Read Hers to Choose (Cannon Cousins) Online
Authors: Lizzie Ashworth
Still, each area she
walked there were outrages she found physically painful—slabs of bright green
moss upended to the sun, sapling dogwood trying to bloom white in April warmth
while canted horizontal at the side of a ditch, and the trees—hickory, oak,
walnut, wild cherry, maple, cedar, pine, dogwood, redbud, black gum and
bodark
and probably a least that many more that she
couldn’t name, all cut and tossed aside leaking sap onto muddy ground.
And the fact was
,
this land no longer belonged to her. It was the property
of Cannon Company Inc. She understood now why Alex insisted she have her own
attorney to advise her. If she hadn’t, there might have been room for her to
doubt whether the decisions she made in her talks with Dan and Alex had really
been in her own best interest. Never mind that she had a savings account now
with what remained of her one hundred thousand dollars after paying off the mortgage.
She toasted her thrilling new freedom from debt.
Within a few days, the
driveway had been completely cleared and packed down with fine white gravel. It
would ultimately serve four houses, extending back to the square ten-acre
parcel they would build on first and along the back line where the leach field
was being constructed for the development’s septic service. A truckload of
large green pipe had been deposited in a stack beside the drive. A water line
followed the drive with its own narrower pipe settled deep in the trench. A
mobile home also had been hauled in and leveled, where Randall now stayed and
oversaw the progress of the work.
A specialized contractor
busied himself and his team with the treatment system for the septic service,
but Randall explained that the apparatus would be hidden from view once the
screening fence had been built. He also said the building contractor and his
crew would be arriving within the
week, that
the
infrastructure was in place as soon as the power company put in the temporary
meter.
***
Alex called early the next morning
saying he’d arrive that day or the next. She wanted to stay busy so the time
before his arrival would pass quickly. With a tray of tomato and pepper
seedlings, she worked at her small garden plot, setting them deep in the rich
dirt and pulling mulch around them. She left her shoes and work gloves on the
kitchen porch, stepping into the room with a pleasurable sense of
accomplishment.
A rope dropped over her
head and shoulders, pulled tight in seconds before she had a chance to react.
Stunned to turn and see Brent Thompson, she fought the rope, pushing her arms
against it and making no progress.
“Surprise,” he laughed.
He wrapped the rope around her belly and arms twice before pulling a knot and leading
her to the living room where he tied her into a chair.
She watched in disbelief
as he locked the doors and closed the curtains.
“Whatever you’ve got
planned, you sick bastard, you won’t get away with it. There are people around
here, all over the place.”
He pulled a chair up in
front of her. He unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it apart to begin fondling
her breasts. “We could’ve had this great thing, Bryn. You knew how much I
wanted you. All this property development, I could have helped with that. It
was my plan.”
“Do you seriously think
I’m not going to have you arrested for this?”
His glance darted to the
door then back to her. “Yeah, that’s what I think. You don’t want me talking
about what I know.”
What he knew. Her skin
crawled as he yanked her bra cups down and leaned over to lick her nipples.
Strange how the same behavior by Dan or Alex, or even one of the
doms
at Wade’s place, would cause her intense pleasure.
Here, with this nasty little man, she felt nothing but rage and nausea.
“I bet you’re wondering
what I know,” he said, his lips wet with saliva.
“I don’t care what you
think you know. I
will
put you in jail for this.”
“What I know,” he
whispered, running his hands over her breasts, “is that you want this. I got
myself a real eyeful, watching one day when you forgot to close your curtains.
Your whorehouse was open for business down here.” His hands fumbled between her
legs, stroking along the inseam. “A halfway decent set of binoculars, and the
right spot on that hill across the road, I could see that boy taking care of
you.”
His sweaty hands slid up
and down her legs. “I figure you don’t want me reporting what I saw. Last I
heard, running a house of prostitution was still against the law.”
“I don’t care who you
tell,” she yelled, trying to think amid her growing panic. “Stalking and
invading my privacy are against the law. Whatever you think you saw, it was
consensual.”
“Who the hell’s going to
believe that? Doesn’t matter anyway, when I tell them how you like it.” He
leaned over her and grabbed a handful of her hair, bringing tears to her eyes.
“What a twisted slut.”
“You pathetic creep, you
spied on me.”
He slapped her,
sending black tracers across her vision.
“You’re not in a position
to sass me, girl. Surely you’re smart enough to figure that out.”
Fear spiked down her neck
and settled in her stomach, fueling a cold fury. “And surely you’re smart
enough to figure out that unless you fucking
kill
me, I’m going to make
sure you pay for this. You won’t get away with it.”
“Honey, by the time I’m
done with you, you won’t make me pay for anything. Remember, I know what you
like, and I’ve been reading up on how girls like you are treated. You’re
mine
now.” He brushed the hair away from the side of her
face. “I’ll make you love it. You’ll beg for more.”
Her hands felt numb from
lack of circulation. Her breasts hurt from his constant handling, and her
cheekbone throbbed where he’d slapped her. This couldn’t happen. How long could
she stand up to him? And it would only get worse.
For the first time, she
considered how desperate Thompson must be, or how deranged. What if he had a
weapon? What if he took her away from here so no one could find her?
She wished she had a dog
to sic on him. She wished she had neighbors close enough to hear her scream.
She wished she had heard him before he captured her, or that she had been able
to throw off the rope. Short of packing a gun on her hip, how could she have
been more careful?
He sat down, digging
through his pockets and mumbling to himself. Christ, how long had he been in
her house? She had been in the garden over an hour. Maybe he’d watched the
whole time. The hair on her neck pricked at the realization of his stalking.
