JAGGED EDGE: A BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE (ALPHA MALE) (18 page)

Chapter Nine

It seemed weird to be in Greg’s room, alone with him. Even under the circumstances it felt like she was betraying Dirk. Even though he had made it clear he only wanted her for sex.

Greg wanted sex, certainly, but he liked her and that was more than she could say about Dirk.

Now she struggled with those feelings, wondering what she wanted to have happen. She ached to be held, to feel a man’s caress. It was crazy. The world was a jumbled up mess.

The phone rang and Greg answered. “Fine,” he said.

He smiled. Chris and Dirk are going out for a beer. Johnny is backup though.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“So what troubles you?”

His concern, his sincerity made her smile. “The universe, my universe only exists between here and the Canadian border,” she said. “After that comes the abyss or a black hole.”

Greg leaned forward, surprising her by kissing her, a surprisingly sweet and gentle kiss. The warm kiss was accompanied by the soft touch of his hand, stroking her hair. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her. “Relax,” he said softly. “I know everything is a mess, but you can’t bottle up your feelings.”

“They aren’t so much bottled up as jumbled up.”

She could see the understanding in his face. “You love Dirk.”

“I did. I don’t love the man he’s being now. He certainly doesn’t love me.” She smiled at him. “I feel weak. Frightened.”

“That’s understandable.”

She could feel his heat, his desire, his warmth. It comforted and frightened her. With their emotions on slow boil, it was becoming all but inevitable that she and Greg would wind up in bed together. Before the night was out he’d screw her. She both wanted and feared it, and the two emotions were entangled in yet another powerful sense—that something more was going wrong. Very badly wrong. But the context of Greg’s touch, her arousal, made her want to push those thoughts into the background, and having him fuck her would do that, if nothing else would.

* * * *

She lay on the bed trembling as Greg hiked her tee shirt up and exposed her breasts to his touch, his fiery tongue. Her nipples grew hard and her breath short as he aroused her. She was in free fall, not knowing what she wanted or needed, not wanting to stop falling and terrified she’d never stop falling toward whatever was at the bottom.

She’d thought she’d already hit bottom with Terrance. That had been frightening. This was frightening too, but not as horrific as that. Yet she still felt his tendrils. The car had been following her. His people were still pursuing her, and that knowledge tempered her ability to respond completely to the wonderful things Greg was doing, to the amazing sensations.

He was tasting her breasts, fondling them, and then he kissed his way down her belly as his hand undid her shorts, unsnapping them, unzipping them. She sucked in a long breath of anticipation of his hot touch on her pussy.

She heard a terrifying crash, the splintering of wood, and saw the door to their room fly in. Two men came in through the open doorway.

Greg jumped up, moving faster than she imagined possible. With one hand he rolled her off the bed, onto the floor, putting the bed between her and the door. His other hand went to his pocket and pulled out a switch blade. She caught a blur of motion and heard a man scream.

“What the fuck? Greg!” a voice screamed and an explosion compressed the air in the room, rang in her ears.

“Holy shit!”

Another explosion rang in her ears, and Greg fell down over her. Blood spurted from his chest, splashing over her bare breasts, and then hands grabbed her. Someone pressed a cloth over her face, covering her nose and mouth.

She lost consciousness.

Chapter Ten

Reporting what had happened to Bart was important, if unpleasant. Not only did he need to know the job was going wrong, someone had to talk to Johnny’s old lady and give her the news. He also needed him to do a very important job.

“How did they track you?”

“We think it was the accident. The driver of one of the cars must’ve called the police, telling them there was a drunk driver and that a bike had gone off the road. A cop following up must’ve sold the information to the husband’s men.”

“That’s pretty sketchy.”

“Well, it’s a fucking guess, dude. They didn’t take the time to explain how they found us. They didn’t introduce themselves. They just did it, however they did it, then broke in, shot two of our people and took her.”

“How are the guys?”

“Wrench will be okay. They dug out the bullet. Johnny Walker is dead.”

On the other end of the phone, Bart sounded dark “I’ll take care of things here about Johnny. Now what are you going to do?”

“Go after them.”

“How?”

“She’s got a club phone.

Bart laughed. “Good move. I’ll have the geek activate the tracker and send you her position.”

