Sweetest Torture (Sweetest Kill Book 2) (4 page)

He forcefully pulls me up off the
couch, dragging me across the room. His fingers are sinking into my arm, I can
tell there is going to be some serious bruising.

We walk into the hall and that is
when I see Marco, lying unconscious, with a bullet wound in his shoulder.

The man notices me looking at him.
“He aint dead, but you will be if you don’t walk faster.”

My ability to refrain from being
sick up to this point ends suddenly I bend over quickly and throw up. I can’t
stop. The man seems really disgusted by my action. He spins away from me trying
to avoid being splattered. He grabs the back of my head, I can feel the strands
of hair being pulled from my scalp.

“Fucking disgusting, I don’t get
paid enough for this shit.”

I finally finish, and he grabs me
again, stepping around the mess I have made a few feet from Marco.

I start to think of Dean, is he
going to know who took me. Is he going to care? And what about my baby. Are
these people going to kill me?

I realize now, that my fear of
being held captive by Dean was minimal to what I am now feeling being led away
by this man. He is not good. Whoever he is working for is going to be so much
worse. I have no idea what is going to happen to me, I have no idea what I am
going to do.

The man leads me back down a dark
hallway. He knows his way around this building. Do Ryan and Dean know him?

He pulls out a cell phone. One of
those disposable phones that you see in the drug store on display; ‘pay as you
go.’

“Yeah boss, I got her.”

He mumbles a few more things, and
then hangs up the phone. He lets go of me long enough to dismantle the phone
into several pieces. He throws the pieces to the ground and steps on them. The
sound of crunching plastic echo’s against the heavy cement walls.

He grips my arm forcefully once
more, and pulls me towards a black van with dark tinted windows. When he opens
the door, two men with guns are sitting on the inside. Neither of them look any
friendlier than the man beside me. None of them look like they give a shit what
happens to me.

I risk a glance behind me, the way
that we came through. I think of Dean. I think of how I can show him I have
been here?

Suddenly I think of the only thing
I can leave behind that will tell him I was here. I carefully as though not to
attract attention to the men who surround me as to my real motives, stumble.
When I do, the man with the bad teeth grabs me picking me up and tosses me into
the van giving me the chance to accidentally “drop” my flip flops off.

The men are so annoyed when I
scream at the action of being thrown that they don’t notice. The man gets in
behind me and quickly slams the door shut. The woman driving the van pulls out
quickly.

She’s pretty. Or she was probably
pretty at one time. She is older, maybe in her 50’s. She has pretty eyes, but
the rest of her looks hard. Hard and pretty.

She peels out of the garage. She
drives through at a speed that is going to attract the attention of someone on
the outside. That makes me feel slightly relieved.

However as soon as we leave the
garage, she slows down. The man reaches over to me and pulls a black pillow
case from a bag that is lying on the back seat. He pulls it over my head
roughly, pulling my hair as he does.

“Now, I have already told you what
outbursts will get you.” I feel his gun at my side now. I want to scream at him
to move it. But I know better than to open my mouth. “I don’t want to hear a
peep from you until we get there. The boss is waiting for you.” Then he says
nothing. No one says anything. I hate the silence.

We drive for what feels like hours.

We drive down a bumpy road, I know
right away that unlike where Dean was keeping me, this place really is in the
middle of nowhere. Which means I will not be escaping.

“The boss will be here within the
hour, he wants you to bring the package inside and leave it handcuffed to the
desk.” The woman driving says

Her voice gives me a chill. It’s
emotionless. As a woman I had hopes that she might feel some level of sympathy
for me, for what these men were doing to me. But her tone tells me she is not
going to feel anything for me.

I am yanked from the car. Tossed down
onto the pebbled ground. I wince as my feet are cut and scraped by sharp rocks.

Someone must notice the way my body
tightens because I hear: “where the fuck are her shoes?”

I recognize the next voice as the
man who captured me “She had flip flops on when we left.” He’s worried,

I hear another man yell “what do
you mean she had them on when she left. Simon check the fucking van. Leo you
better hope her fucking shoes are in there.”

They weren’t. The other man yells,
he says that I was not supposed to be hurt, and makes a comment on my feet
bleeding.

