Arielle Immortal Struggle (The Immortal Rapture Series Book 7) (13 page)

Mustering all the courage she had, she opened her eyes. Their faces were barely a few inches apart. His lips were curved upward in an aggravating half-smile. Arielle stared at him in shock and gasped in surprise. This was the other man she and Gabrielle had met before.

“You…you are…Vitorio!” she muttered, eyes wide-open, voice barely audible.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said laughing unevenly. “Good memory, Arielle,” he scoffed. He then moved his gaze behind her in sheer wonder, scanning the hallway for Mauritsio.

“Wh…where,” he started to say and stopped mid-sentence when loud pounding came from somewhere at the end of the hallway. Vitorio stiffened, and his eyes flicked toward the pounding sound and then swiftly returned to her. Astonishment filled his eyes, and he let out a low, throaty grunt. Fury seethed as awareness settled deep into his mind. Pinning her with an icy stare, he slammed her twice against the wall indignantly, discarding her like unwanted trash.

Arielle crashed to the floor once again and an agonized groan escaped her lips. Something warm and coppery cascaded over her mouth, down her chin, and soaked the front of her shirt.
Oh God! Please help me,
she thought. Her face was on fire, her body ached badly, and her throat felt dry. Vitorio stomped past her and headed down the hallway toward the room the desultory pounding originated from without looking back. Arielle’s heart sank and hopelessness spread across every muscle in her body. Her plan of escape had skidded to a dreadful halt.

Tears streamed down her face, burning the deep laceration on her cheek, creating a penetrating bite. The pain was excruciating, but she couldn’t stop crying. Her thoughts were revolving uncontrollably, unable to find the power to slow down long enough to figure out her next move. Did she have a next move? Her victory had been short lived and rather discouraging. Her mouth set into a straight line and she tried to lift her hand to wipe her face, but the pain was unbearable. She drew in a deep breath and her chest muscles screamed in discomfort. She concentrated on the pain and her brain ordered her to stay still. Where was Sebastian? Why was he taking so long to come to her rescue?

A loud voice from the room down the hall, snapped her out of her stupor. “What the fuck happened in here?” Vitorio’s voice boomed. “Why are you on the floor? Did you let a little girl make a joke out of you?”

“That fucking bitch! Where is she?” Mauritsio growled.

“She’s still here, no thanks to you!” Vitorio scoffed. There was a short pause. “Get off the floor. What’s wrong with you?” Vitorio spat out. Mauritsio was still holding his crotch. Agony and sweat covered his face as he tried to straighten up and failed. His eyes focused on Vitorio.

Vitorio scrutinized every move Mauritsio made carefully, eyes wide-open, lips curling up into a smirking grin. “Oh! The old trick, perfect blow right into the groin,” Vitorio furthered, unable to hide the amusement from his voice.

“Damn it! It’s not funny, Vitorio. It hurts like a bitch,” Mauritsio growled and frowned, cursing out loud. “Where is that bitch? I’ll give her what she deserves,” he said, looking around wildly and making a huge effort to stand.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to give her anything right now,” Vitorio said, and leaning down, he helped him to his feet. He watched him take a couple of steps, moaning painfully. Mauritsio’s dark gaze flicked to Vitorio and scowled; he was unable to suppress his embarrassment.

“How in the hell did you let her come so close?” Vitorio muttered quizzically.

“It happened so fast I can’t even remember,” Mauritsio murmured awkwardly.

“You have to admire her for trying to escape,” Vitorio said now, teasingly.

“What? You’ve got to be joking,” Mauritsio exclaimed.

“Just kidding man; I was only kidding.” Vitorio snorted, and giving him a soft push, they headed out of the room.

“Well, where is she?” Mauritsio asked again.

“Don’t worry about her,” Vitorio said. “She’ll not be able to walk anywhere for a while.

“What do you mean?”

“She fell down the staircase trying to escape and she is in bad shape.”