“They won’t go far. Odds are they’ll find someplace close and stash her. The husband will come here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If he means her harm, he won’t want to risk anyone knowing he brought her home and I think it’s a safe bet that he means her a lot of fucking harm.”

“It’s not just about the girl, Cutter. It’s also about the honor of the club.”

“I know that.”

“When you find them, kill the sons of bitches.”

Dirk let out a long breath. “Oh, I will do that. And if they’ve hurt her, I’ll take my time.”

Bart paused for a moment. “I leave it to you, Cutter. Don’t fuck up.”

Dirk waited until Bart hung up, then looked down the hospital corridor to the door to Greg’s room. “I already did.”

* * * *

A basic tactic that Dirk had always found useful was letting your opponents underestimate you. When facing off it paid to let the other guy think he was hot shit and you were a loser.

At the moment he felt like one—a loser and he hadn’t had to do anything special to instill a sense of superiority in the enemy. During his watch the other side had waltzed in and taken them off guard. He’d let his emotions and then his refusal to be emotional make him lose focus. He’d been sulking like some kid and they’d been sucker punched. There was no excuse for letting that happen, and no one to blame but himself. He was supposed to be the one in charge. Audra had been his responsibility and he’d let them grab her. Greg was supposed to be his brother and friend and he’d set him up, having him stand guard while encouraging him to think with his prick instead of his brain.

And it was all because he’d gotten his brain in a twist; he’d been unable to deal with a woman whose crime was that she meant more to him than a nice bit of tail. She’d become important and he’d started caring what she thought about him. He used Greg as a foil, to give her what he couldn’t. He’d tormented himself into stupidly thinking that she was too nice to like him for what he was or that if she did like him, she couldn’t be as nice as he thought she was and he was being conned. He hadn’t given her credit for just being who she was, a girl that liked him.

Either way, he’d had his head up his ass and it had cost Johnny his life. Greg had suffered but he’d get over it. He couldn’t bring back Johnny or make Greg feel better. The only things he could do were to make sure Audra didn’t suffer and that her kidnappers did.

The only thing going for them was that the other side clearly wouldn’t be expecting any sort of sophistication from the bunch of dumb bikers they’d encountered. That gave them a narrow window of opportunity. The husband would want to gloat over his victory before teaching her a lesson, and that gave them their one chance. If they’d been lulled into a false sense of security they might not be looking over their shoulders.

But that window was narrow and uncertain. Everything pointed to the husband being every bit as nasty a piece of work as Audra said. Getting there too late for her simply wasn’t an option.

Chapter Eleven

She woke to find herself lying on her back on a bed in a dark room wearing only her panties. Blood, Greg’s blood was drying on her chest. Ropes fastened to the four corners held her wrists and ankles outstretched and she was gagged. Her vision was blurry and her throat raw. The chemical smell of whatever they’d knocked her out with lingered on her face and in her hair.

Memories of the men breaking down the door, of Greg jumping up and going for his knife, getting shot made her heart pound. He’d fallen down bleeding as the men grabbed her. A hand had been clamped over her nose and mouth and then had come that chemical smell and blackness.

Greg!

He’d been shot, and they’d left him lying on the bed dying.

The door was open a crack and she heard voices—one of them sent a chill through her. It was Terrance.

“Nice job, Jack. Except for killing the boyfriend. I was looking forward to watching you extract his story from him one body part at a time—with this bitch watching and knowing she was next.”

Another man answered. His voice was reedy, irritating. “She had a number of soldiers around her. I told the idiot goons we wanted him alive, that you had plans for him. We even waited until two of them went off for a beer, so we only had a couple to deal with, but when we moved in they went for weapons. Your boys panicked and started shooting. It was just luck that they didn’t shoot her. Fucking amateurs.”

“That sucks. I was looking forward to watching your little operation, and having her watch.”

“If you want to thank someone, you can talk to the goon. Have fun with him. The biker cut him when we broke in and he probably shit his pants. So he’s sitting in the car feeling sorry for himself. I told him to keep an eye out for irate bikers. ”

Terrance didn’t seem interested. “What about the cops?”

“No big deal. They have to investigate a shooting, but I’ve got a detective there working for me. I gave him a heads up before we went in, just in case.”

“How will he cover it up?”

“The murderer was a drug dealer and the deal went wrong. One biker shot the other. I left them a weapon.”

