Not taking his eyes off the men over my shoulder, he pressed play.
“Let’s wreak some motherfucking havoc.”
16
HART
The three guards had moved to the front of the room, their guns now swung in the direction of the stairwell. Kleeman however remained toward the back of the room, his smug attitude gone, and his arrogance clearly rattled. The door at the top burst open, and a voice that caused my breath to catch sung, “Daddy, I’m home.”
“Don’t shoot her,” Kleeman ordered, which was just fucking ridiculous. The command reeked of desperation.
A scraping sound accompanied with the familiar clink of chains came closer and closer, and before I knew it, there she was, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a sublime grin. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bruising on her face, and I swore I’d gut whoever put it there. I’d cut their heart out while they still breathed and stuff it down their wretched throat. A chain was secured around her ankle and dragged across the floor behind her. In one hand she carried a gun, a silencer screwed to its barrel. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of her head, and she was blowing a bubble out of her lips . . . gum. She pulled off a casual indifference that made me proud. Only I would likely notice her nervous ticks like when she tugged on her earlobe or when her fingers twitched and fidgeted in her empty hand.
“What is it with deviant fucks and their damn sex dungeons,” she muttered, glancing about the room. It was quite different to Algis’ dungeon, but it was a dungeon nonetheless, and the equipment in here would no doubt make her a little uncomfortable. Shaking her head, she forced her attention to her father.
“So, we have a small problem.” The guards followed her with their guns, but Beauty ignored them all as she strolled forward and eventually came to a standstill right in front of Kleeman. “Someone broke a window . . . actually, it was more than one person if I were to be honest with you.” Kleeman just stared at the beautifully defiant little monster that didn’t show a shadow of fear. “And there’s a little bit of blood on the carpet, not mine, of course.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kleeman asked, completely confounded.
“The house is kind of a mess.”
“I don’t care about the mess.”
“Oh, well, that’s good, so you won’t mind if we make a little mess down here too?”
Just as the words tumbled out of her beautiful mouth, Raul and my men charged down the stairs, their guns raised and easily outnumbering the three guards who now looked ready to piss themselves. Raul was half carrying Jacob, the grown man spluttering and crying like a babe as blood oozed from what I assumed was a gunshot wound to each leg.
“You hold him. I think he pissed himself,” Raul mumbled, shoving Jacob toward Henry. The big man completely ignored the falling body that crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Crap, sorry Raul,” Beauty said, smacking her forehead. “I completely forgot to mention it, weak bladder. It probably runs in the family.” She winked at her father.
“Let my boy go,” Kleeman roared, a little vein at his temple throbbing madly.
“Let my Hart go,” Beauty countered, the sweet tenor in her voice gone.
Kleeman’s hand twitched, and I knew he was itching to reach for whatever weapon he had on him. He hesitated though, not sure how to proceed when he was outnumbered. So captivated by the sight of Beauty, I didn’t even notice the fucker with the knuckle duster step to my side and press the cool, hard steel of a gun to my temple. Still tied to my chair, there was little I could do. Beauty zeroed in on the action though, her crystalline blue eyes narrowing and chin dipping as her monster twisted and rolled within her.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered. “Tommy, right?” The man at my side remained silent. “You ever think about getting a nose job.” Raul chuckled. “Does Eddie know what you did?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kleeman demanded of his daughter.
“Tommy was the man who grabbed me off the street that day, stuffed me in the back of a van and delivered me to a plane full of foreign rapist shit heads.”
Her eyes, full of rage, were focused on the fuck with the knuckle duster. He’d had something to do with her sale to Algis? I was going to tear his limbs off and beat him to death with them.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kleeman snarled.
“She’s fucking crazy, that’s what she is, you need to put her down like the rabid dog she is,” the older man snarled.
Beauty smiled at the fucker and barked like a dog. Crazy, beautiful girl.
“You have a very distinctive face, I could never forget it, Tommy. You snatched me from right under your bosses’ nose, that’s fucking clever.”
