Eluded (8 page)

"So. Where's the car?"

Liam laughed and handed me the
keys.

"You're too much of a fucking
liability for a
car
." He pointed to a black Range Rover and
smiled. "Maybe next time you should purchase your own if you have
specifics. I believe this meets the criteria you gave
me."

I shook my head in disdain as I
walked to the fucking tank of a vehicle he bought.

"If you decide to crash this one
into the back of another vehicle, maybe you'll be better
off."

"You smartarse little bastard." I
opened the door and saw black leather, black interior, black
everything . . . my favorite color. "I guess this will do. Why did
you think I would want to drive around in a Chelsea fucking
tractor?"

Liam smiled with a shit-eating
grin, and I got in.

The steering wheel felt good in my
hands and the seats conformed to my body. It would grow on
me.

"Come on. I'll bring you home," I
said.

Liam climbed inside of the Range
Rover, and I slammed on the gas. He sighed deeply as I sped down
backroads and through town, taking corners way too fast. But I had
control.

"Do you know where they are taking
the women?" I asked.

"I think I'll know tomorrow night,
by the weekend for sure. I have an idea, but I'm not positive. Got
some information about the next girl they would be kidnapping. The
plan is to follow them in an inconspicuous vehicle to confirm their
location, hence the Rover."

"Where and what time?"

"They seem to want to do things
much later than usual. After midnight, but before sunrise. They've
stopped the midday shit, which is good. Our informant said he would
let me know when they are on the move."

"They took Lauren, and I have to
find her. You know I don't believe in that instant love bullshit,
but there is an attraction. She intrigues me. I won't stop until we
find her."

Liam lifted an eyebrow at me and
held back a smile. "You're smitten. Ha! Don't worry boss, we will
find her."

As I pulled into his drive, I put
the Rover in park, grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed.

"Thanks, Liam. You're doing a
great job. You'll make an excellent leader of the group
someday."

He gave a sarcastic laugh. "No,
old man. No one can replace you." He got out and shut the
door.

I rolled down the window.
"Twenty-seven isn't old, but you need to accept that I won't live
forever."

"You're fucking old to me . . .
but I won't let you die."

For being as young as he was, he
was brilliant, and reminded me of myself at nineteen. It took years
for me to get over my sister being kidnapped. The household wasn't
the same. Up until we moved, her room stayed exactly how she had
left it that day. Her abduction was a skeleton in my family's
closet, and my parents made sure to keep me close. For seven years,
I shut myself off to the whole world, but when I awoke, I was a new
person—fearless, with hopes of changing the world by wiping the
streets of London clean. My rage stemmed from my sister being
stolen, his came from the abuse he suffered over half of his life.
Most of my men were broken in some way, but they weren't weak.
Their experiences fueled them and that alone made them the
strongest set of individuals I'd ever had the pleasure of working
with. And to be their leader was a fucking honor. If I died
tomorrow, I'd die fulfilled.

"Meet you here at midnight
tomorrow. Keep me updated with the driver. I want to know the exact
moment she wakes," I said.

He gave a quick nod and walked up
the steps of his townhome. I hadn't really cared for many people in
my life, but Liam was a kid who, if anything ever happened to him,
I was sure I'd burn down the world to avenge his death.

LAUREN

Eleven

H
igh-pitched,
ear-shattering screams filled the entire room and ripped me from my
restless sleep. A few rays of sunshine peeked through small
rectangular windows at the top of our cell, lighting the room in an
orange hue. I hoped to be able to experience real sunshine when I
got back to Galveston, if I ever made it back home.

I sat up on the cot and rubbed the
sleep from my tear ducts. Sophie lay in the cot on the other side
of me, and all I could see was dark hair and a small frame. The
descriptors she used for me the night before summed her up
perfectly. When she rolled over and opened her eyes, I saw a blue
the color of the water in Florida. Her black hair complimented her
pouty lips and high cheekbones. Sophie wasn’t genuinely pretty, but
beautiful, and I didn't think a person in the world would disagree
with that statement.

I smiled, and she returned the
gesture as she sat up. She took the rubber band from around her
wrist and tied her long dark hair in a low, tight
ponytail.

"I'm Lauren," I said, and reached
out my hand. It was the proper thing to do, and she grabbed it with
a firm handshake.

"Nice to put a face with the
voice," she said, then stood and stretched.

"The screaming woke me. Is that
normal?"

"You'll get used to it," she said
as she walked over to the bars that kept us incased in the small
room. The concrete was grey, and in the corner was a small puddle
of curdled blood. I looked down at the bottom of my pants and
realized that what I had stepped in last night wasn't water. The
terror slowly built inside of me, but I kept it there. I had too
many questions and needed answers, but I knew I wouldn't get
them.

"Is that . . . "

"Blood? Yes. The last girl was
killed in front of me. They thought it would break me, but I've
learned to shut myself down completely." Her voice sounded far away
and all I could do was stare at the dark puddle on the ground. "I
pray you aren't here as long as I have been, and if you are . . .
you'll learn to do the same." Her voice was almost as
whisper.

"How long have you been here
exactly?" I asked.

Sophie shook her head and took a
few steps back as a large man dragged a girl by her hair down the
hallway. The woman screamed and hollered, but he didn't pay her any
attention.

I stood and studied the woman. Tan
skin, dark hair, and thin . . . with brown eyes that seemed to see
right through me. "Please," she screamed at Sophie and me. "Please
help me."

I turned my head. I couldn't look
at her. Queasiness rose in my stomach, but I had nothing to throw
up, so I swallowed it down. I turned away, and the man opened the
door to our cage and threw the woman in. She lay on the floor
crying in a heap.