“Sounds good.”

Jack got an idea. “When you leave I could make a call. The cops would love to find the shooter. The one in the car has his fingerprints on the gun. They’d like it even better if he resists arrest even though then he can’t say anything.”

Listening, Audra heard something in the man’s voice that told her he liked the prospect.

Terrance liked it too. “Great idea.”

She started as the door opened. Terrance strode in, moving to the bed. His cruel and satisfied smile sent a chill through her.“Look at you. Little Audra playing at being a biker bitch. It was a nice try, cunt, but you should know that I get what I want. And what I get is mine; I keep it until I’m done and I wasn’t done with you. Not by a long shot.”

Her pulse raced as he sauntered over and sat on the bed. She recoiled from his touch as he put his hand on her bare thigh and ran it up to tuck his fingers under the leg of her panties. “Still the frigid bitch, yet playing biker whore? That’s an interesting combination, Audra. Do you play dead when the bikers fuck you? Or does messing with bikers bring out the whore in you?”

He turned to Jack. “Did you fuck her?”

“No. I just took off her jeans.” He pointed at them tossed over a chair. Terrance walked over and picked them up then took her cell phone out of the front pocket.

“What’s this?” He pulled it out of her pocket and showed it to the other man. “You let her keep her fucking phone?”

The small man stood at the doorway, watching her through sunken green eyes, his unruly thatch of red hair cocked to one side, and a scalpel in his hand that he toyed with. She didn’t know if he was trying to be menacing or if it was an unconscious thing, but it sure scared her. “She’s been unconscious and then tied up. It isn’t like she was going to text for help.”

“Seems careless.”

“Being too careful isn’t any fun, Montrose. Don’t forget the fun.”

Terrance tossed the phone across the room then came back and sat on the bed. He reached back and held out his hand. The man looked uncertain, then handed him the scalpel. Terry turned and put it under the leg of her panties. She stiffened at the touch of the cold metal blade, and winced when he lifted his hand, cutting her panties. Then he repeated the action on the other side and bared her pussy and sighed.

“I’m having our divorce made official. Don’t worry your little head about needing to sign the divorce documents; I’ve hired people to do that for you.” Terrance handed the scalpel back. “You’ve been a real pain in the ass, Audra. Too fucking clever. It took a lot of people to catch up with you and your friends,” Terrance said. “Your biker buddies were smart enough that I had to hire Smiling Jack here to track you down and he doesn’t work cheap. But you made my regular clowns look bad by skipping out so easy and I couldn’t risk having you loose.”

His eyes burned into her and he rubbed her pussy roughly. “You left before I got to put the plan I had for you into action. I had some games I wanted to play with you, but when you made it so hard to catch you, I changed my mind. I’ll still go with the plan, but first you’ll play games with Jack. I promised him that if he found you he could enjoy you. Unfortunately, his idea of fun will change your appearance and you won’t interest me much when he’s done.”

He turned toward the man he called Jack and waited for the man to acknowledge his generosity. “Don’t kill her or cripple her. I want her able to fuck, even if she looks like shit. I know the pleasure you get is from hearing her scream, so you can make it as painful as you like.”

“She will sound righteously agonizingly sick.”

“I’d stick around and watch, but it’s probably better if I make a public appearance a long way from here. So, Jack, you have a nice time.”

Jack came closer and stared into her face. She tried to look away, but the evil in his eyes held her captive.

“Thanks. I’ll take a long time to do it. Make it last.” His eyes glistened. “I’ll help her realize the problem with being stubborn, let her see the wisdom of doing wonderful things for me because it will postpone the pain. I’ll tell her things she can do to buy time. Are you sure you don’t want to hang around for it?”

“No. I’ll leave you a phone number. When you finish call it and some associates will come take over to implement my plan.” Terrance took her face in his hands. “These people will be compassionate, Audra. They’ll be really sad that you are in pain—so sad that they’ll want to give you something for it. I imagine you’ll be glad to get it. I don’t know whether it will be heroin or meth, or what have you, but it will help. But then you’ll need more, because that’s how that shit works. You’ll have to please them to get more. When they are sure you understand how it works, they’ll find people willing to pay for you to please them, to do whatever you’re told. Absolutely anything.”

