CROW (Boston Underworld Book 1) (29 page)

This time, there won’t be any protests from me. I want to see these animals wiped off the face of the earth. I want anyone who partakes in this turned to dust. One look at this metal box and there’s no doubt what they intend to do with these women. They’ll all become slaves to the highest bidder.

As if sensing my thoughts, the girl across from me starts to sniffle again. They never put her gag back in when they finished with her, and she isn’t even attempting to muffle the sound. I try to catch her attention, but she won’t look up.

“Hey,” I whisper.

She still doesn’t look up. The guy in the suit is growing even more agitated when he glances our way. And then he gives one of his men the order.

“You have to be quiet,” I hiss. “Please.”

“I can’t!” she sobs. “They’re going to kill us!”

Before I can calm her, the soldier is between us, kicking her in the stomach violently. I scream at him to stop, which only earns me another boot to the chest. The girl across from me lets out a gut wrenching sob and starts screaming for help. The man in the suit barks an order, and the other soldier comes forward. Everything around me slows down as I watch in horror. He’s screaming at her. Calling her names in a different language. Kicking her over and over again. And then his boot catches her face.

There’s a sickening snap as her head flies back against the metal.

I’m paralyzed with fear. With the loss of control. The helplessness of the situation I’ve been dodging all my life. My dad brought me up to be a fighter. To protect myself and look out for number one. It’s in this awful moment that I realize how wrong he was. It was on me to look out for this girl. I should have done more for her. For Talia. For Scarlett and all of the other lost souls who need someone to look out for them.

Why didn’t I do more? Why do I always have to fail?

I’m just like the rest of these women. Helpless and insignificant. My whole life I wanted to believe I was tough. That I could handle anything. But I can’t. Not this. Tears burn my face like acid as I admit that I’m just another spectator to this crime against humanity. That women are disappearing night and day and being sucked into this world of human trafficking. But right now, I’m right in the middle of it, and there is no denying it. Because when the soldier nudges the girl’s head with his boot, it lolls back to the side, and I’m met with her lifeless eyes.

All of the emotion I’ve bottled up inside of me for the last two decades explodes out of me. I’m screaming at them. Calling them fucking animals. Worthless pigs. Every vile and hateful word that I can think of. I want to kill them, and I want to do it with my bare hands.

“Fuck you!” I scream. “Fuck all of you filthy maggots! They’re going to cut your cocks off and shove them down your fucking throats!”

The soldier in front of me yanks me up by the hair and says something to the other guy that makes him laugh. But then the man in the suit is walking towards us, his eyes cool and assessing.

“You’re the girl they took from the Irish,” he says.

“Yes,” I snarl. “And they’re going to make you regret the day you were ever born. I can promise you that.”

He makes a gesture to his men, and they let go of me, only to be replaced by his hands. He tries to lead me back to the table across the room. The same one that girl was bent over before.

“Well in that case,” he says. “I may as well enjoy my last day on earth. I’ll fuck you raw and send your body parts back to them in pieces while your friend gets shipped overseas.”

My heart is pounding so hard now I can’t breathe. His words aren’t even a threat or a joke. They’re a promise. I escaped it once, but there’s no escaping it this time. I’m trying to think, to formulate a plan. I know if I break his nose they’ll shoot me in a second. I need to be smart. I need to think of another way. But I’m clamming up, completely frozen as he rips the material of my dress.

He leans forward and presses his body against mine, grinding his erection against my ass. A wave of nausea rolls up my throat, and I struggle to control it.

“I’ll show you what a real man feels like,” he hisses in my ear.

I hear the sound of his zipper, and I try to buck against him. It only excites him more. He pulls a knife out of his pocket and cuts through my dress while his soldiers make lewd remarks. He barks out an order, and one of them scrambles into his pocket, retrieving a phone. To my disgust, they start snapping pictures. The man in the suit pulls me upright and tears off the material around my breasts, grabbing them in his hands while he laughs and they take photos.

