Eluded (12 page)

We walked down several flights of
stairs until we were on the main floor. With wide eyes, I looked at
my surroundings. The living room was completely black. Black walls,
carpet, and furniture filled the room. The only light came from the
chandeliers that hung from the twelve-foot ceilings, but the walls
seemed to absorb the brightness, just as Derrick absorbed
happiness.

He dragged me through the living
room, down a black hallway, until we arrived at a door at the end.
From his pocket, he pulled a blindfold and tied it around my eyes.
Now, it didn't matter if there was light, because I only saw dark,
the same color as the walls.

Metal clanked against metal, and I
knew he had a set of keys.
Click. Click.
The door creaked
open, and I waited to hear something, anything, but there was
nothing. For a moment I was confused, until he pushed me down onto
a soft bed with fluffy pillows. I waited. It seemed like eternity
passed before I felt bare skin next to mine. Lightly, he brushed
his fingers over my breasts, and I didn't know someone so evil
could be gentle. He trailed his way down to my clit and rubbed
slightly, then pulled away. With a forceful grip, he spread my legs
open wide and slid his warm tongue between my slit, flicking my
clit with the tip of his tongue before he pulled away. Then he
repeated the motion again, but slowly inserted his finger inside of
me as he continued with his tongue.

I hated every second of his touch.
He was stealing this from me, and though my body craved attention
from Henry, I didn't want it from Derrick. The thoughts of what
were going through my head—hopelessness, disgust, hatred— made me
want to cry. A man who had no soul and didn’t care or respect women
was having his way with me, and I couldn't make him stop. I had no
say and with each movement, I died a little more inside.
Eventually, I would be numb.

He continued with the same motions
and forced me to the edge of climax.

"Come for me, slut," he whispered
between my legs as he slipped his hands under my ass and pushed me
harder into his face. When I was about to come, he pulled away.
Slamming his dick into me, he filled me with every inch of him. He
didn't go slow, or easy, but fucked me hard and fast. After
flipping me over onto all fours, he fucked me with so much force I
thought it might rip me in two, and I wanted him to. But I took it.
I had to no choice. I couldn't fight him. He was too strong, and if
I disobeyed him, he'd kill me. I couldn't cry out, and I was
thankful for the blindfold that allowed me to hide the pain in my
eyes.

When I thought I couldn't take
anymore, he came inside of me and then pushed me from him. The
whole experience left me raw and broken.

"Take off the blindfold," he said,
with a sinister tone.

When I did, I saw the black room
was full of men . . . watching. I felt like my world was imploding
in on itself. I wanted to run away. I wanted to scream out in
horror as I began to emotionally crumble. Hate, frustration,
embarrassment, degradation—it hit me all at once, and I wasn't sure
I would stay in control. Helplessness was one of the worst feelings
in the world, but if I tried anything, I knew the end result.
Derrick would probably enjoy killing me in front of an audience; he
got off on being gruesome in front of people.

Before I completely lost control,
I saw one person in the crowd of strangers who I recognized,
dressed in black lingerie almost identical to the white that I wore
earlier.

Sophie.

As the peanut gallery of perverts
exited, each handed Derrick a wad of cash as he grinned with greed
and counted every dollar. I closed my eyes as I leaned against the
wall, wishing I could melt into the carpet and disappear. If
embarrassment could kill . . .

I scanned the room as the chatter
faded and saw no one was left except for Sophie and Derrick. He
shut the door and locked it behind him, then came to me. I looked
up into his eyes, because that was what he loved and craved, and
tried to conjure as much loathing and hate that I could. He placed
a hand on the wall above my head and leaned down. Warm breath on my
skin made me cringe. As he kissed up my neck, he whispered in my
ear, "You did good, Lauren. They loved it, and I know you enjoyed
the attention of all those eyes. Don't worry though, I'll take care
of you later."

His hands were the last things I
wanted on me. I didn't want to be
finished
later, I just
wanted a shower and to sleep in a real bed. I needed a way to
forget about this. He threw a set of white bra and panties on the
floor, and I picked them up in a hurry. After I was dressed,
Derrick grabbed my arm and pushed me to Sophie until we stood side
by side.

"My own personal Heaven and Hell.
Fucking love it."

The white and the black . . . it
all made perfect sense. As Derrick turned around, Sophie rolled her
eyes, then made a quick slitting of the throat motion. She was
infuriated. When he about-faced, he wore a wide smile as he placed
his hands in his pockets. On any other person, it might have been
seen as a harmless gesture, but I had learned in the last day or so
that when Derrick smiled, it meant he was up to something
horrid.

"Kiss each other. Make me believe
it."

I turned and looked at Sophie and
she did the same. We stood in front of one another and she clenched
her jaw. We both sucked in a deep breath as she brushed my hair
from my shoulders. Soft lips lightly touched mine, and then the
kiss progressed into something more aggressive and passionate. Our
tongues wrestled as we exchanged a moment of unexpected romance.
For a few more minutes, we continued to kiss and touch until my
arms found their way around her waist, and hers around my neck.
Before we pulled out of our embrace, we both quietly laughed on
each other's lips, because in that forced moment, we had gotten
lost in one another. She felt safe, freeing, and pulled me away
from the horrible situation I had just experienced.

"Mmm. Very believable, and hot as
hell." Derrick's voice was deep and gravelly. Bastard was getting
off on watching us.

I turned my head, looked at him,
and forced a fake smile. "Anything for you," I said.

"Anything?" he replied.

Sophie interlocked her fingers
with mine and answered back. "Anything."

Though he had just come inside of
me, I watched the erection form in his pants. Derrick moved to us
and ran his fingers through our hair. "You two will make me a very
happy man," he said in our ears at the same time. "A very, very
happy man."

