Mercy's Angels Box Set (46 page)

The slamming of the front door woke me with a start. For a brief moment, I had forgotten where I was, and stared at the unfamiliar surroundings in a daze. My senses returned as Braiden stormed into the living area, an exhausted, pissed off scowl on his face. Yeah, this boy’s cool persona was cracking. He was emotionally involved in this case on a whole other level.

“Everything okay?” I asked sleepily.

“No,” Braiden honestly confirmed, flicking on the coffee pot in the state-of-the-art kitchen.

“You care about her.” It was a statement, not a question.

Braiden grunted. “I don’t even know her. I care about her situation, it feels personal.”

I knew he was referring to his extra-curricular activities in the bedroom, but I didn’t really want to open that can of worms. If the dude wanted to get personal about his sex life, he’d have to find another dude to hash it out with. Sure, I had swapped bedtime stories with Jax back in the day, but now it just felt perverted and dirty. A wave of protectiveness washed over me, and I felt compelled know exactly what Braiden’s intentions were where Emily was concerned.

“If and when we get her back, she doesn’t need another dom taking control of her life.”

Braiden raised a brow at my announcement. “I don’t know whether to admire your devotion to Rebecca’s kin, or punch you in the face for insulting me,” he admitted.

I rubbed my face thoughtfully and grinned at him. “You can try to punch me in the face.”

Braiden smiled, something he rarely did. “I’m not much for Dr. Phil moments, Charlie, so I will say this once and only once: I can’t even begin to understand the horror Emily has endured: being raped, being forced into the BDSM lifestyle, especially at her age. For any woman that sort of degradation would be shattering, for an innocent girl barely seventeen years of age...” Braiden’s eyes flared with anger and he shook his head as if trying to clear the thoughts that were consuming him in that moment. “What I can understand, to a certain extent, is what is involved in a dominant/submissive relationship. Jonas was Emily’s master, he would have trained her to behave a certain way. For example, he may have made her kneel at his feet, possibly have her speak only on command. She will be used to a life filled with a strict regime which is common in that lifestyle. When we get her back, she is going to need help separating her life as a captive slave to a free woman. Long ago I decided that life wasn’t for me, but when I did explore it, I learned to read women well, to know what they wanted and needed before they knew themselves. I think I can help Emily and I can do so while understanding the needs she might have that others wouldn’t understand. The need for command, the need for someone to control her; she will most likely be afraid to act without it for fear of reprisal. I have never and would never hurt a woman or give her something she wasn’t ready for. Emily is going to need to be treated with kid gloves for a long time. She will need extensive counseling and family and friends she can rely on and trust implicitly. But she may also need something no one else can provide. I have no plans to become her dom or anything like that, but I will be prepared to listen if she needs to talk about something no one else understands. And unless you have been hiding a deep dark secret about a predilection for restraints, floggers, and butt plugs, I’m assuming you wouldn’t have a clue.”

I’m pretty sure my eyes were the size of saucers by the time Braiden had finished. Firstly, this was the longest conversation we’ve ever had. Second, it was a glimpse into the world of BDSM that he apparently lived and breathed once upon a time.

I grinned. “Who was the butt plugs for, you or her?”

Braiden’s lips twitched in an attempt not to smile. “You asking because you are intrigued about my ass Cole?”

“Not fucking likely, just wondering exactly how kinky that shit got.”

“You’ll have to keep wondering, I’m done discussing my sex life with you.”

Speaking of sex life, where the hell was Rebecca?

“I’m gonna change, I’ve been wearing these clothes for forty-eight hours straight, then I’m gonna head back out. Did you put your car in the garage?” I gave Braiden a questioning look and realization hit us at the same time.

“Rebecca?” I yelled out, jumping from the couch and racing through the house. Braiden was slamming doors behind me as I reached our bedroom. The light was on and the clothes that had been strewn all over the floor in her fit of anger earlier that day were still lying there.

