Here we go, Breanna. One minute, one second. Get through each one. Survive.
The door swung open, the rusty hinge screaming in the quiet of the night, a bright flashlight stabbing through the darkness, illuminating both women. A man — a big one — climbed in, the beam of the flashlight dropping to the floor, the trailer’s springs compressing under the extra weight. The man crouched down, shining the light up into his face.
Brayden!
He gave her a grim smile at the look of recognition on her face. “Just taking a break to stretch Genna’s legs. I told the boss we needed to keep her from getting stiff.”
Genna immediately began moaning, clinging close to Breanna.
“Shh, it’s okay, girl,” Brayden said, his voice soft, kind. “Just me, okay? Won’t hurt you. Just like on the track. Come on out now.”
He gave the girl a warm grin, teeth bright against the dark stubble around his mouth and strong chin. She let him clip a leash to her collar, and she groaned as he brought her to her feet. As Genna stumbled past, Brayden turned to Breanna, gently squeezing her shoulder and whispering. “Just hold on.”
What?
She could hear murmuring outside, and someone walking nearby, their shoes loud on the gravel. Genna’s pained moan was distinctive among the low male voices, and a ripple of laughter washed through the men.
Breanna’s heart pounded, every second an eternity as she waited for another man to appear in the open maw of that trailer door. Why were they waiting? And what did Brayden mean? Yes, he seemed reluctant to hurt Genna out on that track, but the fact remained that he worked for Quinton. If he worked for that piece of shit, then he was as bad as he was. The faux kindness routine was just that, a facade.
Something’s missing though, Breanna.
She didn’t have any time to contemplate it further though, for another bright beam of light illuminated the trailer, blinding her as it settled on her squinting face, her eyes closed against the harsh brilliance.
“Might as well get her out too.” Quinton’s voice was calm, cool, utterly devoid of warmth. “No need to wait until we get there. She’s already mine.”
Oh God, no. I’m not ready for this!
Panic rose within her, and she scrambled to her feet as much as her bound arms let her. Quinton’s men were on her in moments though, crowding into the trailer, filling it shoulder to shoulder. They grasped her by the upper arms, another putting his fist in her hair and twisting violently, the harsh explosion of pain in her scalp making her whine behind her gag.
“Remember me, honey?” One of the men leaned close. It was the same voice that had spoken to her as she was dragged away from an unconscious Derek. “He’s not here to save you this time is he? Quinton gets first crack at you, but then we’ve got a line-up going. Your cunt is scheduled for the next month, you know that?”
The man bit into the soft flesh of her earlobe, making her cry out, then with the help of his partner, he pulled her out. She kicked against the side of the enclosure, twisted against their hold, but she had no chance at all. Her legs dropped off the back of the trailer and they let her sprawl across the gravel, her breasts screaming pain as she fell on her chest, knocking the wind out of her.
The sensation was terrifying, as if a great weight sat upon her chest, preventing her from taking any breath at all. She rolled over, gasping, a piece of gravel sticking to one of her areolas. Quinton’s face appeared over her, his grin like a wolf closing in for the kill.
“Hello, Breanna.” He kicked her hip, and she winced. “Time to get up. I’ve got use for you, while Brayden over there plays gallant with the slave.”
His men hauled her up, and she stood, head drooping as she slowly got her breath back, sucking in sweet oxygen through flared nostrils, her panic at what was about to happen to her momentarily supplanted by supreme gratefulness that she was able to breathe again.
“Get her on her knees,” Quinton said, the sound of his zipper distinct and terrifying all at once.
The brutes jammed her to her knees, pulling up on her hair again, as they worked the cloth out from between her lips.
“Don’t do this, Quinton,” she blurted, her voice hoarse. “You don’t need—”
Pain blasted across her cheek, a burst of light behind her left eye as she was slapped, the sound crisp in the stillness of the night. She dimly heard Genna whimper, nearby.
“Shut up, bitch. Open that mouth.”
Oh God! No!
The sound of several vehicle engines rose in the night, drawing close, shafts of bright light erupting all around them, the men yelling in surprise. Quinton put up a hand to shield his eyes as he staggered backward. “What the fuck?”
The sound of cocked weapons could clearly be heard, and Breanna’s blood froze in her veins. Things had just gone from bad to worse.
“Get your fucking hands up or you’re a dead man,” a voice said.
The hard hands digging into Breanna’s shoulders suddenly loosened, then fell away.
Could it be? How?
“It’s me, Breanna,” Kurt’s voice said. “I’ve got you.”
She looked up, Kurt holding the barrel of a pistol against the man’s temple.
“Who the fuck?” Quinton stepped forward, reaching into his suit coat.
Breanna leaned away from him, trying to gain her feet. “No!”
Another figure rushed past Breanna, his form stepping into one of the shafts of light, a fist arcing out, crashing into Quinton’s nose. He toppled backward with a scream, clutching at his bloody face.
“That’s for taking our girl, you little fuck!”
Derek!
He wheeled around to face Breanna, his eyes wide. “You okay, sweetie?”
Looking up at him, she smiled through welling tears. “Don’t go, Derek. Please don’t go. I need you with us. Please.”
His brow creased, his eyes softening. “I won’t, I can’t. When I — when they…
fuck
. I couldn’t live with it. Knowing you were without me. Us.”
He helped her up to her feet. Then she locked gazes with the man who’d dragged her away from Derek, and she snarled, lunging at him, murderous rage flooding through her. Derek was faster though, his big ham fist swinging out and cracking against the man’s jaw. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, out cold.
“Guess your boys didn’t hit me hard enough, bitch!” Derek stood over the unconscious man, his fists clenched in rage.
“Take it easy, Rocky,” Kurt said, pulling him back by a handful of his shirt sleeve. “We’ve got her now.”