Sophie squeezed my hand tighter,
and I knew exactly what that meant.

We had Derrick exactly where we
wanted him, by the fucking balls.

ABBOT

Sixteen

D
errick was never one to
take orders from anyone. In retrospect, I should have seen the
psychotic signs long before anything happened between us. I knew he
was different, I knew he had suffered growing up, but I thought
that it was a phase. That he wanted to seek revenge to fill the gap
in his life . . . until he tried to kill
me.

Slowly he became obsessed with
wanting to take girls and rape them, girls who coincidentally all
looked the same. Over the years, my rules had always been the same.
Do not hurt women. Do not hurt the innocent. Hunt the bad. Hunt the
destructive. But he refused to listen. When he kidnapped a
nineteen-year-old girl and kept her secret from everyone for weeks,
turning her into his personal slave, making her perform sexual
favors for him until he was satisfied, it was the last straw. She
wasn't there because she wanted to be, she was forced. When I found
out, I beat him to a bloody pulp, released the girl, and hoped I
had gotten through to him. Wrong.

Once Derrick became angry, he was
known for losing control and being destructive, dangerous even, but
I handled him personally each time.

"I know where your sister is,"
he’d threatened as I walked away from another pointless argument
with him. I quickly turned around, and he pulled his knife on me.
As I moved to him, he threw it, aiming for my heart. Somehow I
moved out of the way, but the knife went into the flesh of my arm.
When I saw blood, a dangerous rage overcame me.

Derrick thought he could stop me,
control me even, make me conform to his rules, but he never fully
fleshed out his ideas or plans. Seemed not much had changed. When I
pulled the knife from the muscle in my arm, I lost a large amount
of blood. The fear of dying never set in, as I chased him and drew
my weapons. Some men heard me screaming after Derrick and helped me
catch him.

After Dr. D sewed me up, I went to
Derrick. I asked him where my fucking sister was, if she was alive,
and who was responsible . . . but he refused to answer my
questions. For weeks, I tortured him. Singed his arm where he had
cut mine until his skin was scarred in the same exact place. Tired
of playing games with him, I promised the two things he feared the
most—drowning and death.

***

My alarm buzzed and flashed
KINGS CROSS
. Go time. Liam waited for me outside on the
stoop of his townhome. When he got into the vehicle, I saw a file
folder stuffed full with papers.

"What's that?"

He pulled the pages from the
inside and threw a large stack of photos across the
dashboard.

"They are pictures of the women
they've captured, women who are being treated like fucking animals.
Look at this."

At the back of the stack was a
single picture of a woman in dirty clothing sitting on the floor.
Her eyes were sunken in, along with her cheekbones, and she looked
as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. I recognized her from the tele. It
was Rebecca Sheffield, an up-and-coming lawyer who had visited
London for a vacation. She was listed as missing three weeks prior.
The reward for finding her was close to a million. I wondered what
the ransom was.

"This is fucking Reb—"

"Rebecca Sheffield. I know. She
isn't healthy. She looks like shit," Liam said. "You do know what
this means, don't you? If we take these women and return them back
to their families—" He stopped and looked at me. "We'd be very
wealthy. We could expand. We could do lots of good with
millions."

"Indeed, but that would also bring
the limelight. I don't want attention on us. We do what we can but
we stay under the radar," I said.

"I agree, but we take the
money."

"Do you see any pictures of
Lauren?"

I pulled over on a street a block
or so away and allowed the vehicle to idle with the lights off. The
Range Rover allowed me to be completely undetectable. Liam handed
me the file folder, and I flipped through it, searching for
familiar faces. All were women who had been posted across London,
flashed on the news screen, and displayed on the Internet. Closer
to the end, there was a picture of Lauren laying on the floor as
she talked to a woman with dark brown hair. I wasn't sure what drew
me to her, or why I was becoming so obsessed, but now Derrick stole
something that I had claimed as mine, and it was
personal.

As the men walked to the large
cross statue, we ducked down in the seat and placed black masks
over our heads just in case. Jacqueline got out of a blue sedan and
walked to a group of men who moved from the shadows. We could see
she was yelling and pushing them away from her. More time passed as
we watched, and they let go of her. Another man punched her in the
face, then kicked her in the stomach after she was down.

"Fuck, they better not kill her,"
Liam whispered, as I could feel my hate for them increase. After
they spit on her, they threw a set of keys on her body and walked
away. I couldn't wait to talk to her, to learn more about her next
set of instructions.

The men were laughing and
congratulating each other for beating the shit out of Jacqueline as
they walked down the street. I sat up straight and held the
steering wheel so tightly I could feel my heart beat.

"Abbot," Liam said, no concern but
warning in his tone.

"I want to fucking kill
them."

"Let's do that, but first"—he
smiled—“let’s follow them?"

I patted him on his shoulder and
smiled. "Smart kid."

"I'm not a fucking kid, old man.
Just logical."

A dark-colored car pulled out in
front of me and sped down the street. I sped just a little but
stayed far enough behind them that it wasn't obvious. We traveled
further on the outskirts of the city, and when they turned off, I
kept going straight.

"What are you doing?" Liam
asked.

"You never follow someone all the
way to their destination. You let them make their turn, keep
driving, then go into creep mode."

I slowed down and watched the
headlights of the van continue down a shelled road. "I'll fucking
kill them," I whispered as I made a U-turn in the middle of the
road. Taking the curve way too quickly, the Range Rover slid on the
gravel before the anti-swerve control kicked in. Without kicking up
too much dust, I crept down the road and scanned the surroundings.
Seemed like a rural area. I turned into the driveway of an
abandoned house and pulled around the back.