Sophie backed against the wall,
and I followed her lead. "It's Derrick."

"Who the hell is Derrick?" I
whispered.

"He's the leader of this group. I
fucking hate him with a burning passion."

I looked down at the woman on the
ground as Derrick entered the cell. Sophie didn't take her eyes off
him. She didn't bow down. I didn't care what he looked like. I
didn't want to remember that any of this happened.

"Sophie," he said with a thick
English accent, then reared his foot back and kicked the woman in
the stomach. She cried out in horror and pain and begged for him to
stop.

Derrick dropped down to one knee
and yanked the woman's clothes from her body. Sophie stared at him
without faltering as I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch any
longer.

When the cell doors slammed shut,
I looked down at him and regretted ever doing so. I focused on
Derrick with his dark wild hair and piercing blue eyes. Then I
watched the woman struggle to get away from him as he unzipped his
pants and spread her legs wide. As she continued to thrash, he
thrust himself into her and wrapped his hands around her
throat.

"Now, you'll lay there and fucking
enjoy it, or you're dead, bitch."

She stopped moving and held back
whimpers as he placed all of his body weight on top of her, pinning
her wrists down. Then he fucked her ravenously, like a wild animal,
forcing himself deeper inside of her. She squeezed her eyes shut,
and I watched tears stream from her face as his grunts filled the
room. Derrick wasn't human; he had no ounce of empathy in his body
as he tore his way through the insides of the poor
woman.

"Do you like watching me fuck,
Sophie?" he asked, but she didn't wipe the disgusted look from her
face or answer. Piercing blue-grey eyes met mine, and I almost
shivered. He licked his full lips, then smiled with perfectly
straight, bone-white teeth as he continued to fuck the poor
girl.

Minutes later, he was coming
inside of her, and when he pulled out, I saw drips of blood on the
clothes he had ripped from her. No longer could I hold back my
emotions and I started to dry heave, though nothing came up. Sophie
grabbed my wrist and squeezed, and I closed my eyes and tried to
breathe. It felt like the walls were caving in around
me.

The woman began to cry deep sobs
as she lay in a ball on the floor holding her body, trembling from
the pain. I wanted to go to her and tell her everything would be
okay, that she would be okay, but I didn't know if that was true. I
broke inside watching him be so rough with her. Derrick was a
monster.

"I said to shut the fuck up," he
said, but when she didn't stop, he pulled a knife from a sheath
around his leg and bent down beside her. Before he slit the woman's
throat, he looked over at Sophie and smiled. When he stood and
wiped the blade on his shirt, the woman's empty brown eyes stared
into mine. I watched a puddle of blood form close by the other
one.

"No," I screamed out in horror,
then covered my mouth realizing what I had done.

Within an instant, Derrick was in
front of me, pushing me against the wall until I felt the cold
cement against my back.

"And you are?"

I swallowed. I didn't want to
answer because of the venom in his tone. He was like poison, and I
refused to take a sip. There was murder in his eyes, a need for
more blood that I didn't want to address.

He chuckled. His face was only
inches from mine, and I could smell something sweet on his breath,
like strawberries. The smell sickened me.

Derrick moved his mouth close to
my ear and whispered, "When I ask you a fucking question, you
answer immediately. If I tell you to fuck, you bend your ass over
and take it. Do you understand? Do you want to be the next nameless
fuck who I take and kill? Or do you want to live?" He never raised
his voice, but rather stayed completely calm, and that alone scared
the shit out of me. He had just killed and raped a girl in front of
us.

"I'll obey," I whispered, knowing
exactly what my outcome would be if I didn't.

"So what's your fucking name,
sweetheart?"

He pushed against me harder, and I
could feel the growing erection against my stomach. He had just
fucked and wanted more. I couldn't handle this. I was slowly losing
myself, hoping that it was a bad dream, hoping that I would wake
up.

"Lauren," I said.

Being in control of me made him
harder. Having power over me turned him on while scaring me
shitless. He slipped his hands up my shirt and rubbed his cold
fingers across my nipples. Blood was sprinkled across his shirt,
and looking behind him, I could still see the cold eyes of the girl
he had just murdered.

His hand found its way down my
pants, and he rubbed my clit with two fingers. I wanted to cry, I
wanted to crumple into a piece of paper and be thrown away as I
fought back the tears. I hated every second that his hands were on
me. It wasn't right.

"You're enjoying it," he
said.

But I wasn't, I wanted to say. It
was about survival at this point, and I knew he couldn't be crossed
or he would kill me. Slaughter was in his eyes as my body betrayed
me. He placed a finger inside, then two. As if he had already
memorized my body, he was pushing places inside of me that made me
want to die. Slowly, he moved his large fingers in and out, then
picked up his pace. I wanted to scream out in horror at his foreign
touch. My insides trembled with fear and hate, but my outward
appearance stayed unwavering.

He watched my every movement. How
I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself away, to pretend I was
somewhere else.

Please let this stop. Please.
Please. Please.
I wasn't the type of girl to beg, but inside my
head I wished and pleaded that it would all be over soon. If there
was a God out there, wouldn't he hear my silent cries? Could he
save me from this devil of a man?

I tried to think of Henry and the
last six years we had spent together. How he never wanted to touch
me in ways like this. Missionary was his thing, boring as hell, and
to make matters worse, the last four months we had no type of
sexual interactions. He was too tired from working long hours, and
I was left to touch myself in the bathtub when he wasn't home. A
few months ago I told him I wanted to purchase a sex toy and he
flipped out, so I didn't. I resorted to fingers, but I wanted to be
touched by
him
, to know that I was wanted, but he was too
busy fucking Maria. It all made perfect sense now.