Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (13 page)

The security guard smiled a lecherous smile as she sat up, putting down the apple he’d been eating. Remy noticed his other hand was heavily bandaged.

“Oh good, you are awake.”

His English was still heavily accented, and it took everything Remy had to understand what he was saying through the pain still lancing through her head. When she squinted and tried to focus on him, she became aware of a pulling sensation in her hair at her left temple, and when she turned her head, she saw blood on the floor. She winced, now sure she’d received a fairly serious head injury.

“I thought zat per’aps you ’ad been ’eet too ’ard and ’ad been killed. I am very ’appy to see zat you are alive.”

Remy gathered her wits, knowing she’d have to play this very carefully until she knew what was going on.

“Now why y’all walkin’ around, hittin’ ladies on the head?” She pouted, remembering that he knew her as Mrs. Joyce from the party. “Now my head aches somethin’ fierce. You best explain what in tarnation you mean by this, sir.”

The security guard looked amused. “You are welcome to continue using zees...’orrible accent if you wish, but we know zee truth. You are an American operative.”

The fact that she’d been made by the guard caused Remy’s blood to run cold. Something serious was happening, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was.

“Zachary!” The guard hollered in the direction of the door. “She eez awake!”

Remy heard footsteps approaching the room, and she levered herself so that her back was against a wall. No way was she about to let anyone get behind her.

Three more men entered the room, the first a wiry, thin-lipped man with the face of a weasel. His nervous eyes darted this way and that, and he moved with a kind of jittery energy that made him seem like a marionette.

The second loped into the room, his dark hair buzzed close to his skull. He was thickly muscled and tattooed down his bulging arms and was wearing a bandage over his right eye.

The third was the stuff nightmares were made of. He was enormous with jet-black hair, and his sunken eyes looked completely dead. He had a vicious scar running from the left corner of his mouth right to his ear, and the ugly purple swath of skin pulled the corner of his mouth out, puckering his cheek and giving him a permanent sneer. What really caught Remy’s attention, though, was the vicious-looking knife he carried. He twirled it in his hand so the big blade caught the light, and there could be no mistaking how comfortable he was with the ugly blade in his hand as he played with it menacingly.

Remy felt her breathing stop for a moment while she looked at that ugly knife. She gave herself a mental shake—a hard one—and started to regroup. Survival was paramount to everything else, and she needed to try and understand the situation better before she could decide on a game plan. She tried to imagine what Drake would do since tactics were his specialty, and that thought gave her pause as a wild hope kindled in her breast. The triplets would have had to miss her presence by now and would be looking for her. She didn’t care that they’d probably be furious with her. Right now she just needed them to use their collective skills to find her.

The thought, so relieving at first, quickly gave way to dismay. They had no reason to think she’d be here, wherever here was, and they certainly had no reason to think she’d be captive in a barn.

Her stomach sank even further when she realized she couldn’t even depend on Joss to trace her cell signal to get to her. She remembered with painful clarity the moment she’d tossed the phone onto the bed in their suite. Just her luck, she thought, that the moment she didn’t want the triplets to be able to find her was the precise moment she needed them to.

No dice. She was going to have to do this herself.

With that thought firmly in mind, Remy drew a deep breath and prepared to do whatever it took to survive this. Whatever it took.

The black-haired man, obviously the one named Zachary, appeared to be the leader. He stood against a wall, playing with that ugly knife and staring at Remy with seeming disinterest.

“You were at Monsieur Contois’s party.” His voice was like broken glass, grating on Remy’s nerves. She didn’t respond, not knowing what to say.

“Philippe here”—Zachary gestured to the security guard—“remembered you. Tough to forget a cunt spread out on a desk.” He pushed off the wall, beginning to pace slowly around the room, giving Remy the impression she was being stalked like prey. “You see, we were all very unhappy when our boss was arrested a few days ago.”

