Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] (16 page)

Lando walked dazed, stumbling from tree to tree, realizing he needed to warm up or he would die of exposure or hypothermia. If he were to die he couldn’t help Christy. Reaching ice cold fingers into his wet front pocket, he had some difficulty removing the lighter; he fumbled, trying to maintain a good grip. He gathered kindling and small pieces of dry leaves and moss for tinder, at first using his wrists pulled together. He stuck his fingers in his mouth trying to warm them. His teeth still clacked adding to his discomfort.

His mobility was helping his blood flow faster, though he couldn’t seem to make his frozen thumb strike down hard enough to cause a spark on the lighter. Instead he took the lighter to a branch. Holding the bottom of the lighter, he pressed the igniter up against the branch, giving it a shove. The flame burned bright and, using his other shaking hand, he held up a few dry leaves. Once they caught he placed them on the kindling he already set out nearby.

Lando huddled as close as he dared to the flames, his hands needing warmth. He was exhausted. A foreign feeling of aloneness entered his brain. He was surprised. He hadn’t had that feeling since he was a little boy. Long ago he’d hardened his heart to the feeling of abandonment, as he’d hardened his heart to a lot of feelings.

Being with Christy had given him a taste of what he was deprived of his entire life. Warmth, a sense of caring for another, knowing he was needed. Christy accepted him even knowing he would have to leave her. She feared him, to a small degree, but wanted him close. Lando was positive a wall had fallen after her outburst. The way she made love to him was uninhibited, she was so beautiful the way she accepted him.

Lando was guessing at the amount of abuse she’d suffered when she’d given him brief inside images of a life turned to hell. What kind of man would turn on his fiancée after her parents died? Unless it was money Chad was after all along.

Lando’s teeth slowed their chattering. He reached up absently to rub at his jaw, stopping the noise altogether. The coldness in his bones made him feel like a wet dishrag. If he didn’t keep thinking, his brain would turn to mush. A sudden thought entered his mind. Christy felt so terribly alone when the plane crashed. She had been so cold, and he callously took Sam’s jacket away from her. She was in terrible pain, terrified of him, and he thought it best to end her life, to put her out of her misery assuming he knew what was best.

When did you become God?
a voice questioned.

Lando gave his head a shake. When indeed?

Christy had persevered. She’d thwarted his attempt—the only one to ever have. Her spirit was strong, a lot stronger than many men he had known. She overcame astronomical odds and lived.
Well she won’t for long if you don’t do
something,
the voice casually mentioned.

Lando sighed. When had his mind gotten so annoying?
Though right,
a thought flashed.

Lando dragged his sorry ass to his feet and stomped out the fire. His feet, calves and thighs were frigid; pins and needle pain shot up through his muscles. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself; he needed to take action, now. Christy was depending on him; she needed him, the only person who ever needed him.

His movements shaky, he backtracked to their last position. The faster he moved, the harder he concentrated. Lando’s mind cleared. Once again he became a predator. The hunter stalked his prey as he had no other before. All business now, his skilled senses honed in on the ground and the telltale map of drag tracks. The bastards weren’t strong enough to carry him. Lando’s intensity engulfed him. He was furious. No one took what was his. Christy was his. She belonged to him alone.

Lando came across the tiny clearing where he’d last seen her. There were signs of a struggle, his. He noted beyond the bush there were only the men’s tracks retreating. One of them had obviously picked Christy up to take her away. The tracks in the road from a vehicle were fresh. They kidnapped Christy. She wouldn’t have been able to thwart the attempt. What was it the man had said?

Lando’s mind reflected back, searching. Rick was the name he referred to. There were at least four of them. Christy would be so terrified. He remembered how frightened she had been of just him. If they hurt her, he would kill them all. Who was he kidding? He planned to kill them all regardless, he thought with furious intensity.

Playing God again?
the voice questioned.

“No, I’m not God. I’m just really pissed,” he raged aloud.

* * * *

Christy woke, her eyes blinking as she tried to focus. “Lando?” she whimpered, frightened. She tried to rise, then noted her hands and feet were bound. A blanket had been thrown over her. The fact she remained dressed and felt no telltale pain made her realize none of the men had touched her—yet.