Edward’s furious gaze moved to the goon shoving the business end of his weapon at my head. He looked utterly incensed and struck by disbelief. Then, as if in slow motion, Edward reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. Then all hell broke out.
An explosion of gunfire echoed in my ears, and my heart stuttered. There had been only few moments in my life where I felt true fear, and that had been the terror of a little boy held captive and abused. Never in all my adult years had I been assaulted by the crippling emotion, until now. The thought of Beauty being hit by a bullet was terrifying in a way that shredded the limits of my sanity. Desperation clawed at my intestines and a powerful surge of adrenaline had me pushing backwards with my feet. The chair tipped quickly, toppling to the floor where my head painfully rebounded off the hard surface. My shoulders were pulled back even tighter by the momentum, to the point where I was sure they would pop from their sockets. Under the explosion of sound and chaos around me, I heard a crack, relieved it was the chair and not one of my limbs. Doing my best to fight my way free, I wondered for a brief moment how I hadn’t ended up with a bullet in my skull, but was too focused on getting free and making sure Beauty was safe to analyze it further. My body bucked, and my legs kicked frantically, ripping the timber chair to pieces. When I had finally destroyed the chair well enough to roll away from it, I noticed the resounding silence.
“Want a hand, jefe?”
Raul’s ugly mug appeared before me, an arrogant grin on his face.
“Where is she?” was all I could say. It was all I could think.
Raul stepped aside, and from my prone position on the floor, I found her standing tall over her father with a gun pointed at his head. Her eyes were on me though, such emotion tumbling within their depths I could drown in it. Fear, anger, hunger, it was all there fighting for dominance.
“Get these fucking ropes off me,” I demanded, rolling to one side so he could get at the bindings around my wrists.
With a quick flick of his knife, Raul released me, and I stumbled to my feet. No doubt I looked a right mess, blood trickling freely down my face, my cheek aching, my head throbbing. In just three swift steps, I was standing before her, and a heartbeat later she was in my arms. Her little body trembled beneath mine, her hands gripping my shirt tight, pulling me closer. With my head buried in her hair, I breathed deeply, taking her into my lungs and pacifying my need to know she was safe. Cupping her cheeks as gently as I could manage, I drew her head away from my chest and inspected the damage. Black eye, bruised cheek, mottled purple and yellow marks around her neck. Somebody had tried to strangle her. Raising a hand to touch the marks, I noticed the trembling in my fingers. Only Beauty had the power to shake my very foundations.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I killed him.”
Satisfied, I gave a sharp nod and somehow restrained myself from pushing her up against the nearest wall and fucking her blind. With a quick glance around the room, I found Jacob curled into the fetal position by the staircase, still blubbering and trying to disappear into the shadows. The three guards were lying in a lifeless mess of bullets and blood. The asshole who had beaten me slumped against the wall at my back, a shot to his chest taking him out. The only one who co
ntinued to breathe other than Jacob, was Kleeman. On his knees, he was practically frothing at the mouth with hatred. His bloodshot eyes were wide with rage, his jaw clenched tight, his chest rising and falling fast. When he glared at me, I smiled.
“I bet you weren’t expecting this,” I murmured, gently brushing the hair out of Beauty’s face. “Didn’t I say you didn’t know her at all? You underestimated her, and that will be your final mistake.” Brushing a whisper of a kiss across Beauty’s lips, far less than I wanted to extract from that mouth, I stepped back. “He’s all yours love. What would you like to do to him, hmmm?”
One of her hands was still clutching the fabric of my shirt, unwilling to let me go. I understood the feeling well, the need to touch, the need for reassurance. Unwrapping her clenched fingers, I pressed her palm against my chest, right over my heart. The beating organ seemed to give her the comfort she was looking for and her shoulders fell a little, the tension in her body easing. Finally, those beseeching eyes left me and landed on Kleeman. Tapping a finger on her bottom lip as she often did when thinking, she continued to stare in a long drawn out moment of silence.