He paused, stopping in his pacing to look directly at Remy. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t take the time to introduce us. I am Zachary, Monsieur Contois’s head of security.” He gestured at the tattooed man. “This is René. He acted as a liaison between Monsieur Contois and, ah, how shall I say...certain organizations. The thin man is Yves, Monsieur Contois’s accountant, and of course, you already know Philippe.

“Where was I?” Zachary continued to pace, distracting Remy from his words as he played with that awful knife again. “Ah yes. As I was saying, we were all very upset when Monsieur Contois was arrested. We all spent a very great deal of time trying to figure out who on earth could have sold him out, when Philippe here…” Zachary gripped the security guard by the back of the neck so hard it had to hurt. “Philippe recalled an awful American couple who couldn’t seem to stop wandering into rooms where they had no business being.

“Of course,” Zachary said, sounding almost apologetic, “even though Philippe solved the mystery, I had to speak sharply with him for allowing it to happen in the first place.”

With that, Zachary reached down to Philippe’s bandaged hand, squeezing it in his meaty fist and causing Philippe’s face to whiten and him to scream in agony.

“He learned his lesson.” Zachary patted Philippe’s shoulder as the man whimpered, cradling his injured fist in his good hand.

“And besides! What a surprise!” Zachary whirled around, coming to stand directly in front of Remy and gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his cold eyes. “How shocked we all were to discover your Mr. Joyce was Mr. Joyce squared!”

Remy held her breath, hardly daring to believe what she heard. She stayed quiet, hoping Zachary would be more specific.

“Twins!” Zachary pinched her chin hard, causing her eyes to well up. “What an ingenious plan you had that night. Tell me, where was the other one when you were getting fucked on Monsieur Contois’s desk? Nothing would make me happier than knowing he had to hide underneath, watching while his brother fucked you.”

Remy’s hope soared. These assholes didn’t know there were three Grantham brothers. She had to buy time, figure out a way to make this work in her favor.

“He did have to hide underneath.” The admission cost her nothing, and Zachary threw his head back and laughed. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his laugh was hollow.

“What are you going to do with me?” Remy abandoned the grating accent of Mrs. Joyce and allowed fear to creep into her voice. Let them think she was helpless, that getting fucked on Contois’s desk was her only part in their op.

“Well, as loyal as we are to Monsieur Contois, we’re loyal to ourselves first. So we think”—Zachary played with her hair—“we’re going to see exactly how much your twins will pay to get you back. We’re thinking a million apiece, then we’ll wish Monsieur Contois the best of luck and go to Switzerland.” He smiled a cold smile. “I’ve always wanted to go to Switzerland.”

Remy could have kicked her heels for joy. Ransom? That’s what this was all about? She’d be out of here in no time.

“Mind you…” Zachary had started to move away from her but paused, turning with slow deliberation and tapping the blade of his hideous knife against his lips. “We really do owe you. It would be a shame not to get to know each other better before we go, no?”

Remy stared at him, her eyes widening in horror.

“Oh come, dear, after the hell you put Philippe through, he deserves a bit of comfort.” Zachary gestured expansively, the sweep of his arm taking in all the men in the room, himself included. “Honestly, I think we all deserve a bit of comfort, especially from the whore who spreads her legs in a public place as part of a ploy.”

Zachary strode back to where Remy sat, hauling her up and slamming her body against the wall behind her, causing her to cry out as her bound wrists were pressed painfully behind her.

“We were going to kill the three of you. You and your twins.” Zachary’s scarred face twisted, flecks of saliva dotting his lips as he snarled at her. “This will be the next best thing. We’ll give you back to your precious twins, but not before we’ve all sampled what you seem to give away so freely.”

With that, Zachary dropped Remy back to the floor where she lay on her side panting, trying to stretch her hands and arms and wincing as she did so. Remy squeaked as Zachary brought his dreadful knife toward her, struggling like mad as he kicked her casually in the ribs, causing her to roll to her stomach. She went totally still as she felt him kneel above her and breathed a prayer of thanks as the knife slid through the bindings at her wrists instead of her clothes or skin.

Zachary pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and thrust it at her, commanding her harshly to phone one of her partners.