I can’t fucking take it. I can’t. I’m going to have to hurt him, and then I’m going to die. But it’s better than this. Better than letting him do this. I can only hope that Lachlan and Dom will make him suffer. Make him pay for what he’s done to us.

When he spins me around again, I draw in a deep breath. This is it. I’m going to break his nose and then kick him in nuts as hard as I can. At least if I hurt him badly enough, I know he won’t be trying to put it inside any of us. It’s my only option at this point.

His hands are running up and down my sides, and my skin is crawling. It’s now or never. I let my body go slack so he thinks he’s won. It only takes a minute for him to relax his grip on me. I rear up and back, slamming into him so hard I almost knock myself out in the process. Before he can recover, I spin around and spear my heel into his crotch. He’s screaming violently, and both of his men have their guns aimed and ready, waiting for the order.

I close my eyes and think of Lachlan. Of the last few months I’ve spent with him. My heart feels like it’s breaking in two. I wonder if he’ll ever think of me when he’s married. If he’ll ever remember the way it felt between us.
Even after everything, after all of the hurt and the betrayal I feel, I still want him. I wish I could have known if even a small part of him still wanted me.

Everything is so loud. All three men are screaming. And then the gunfire erupts. I wait for the pain. For the crumpling to the floor and bleeding out. It’s taking longer than I expect. Everything is so much louder inside this container. It sounds like there are bombs going off. Like a ten car pileup on the freeway. Something slices through my arm, and I hiss in pain. But it doesn’t drop me.

I’m bleeding, I can feel that much. But they’re either a very lousy shot, or something else is happening. It isn’t until I hear his voice that I understand.

“Mack!”

I open my eyes, and that’s when I see him. My angel on the threshold with an assault rifle in his hands. At Lachlan’s flank are at least ten other men. One of the Armenian soldiers is already lying dead on the ground. The other one is bleeding badly, holding his arm across his guts, but he’s got one of the girls in front of him for cover.

Lach is screaming at me, but everything is happening so slowly. It’s too fucking loud. My head is throbbing and my ears are ringing. There’s blood all around me, and I can’t even tell who it belongs to anymore.

Lachlan moves towards me. His eyes are wide and he’s yelling something. I can’t hear him, but my body draws towards him like a magnet. My salvation. I’m so close. I just want to feel his arms around me, smell his body pressed against mine. I know I’ll be safe there.

But I don’t make it.

It isn’t until someone wraps an arm around me from behind and presses a gun to my skull that I understand. The man in the suit.

“Put down your weapons or she dies,” he orders.

Lachlan freezes. His eyes rove over me- a bloody mangled mess- and I briefly wonder if this is it. He was going to have to get rid of me eventually before he married. Maybe I am about to die after all.

Those thoughts don’t last long. Because Lach can’t hide the murderous rage that takes over. It sends another shot of adrenaline coursing through me, seeing that fire in his eyes. I want to tell him to kill them all. But the man behind me has such a painful grip on my hair that I know I’m not going anywhere this time. Lachlan considers his next move carefully while his men remain behind him, guns aimed and at the ready.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” the man behind me says. “I’m going to walk to the edge of the shipyard. I will release the girl when I get to my car, and we go our separate ways, for now.”

Lach’s eyes make it clear he isn’t going to let that happen. We both know I’ll be dead the moment we reach the edge of the shipyard. Still, the man behind me lurches us forward, believing he has the upper hand.

We take a few steps, and Lachlan’s finger twitches on his gun. The guy in the suit doesn’t miss a beat.

“Put it down!” he bellows again, digging the gun into my temple.

Lachlan moves to lower his gun, and panic wells in my chest. This sick fuck behind me will kill him. I know he’ll kill him. He tries to hoist me forward again, but I don’t move. Instead, I slam my foot up and back into his knee. He shrieks in pain, and I follow it up with a stomp to his other foot. His grip loosens and the moment of distraction is all I need to pull away from him.