Finally, she murmured, “For starters, I think he would look better in chains.”
The next half hour flew by in a blur of action. The chain from around Beauty’s ankle was removed, the dead carried out of the room, and new chains procured from a cupboard. Raul went in search of Marisol and Ruby, following a roughly drawn map. The sex dungeon was cleared, and Kleeman was wrestled into submission with the help of those shiny, steel chains. Attaching the cuffs around his ankles to a mechanical pulley, I pressed a button and the whirring motor burst seamlessly into action. A squirming Kleeman was slowly lifted feet first from the ground until he was hanging with his head at the same height as my stomach. Behind his back his arms were secured, which was a bitch when hanging this way. Gravity wanted to pull the appendages downward, but while secured behind his back it put an awful strain on the shoulders.
Jamison’s men were now on cleanup, removing any evidence we had been here. Beauty and I were left on a different kind of cleanup. One that would remove Kleeman from the face of the earth permanently, but not before we returned some of the pain he’d taken pleasure in inflicting on others. Beauty stood close by my side, the heat from her body caressing my flesh, the back of her hand brushing mine. She moved with pain in her eyes, and I knew her injuries went deeper than the visible bruises. Promising me she was alright with her pinky raised was barely enough to pacify my anxiety. Now we both kept close, our eyes rarely leaving each other. The need to fuck her was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was a demanding desire that pulled my muscles taut and left a throbbing ache in my balls. The way Beauty was returning my stare seemed to echo that want. We needed the touch and closeness to reaffirm to each other that we were alive and well. As soon as this session with Kleeman was over, I was burying myself deep in her pussy, and I wasn’t leaving for days. Turning my attention to Kleeman, I took a moment to enjoy him chained and at our mercy. I hardened at the first sign of fear finally seeping into his eyes.
“How the tables have turned,” I purred, loving the way the man winced with discomfort.
“Fuck you,” he spat out.
“Unoriginal,” Beauty said with a yawn, “they all say that.”
“You are insane.”
“Funnily enough, they all say that too,” Beauty went on, her voice calm and posture relaxed.
“What next, my love?”
Beauty glanced around the room, finding the ropes that had been tied around my wrists and ankles, she was quick to retrieve them from the floor.
“Eddie liked to keep pets. I think, since he has such a fascination for them, we should show him what it feels like to be treated in such a way.”
Approaching her sperm donor, Beauty slipped the rope around his neck, ignoring the curses coming from his vile mouth. His face was already a bright shade of red. The veins at his temples thick and vibrant. Cinching the rope taut, she stepped away and pulled on the length, tightening it further. As his throat was closed off, the words disappeared, and nothing more than a choked splutter escaped his lips.
“Who’s the dog now?” She growled.
As Kleeman’s face began to go from red to purple, his eyes bulging from their sockets, she finally released the tension and allowed him a breath of air.
“Hart, I think we need some music.”
At some stage during my inopportune abduction I’d lost my phone. However, Raul had slipped a new one into my palm moments before leaving the basement. I grinned when I noticed it was already loaded with my playlists. Scrolling through the songs, I watched Beauty from the corner of my eye as she used a knife to cut Kleeman’s clothes away. Each time he cursed her, she stopped, tugged on the leash around his neck cutting off his precious air and only released it when he drew close to passing out.
“Don’t want you falling unconscious,” I heard her mutter. “Don’t want you to miss all the fun.”
Finding the song I was after, I selected it, or thought I did. Beauty cast me a curious look when Doris Day’s “Que será, será” began to play. I’d meant to select “Raise Hell” by Dorothy.
“Sorry love, let’s put that one down to clumsy fingers.”
“No!” Beauty was quick to shout when I would have changed the song. With a growing smile, she nodded and murmured, “I like this, you chose well, my heart.”