Jack’s eyes shimmered. “Ah, the making of a meth whore.”

“Exactly. It’s a perfect career for you, Audra. I’m told this approach will ensure you are inspired to do whatever you are told—beg men to fuck your ass or to use you however they want. The results are nearly magical.”

Terrance stood and brushed imaginary lint off his suit. He took a cell phone out of his pocket, then reached down and grabbed Audra by the hair, turning her face up so he could take a photo. “This will be my before picture to remember you by. I’ll treasure your memory, especially looking at this along with the pictures Jack sends me of you when he’s finished. It will be a hell of a makeover.”

As Terrance left the room, Jack bent down and slid his scalpel under her gag and jerked his hand up, cutting it. “I do need to hear you scream,” he said. “It isn’t nearly as much fun if I can’t hear you begging for mercy.”

“Fuck you!”

The man actually smiled. “Ah, good. Your husband was wrong. You do have spirit. It won’t last, but while it does…”

Her head was spinning. This had to be a nightmare, something out of a horror movie. But it wasn’t. She really was tied and helpless with some scalpel-wielding psycho looming over her, drooling as he decided how to inflict pain on her.

Dirk couldn’t have any idea where she was and Greg was dead. She was alone with a psycho.

* * * *

Dirk sat on his bike in a shadow made by a broken streetlight. He had a clear view of the house. A car had driven off just as they’d arrived, but it held three men. Unless she was in the trunk. He’d sent Bobby to follow them and report back.

“I’m sure she’s in there,” he told Chris. “I’ll go in alone and you cover my back.”

Chris smiled and nodded to the man sitting in the front seat of the black sedan. “How about the watchdog?”

Dirk thought for a moment. “You can take him out.”

“It’s the guy that shot Wrench, Dirk.”

Dirk knew Chris was asking if he could kill the man. He thought about Greg lying in the hospital. “Show him the error of his ways. I don’t care if he apologizes.”

“My pleasure.”

Dirk watched the man get off his bike and slip across the open ground toward the sedan. The goon in the car was half asleep and smoking a cigarette. Chris was an ex Ranger and the goon didn’t stand a chance.

While Chris moved in, Dirk walked casually toward the door of the house, timing things so that he’d be another distraction for the lookout. As he imagined, the man spotted him approaching and started out of the car, intending to intercept him. He couldn’t see Chris at all now, but as the lookout moved behind his car he suddenly went down. Silently. End of bad guy.

Dirk reached for the door knob. The door was unlocked. He pulled his knife from his boot and slipped inside, steeling himself for what he might find. His big worry was that the car leaving meant it was over, the shit had already taken his revenge on her.

Then he heard a scream of pain that came from a bedroom. It was a man.

“You goddam bitch!”

There was no time to plan, no time to waste. He put his shoulder to the door and burst into the room. There, on the bed, he saw Audra naked, with her panties cut into ribbons. Her body was crisscrossed with cuts, not deep, but bleeding. She was alive and her face was bloody. A man stood over her holding a bloody scalpel.

Hearing Dirk come in, he half turned to face him. Blood streamed down his cheek and he had a bloody hand clamped over his ear. Audra had bit him.

Dirk could feel the hate in the man’s eyes and he moved fast, closing in. His concern was that the man would use her as a hostage. It would be an easy matter to put that scalpel to her throat. Fortunately, the man was a sadist, not a warrior, and he froze, holding his scalpel out toward Dirk, menacing him.

With his own knife at his side Dirk slowed his breathing. “Put it down.”

The man circled him. “Not fucking likely.”

Dirk stepped forward and the man lunged at him. Sidestepping the scalpel, Dirk stepped behind him, grabbing him by the hair, tilting his head back, and drawing his knife calmly across the man’s throat. He released him and heard a muffled cry as he fell to the floor. Blood gushed out across the carpet and Dirk kicked him, rolling him onto his stomach, his blood pooling around him and already soaking into the faded carpet.

Then he turned to Audra, untying her wrists and ankles, his eyes dancing over her, evaluating her injuries, noting they were all superficial. They’d gotten there in time. The man had been starting with small, painful cuts, intending to escalate everything slowly. His pleasure had cost him. “He’s dead,” he told her.

“Thank God,” she moaned and her arms went around his neck. Then she passed out.