“Oh!” Mauritsio walked slowly out of the room still holding his crotch and, turning to his left, he stared down the hallway. All he could see was a coiled body on the floor, not moving at all.

“I wanted to kill her,” Mauritsio hissed.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. That would make a few people quite angry at you, if you know what I mean.”

“How bad is she hurt?”

“She is a bloody mess,” Vitorio continued.

“Well, Jorrit is not going to like this either,” Mauritsio murmured thoughtfully.

“Um…what happened isn’t our fault,” Vitorio mattered. “She tried to escape and fell down the staircase. He’ll understand that,” he furthered.

Standing over Arielle, they stared down at her. She angled her head upward and gave them a flat stare; she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing how badly she was injured. She was afraid that her irregular gasping would reveal her state of mind. Gathering all the strength she could muster, she lifted her leg and kicked Mauritsio blindly right between his legs. It was a perfect blow to his groin once again.

Mauritsio shot her a disbelieving glance and let out an unnerving sound. Arielle stared at him wide-eyed. There was a gasping sound as he finally took a mouthful of air. “Fuck!!” He shrieked and his body doubled from pain. He grabbed his growing with a loud grunt. There was a shocking moment of silence and then he let his right hand fly as hard as he could and backhanded Arielle on the side of her face. Her head jerked backward and hit the wall with a loud thud. Blood shot from the deep laceration on her face and sprayed the front of Mauritsio’s shirt. She groaned severely and closed her eyes. Mauritsio grabbed the corner of his white shirt and stared at the bloodstains with utter revulsion. Fury emanated from his eyes and a deep growl escaped his mouth.

“I’ll kill you,” he hissed wrathfully and, pulling his hand back, he prepared to strike her once again. She shut her eyes and prepared for the next blow. Stand silence fell and darkness moved in. She had lost consciousness.

Vitorio grabbed Mauritsio’s hand in the air, just before it made contact with Arielle’s face once again.

“She’s passed out, man!” he snapped. Staring down at the bloody mess on the girl’s small frame, Vitorio sensed a flash of sadness surging through his veins, making him quiver, but it vanished just as fast as it came.

Mauritsio stared at him in shock. “Why do you give a fuck about her?” he hissed angrily.

“We need to leave,” Vitorio replied blankly. “Go change your shirt while I take care of her.” Without another word, he bent down and, with ease, he lifted Arielle into his arms and carried her back into the room. He laid her on the bed and stared down at her for a short moment. He shut his eyes at the unpleasant sight in front of him. The cut on her cheek was pretty deep and bloody, her lips were swollen, and her left eye was black and blue. The exposed parts of her body were badly bruised from the fall and her clothes were stained with blood. “Holy shit!” he thought to himself.

“Vitorio, come on! We have to go,” Mauritsio called from upstairs.

Giving her a last glance, he turned around and left the room, locking the door behind him. He gave the handle a hard jiggle to make sure it was locked. He now knew that this girl was going to try everything she could to escape out of there and he couldn’t allow that. He stared at the door panels thoughtfully. He couldn’t explain why this situation was becoming so personal and so bothersome. He had a job to do and he couldn’t afford to think about anything else. Turning slowly, he saw Mauritsio waiting at the top of the staircase, acting quite awkward. He closed the distance between them with a few short strides and climbed the stairs quickly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Mauritsio.

He shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said in a dry tone, recognizing mockery in Vitorio’s question.

They left the house, making sure all the locks were securely in place, and headed for the airport. It was now after 3:45. The rain had let out a bit, but the sky was still dark and cloudy. A heavy mist in the air was making the pedestrian faces that moved quickly on the sidewalks appear slightly out of focus.

“This is not where I’d like to be during a rainy afternoon,” Vitorio muttered gloomily.

Mauritsio glanced his direction. “Me neither,” he added irritably, and turning, he stared out the window.

Vitorio pressed lightly on the gas and mumbled a few cuss words under his breath. “We’re never going to get there in this horrible traffic,” he said, utterly frustrated. The heavy rain had caused problems for the traffic as the afternoon commuters were heading home.

