The NSC Boxset: Heart of Stone (258 page)

I had already concluded I had been taken from the wreckage by someone, the gunshot and pain from the bullet as I tried to escape the car verified that much but the way my hands were clamped above my head in a chain similar to the one that had tortured me many years ago also confirmed it.

I shook and rattled them again, the soreness in my upper arms as they held all my weight was getting worse and I knew within the hour I would be hung limply with no more strength to hold myself up. I wasn’t sure how long I had been here, but by the way my stomach rumbled with hunger and my bladder groaned in protest to its fullness, it had been a while.

I took a deep steadying breath and tried to figure out the layout of the room without seeing anything. I coughed loudly, then whistled low and turned my head with each tone. I figured the space around me was maybe ten foot square. The cold and damp had to mean it was below ground or maybe a garage. I scoffed to myself; my luck didn’t stretch to a garage, the easier of my two conclusions for me to escape from. From the lack of any light in the room, there were no windows either and this bothered me. I knew from Mason’s training, there would be a single door in and out of my prison, therefore hindering my chances of fleeing.

I jumped as much as I could, lifting my knees high to give me better bounce and tested the sturdiness of my restraints. It gave the slightest of groans but enough to bring a small smile across my lips and an extra surge of energy with my next jerk of the chain.

I stilled immediately as a door opened and light blinded me for a few brief seconds. When my vision focussed I wished I had been left blind. The cruel cold smirk across Vickie’s face iced each separate cell in my veins and if it wasn’t for Dane’s training on my bladder, I knew I would have wet myself.

Never show fear, Ava. Even when you are facing death, never divulge your weaknesses to your opponent.

Mason’s voice filled my head and I returned Vickie’s cruel smile, “How lovely of you to call in Vic, did you bring biscuits for our coffee?”

I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting the spit that hit my face; luckily I’d managed to shut my remaining good eye before her toxic saliva burnt it to the back of my skull.

“You fucking bitch. You deserve to pay, you
and
Mason for what you’ve done. And what better way to hurt Mason than by hurting you.”

I didn’t reply, not wanting to antagonise her further but I kept my eye on her and my senses sharp. There was nothing I could do to stop the launch of her fist into the side of my face and I bit my lower lip as my cheekbone splintered and sent a shockwave of piercing agony through my face as my body pivoted with the swing of the chain. She took my breath next as her foot met my right lung and snapped a rib, causing a high-pitched wheeze to erupt from my mouth. My body cracked against the stone wall behind me and I groaned as my back exploded in fits of excruciating pain.

I was now struggling to control my bladder but I forced myself to hold on, I would rather suffer her painful beating than be humiliated and piss myself in front of her and her lackeys.

She continued her assault for another fifteen minutes until my body could take no more and shut down, but not before the horror of my bladder taking offence at my pride and releasing its contents down my leg and onto the floor below me.

Chapter 8

Mason

THE BEDROOM DOOR gave way quite easily under my weight but I refrained from stepping inside, turning my back and giving a small slice of dignity to the couple scrambling to pull on some clothes.

My brain registered the scoff before Sam stepped up beside me and pushed me aside to grab hold of the fist that was taking direction at my head. I still lingered in the hallway as Sam shook his head beside me and sighed heavily.

“You never cease to amaze me.” George hissed with disgust and a tinge of sadness.

“I’m sorry George, but I need to do this.”

“Do what?” he barked as he sidled up beside me, his fingers working feverishly at the buttons on his jeans. “Embarrass me? Scare Etta half to death?”

I sighed and chose to ignore him as I turned to Etta, her body now covered with a robe. “Where is she?”

She frowned and stared at me, her eyes flicking very faintly to the side of my head giving me all I needed to know. “Lay!” I shouted as I turned back to Sam, “Get him out of here.”

He closed his eyes briefly but gave me a simple nod before he turned and took George’s arm, “Come on, son. Let’s give them a moment.”

George struggled, bucking Sam off with a harsh shake before turning back into the room and taking a stance in front of Etta. “You touch her and you’ll regret it!”