“Where the fuck would she have gone?” I asked, the urgency in my voice no doubt alerting Braiden to the fact I was moments away from a panic attack. 

“Bed,” Braiden said with a nod.

I followed his gaze and saw the paper lying on the pillow.

My heart hammered with fear. Was she still pissed off about the fight? She couldn’t have been, we had make up sex and she had told me she loved me. I picked the paper up and it shook in my nervous grip.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered. Braiden read it quickly from beside me and was already dialing Dillon as we moved out of the house. There was no need for words, both of us knew what needed to be done. Braiden’s sleek black Corvette Stingray sat in the driveway under the moonlit night.

“Dillon’s in town but headed out that way now with backup, I need you to put your thinking cap on, Charlie, you know this town better than me. William would be holed up somewhere secluded. A house, a shed, warehouse, anything you can think of will help us find them. He won’t be out in the open, it’s too fucking cold out. If he’s lawyered up and holding Emily, he’ll want shelter.” 

My mind ran over the possibilities. There was only one main highway that led out of town. At the Mountain Range Road exit, there were two directions: west that led towards the mountains or east that led through eighty miles of thick forest before hitting the next small town. My hands grabbed roughly at my hair as I tried to think of a place like Braiden was describing.

“Talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Mountain Range Road exit...he could have headed up the mountain—”

“That would be unlikely. Less exit strategies and he’s unfamiliar with the terrain. He would keep it close to the main highway, but far enough from the road that you couldn’t see lights.”

I mulled over the possibilities as Braiden spoke. “Old Morris’s shack,” I murmured. “It’s the only place I can think of that fits that description. Take the Mountain Range Road exit. The shack’s about fifteen miles past the exit and the turnoff for the road it’s on is barely noticeable. The shack’s been abandoned for years over a family dispute. It sits on a hundred acres of secluded forest. It doesn’t have electricity though, do you think that would matter?”

“I doubt it, especially if there’s not much else around. William would make do, it’s temporary after all. It’s a start though so let Dillon know, and if you can think of anywhere else they might be, tell Dillon to check them out, too.”

Braiden drove fast, like fucking fast, and although I was grateful, it didn’t mean he wasn’t making me nervous. I gripped the arm rest a little tighter when I noticed the speedometer clipped one hundred miles per hour. The black Stingray cut through the forest roads like an inky bullet. 

“Just warning you, I might just plain out kill this fucker when I see him,” I said, in an attempt to take my mind off the excessive speed, slick roads and the shadows passing too quickly outside my window.

“Just try and contain yourself until we’re sure the girls are safe. Our first priority here is the girls, Levier Junior is second priority, but I do agree, the prick needs to go down. To be honest, I think his father would probably thank us for taking care of the pain in his ass.”

We reached Mountain Range Road faster than I have ever made the trip and slowed to a stop when we noticed my truck pulled off to the side of the road. It was empty and the engine was cool. Rebecca had left it here some time ago. My gut churned with sickness at the thought that she could have been in the hands of William Levier for such a long length of time—enough time to do as he pleased with her. If he had so much as laid a finger on her, I would cut out his heart and set it on fire. Without making a sound, we were back on the highway and the next few miles passed in a haze of bloody images of William. Apparently I was a sick bastard because I had entertained some pretty fucked up ways to torture and maim William Levier. In my bloodied vapor ridden thoughts, I missed the turn off for the road to Morris’s shack. Although the winter snow, which was slowly receding, had flattened most the grass on the roadsides, the tall firs and forest that surrounded the long winding driveway to the dilapidated hovel had thickened a lot since I had last been out this way. As I quietly berated myself for wasting such precious time, Braiden subtly redeemed my self-discrimination.