Christy shuddered. Wherever they were, they would be back. They would hurt her. She yanked at her bonds. She managed to squirm out from under the blanket. Being agile, she slipped her bound hands under her bottom and down her bent legs. Her shoes were gone. Struggling, she slipped her wrists past her feet. Once her hands were in front of her, Christy pulled at the rope with her teeth.

The knots were tight and she was having a great deal of trouble with them. She felt elation as one finally came undone and, with the rope now loosened, she was able to slip her hurting wrists free. Christy deftly began working on the ropes at her ankles. It was with great relief when they, too, were free. Christy rubbed at her ankles and wrists.

“Well, you just saved me a lot of time and trouble.” Christy jumped at the hard voice.

Rick was leaning casually against the doorframe of the bedroom, his huge body filling the entry way. His cruel devilish gaze was penetrating, as though searching her very soul. She realized he had been watching her attempts at undoing herself. She wondered with trepidation if he was angry, but his look was that of slight amusement.

“I was going to stop you, but hey, I thought, why should I bother? You’d just struggle, and we both would’ve gotten all tired out. This way only you’re tired. All I need to do now is retie your hands to the head of the bed.”

Rick strolled lazily toward her, a predatory walk. She began to tremble. Her eyes flashed to the posts on either side of the large bed, then the matching posts at the bottom, and shuddered with her thoughts. She made soft whimpering sounds in the back of her throat.

Rick’s movements slowed and he spread his arms, hands splayed. “You’re a real skittish little thing, aren’t you? Well, I’ve waited long enough. You don’t need to go fainting on me again, honey; we can go real slow. I got lots of time set aside for you and me. We can get to know each other intimately.”

Christy could feel the blood drain from her face, and her jaw quivered. His meaning was all too clear and by his tone she could tell how intimately he was about to get to know her. She crept off the bed and stopped only when her back pressed against a cold wooden wall. When realizing she was trapped and cornered, she splayed her hands before her face.

“Please, don’t kill me. Please don’t beat me.” This man was almost as large as Lando. One blow would kill her.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Rick replied with a smile, obviously enjoying her pleading tone. His voice was deep and rough. When he reached her, he gripped her wrists in one of his large hands, placing them up over her head. His powerful body pressed against her, pinning her to the wall.

“Don’t hurt me,” Christy cried out. Rick’s hand pulled up on her shirt, exposing her breasts.

Rick ran his hard, calloused hand across one of Christy’s bruised ribs. She cringed. “Did this happen in the crash or did the guy you were with do this?” he asked.

“The crash,” she whispered. Rick’s hand rose higher. Christy watched his large hand rise with fearful apprehension; she cowered back, terrified he meant to strike her. He didn’t; instead, he massaged one of her high breasts.

“You’ve been hit by a man before, haven’t you?” Rick inquired.

“Yes.”

In a lazy gesture Rick moved his hand to fondle her other breast. He seemed to be thinking. “There are four of us. All of us want a turn with you, or maybe some won’t want to wait until another’s done. Do you understand my meaning? Can you even begin to imagine what we can do to you, the pain we could cause you?” he asked her. He was gazing into her eyes, his one hand alternating at squeezing and kneading her exposed flesh.

Christy’s tears flowed uninhibited, terror stricken at the thought. Yes, she could imagine. Her eyes squeezed shut. Rick’s large hands weren’t painful. He was caressing her, rubbing his thumb against her nipple.

“I can keep them off you. I can keep them from beating you and then killing you. But you would owe me,” he declared.

Christy knew what he was going to say. The thought sickened her, causing her stomach to lurch. One man as opposed to four…. He was the biggest of them. He could make them leave her alone if his offer was serious. But what if he wasn’t? What if he only wanted her cooperation? Did it matter? He was so powerful; she was too helpless to stop him or the others.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Maybe if you’re nice to me, treat me right, maybe we could come to an understanding,” he suggested.