The overwhelming pain was clawing at my insides. What I was about to do would finish mine and George’s relationship completely but I needed to do this. I would suffer the consequences for a very long time, I knew I would, but my wife and George’s mother needed me, she would never cope with captivity again, not after Dane. I needed to get to her before her mind replayed the previous torture and finally shut down.

I looked at him, taking in his handsome features for probably the last time, the mirror image of my eyes glaring at me with a hostility I had only ever witnessed in the mirror, “Your mom is missing.”

I watched his throat bob harshly as a white sheen covered his eyes, his jaw twitched agitatedly and his fists clenched, the white of his knuckles taunting me as I observed my son turn into his father.

My feet edged apart and my muscles tightened in readiness, my lungs thickened helping me to deal with the rapid intake of oxygen as I felt each bone in my body strengthen and stabilise in preparation for the oncoming fight.

He flew for me before anyone had chance to react but I remained upright and lifted my hand to Sam and Greg as they moved in. Their eyes questioned me but I hardened my stance further and took the beating. He was relentless, resolute in his fury to hurt me, to make me pay finally, for the ruin of his mother. He rained fist after fist on me as he screamed and howled but I closed my eyes and accepted it, let him gain the fuel he would need for the approaching storm. Eventually his fingers started to claw at me instead of hit and his body stooped in towards me as his devastation rose over the hatred and he fell into me.

I hesitantly closed my arms around his already muscled frame and held him, every one of my senses relishing in his unique scent and vitality. Although he broke my heart I would forever be proud of the man he had become, his morality and decency were something that separated him from my double, and I would forever be grateful to whichever source had deemed him that way.

He pulled away and peered up at me. “I . . .” He frowned at himself and struggled with his words, “I know you have to do this, and for the first time I understand why, but I meant what I said, hurt her and I will bring you down.”

I gave him a simple nod before he glanced at Etta, his eyes relaying some hidden exchange before he turned and left the room.

Layla took a step into the room and Etta’s legs wobbled. “Sit down, I won’t hurt you” Layla disclosed as she led Etta to the edge of the bed.

I crouched before her, letting her feel in control as she peered down at me. “Etta, if you know where she is, you need to tell me.”

She gulped and rolled her lips but turned her head away. Before I had a chance to request an answer again, Layla had Etta’s hair in her fist and pulled her face to the side. “Let’s get one thing straight love, I know you are George’s girlfriend but Ava is my friend, she gets hurt then the repercussions for you and your mother will be beyond grim.”

Her body trembled and I fought the urge to hurt her. I had never ever laid a hand on a female but today was a day I was fighting many demons and I hoped I could restrain my temper for long enough. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes on her, my infuriation at her silence feeding my fury. “Etta. Imagine how George will feel if you have a helping hand in ending his mother? He will hate you forever.”

She scoffed then spat straight at me. Layla growled and wrenched Etta across the bed until she was dumped ceremoniously on the floor at the base of it but she held firm and looked over at me, “You fucking grass!”

I sighed and closed my eyes for a calming second. “And do you know what I served him up for?”

She stared at me as though I was some stupid delinquent she had dragged off the street, “Of course I know, my dad was proud of my involvement in the firm.”

I stared at her in confusion. For all the years I had known Etta, she had seemed like a delicate little thing, her softness and graciousness being one of the things George had fallen in love with. I inhaled roughly as I struggled to dampen my wrath before I once again considered her, “And you stand by what he has done?”

She gazed at me in bewilderment, “You’ve done much worse.”

Layla frowned at me and I realised this small waif thin girl before me had no idea what her father was actually capable of. Now I had the torturous decision whether to hurt her with revelations about her parents or struggle to find another way to find Ava.

“I need to know where she is, Etta.” I closed my eyes and swallowed my pride, “Please.”

She smirked at me, causing my jaw to clench and my teeth to grind together. “Finish me, Mr Fox, if you think that will help but I’m afraid I don’t know. My parents handled much of their business off the estate and I have no idea where that was, and to be frank, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Both you and Ava deserve everything dished up to you for what you have done. Both me and my child will now grow up without a stable family, without my father who was so much looking forward to his first grandchild and to watching me flourish and take reign of his business.”