Breanna winced at the large white bandage stuck to the crown of Derek’s head, and she wanted to reach for him, comfort him. The urge was so powerful she cried out at the bindings keeping her helpless, her arms twisting against the leather. “
Fuck
, untie me. Please!”
Kurt was at her back instantly, unbuckling her harness, letting her arms loose, the air blessedly cool against her humid underarms. She turned and lunged against him, squeezing him tight in her arms, her tears coming hard and fast. “Kurt! Kurt, oh thank god. Thank God!”
She sobbed against him as he held her close, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m here. I’m here. So sorry, Breanna.
So sorry
.”
Breanna reached out a hand, fisting it in Derek’s shirt, and pulling him to her. “Derek, God I was so scared. I thought…”
Derek hugged the both of them. “I’m okay, girl. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”
Her two men, her Master and her Sir, surrounded her, protecting her. “Please. Don’t ever let me go again. Please.”
“Never, girl,” Derek whispered, his voice thick. He kissed the top of her head. “We’re never letting you out of our fucking
sight
.”
“She won’t even leave the house,” Kurt said against her hair, and she burst out laughing though her tears, adrenaline making her body tremble.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Derek and Kurt said at once.
There was a scrambling sound, gravel flying. Kurt and Derek moved Breanna behind them, Kurt’s pistol still in his hand. Derek wobbled a little, shaking his head. Breanna held onto him, peeking around his broad back. Two of the black-suited men Breanna remembered from the auction pulled the cursing and choking Quinton to his feet.
“How…?” Quinton stooped, spitting blood onto the rocks, holding the bridge of his smashed nose between two fingers.
“We had help, son.”
They all turned around at the voice.
George Trask stepped into two of the beams of light, his suit lighter than the two jet black uniforms of the guards flanking him, the men armed with assault rifles.
“Father? No, this—” Quinton held out a hand, palm up. “—this isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted her for one night. That’s it.”
“That’s not what you told me,
Sir
,” Brayden said, stepping into one of the beams of light, his face shrouded in shadow.
Quinton turned on him, jabbing a finger at him. “You’re fired, Brayden. I knew you were soft, but I didn’t know you were a fucking liar too.”
“Brayden told me everything, Quinton. I didn’t want to believe it — and look at the mess you’ve made of things now.” George sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, and nodding to one of the guards. “Get them all together.”
In short order, Quinton’s goons stood at gun point, huddled next to their erstwhile leader, who still spit up blood, his lips stained dark with it.
George turned to them, pointing, his eyes flashing in the crazy criss cross illumination of the lights. “You men there. You worked for my son, but you should’ve known better. Known what was
right
. You’re relieved of duty — and your positions. Leave now, and we won’t press charges against you. But if I see you again, we won’t bother with all that legal bullshit. The Trust has ways of solving problems. Discreetly.”
The men froze for a moment looking to Quinton, then they ran, scattering like a pack of frightened dogs as they slipped in the gravel.
“You heard him,
liar
,” Quinton spat at Brayden. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Brayden grimaced, and moved to follow the scattering goons. George’s hand stopped him.
“No, you work for me now.”
“Sir …uh, yes, Sir.”
Quinton snorted, laughing dejectedly. “And you trust him? He’ll lie to you too.”
“I want you to stop talking, son,” George rumbled, his voice lowering.
Genna stepped haltingly into the shafts of light, her face bright with tears, her sniffles barely audible. Brayden glanced down at her, giving her a small nod. “It’s okay, Genna.”
“I suppose that leaves the question of what to do with this girl then.” George rubbed his forehead, cursing under his breath. “Cordray’ll make my life hell over this.”
“Cordray can’t touch us, Father. You’re too power—”
“Shut. UP!” George roared, Quinton taking a step back.
George turned, facing Brayden, his hands on his hips. “You were the head groom, right Brayden? Taking care of the fillies?”
Brayden’s chest rose, his square jaw clenched. “Yes, Sir.”
“Well, it looks your job duties just expanded.” George extended a hand. “Genna’s yours. You think you can handle her?”
“Yes, Sir.”
She looked up at the tall man, a tiny smile flitting across her features. Brayden’s big arm wrapped around her, and he pulled her tight to his side, her arm coming up to rest on his chest.
“Can you train her? Discipline her the
right
way?”
“I will, Sir.” Brayden tucked her head against him, stroking her hair. “I swear.”
“Good. Now, I left Elaina back at the farm with Lino. I want you to take Genna back there tonight. Kurt will put you up for the time being, and Genna can be stabled with my wife.” George fixed his son with a basilisk gaze, that had Quinton swallowing hard. “Once we get this whole mess sorted out Brayden, we’ll bring you and the girl back to Seattle.”
Kurt stepped forward, waving the pistol in Quinton’s direction. “What about him? Are you taking him to the cops, or am I?”
George paused, looking off into the night, then faced Kurt. “He’s going with me.”
“Good,” Kurt said, I don’t want that piece of shit stinking up my truck. Tell the cops we’ll provide statements whenever they need.”
Derek snorted. “Oh no, we can take him. I don’t know how much of him will be left to hand over to the fuzz though when I get done with him.”
“There won’t be any police.” George crossed his hands behind his back. “This will be handled internally.”
Oh no.
Quinton glanced to George, then he turned triumphantly to Kurt, a sly smile creasing his once handsome face, his bloody teeth grotesque in the low light.
“What the hell are you talking about, George?” Kurt stepped toward him, his jaw clenched tight. “He kidnapped my
wife
. He had my best friend beaten half to death. He needs to go to jail, not have some slap on the wrist from The Council.”
George turned his gaze on Kurt, and for the first time, Breanna saw that coldness directed at her husband, and she pulled Kurt close, his arm circling her waist.