Remy drew her aching arms in front of her slowly, the muscles screaming at having to respond so quickly after having been restrained for so long. She fumbled with the phone, having to dial three times before she managed to make her tingling fingers cooperate.

Drake answered on the first ring.

“Remington, this had better be you.”

“Drake?” She thought fast, working out what she would say to communicate what she needed to. “I...I have a problem.” She could feel him go absolutely still on the other end of the phone, and she knew he was going to listen to everything she said, and more importantly, everything she didn’t say. “Listen, there’s someone who’s going to talk to you in a minute, and he’s going to ask you for money. Please give it to him. And Drake…” Remy looked up at Zachary as she delivered her next line, praying it would be enough. “Drake, nothing funny. They know about both of you, and I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you or your brother.”

There, Remy thought as Zachary took the phone from her. That should do it. She listened as Zachary gave Drake directions to wherever they were and started planning her next course of action. Indignation rose hot in her chest as she looked at Zachary, and even more as she looked at the other men in the room. Like hell was she going to let these assholes rape her. She smiled to herself, mentally thanking Zachary for making her life easier by cutting the binding on her wrists, vowing to herself she wouldn’t waste such a precious gift. She stayed very still, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

Zachary clicked off the phone, turning to face his men. “Thirty minutes.”

That’s it, Remy thought to herself. Thirty minutes before the triplets came to get her. Thirty minutes to fend off these animals. Thirty minutes, she reminded herself grimly, to stay alive.

Remy prowled silently around the filthy room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. The men had all left after locking her in, gone to make sure everything was in readiness for the exchange. Remy could hear Zachary directing the others, making sure they knew what they were supposed to do if something went wrong. Things, she promised herself, were going to go very wrong for these bastards.

She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find anything to use as a weapon. Not unless she wanted to start throwing horseshit, she thought wryly. Oh well, her hands would have to do. She’d worked out the rest of her kinks, and now she threw a couple of air punches to make sure she hadn’t missed any. She knew exactly how deadly her hands could be, and she planned to make use of that in the immediate future.

The immediate future became the present as Remy heard footsteps coming down the hall toward her. She went quickly to where she’d been sitting before, squeezing out a few tears to try and make herself look helpless. She cowered in the corner as the door opened, trying for all her might to appear as unthreatening as possible.

“Please don’t hurt me!” She bit her lip as if the plea had escaped unbidden, turning big eyes to the man who’d come through the door. It was René, the liaison for who-knows-what kinds of illegal activities. Remy felt a tad relieved it wasn’t Zachary since that knife of his was going to give her nightmares for weeks as it was.

René grinned evilly at her, revealing several missing teeth. He seemed to be a man of few words as he started unbuttoning his fly.

Remy scrambled up, acting like she was trying to get away from him when in reality she moved to a part of the floor that gave her more room to maneuver, carefully placing herself on his blind side, causing him to turn his head at an awkward angle to be able to see her with his unbandaged eye. She stood sniffling, hugging herself tightly. She tried to make it seem as if she thought she could protect herself from him.

René edged closer, causing Remy to hold her breath as she realized he reeked of onions. When he was just about an arm’s length away, he snaked an arm out to try and grab her. It was exactly the move Remy had been waiting for.

She caught his arm between her own arm and side, spinning to stretch his arm taut before delivering a chop to his elbow, effectively breaking it. She timed her scream to mingle with his, designed to make the other bastards think she was the one in pain. René swung a heavy fist at her, faster than she thought he could move, landing a lucky shot on her cheek and making her see stars. She recovered quickly, spinning out of his reach and landing a kick to his injured arm. He ignored the pain she inflicted and latched onto her throat with his good hand, squeezing as if to choke the life out of her. Starting to feel faint, Remy allowed herself to go limp in his hold, then when he was off balance trying to support her dead weight with only one arm, she sprang into action. She landed a massive blow to his throat with her elbow, crushing his windpipe and causing him to choke. He wheezed for a moment before collapsing to the floor.