Months had passed since November. She distinctly remembered Dan closing the
curtains when he’d visited more recently. That meant this insane man had been
planning this a long time.
Waiting.
Watching.
She shifted slightly,
trying to feel the knots holding her wrists. Her fingertips grazed the rope,
and she tugged her wrists trying to bring her hands closer.
“Here in a little bit
we’re going for a drive,” he muttered. “But I need to make sure you don’t cause
any trouble. It’s taken me awhile to figure out how much of this to give you.”
Her head jerked up,
watching as he filled a hypodermic from a small glass bottle. “You’re not
exactly the dose size of a horse.” He eased the needle out of the bottle and
turned. “But a goat, now, that’s about the right size.” He stood up. “Wouldn’t
you say?”
For a moment, the
familiar sound of boots hitting the porch didn’t penetrate the roar going on
inside her head. If he stuck her with that needle, she might never wake up. Or
maybe she’d be in a place physically and mentally where she didn’t want to wake
up. Clearly Brent Thompson had gone off the deep end.
The door handle rattled.
“Bryn?”
Alex.
My
god.
“Alex!” she shouted.
“Help me!”
“Shut up, damn you,”
Thompson hissed.
She felt the needle sink
into her thigh. “
Help, Alex
!” she screamed again.
Thompson stuffed fabric into
her mouth, and then scrambled with the ties.
Sick. Dizzy. The door
jarred against its latch.
“
Bryn
!
The door’s locked. Are you alright?”
She tried to yell, tried
to spit out the cloth. Weakness crept up her back and her legs relaxed. “Alex,”
she mumbled into the gag.
The door shattered open,
bringing the glare of daylight into the dim room. She felt him even though she
couldn’t open her eyes.
Drifting.
Then
nothing.
***
Alex kicked the door open, every
nerve in his body on full alert. Her cries terrified him.
A man stood by the table
where Bryn sat tied to a chair, her head hanging down. He held a hypodermic in
his hand. He capped it and slid it into his pocket, his face contorting then
spreading in a queasy smile.
“What the hell do you
want?” the man rasped.
“What have you done to
Bryn?” Alex stalked over to the chair, shoving the man aside and peering at her
face. He shook her, watched her body move loosely.
Unconscious.
He wheeled around,
grabbed the man by his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
“Hey, fucker,” the man
yelled. “This is my whore today. You wait in line.”
The words hit Alex with
physical force. Without thinking, he drove his fist into the man’s face.
“Your whore?”
He punched him again, watched his face deform
as his fist shifted his jaw sideways. Blood swelled at the corner of his mouth.
The man’s fists came up,
battering at Alex’s body with blows he hardly felt. Another hard right knocked
the man sideways and he slumped against the wall before starting to slide down.
Alex resisted the urge to kick him to death. He ripped off his belt and wrapped
the man’s hands behind him.
“Bryn,” he whispered, “oh
god, Bryn.” He tore at the rope ties, then pulled her up from the chair and
carried her to the couch. A bruise had formed on the side of her face.
Otherwise, she seemed unharmed. He rushed to the man, digging in his jacket
pockets until he found the hypodermic and a small glass bottle.
“Ketamine,” he breathed,
reading the label. “Christ.”
The man moved, groaning.
Alex kicked him in the side then pulled him into a sitting position.
“You piece of shit, how
much of this did you give her?”
“Fuck you.”
Alex grabbed a fistful of
the man’s hair, repulsed by its oiliness. He slammed his head back against the
wall.
“How much?”
The man’s eyes rolled.
“A hundred-fifty milligrams.
She’s not hurt. She wanted it.”
“She didn’t want this,”
Alex snarled. He pulled out his phone and punched in the number. “Randall. I
need you at the house, fast.”
He crouched beside Bryn,
brushing hair tendrils back from her face. “Wake up, Bryn. Please.” He pulled
the bra into position over her breasts and fastened her blouse with shaking
fingers. Red abrasions marked her arms where the rope had cinched against the
skin.
Nausea strangled his throat.
Did she want this, like the guy said? He couldn’t believe it. If she wanted it,
she wouldn’t have called for help. There was no mistake she called for help. He
heard her cry out.
Twice.
Whatever else he might
think of her, no matter how much his heart had broken over the situation with
Bryn, he loved her. He knew she preferred Dan, and he would try to live with
her choice no matter how much it tore at his gut.
But to see
her abused like this, even if somehow she had gotten herself into the situation,
made him blind with rage.
He opened the curtains then sat beside her
feet, trying not to go near the man again. If he did, he didn’t know if he
could keep from killing him.
Randall’s truck slid to a
stop in a cloud of dust and Randall ran into the house, bursting into the door
and looking around briefly before seeing Alex.
“What the hell?” he
began, looking at Bryn and then the man groaning on the floor nearby.
“That guy—have you seen
him before?”
“No. But if that red
truck out on the highway is his, I’ve seen it around a few times on the highway
or parked across the road. Some kind of real estate
company
,
I think.”
“I found him in here. He
hurt Bryn—I need to take her to the doctor, but I want him held until I decide
whether to call the cops.”
“No problem,” Randall
said, turning and grabbing up the rope. “I’ll be here and so will he.”
Alex carried Bryn to his
car, fastened her into the seat belt, and eased onto the highway.
Still unconscious.
What the hell was ketamine, and what did
it do? And how far to the hospital, or did they even have a hospital out here?
He called Randall.
“Find out where there’s
an emergency room.”