Mercy's Angels Box Set (49 page)

In the end I won. I made it out on the other side with a brand new love, loyal friends, and I have my sister back. For a short time, I feared that I was lost, that my heart had been crushed under the cruel hands of a stranger in my bedroom, violating me, invading a place I should feel nothing but safe in. But Charlie helped me find myself again and I finally feel like I can breathe once more. I know I’m not completely healed, I know there will be some lingering nightmares in my future, but in the warm embrace of Charlie’s arms I feel safe.

This is where I would come home to from now on: to Charlie’s embrace, to Charlie’s warmth, to Charlie’s heart.

She had cried so many fucking tears, they simply didn’t come anymore. She was dry, spent. I fell to my knees before her and she immediately wrapped her little arms around my neck, hanging on to me for dear life. I held her close and gathered the strength I would need to carry both of us, not physically, but emotionally.

Braiden had woken us before dawn with a loud pounding on the door, scaring the fucking shit of me, let alone Rebecca. I met him at the door, Glock in hand. She was gone, Emily had disappeared. Braiden had been watching Emily around the clock at the hospital, and finally agreed to go home to freshen up when one of Frank’s boys offered to take up post at her door. He had left to take a piss, was gone not more than five minutes, and she disappeared. They had scrambled for security footage and witnessed, via CCTV, Emily wake to a phone call. She picked up the receiver, and if not for the sharp eye of Braiden and Dillon, who noticed her fist clench and shoulders tighten, we would have assumed nothing out of the ordinary. Emily hung up the phone without uttering a word, her lips sealed shut. She pulled out her IV and slid from the bed. On bare feet, in nothing but a hospital gown, she walked through the hospital, out the front doors, and straight into a waiting limousine.

Rebecca now sat on her couch, her hands hanging limply in her lap, a faraway look in her eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The bad shit was supposed to be behind us, we were moving forward, together. Braiden looked just as shell-shocked, while Dillon made phone calls from his cell in the kitchen.

“They boarded a private jet ten minutes ago,” he confirmed, strolling back into the living room. Braiden’s attention swung to Dillon. “My source picked out Emily easily, she’s pretty banged up after-all, clearly recognizable. She was in the company of a man who could only be described as Jonas Levier. He’s travelling with one other white male, unknown, but I’ll find out who it is. I’m sure Jonas only has a few people that he would keep that close.” Dillon turned to Braiden. “When you get to the airport, you’re gonna want to find a guy who goes by the name of Marsh. I’ve been assured he’s who you want to speak to, and he will more than likely be armed.” Dillon hadn’t asked Braiden to follow up on this. I guess, like me, he assumed Braiden would go looking for Emily. We had all seen the protective watchfulness in Braiden’s eyes as he had watched over Emily for the last week. He even managed to get her eating and talking.  Though not much, it was more than anyone else could get from her.  Braiden nodded and moved to stand before Rebecca. He sank to his knees and took her hands in his.

“Rebecca.” His voice commanded attention and I found myself wondering if it was his ‘master’ voice. As soon as I wondered that, I wanted to kick the shit-head’s ass for possibly using it on my girl. Rebecca’s glassy eyes focused on him. Whatever command he had over women, in that moment, I was glad it had roused Rebecca from the catatonic state she had been sitting in for nearly forty minutes now. “I will get her back,” he said with determination. “I promise you I will not come home without her, you have my word.” I didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t said he’d return with her alive, but I appreciated his resolve, and how much he obviously cared. Rebecca needed that, hell, Emily needed that. Rebecca nodded, her jaw set firmly. She stood with Braiden and gave him a quick hug before wrapping herself tightly around my waist. I wish I could wrap both my arms around her. Damn gunshot wound made me want to kill William Levier all over again.

“I’ll let you know what I get as it comes in,” said Dillon, walking Braiden to the front door.

“Appreciated,” Braiden said rigidly before leaving.

“And I’ll keep you both up to date,” Dillon said over his shoulder to Rebecca and me.

“Thank you,” Rebecca whispered.