“This is good. If any noise from passing traffic makes it to the shack, they would only think it was a car passing by. We can back track more carefully now and move in quietly. Trust me if they are here, a surprise attack will definitely be to our advantage.” It was only a five minute drive back along the quiet stretch of highway before I noticed the barely discernible mail box sitting deep within the overgrown brush. Braiden pulled the car a safe distance off the road, and quietly exited the vehicle, nudging the door closed with care. With the crumbling cabin sitting an easy mile away from the road, I didn’t think stealth was called for at this point, but I followed his lead anyway, slipping silently from the car. Braiden was at the open trunk, clicking back the lock on a long, large and heavy looking box that took up most the space. As he lifted the lid, my eyes bulged with unsuppressed surprise.

“Fuck me, you planning on going to war sometime soon?” I admired the clean, orderly, and extensive array of weapons displayed in the three tiered, custom built steel box.  Braiden moved quickly and efficiently, grabbing guns, loading cartridges and pocketing extra ammunition in the side pockets of his cargo pants. He handed me a gun, which I loaded, and slipped extra ammo in my back pocket.

“Call me old fashioned, but I always like to be prepared,” Braiden murmured, shoving a bad mother fucking looking knife in a sheath anchored securely around his leg.

“You were NYPD with SWAT training then a PI, right?” I asked him in disbelief. As far as I was concerned, Braiden was far too equipped for an ex-police officer let alone a private investigator. His weaponry and the way he moved, the way he carefully thought of everything and planned ahead was something more in line with Jax and Dillon, maybe on a special ops scale. Braiden lowered the trunk’s lid and it shut tight with a quiet snick.

“Yep,” he answered vaguely.

When he turned toward the dark forest before us, I would have stormed off like a noisy pissed off man, ready for battle. Braiden, however, pulled me back with a pointed glare. “Stay behind me, try and follow in my footsteps. Make sure your phone is on silent. We know this prick has at least two on his security detail who are more than likely patrolling the perimeter right now. Don’t speak unless you absolutely have to. With a bit of luck this is our target, if the place is deserted we fall back and contact Dillon ASAP.”

Frustrated at the slow progress we were making, I knew that Braiden was right. Storming in like a herd of elephants wasn’t really going to achieve anything but get Rebecca and most likely Emily killed. I didn’t know shit about this kind of shit. I threw a mean half-hook, a pretty damn cool roundhouse kick, and I managed a construction company. This was Braiden’s life and I would follow the set rules he had just dished out like a boy fucking scout. Walking through a soggy forest quietly wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Where Braiden moved like the wind, I moved more like a lazy cow. Even though it was a cloudless night, under the thick firs the radiant moon barely broke through, so to say it was dark was an understatement. It was pitch fucking black and following in Braiden’s footsteps was a joke. For every silent swift step he took, I took one long clumsy stride that seemed to snap every twig in the vicinity. Braiden came to an abrupt stop and glanced back over his shoulder.

“Wait here,” he commanded quietly.

I stood motionless, knowing I was impeding this whole stealthy ninja attack. My heart was pounding furiously, demanding that my feet move forward to the old shack that stood no more than half a yard in front of us. Every now and again I thought I saw a distant light break through the trees, but I was beginning to think that it was perhaps no more than my hopeful imagination. My body felt wired and jittery, much like I felt before and after a fight. I needed to run, or beat the shit out of something, but I could do neither. Rebecca’s life depended on me holding it together right now, and for her I could do anything, even the seemingly impossible.

A sturdy hand on my shoulder had me turning with my gun raised, finger inching towards the trigger. A rigid hand gripped my wrist and pushed the weapon to the side. Right before I could morph into attack mode, Braiden’s shadowy face got up close and personal. “Don’t fucking shoot me or I will hit you,” he growled in a low voice.

I almost laughed as relief filled my veins. I thought I was about to get my moves on with some badass fucker from the city. A pissed off Braiden I could deal with. At that moment, the moonlight found a clear pocket in the canopy of trees and reflected off the wicked knife now in Braiden’s hand. It shimmered with a red sticky substance as he wiped it on his pant leg, then shoved it carefully back in its sheath. I guess that meant Levier was here, which meant Rebecca was, too.