Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1 (17 page)

“
And this is the scene all
over the country,” the news reporter said.

Connor flipped through the channels, looking
for local news. Sure enough, riots were going on in downtown
Olympia as well. He left the television on and hurried through the
house, gathering his guns and a couple of knives. He grabbed a box
from his garage and dumped all the canned food from his cupboards
into it. Since he was a bachelor who generally ate out, he didn’t
store up much, but what he had was better than nothing. He packed
everything into his SUV. Dialing Jacob’s cell, Connor peeled out of
the driveway and headed in his brother’s direction.

Jacob’s wife was one of those apocalyptic
preachers, always talking about the end of the world and preparing
for a catastrophe. As the recession plunged into a depression,
Cathy had started investing in bottled water by the case and bulk
dried foods. She’d taken over the safe in Jacob’s store and stocked
it full of survival supplies. She'd even nagged Jacob until he had
the safe door modified with a combo lock that could open from the
inside and outside. Connor had written her off as crazy, but as he
drove, he reevaluated his opinion of his sister-in-law.

Jacob’s store was ten minutes from Connor’s
house, but he made the drive in six. The moment he stepped out of
his SUV, Jacob pulled him into a hug.

“
You made it!” Jacob
shouted. “I told you he’d make it, Cath.”

Cathy walked over and embraced Connor. “Yes,
dear, you did. Now let’s get this stuff in the safe. It’s about to
get crazy out here.”

Connor looked around and realized they were
missing someone. “Where’s Ashley?”

Cathy had just leaned into the SUV to grab
something. She stopped and turned back toward Connor, lines of
agitation spread out from her pursed lips. “She isn’t with
you?”

“
Sure she is,” Jacob
replied, resting his arm over Connor’s shoulders. “My brother would
never let anything happen to our little girl.”

Connor’s Glock appeared in his hand. Smoke
rose from the warm barrel, blotting out the sky. “I killed you.
Both of you.”

Jacob and Cathy were standing in front of
him now. The bullet wounds in their foreheads leaked blood down
their faces.

“
I killed you,” Connor
repeated.

“
But where’s Ash?” Jacob
asked.

Connor’s body lurched forward and Jacob and
Cathy disappeared.

* * *

Connor could hear Ashley sobbing. “Uncle
Connor, please wake up,” she begged. Her tears spattered against
his face, and she tugged on his shirt.

“
Ash. There you are.” Still shaken
from the dream, his arms wrapped around her. Then he realized she’d
spoken to him. He squeezed her tight, not wanting the moment to
end, dreading the inevitable return of her silent treatment. If
this was a dream, he didn’t want it to ever end.

“
Uncle Connor, where is Libby?” Ashley
asked slowly, emphasizing each word.

Where is Libby?
Connor closed his eyes and remembered Liberty’s very large,
very frightened eyes pleading with him to rescue her from the gun
Mark Fletcher held to her head. He opened his eyes and searched the
room, hoping to find something that would prove his memories
wrong.
Mark Fletcher? Couldn’t be.
His head ached, preventing him from focusing. He reached up
and gingerly explored the large lump forming on the top of his
head.

It was real.
As his brain struggled to shove together pieces of the
puzzle, there were two things he was absolutely positive of: Mark
Fletcher had Liberty and Connor had to get her back.

He massaged his temples for a moment,
and then struggled to his feet. The throbbing in his head climaxed,
becoming an obnoxious base line that blackened his vision. Gritting
his teeth he stood against the pain. “She’s gone. He took
her.”
And he will die for it.

“
Took her?” Ashley grabbed Connor’s
arm and attempted to steady him. “Who? Where? You’re not making
sense.”

“
A … lunatic. He had a gun … took
her.” He pieced the facts together while heading toward the bed.
Reaching between the mattresses, he pulled out the Glock and its
extra clip.

Ashley’s slumped down on the bed. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about! What lunatic? And where did he take
her? And—”

“
I don’t know!” Connor snapped. “I
just know I have to find her. And I don’t have much time, so I need
you to just hush for a minute and let me think.”