I didn’t want to think what Emily might be going through right now. I couldn’t bring myself to understand why she had simply walked from the safety of the hospital and straight into his waiting limousine. The only reason I could fathom was that he threatened Rebecca’s life. I knew Emily would do anything to keep her sister safe. She carried a world of guilt over the shit with William, and she would do anything to keep Jonas away from her only family. I held Rebecca a little tighter at the thought of the abuse Emily had already endured and wondered how much more she could handle before she broke beyond repair. I had no idea what kind of girl Braiden would return to Claymont with, if he returned with her at all. There was no doubt in my mind, she would carry one tortured soul.

“Strength is overcoming your worst fear.”

Tortured Soul

I had assumed the position long before he had entered the room. On my knees, my ass resting on the back of my heels, spine slightly arched, eyes downcast focusing on the curve of my knees. My hands were resting on my thighs, palms up as per his preference. I should be naked, but I’m not. When I heard the low rumble of his voice from outside the locked door, I had fallen straight into position. Every minute that passed by since was a minute I could have spent undressing to present my body without obstruction, again just as he preferred it. I was afraid if I stood, he would enter the room, and being caught out of position was worse than being caught fully clothed. The gentle ache in my unmoving limbs told me that I had been resting in this position for close to an hour. I’ve sat this way for more hours than I cared to remember, so I knew the posture well, and I knew the familiar ache in my body even better. When the door to the room opened with such force that it slammed against the wall, I didn’t so much as flinch. There wasn’t much that could make me flinch anymore. I knew it pissed him off that I had reached this point. It was part of the reason I was no longer his. I no longer pleased him; my body, heart and mind was blank and unresponsive while he preferred his women the opposite. He liked to intimidate and know his presence caused fear, he longed to dominate and subjugate. When his women surpassed this point and became blank slates, he instantly became bored . Somewhere in the deep recesses of my warped mind it pleased me that he found such anger and disgust in my disinterest. Then there was that small broken part of me that missed the dominance I had somehow grown to crave. It sickened me that I wanted that from him, after all, I hated him like no other. Somewhere during the years of my captivity, his control had turned into a sickening addiction. Perhaps his baffling response to me had sent my emotions into a whirlwind of confusion. His touch could be so soft one moment and become painful the next. Then there was the memory of my first time. He had taken me with such tender care, and I clung to that moment like a drowning woman. One time with his hands on my body, showing me true passion, the only glimpse I’d ever had of a loving intimate caress. There has been plenty of intimacy since that moment, but none of it could be considered loving—hard hands, forceful penetration, pulling, slapping, shoving, squeezing, biting, cutting, beating—but never loving.

The chair that dragged across the tiled floor made a grating noise that punished my ears. Apart from my silent and hateful guard, I have been alone in this villa for two months now in maddening silence—no talking, no noise. I had escaped him, escaped his son, William, and for a brief moment I had been free. Then a phone call during the middle of the night to a hospital room in Claymont had dragged me from my short lived freedom, back into his callous hands. He had threatened my sister, and I would do anything to keep her safe. Even walk willingly back into captivity. My body stayed still, and my mind remained calm as he sat before me. A second set of booted feet stood to his side, slightly behind him—Nate, my guard. I despised him. Two intimating men were in the small room where I sat submissively at their mercy. Once upon a time this situation might have made me physically ill with fear and repulsion. Not anymore. There was nothing they could do to me that hadn’t already been done.

“Sir?” came Nate’s familiar rough voice.

He didn’t answer, but since Nate moved I assumed a non-verbal command had been issued. Nate’s boots stomped towards me. I still remained impassive and calm. Something hard nudged the side of my head, but I didn’t move an inch.

“Eyes.” The command was said with a calm voice that demanded obedience.

I raised my gaze to his and nothing inside me moved—the fear I once had for him had been buried long ago under the layers of his type conditioning and abuse —there was nothing left of me other than an empty shell. It had taken so long for him to break me, I had been stronger than most but eventually he had stripped me bare in every way. My gaze made a quick assessment of him. He had aged well over the years. His hair showed the slightest sign of gray and it somehow made him more handsome. His eyes were as I always remembered them: cold and calculating. His olive skin was smooth with only a few lines at the corners of his eyes. His body was still in perfect shape, wrapped in an expensive suit that would have cost more than the average yearly salary. That was on the outside though, inside he was ugly as sin.

