indistinguishable, unrecognizable.

  “Where is she, asshole?” Liam growled.

  No answer. Just some heavy breathing as if someone was frustrated and then he heard a grunt of satisfaction, a couple of clicks. Sounds filled the air, loud and full of anguish.

  “No, please don’t do this. Please don’t!”

  Cat’s voice, full of fear, of tears, soared around him. They had recorded her assault…brought it in to torture him.

  Liam shouted over Cat’s screams, “Where is she? Dammit, what have you done to her?”

  “Your little Cat isn’t holding up too well.”

  The Brit again.

  “What have you—”

  “We’re not through with her yet, but I wanted to bring you her greatest hits. Enjoy them.”

  The volume increased, and Cat’s screams and pleas for mercy echoed through the hollow prison. She screamed his name multiple times, pleading for his help. Help he could not give her.

  This was his punishment for not talking, his incentive to finally give them what they wanted.

  Dropping to his knees, Liam crouched in a corner and, having no choice, listened to Cat being tortured. The recording lasted only a couple of minutes and then repeated, again and again.

  At first he could concentrate only on Cat’s anguish, pain, and obvious fear. After a while, Liam forced himself to listen to other things. Three distinct voices—one with a French accent, one German, and the British one—engraved themselves into his mind. And as he listened, as he died a little inside with every scream and cry that Cat uttered, he swore vengeance on the men who tortured her. Someway, somehow, he would get out of here, and he would make each of them pay. This he swore. They would pay with their lives.

  Chapter Four

  Liam lay facedown on his cot. It had been three days since they’d taken Cat away. Three days of hell. Seventy-two hours of torture. Four thousand, three hundred and twenty agonizing minutes of not knowing if she was still alive. Still being brutalized, beaten.

  There had been times in his life when he’d felt helpless, even hopeless. Nothing compared to this.

  The recording of her assault had played for two days straight. Finally, in the middle of the second night, the batteries had gone dead. Didn’t matter. The words, the pain, the terror and degradation in her voice were ingrained in his brain, etched in his soul. He would never forget them for as long as he lived.

  Despite his shouts and demands to talk to someone, no one had spoken to him. In silence, his daily meal was slid into his cell. He’d like to tell them to shove it up their asses, but starving to death would not save Cat. He had to be strong enough to rescue her. For that to take place, he had to get out of here.

  He had a plan. Knew it likely wouldn’t work, but waiting for the perfect opportunity was not going to happen. He had to make it happen. If he died, then he’d damn well die fighting for something he believed in. Rotting in a cell was not the way he intended to go out of this life.

  Next time his meal was delivered, he would strike. One way or the other, he would not be spending another night in this hellhole.

  He closed his eyes, envisioning how he would escape, find Cat, and save her. There was no other option.

  The ground shook violently, bringing him upright from his cot. What the… Earthquake? No. That had been no rumble, but a loud blast of sound. Two more blasts followed. Liam sprang to his feet, ready to go. Didn’t matter if this was friend or foe, he was damn well going to get out of this shithole and find Cat.

  Was she still alive? Had they killed her? Was that the reason they hadn’t tried to question him again? What about Xavier? Was he still alive?

  He didn’t have answers to any of his questions, but he was going to get out of here and find out.

  Another blast sounded, this one even closer. Then the unmistakable noise of submachine guns. Whoever was here had come armed to win.

  A door squealed open and Liam crouched in a corner. When the cell opened, he’d be ready to pounce

  “Stryker!”

  Xavier Quinn’s gruff shout was one of the best sounds he’d ever heard. Springing to his feet, Liam leaped to the cell door and yelled, “In here!”

  Seconds later, Xavier appeared at his cell, AK-47 in one hand, a set of keys in the other. Dirty, bloodied, and disheveled, his friend was a sight for sore eyes.

  “You okay?” Xavier asked.

  “I am now. Who’s here?”

  “Me and a couple of friends.”

  As Xavier
worked on getting his cell opened, Liam peered out and saw one of the men he’d been hoping to see since this shitstorm had started—Nicholas Hawthorne—and he was armed to the teeth. Liam wasn’t surprised. The man had been in charge of this op and would make it his personal responsibility to oversee the rescue.