His mouth lowered to capture her lips in a possessive kiss. His hands tightened, becoming more demanding. Christy struggled beneath him. He squeezed one exposed nipple with menace. Christy sobbed and held still. She couldn’t fight him. He was too big, too strong. She went limp in his arms, becoming submissive. The painful grip mercifully eased and Rick chuckled at her acceptance. She leaned heavily against him, whimpering.

“Do you beg me?” Rick asked, his whispered words were harsh in her ear.

“Yes.”

“Say it.” His fingers squeezed her again.

“I beg you,” Christy muttered into his shoulder.

“Now that’s better,” he said throatily as he picked her up and headed for the bed. He lay her down and positioned his body over hers. She cried out in pain, shifting beneath him to avoid the pressure. He was crushing her ribs.

“Relax. You don’t want to be all tied and helpless when the others come in. If I have to leave you all alone for a minute, they might pounce at the opportunity with you lying here so vulnerable.”

Rick’s hands roamed greedily up and down her body as though trying to feel everywhere at once. His lips fastened on one dusty, rose-colored nipple. His tugging was painful and Christy thrashed beneath him. She cried out to him he was hurting her, pleading for him to stop, but her words and pleas were ignored. Her terror was beginning to overwhelm her again.

She began to breathe raggedly, knowing whether or not she fainted he was still going to take her; he was becoming more brutal with each passing moment. She didn’t know what to do. It was Chad all over again. She wanted to shut down, she wanted to pretend she was somewhere else. Her fear was again overwhelming. Her brain once more began to slow down its thinking.

“
Stop being a doormat.”
Lando’s words stormed into her mind.

Without realizing what she was doing, one of Christy’s knees smashed up between Rick’s legs. He howled in pain and Christy bit at the hand holding her down, she squirmed out from under him. Fleeing the room, Christy raced, looking for somewhere to hide. But Rick was already after her. She could hear his ragged breathing between the hideous words he was screaming at her.

Christy ran through a door into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her. She climbed on the toilet seat to reach the small window above, struggling to open it, but the windowsill had been painted and was sealed shut. Rick was banging on the door with hard fists, yelling at what he would do to her when he got her.

Christy looked frantically for something to smash the window with and, finding the plunger, she smashed at the window with the stick end. She cried out in relief as the glass shattered. She hit at the remaining glass, the wood of her weapon crashing onto small jagged edges. Rick threw his shoulder harder and harder at the door. Throwing a thin bath towel down on the windowsill, Christy struggled to climb through. The window was narrow and her slight body squirmed through while being cut with a tiny few remaining fragments of glass.

She heard an ear shattering crash from behind her as Rick kicked a hard, booted foot at the door. Christy’s body was pulled back through the window with a vicious tug. She screamed, terrified, as Rick held her arms in a powerful grip, tangling around her shirt, and he smashed her against the tiled blue bathroom wall. He grabbed her throat in his hand, lifting her over a good foot up off the floor to his eye level. His face was contorted into a hideous mask of seething rage. His dangerous glare bore into hers.

Christy’s gaze flew wildly around the room, looking for escape. Her arms helplessly battered at his rock solid chest, only inflicting more pain on herself.

“Let me go. Leave me alone,” she screamed.

“Maybe you like it rough,” Rick said with menace. “Honey, I can do rough. I can do it rougher than anyone you’ve ever known.” He dipped his head and his mouth angrily descended on hers, pressing so hurtfully against her teeth that her lip split and she tasted blood. Remembering the taste of her own blood and the fear it stemmed from made Christy slump forward against Rick’s body. Her terror consumed her. She had tried. She had failed. She would now face the consequences.

After finding the overgrown road, Lando followed the vehicle’s tracks to a small cabin. He approached with caution. Though wet and cold, Lando didn’t notice his discomfort; he ignored his physical needs. He had a job to do, a big one. Lando was told he was the best in the business. Now he would find out. Not only did he have four hits to accomplish, he had one life to save. One very important life.

Lando moved as one with the foliage, the weight of his boots making no sound as he crept closer. He abandoned Sam’s large, warm jacket. It was a light blue. His own, lighter coat was dark brown, offering a better camouflage. He remained undetected as he pressed to a large tree.