17
BEAUTY
The song caught me by surprise. It was old, but one I recognized. I’d heard it before but couldn’t remember where or when. Perhaps in a movie once, or maybe on a TV advert. The confused expression on Hart’s handsome face when it began to play told me it wasn’t the song he’d been looking for. Nevertheless, it was perfect. Hart slid his cell phone onto a table top and slipped his hands into his pockets. Such a common move for my Hart, his posture relaxed, yet at the same time menacing. With his chin lowered and seductive dark eyes peering through his long fringe which had been tossed forward, I found myself wanting to run to him and wrap myself around his body. We’d only been separated a handful of days, and yet it felt like years. The one they called Jamison had given him a rag and a clean shirt, and he’d done his best to wipe away the blood. It was still there though, along with bruises and cuts, tainting his otherwise flawless flesh. Blood could be exquisitely beautiful, but on Hart, it was all wrong. I hated the scarlet splatter on his neck, and the incessant bead that continued to squeeze through a cut above his eyebrow no matter how many times he wiped it away. Eddie did this to him.
Hurt.
Punished.
Tortured. My Hart!
The thought of extracting the same pain from Eddie’s flesh caused something beautiful and warm to unfurl inside me, almost like a flower opening with the morning sun. However, Hart was owed vengeance too. And from the way he glowered at the hanging meat-stickle, I wasn’t sure he could hold back his monster much longer. With my palm up, I offered him the knife Raul had given me before heading upstairs. Even with his eye sockets beginning to swell, they still lit with anticipation and he only hesitated a moment before taking it from me, kissing my forehead tenderly, and stepping closer to Eddie’s prone body.
“You know the problem with arrogant fuckers like yourself?”
I knew the moment Eddie was going to spew his pointless words, and I pulled hard on the leash around his neck, cutting off his airway and preventing him from speaking.
“It’s a rhetorical question Eddie. We don’t really want you to answer,” I said with a smile.
Hart covered his grin with the back of his hand, before returning his stone cold composed gaze back to our enemy. “It’s that you’re a dime a dozen. Little men trying to play with the big men.” Releasing my grip on the leash before he could pass out, I giggled at the ugly sounding breath he gulped back. “Little men abusing women so that they might feel powerful,” Hart went on.
“Bear is g-going to k-kill you,” Eddie managed to
croak out.
Bear? The cranky Frenchman Hart spoke to in Russia?
Hart rolled his eyes and tossed the knife in the palm of his hand from handle, to blade, and back again. Then he lunged forward and stabbed Eddie through the thigh. It was a long, wide blade, the damage it would inflict to the muscle and tissue would be severe. Screaming drowned out the music for a moment and I watched in fascination as Hart slowly slid the knife out of his flesh, enjoying the crimson flood that pooled and spilled down his body.
“As I said earlier, I found you because Bear gave you to me. You see, Bear is one of those big men whose leagues you were hoping to play in, but you never will. To him you are nothing. You might have money, but Bear has quadruple what you have. You might be a US contact, but Bear has many others. You are meaningless in the whole scheme of things. Useless. Pathetic.”
“Kreshnik will come for you. He wants Lucy.”
Not for the first time, I wondered who this elusive Kreshnik was. He sounded like a complete dick if you asked me. He was obviously someone that needed to be dealt with once we’d finished here.
“Kreshnik will be dead before nightfall.”
Fist pump!
“He’s too powerful, he will hunt you down, and kill you.”
Poor, simple fool was determined to argue the point and it was frustrating Hart. I could see it in the tick of his jaw and the twitch at the corner of his bruised eye.
“You’re not listening,” he muttered. “So, I think I’ll take one of these.”
Reaching forward he pulled Eddie’s ear lobe taut and sliced through the flesh and cartridge. Another howl of pain broke through the tight noose around his neck and bounced off the walls. The explosive blast of agony was hypnotic, and I began to bounce on the balls of my feet in time with the music that continued to play on repeat. Eddie had committed the most horrific of sins, and now it was time to pay with his share of blood. Speaking of which, we needed more of that, more blood.
BEAU2Y (Beauty Part 2): Blaire's World Page 12