  “Good to see you, Hawke.”

  “Back at you, Stryker.”

  The lock finally gave way and the door squeaked open. Liam took his first step outside his cell and felt a freedom like no other.

  “We’ve got a chopper waiting.”

  Before Liam could speak, a voice shouted from the hallway, “Let’s haul ass. These pricks could come back anytime.”

  “We can’t go yet,” Liam said. “There’s someone else here.”

  Xavier shook his head. “If you’re talking about the guy we met that you nicknamed Tiger, he’s already on the chopper.”

  “No, there’s a woman. She was in the cell next to mine. They took her away a few days ago. I’ve got to find her.”

  “Sorry, man,” Xavier said. “There’s no one else here. We’ve been everywhere.”

  No, he couldn’t accept that. Liam took a step forward. “She’s got to be here.”

  A tall, light-haired man walked up behind Xavier. “We’ve checked all the rooms and cells. Only people we’ve seen were the three guys we took out when we first arrived.”

  Refusing to believe Cat was gone, Liam accepted the nine millimeter Xavier held out to him and took off. “I’ve got to find her.”

  Ignoring the cursing of the men, Liam ran through the dark, dingy hallways, peering into each cell he passed. All were empty. Some showed signs that they’d been occupied recently. Discarded clothing, the stench of human waste, blood, rotting food, but there were no people.

  “Cat!” he shouted. An increasing panic seized him. Where was she? What had they done to her?

  The small prison was a maze of hallways. Anxiety increased with each empty cell he passed. The guys were right. There was no one else here but Liam refused to give up. There had to be something. Some shred of evidence of what had happened to her.

  A hand landed on his arm. “Come on, man,” Xavier said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  No. He refused to accept this. She had to be somewhere. She had to be. Shaking off Xavier’s hand, Liam ran through the prison, yelling, “Cat! Where are you? Cat!”

  “We’ve gotta leave, Stryker,” Hawke shouted. “There’s no one else here.”

  Liam halted midstride, his gut twisting, his heart aching. They were right. She was gone.

  Xavier threw an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  Hopelessness and rage tearing his insides to pieces, Liam gave a grim nod.

  In silence, they walked out of the prison toward the helicopter waiting in the distance. Though his body welcomed the fresh air and sunshine, his mind and heart were preoccupied with questions about Cat. Where had they taken her? Had they killed her and buried her somewhere? Had they sold her and the other women she’d told him about?

  Without a word, Liam climbed into the chopper. A man he didn’t recognize sat across from him. His eyes opened the minute Liam sat down. Dirty blond hair, bruises and cuts on his face. This must be the guy they’d brought in several days ago.

  “Lion, I’m assuming?” the man asked.

  “Liam Stryker. Glad to see you made it.”

  The man nodded. “You, too. The name’s Asher Drake.”

  His body was weak from lack of water and food and Liam told himself to close his eyes and rest. His mind refused to do the same. Voices surrounded him, oddly distant and surreal. He couldn’t stop thinking of Cat. What had happened to her? What had they done to her?

  He opened his eyes when the helicopter lifted from the ground. A huge part of him wanted to jump out and go back to the prison. There had to be some evidence of where they’d taken her. But he couldn’t do that. Not only would he be putting everyone in more danger, he was on the last of his reserves. But he would come back here, and he wouldn’t rest until he found her.

  “Let’s take a look at you, buddy.”

  He turned his head and stared blearily at a blond stranger with icy blue eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Gideon Wright. A friend of Hawke’s.”

  That was good enough for Liam. Leaning his head back against the wall, he gave monosyllabic answers to the questions Wright asked. Even though there wasn’t a place on his body that wasn’t either bruised or cut, he felt numb. A heaviness had settled around his heart and emptiness flooded through his being. Although he was sure she hadn’t been there, he still felt as if he was leaving her behind.

  “Here.” Wright handed him a bottle of water and a protein bar. “Chew slowly.”

  Liam nodded and took a bite and then another. His first sip of cold, clean water went down easy and tasted like nectar. He took another swallow.

  “Dammit!” somebody shouted. “We’ve got incoming!”