Before he can do anything else, Lachlan lifts his gun and fires off a shot into the guy’s hand. The man is screaming in pain, and now fully disarmed when Lachlan follows it up with two bullets to the knees. Once he’s on the ground, Lachlan flings himself on top of him and punches him repeatedly in a fit of mania.

Everyone else scrambles into action, untying the girls and pulling them to safety. Nobody goes near Lachlan, and even I do nothing to intercede. There isn’t a single part of me that feels an ounce of remorse for this prick, even when his blood is so thick he chokes on it.

When his head finally falls limp against the floor, Lachlan takes him by the scruff of his hair and retrieves a knife from his pocket. He pushes it against his throat, and I close my eyes. I want it to happen, and I’m not sorry for that. I refuse to be sorry for that. But I still don’t want to see it.

The moment it’s all over, Lach is crushing me against his chest.

“Mack,” he breathes.

I whimper and cling to him with everything I’ve got, which isn’t much. I’m so tired of being strong. So tired of trying to do everything myself. Is it wrong to let him comfort me? To be relieved in the false sense of security I find here. These arms will shelter me and keep me safe. Something I thought I would never want now means the world to me. Even if it is all one giant lie.

“Thank you for coming,” I tell him. “For Cara.”

He pulls away from me like he’s been burned and stares at me in disbelief. “Is that what ye think?”

I look at the ground. I can’t answer him without crying, and I won’t allow myself to cry.

Silence falls around us, and I lean up against the side of the container for support. Lachlan isn’t touching me. He’s not speaking. But I can feel the anger rolling off of him.

“Get the girls out of here,” he tells his men.

There’s some shuffling, and after a few more minutes, all of the captives are led from the container. And then they are ushering in a bunch of Armenian soldiers.

“Line them up against the wall,” Lach orders.

His men do as he tells them, and I watch as they force the Armenians to kneel and face the wall.

Lachlan pulls out his Glock and forces my chin up so I have to look at him. The fury on his face hasn’t lessened at all, but there’s something else there now. Determination.

“I want ye to watch, Mack,” he says. “Can ye do that for me, sweetheart?”

Even though I know the logical conclusion of what he’s asking, my brain hasn’t fully caught up to it. So I nod. Because let’s face it, I’d do anything this man asked me to.

He walks over and presses the gun against the first man’s head, and then he looks at me.

“Did this one touch ye?” he asks.

I can’t get my lips to cooperate. This is the one who took me from the hotel. The one who smashed his gun into the back of my head and tried to violate me.

Lachlan repeats the question, this time with a roar.

“Did this fucking pig touch ye, Mack? Did he touch what’s mine?”

I barely nod, and Lachlan pulls the trigger. Maybe I should be screaming, or something. I don’t know. But I’m too numb. And all I can do is watch as Lach moves onto the next one, his chest heaving and his eyes filled with a rage like I’ve never seen before.

“How about this one?” he asks. “Did this bloke think he could touch Lachlan Crow’s woman?”

Again, I can’t answer. This is the other guy from the hotel. The one who slapped Cara. When my silence remains, Lach jams the gun against the guy’s temple and grabs him by the scruff of his hair.

“Did ye touch my woman?” he asks.

“Yes,” Cara answers from across the container.

There are tears in her eyes as she looks at me. A silent nod to tell me it’s okay to want them dead. “They took us from the hotel,” she explains.

Another gunshot, and his body falls to the floor. Lach moves to the next one.

“Mack?” he asks. “Care to fill me in on this one?”

“I don’t know,” I croak. “I don’t remember seeing him.”

It’s the truth, but I know he must have been guarding the shipping container if he’s here. Lachlan just shrugs.

“He participated.”

And with that, he pulls the trigger. Two more bullets, and two more men are disposed of before he finds his way back to me. He pulls me back into his arms and strokes my cheek with the gentlest of touches.

“You belong to me,” he tells me. “And if ye had some doubts about that, there should be none now. Anyone who tries to touch ye will die.”

Chapter Thirty-Two