 “This is a miserable day,” Vitorio hissed again and Mauritsio nodded in agreement as he watch the water rush into the storm drains.

Silence stretched and they both kept into their own thoughts. After a long, exasperating fifteen minutes, the traffic toward the airport thinned out, giving a little solace to their frustration, and Vitorio slammed the pedal to the floor.

Chapter 9

AT THE LGW
international terminal, Sebastian and his friends chose to stand against the back wall of the huge waiting area. They were obscured by a vast number of travelers moving to and from the terminals and a huge crowd gathered to welcome their family members or friends.

Their immortal skills gave them the ability to watch effortlessly from a distance and hear people’s conversations clearly.

The arriving international flights had a designated exit area, making it a lot easier for the immortal group to have a clear view of each passenger that came into the waiting area.

The wall monitor showed the flight from Belarus being in route and landing on time. Sebastian glanced at his watch, noticing that there was twenty minutes left before landing.

Scanning carefully over the huge crowd, he picked out four men standing quite close to each other at the opposite end of the room, exchanging glances and whispering to each other. Their barely audible voices reached Sebastian’s ears clear as church bells on a Sunday morning.

They were Dylan’s detectives, observing the arrival flights on the huge wall monitor anxiously.

“I see Dylan’s detectives,” Sebastian murmured. Troy, Ian, and Christian turned simultaneously and followed the line of Sebastian’s gaze. Sebastian smiled thoughtfully and gave them a measured stare. He then skipped over them and continued to scan the people that were waiting for the arrivals. According to Dylan, Arielle’s abductors were picking up their co-conspirators upon arrival, so they had to be somewhere among this large crowd.

Sebastian glanced furtively around and, finally, his eyes rested on his friends’ expressionless faces and they read his anguish.

Suddenly, a low-key statement from one of the detectives reached them and grabbed their undivided attention.

“Marc, I see Mauritsio and Vitorio,” the young detective whispered to the guy standing next to him.

“Where?” Marc looked anxious.

“They’re standing over there by the information booth,” he said and motioned with his eyes.

Sebastian followed the detective’s gaze and zeroed on Vitorio and Mauritsio’s faces. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Rage seized his throat and his jaw muscles locked.

Troy noticed. “Sebastian,” he murmured, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Fortitude, ol’ chap.”

Sebastian’s mouth was set in a grim line. His eyes emanated pure anger, fury, and anguish. The blend of emotions was a deadly potion for anyone that would have to face an immortal.

“Don’t take your eyes off of them, Jonathan,” Marc ordered. He seemed to be the lead detective.

He then turned his glance at the other two detectives. “Scott, Daniel, did you place the tracking device under their car?” he asked enquiringly.

“Yes,” they both replied simultaneously.

“Good job,” Marc said again and thumped both of them spiritedly in the arm. “Dylan will have our ass if we mess this up.”

“Don’t worry; nothing is going to go wrong,” Jonathan added supportively.

“We’ll follow them to the house, set up surveillance, and make sure none of them leave the premises without us knowing.”

“That’s the entire plan?” Scott asked curiously.

“No, Dylan said to wait for his orders once we reach the place. When Jorrit contacts Gaulle to arrange for the meeting, we’ll raid the house and rescue the girl. We have to take away all the negotiation power in their possession right now and that means the girl,” he said confidently.

“Are we to make arrests or shoot to kill?” Daniel asked pointedly.

“Whatever it takes to bring the girl home safe,” Marc replied.

“Is that what Dylan said? Or…”

Marc holds up his hand in a firm gesture, to stop him from saying another word. “Those were Dylan’s last words,” Marc said categorically.

Silence dropped between the four friends and stretched while they turned their probing gaze toward the information booth.

“Their plan falls perfectly within our plans,” Troy murmured. “We’ll have plenty of time to take Arielle away from that house and finish our business with the goons before the detectives storm the house.”