  With barely enough time to comprehend what was happening, Liam grabbed on to the hanging belt behind him just as an explosion rocked the chopper. Another blast followed. Beeps and alarms blared through the cabin. As the helicopter whirled in circles like an out-of-control spinning top, Liam fought to hang on. The chopper took a sudden nose dive, speeding toward the ground. They were going to crash.

  The pilot shouted, “Brace for impact!”

  Liam’s thoughts spun. If he died today, he’d never be able to find Cat. He had to survive this. He couldn’t let her down.

  A loud roar rushed throughout the chopper. He caught a glimpse of Xavier’s grim face a second before they slammed to the ground. Metal squealed, the world shook.

  Agony seared through Liam’s entire body. And then there was darkness.

  Chapter Five

  Two months later

  New York

  NYC Public Library

  Katarina Aubrey Starr stood on the steps in front of the lion statue known as Fortitude, just as she had promised. She wore a navy blue dress with white and yellow daisies, just as she had promised. When she’d described the dress to Lion, it had been hanging in her closet at home. She’d put it on this morning and had been appalled at the fit. That couldn’t be helped. This was the dress he expected her to be wearing. She had cinched the waist with a belt, used pins in strategic places to keep the dress from falling from her shoulders, and called a cab. Nothing was going to stop her from making this date.

  People went up and down the steps, all strangers. Everyone seemed to have important errands to run or serious business to handle. None of them was her Lion. She might not have ever seen him, but she knew exactly what he looked like. She had envisioned him a million times. Besides that, how many men would be carrying a bouquet of pink roses up the library steps? So yes, she would definitely know him.

  She told herself he would be here. Having no idea what his real name was or what had happened to him after she’d been rescued had not deterred her from making this meeting. He had to be here. There was no other option.

  The sun beat down on her unprotected head and a small voice of caution told her to sit down. She’d been released from the hospital only two weeks ago and was still recovering. The last thing she needed was a setback. But she feared that if she moved, she would miss him.

  A clock chimed in the distance, clanging twice. He was an hour late. She used the excuse that he might have arrived in the city from a different time zone. Yes, it was lame, and yes, it was a stupid hope, but still she stood, waiting.

  She thought about what she would say to him. A thousand times, she’d reviewed in her mind the first thing she would do. Would it be too forward to throw herself into his arms? Probably, but that’s what she wanted to do. He had given her hope when there had been none. Without him, she was sure she would have given up.

  When the clock chimed three times, she dropped down to the steps and sat. She could still see everyone. She wouldn’t miss him. Her limbs, especially her legs, were still
a bit weak.

  What exactly did Lion do? The authoritative way he’d talked, the advice he’d given her about protecting herself, had sounded very knowledgeable. She assumed he was military trained. Had he still been in the military? Was that why he’d been a prisoner? If so, had he been able to escape?

  The prison they’d been held in was gone—decimated. She’d seen the aerial photos. All that remained was a barbwire fence that had surrounded the structure. Everything else had been flattened. No one could give her any answers of what had happened. She’d been told only that there were no known survivors.

  She refused to believe that Lion hadn’t survived. He had to be alive—she would accept no other option.

  At four o’clock, she opened the small picnic basket she’d brought for them. Taking out the plastic container holding the apple slices she’d cut up this morning, she forced herself to eat a few pieces. Even though she wasn’t hungry, she needed to keep her energy up.

  He was now three hours late. She pushed that knowledge aside. So what? Where did she have to go? Lion was worth waiting for. She refused to give up on him.

  The call came just a little after five. Not surprisingly her mother sounded both concerned and angry. “Kat, where are you?”

  “I’m in New York. At the library.”

  “Oh, Kat…” Now she just sounded sad.

  “Mom, you know I had to try.”

  “Sweetie, he’s dead.”

  “You don’t know that. It was never confirmed.”

  She tried to be relieved that at least her mother was acknowledging that Lion actually existed. She and other well-meaning people had tried to tell her that Lion had been a figment of her imagination. A hallucination brought on by fear and pain. A mystery man her mind had created to keep hope alive. She knew that wasn’t the truth. He was real and he was alive. She knew it!

  Her mother gave that sad, pitying sigh that she’d adopted ever since her daughter had returned home. “Come home, darling, where we can take care of you.”