I barked out a bitter laugh, triggering a nasty snarl to curve her lips. “You want to take over the family business yet you have no idea what that actually is.”

“Oh I know.” Her lips curved into a cruel smirk, hardening my body and making it really difficult to suppress the deep rise of my wrath.

I nodded slowly as I rose to stand in front of her, “How many were there this time compared to the previous shipment?” I studied her puzzlement and knew for certain she didn’t have a clue but I wouldn’t be the one to break her. Yes, I was a bastard but my wife was adamant I was a glorious one and I would never turn that into an evil one, no matter how much I needed Ava. I knew she would rather die than let me ruin this girls’ hopes and aspirations.

Layla gave me an incredulous look as I gave a simple nod and walked away.

Chapter 9

Ava

I GRUNTED AND hissed as the shackles holding my wrists were unlocked and I dropped heavily to the floor, my legs now unable to take my weight. Instinctively I curled my fingers around each wrist and started to rub against the furious pain flowing through my bloodstream eagerly, my body’s natural need to feed the dried and persecuted veins in my arms.

“Get up!” The human brick shithouse snapped at me as he nudged me with his foot.

“Gimme a minute, yeah?” I growled as I kneaded furiously at my calves, trying to feed them some blood. I had never been so exhausted or thirsty in my entire life. My body had begun to shut down, the loss of blood and lack of hydration overworking my body and causing my heart to work harder. My lungs protested with each inhalation as I stretched them wide and pressed them against the couple of broken ribs.

Shithouse grabbed at my wrist and started to drag me across the floor. I didn’t have the energy to stand so I relaxed my body and made his work harder. He knew what I was doing as he turned and glared at me but then his lips twisted into a mocking grin, “Don’t worry, pretty lady, I’ll make sure to fuck some energy into you later.”

I grit my teeth as my heart popped with panic.

Never show fear, Ava. Even when you are facing death, never divulge your weaknesses to your opponent.

“I’ll look forward to it” I retorted but I knew he could feel my fear eclipsing around me. After Dane, although I was proud of myself for how I had dealt with being chained up, I knew my mind would never withstand another violation on my body. Dreams of torturous rapes and whippings still haunted me and although I only just managed to survive the surreal visions, I would never endure the real thing.

My arse bumped harshly along the corridor, small gravel and pebbles alerting me to an outside space somewhere. From the tell-tale sign of various scraps of mud and grit, I knew this corridor lead to an entrance, therefore leading me to an exit. My eyes scanned quickly and stealthily until I spotted a huge metal door, a few bolts and a lock guarding its freedom. I spotted a window high up the edge of the wall and squinted at the daylight streaming through it. I could make out the edge of a grass verge, the sight of it telling me we were below ground, maybe an old bunker of some sorts and my heart rate quickened when I realised there was only one area that still housed a bunker, the old wreck site behind the Mondego embankment.

Shithouse dragged me through a doorway into an open space. I cringed when I saw the single chair in the centre of the long room. Before I could try to pick up the courage to escape from my sentry I was flung into it and rope was hoisted around my middle. I struggled as much as possible, my arms flaying as I tried to claw at him, my legs kicking at him furiously but I knew in my wrecked state I had no chance against him.

He growled at me, spit flying from his mouth as he bound me and planted his knee into my stomach. “I’m warning you bitch, keep still or I’m knocking you out!”

I conceded as my body begged me to give it some reprieve but I continued to glare at him, hoping superpowers would suddenly be bestowed to me and lasers would split the fucker in two, “Mason will fucking kill you for this!”

He barked out a bitter laugh and smirked at me, “Really. I think your husband is a little busy with some coke and a couple of whores at the moment.”

I swallowed the bile and refused to let him see the ache in my heart. I knew he was just hurting me with words but . . . but it was Mason, and every other time he had coped in the exact way Shithouse had depicted. I shook my head in anger as I drove down the fear and focussed on Mason’s loving voice and his love for me. He wouldn’t go there again, he knew it would finish me, but what if he thought it was already too late, that I was finished, that I was dead somewhere? I knew Shithouse was right, Mason would demand the high and oblivion given only by his old habits.