His head tilted a mere fraction before he spoke again. “We are at an impasse here, Pet.”

Pet. I hated that term. That’s all he had ever seen me as—a plaything, a broken toy or animal easily discarded. Strangely enough, pet beat some of the other names men called me hands down.

“I don’t know what to do with you. You have become a liability, but somehow I feel it is my fault.”

Of course it was his fucking fault. He was the one who took me a few weeks before I turned seventeen and stole my innocence. He was the man who gently took my virginity, then proceeded to break my mind and body for seven years. He had stood back and watched men rape me, beat me, defile me. He had impassively watched every torturous moment I fought against for over a year until I finally broke, when his dominance finally became something I required to merely function on. He took me as his, molded me, built me, crafted me, then tossed me aside like rubbish when my heart and soul could no longer cope with this life. So yeah, it was this motherfucker’s fault.

“In hindsight, I realize I shouldn’t have given you to William, but we cannot undo the past. Now I am forced to make a decision about your future.”

My future wasn’t mine to dictate. It was his. He chose to take me, he chose to break me, he chose to discard me and give me to William. William, his piece of shit son who forced drugs into my body and beat me like a dog. I had been married to his spineless, worthless spawn for an entire year. When William got greedy and tried to force my sister, Rebecca, into selling her valuable land for the cash he desperately needed to pay for his drug habit, he ended up on the receiving end of some ex-commando’s wrath. He had taken a bullet to the head and witnessing his death had been the highlight of my life thus far. For nine years, the Levier men had turned my life into filth and despair. In the end, it had been witnessing my husband’s brutal murder that brought some resemblance of peace back into my heart. That was until he came for me again, threatening my sister unless I complied. God how I hated him.

He drew a deep breath and expelled a long suffering sigh. “To kill you or not to kill you, that is the conundrum I am faced with.”

As if to emphasize his point, an object was pressed hard against my head and nudged me ever so slightly. So Nate held a gun to my head. Big. Fucking. Deal. I would not give him the satisfaction of a response. Though my heart rate rose a little, my face remained blank and my mind detached. To be honest, I was a little surprised that he thought taunting me this way would be effective. I was no longer afraid of death. In fact, I longed for it—I had attempted suicide many times over the years—putting a bullet in my skull would be a gift. If he wanted to punish me, he was going about it the wrong way.

“You are tainted, marked and broken, completely worthless to me and my organization.”

By his “organization” he meant his clubs. With the scars that now laced my back and the new ones that his son had added to my body, I would no longer be acceptable in the high class sex clubs that he owned. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze penetrating and intense.

“Are you even in there anymore?” he murmured.

His guess was as good as mine. Someone was in here, but I no longer knew who. The girl inside was broken, damaged beyond repair.

A few minutes later he shook his head in disgust and sat back. “What do you propose, Nate?”

If I had remembered how to smile, I might have. I knew exactly what Nate’s response would be.

“Take her out, quick and easy. You and your businesses remain safe. She is a liability.”

And there we had it, it was the same thought that Nate had expressed since Jonas had first made me his. I hated him just as much as he hated me. My fists clenched for a moment before resuming their relaxed position.

He grinned. “I think she expected that of you, Nate.” Nate simply grunted, the gun still shoved hard against my head. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that though. You have been an entertaining piece of merchandise, Pet.” He stood slowly, and his hands slipped into his pockets as he considered me. “I think I could squeeze a little more money out of you yet.”

He planned to put me back to work, most likely in one of the smaller clubs, less exclusive where men cared little for the appearance of their women. Women who serviced these clubs were just an object for a man to stick his cock in. I was nonchalant to the idea. I had been forced many times before; it would be nothing new. I had learned how to control my body to minimize the pain and discomfort.