Ashley hurried to Liberty’s pack and
unzipped it. “I’m coming with you.”

“
You’re what? No. I don’t have time
for this.” Connor sat on the bed and pulled his wet sneakers back
on.

“
I want to help. I’m coming.” She
rummaged through the pack and pulled out Liberty’s gun and
knife.

Connor felt his jaw drop. “No you’re not.
And put those down before you kill yourself!”

“
So, what?” She glared at him. “I’m
just supposed to wait here and hope you both come back? And what if
he comes for me while you’re gone?”

“
That’s not—”

“
I’m not going to just sit here and
wait for you two to die!” Tears formed in her eyes.

Connor looked around the room, desperate for
help. If he could find some sturdy rope he could solve this
problem. At least temporarily.

Ashley seemed to read his mind. “You don’t
have time to tie me up. We need to help Liberty.” She wiped her
eyes and sniffled.

“
Okay fine.” He glanced at the weapons
in her hands. “You can come and bring the knife, but the gun
stays.”

She started to argue but he cut her off.
“Ashley.” He tried to sound composed and competent while his
stomach twisted with concern. “You’re barely twelve—you’re not
carrying a freaking gun!” He shook his head, refusing to believe he
was even having this conversation.

My life used to be so normal.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I GASPED AS the intruder nailed Connor over
the head with his gun. Connor crumpled to the floor like a rag
doll.

Not dead. Please don’t let him be dead.

Mark had one hand around my wrist, and
the other on his gun. He dragged me down the stairs and slammed me
into the wall. The front of my dress was stretched out, I had bite
marks on my shoulders and chest, and my lip was bleeding.
This is exactly why I don’t date.

I watched my abductor from the corner
of my eye.
Mark Fletcher? Seriously? How
about sending a nice guy my way for a change?
Mark was
infamous. Anyone who picked up a newspaper or turned on a TV during
his trial knew who and what he was: spoiled rich boy turned sexual
deviant. He preyed on young women, abused his position, and took
advantage of his employees. Of all the people who could have been
hunting down Connor, it had to be this one.

Mark found the duffle bag Conner had filled
with food. He tucked his gun into his pants, unzipped the bag, and
glanced inside. With a grunt of approval he zipped it back up, and
then slid it over my shoulder, slapping my butt like I was his own
personal beast of burden. The slap stung and I reflexively stepped
away and attempted to pull my wrist from his grasp. My resistance
seemed to encourage his advances. He pulled me into his arms and
kissed me, pushing me back until I hit the wall. Then he leaned
against me.

“
Just a taste,” he purred and nibbled
on my neck, starting in the center and moving to my ear. Anger
danced with pain when he pierced my lobe between his teeth. I swung
at him with my free hand, but he intercepted it. When I tried to
kick him he moved closer, trapping my legs with his. I cried out,
but he muffled my scream with his lips.

He ripped the clip from my hair, raking it
through the tangles. When I gasped in pain his tongue forced its
way through my teeth. Coppery-sweet blood mingled with the flavor
of Mark’s kiss. Warm, sticky liquid dribbled down my neck as his
hands pinned mine against the wall.

He pulled away from me and the manic
gleam in his eyes shattered my fury—each shard of rage melted into
a different shade of terror. As he led me from the house, the
magnitude of my situation hit me. Mark was beyond reason and I was
unarmed with no allies and no options.
Must
run!

Instinct took over. I lowered my shoulder
and the bag fell to the ground with a loud thump. When Mark bent to
pick it up I yanked my wrist from his grasp and sprinted away. It
was a stupid move, but panic and intelligence are not usual bed
fellows.

Mark caught me within seconds, grabbing a
handful of my hair and jerking it hard, he brought me to a hasty
stop. I fell backwards, arms flailing. My hands grasped for his
jeans as I landed on my bottom with a tail-bone bruising thud. I
battled for breath through my nose as he forced another
disgustingly sloppy kiss on me. He dropped the duffel bag and
pulled the gun out of his pants, returning it to my temple. His
lips released mine and his hot, reeking breath stung my
nostrils.