“Make sure she is made presentable,” he commanded Nate. His eyes held mine. “She is still young, and even with the scarring, she is quite beautiful. I have a buyer in Russia who has shown interest.”

My heart hammered hard in my chest this time. Finally, I reacted, his words spinning around in my head like a confusing and jarring ride. He planned to sell me, move me offshore and into the permanent keep of a complete stranger. This truly scared me. I never thought he would do this. Palming me off to William was a way of removing me from his care, yet keeping me close enough that he could keep an eye on me. He was proposing to move me away, far away, and into the keep of a complete stranger. The saying, ‘better the devil you know than the devil you don’t’ had become my motto. Now I was going to have to face a new devil. This was beyond frightening. I wanted to grab the gun from Nate’s hands and pull the trigger. Not to kill him, but me. Instead I kept still, kept my eyes on him just as he had commanded, and remained in position.

He shook his head. “Perhaps someone else can rectify her behavior problems. God knows I have tried and failed.”

The gun at my skull was gone and Nate moved forward. His hard eyes watched me with barely contained fury. Even though my eyes never left my former Master, I could tell Nate was seething; he really wanted to put some lead in my head.

“Rise.”

At the command I gracefully stood, showing no outward sign of the cramping in my limbs.

“So close to perfection,” he whispered as he stepped closer to me. His fingertips gently traced the line of my cheek bone and the tender contact made me gasp. He smiled, his eyes almost soft and yearning. “Now perfectly broken.” His fingers left my skin, and his tender touch became something I was more familiar with. He lowered his hand to my breast and squeezed it hard enough that I knew it would bruise. I didn’t flinch. Soon enough his hold moved lower and he cupped my sex through my shorts, rubbing hard, almost violently. It didn’t stir anything in me except disgust. With a sneer, he let go and turned to leave the room. He didn’t say another word, didn’t even spare me a backwards glance. Nate followed him out, closing and locking the door behind them, leaving me alone once again. My heart was racing and my hand grasped at the ache in my throat. A small noise broke free from my lips, and my eyes gathered tears which spilled over. It had been years since I had cried, so long I had almost forgotten what the emotion felt like. It was crushing and painful, and I hated it. Crying meant feeling and feeling meant acknowledging that as much as I thought and hoped I was dead inside, I wasn’t. His touch just now had reminded me of that one time he had shown me such care, the time he took my innocence with such exquisite gentleness. So fleeting, yet it had left something akin to hope inside of me. Now it was gone and my future would be placed in the hands of another. Someone foreign, somewhere foreign. I would be completely alone. I should have been grateful to be rid of the man who had destroyed my world and shattered my soul, but emotions have a way of twisting themselves into confusing contours that were barely distinguishable from one another—fear, hate, relief, sorrow—all blended together. I didn’t want to fear the loss of my Master, but I did, or maybe I simply feared the unknown. I had disgraced him, embarrassed him beyond measure, and he had punished me severely, yet it seemed my punishment was not over. The final nail in my coffin would be banishment. It was official. I no longer belonged to Jonas Levier, and the fear of that reality brought me to tears.

Thoughts of my sister, B, danced through my mind. I had always called her B, unable to pronounce her full name as a child, and my nickname for her had stuck. After being absent for far too many years to count, I had finally been close enough to touch her, hug her. I didn’t dare though. I wouldn’t taint her with my sins. But I had gazed upon her for the first time in years. She had changed—her hair was lighter, and her was skin paler, but she was just as beautiful as I had remembered. And she had found love. Even though I barely remembered the concept of love, I saw the strength and devotion in the eyes of the one called Charlie. He cared for her on a level as deep as the possession I had come to see in Jonas’ gaze. The difference being he wouldn’t give her away, or I assumed he wouldn’t, because what did I really know about such things? Nothing, that’s what. I knew obedience and servitude. I had protected B as best as I could from William, and in returning peacefully to Jonas, I had protected her from him, too. He wouldn’t touch her. If I trusted nothing else in this life, I trusted that. My former Master was a man of his word, and he had promised no harm would come to Rebecca or her friends. I would never see her again, but at least I knew she was safe.