“
You don’t
need
to walk, and they don’t
need
to live to get what I’m after.” The threat
was delivered with the sensuality of a lover and the malice of a
serial killer; a disturbing combination. He yanked my hair, pulling
me back up to my feet, and led me over the threshold of a nearby
house. This time I went willingly. There was no doubt in my mind of
the consequences if I didn’t. The door shut behind us—like the
final nail in my coffin—extinguishing all hope.

“
Sorry about this babe,” he whispered
into my ear.

A sharp pain on the side of my head preceded
the nothingness that overcame me.

* * *

When I awoke, I was lying on my back in a
dark room. My clothes were wet and my teeth chattered from the
cold. I paused and listened, but silence greeted me. The ceiling
spun, and the shadows remained fuzzy no matter how many times I
blinked. My arms and legs were uncomfortable. I tried to reposition
them, only to discover that I couldn’t move.

Every inch of my body felt stiff and sore. I
lifted my head and saw the problem: my hands and feet were secured
by sheets, tied to bed posts. I tried to scream, but the sound was
muffled by the gag in my mouth. As my mind began to decipher
previous events, my heart rate and throbbing head entered into a
drumming competition. Out of all the ways I’d ever woken up, this
was—hands down—the worst.

There was nothing funny about the
situation, but I laughed around the gag anyway, knowing if I didn’t
tears would start falling.
Seriously, God?
We need to chat about Your sense of humor.
Though
threatened several times, I’d never actually been gagged. It was a
hideous experience that took ‘helpless and violated’ to a whole new
level. I pulled against the restraints to no avail; they held
fast.
Oh, yay.
Our
resident freak has apparently spent some time perfecting his
bedroom bondage techniques. What a surprise.

By the time Mark’s hazy figure darkened the
doorway, my arms felt like they were being pulled out of their
sockets. Human limbs were never meant to be in this position, and I
had no idea how long I’d been there. It was still dark outside, but
that told me nothing about the time since the storm raged on. Each
boom of thunder and flash of lightning created the ideal background
for my personalized horror movie.

Mark slowly circled the bed—a predator
inspecting his prey—then sat next to me. Pulling the gag down, he
nibbled on my bottom lip, as I lay there, exposed. He kissed me
again, but this time it was slow and tender. It might have even
passed for romantic had he not knocked me out and dragged me to
this kinky love nest against my will. I’ve heard that some women
are into that sort of thing, but definitely not this one.

He came up for air and gave me a
self-congratulatory smile. “I’m a better kisser than Dunstan,
aren’t I?”

I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was so
typical. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed Connor,” I lied.

Mark backhanded me. It was so fast and
unexpected that had my arms been free, I still couldn’t have
blocked in time. The slap felt like a belly-flop on my face. My
eyes watered, my nose ran, and my pounding head stepped up the
tempo.

“
Don’t lie.” He glowered at me and
raised his hand again. I winced, holding my tongue, not knowing how
to respond. I lowered my eyes and tried to look cowed.

His hand dropped and his shoulders slumped
forward. “I’m sorry. You just can’t make me angry. I don’t want to
hurt you. If you make me hurt you again, I’ll be very angry with
you.”

As my clouded brain searched for the logic
in his muddled statement, he started pacing. “I had a good life
before Dunstan came along. I bet he told you all about how he took
me down.” He paused and looked at me.

He’s serious? He really
thinks we sit around talking about him?
I hid behind
my closed eyelids, hoping the maniac wouldn’t find me
there.

“
He ruined my life!” Mark screamed the
words. “I wasn’t a saint, but neither was he. He had no right. He
should have never stuck his nose in where it didn’t
belong!”

I opened my eyes and watched him. If he was
going to hit me again, this time I at least wanted to brace for the
impact. It was too dark to see his expression, but anger emanated
from his body in waves, eroding what was left of my resolve.
Goosebumps spread across my flesh and my body trembled.