Then the conversation turns to
leaving signs behind of where they were waiting at the other building.

He asks Leo if he touched them.

Leo says nothing.

They discuss where the shoes could
have been left.

Leo says he does not know

Each time his voice grows softer
and softer. He’s scared.

I hear the sound of a punch, and my
arm is quickly released.

Someone else grabs me shortly
after, and tells me to follow them.

Like I have a choice?

We enter the building. Soft
carpeting meets my hurting feet. The person pulling me stops and someone else
leans over and picks me up.

This man is large, I don’t like his
touch. His hand is on my back side, and it’s squeezing. It’s the first time I
really consider that worse things than death might happen to me at the hands of
these men. They don’t seem to have a whole lot of morals. 

We walk several feet before I am
placed onto a cold metal chair.

I feel my right hand jerked away
from body and then feel someone place a cold, metal handcuff around my wrist.

The click of the metal startles me
in the otherwise soundless room. The other cuff is attached to an object rather
than my other hand. When the room goes quiet I try to pull my wrist. Hoping
that I can remove the cuff from whatever it is attached to. I reach my free
hand up to where the pillowcase is covering my head. As soon as my fingers
touch the fabric, I hear the sound of a gun being cocked. Then the barrel being
placed against my temple.

“I believe Leo told you what would
happen if you tried to escape.”

I say nothing. I wait for the man
to pull the trigger.

He does. But nothing happens. Just
an empty click. Just the fear breaking my soul down a bit more.

He laughs. An evil torturous laugh.

He steps away from me. His laughter
carries across the room.

I know I am not alone, I know that
someone is with me, so I don’t move again.

Time passes. No one moves. I hear
nothing. Nothing but the sound of a two way radio of these people telling one
another where they are and what they are doing. All in code. I understand
nothing.

Nothing. Until I hear a deep
baritone voice speak into one of the radios: “Red’s driving up now, everyone
get ready.”

Who the hell is Red?

Still not moving, I strain to hear
whether or not anyone is talking outside of the room. There’s the sound of
footsteps, and then someone else is in the room.

An older sounding, but still intimidating
voice booms: “Nice of you to join us Miss Taylor.”

Funny.

I hear the sound of an office chair
on wheels being moved back and the air squeezing from the cushion as the person
belonging to the voice sits.

“I have been waiting for this day
for quite some time now. You have caused a lot of mess for me. I don’t really
care for mess Miss Taylor.”

I don’t move. I don’t say anything.

I hear the sound of fingers
snapping. Footsteps approach me, and the pillow case is ripped quickly from my
head.

I look around quickly at the room.
It’s an office of some sort. I look at the man who removed the pillow case. A
much shorter man, stocky rather than strong. He has a sinister look on his
face. Daring me to move. His hand is resting on his gun.

I look back to the man ‘Red’. He’s
older around the same age as the woman who was driving the van here. He looks
familiar though. Something about him. I know him. I just can’t remember where I
have seen him. His eyes are honey brown. I have seen these eyes. Many many
times. But who do they belong to?

Then I remember. Her small chubby
face. Josslyn. But why does he have the same eyes as my niece?

As if he can read my thoughts the
man leans forward and speaks in a lower tone “I suppose you don’t know how I
am, do you?”

I shake my head

“Well, my name is Red Kennedy. You
might know my daughter Ashley?”

Shit, this is Ashley’s dad

My stomach drops. I can tell my
face visibly pales because Red tells me to ‘relax’.

How is one supposed to relax when
in a situation such as this?

“Unfortunately, my daughter hired
your boyfriend’s services. Which wouldn’t be an issue, if it weren’t for the
fact that my daughter also went to one of my men for the job. When Mr. Corvus
decided he fancied you, he killed the man who held the other contract. That man
was my right hand hit man. He was the best I had. Which does not make me very
happy.”

He continues: “I don’t give a shit
what my crack head whore of a daughter does. I disowned her when she failed to
convince your loser brother to agree to the adoption of that brat to one of my
connections. We were offered $5.3 million for a baby girl with my blood ties. A
long term debt you could say. When that boy decided to ignore the offer… well
that put quite the damper on my long term plans. I know you played a part in
him believing he could actually raise a baby on his own. So now I have 2 very
large problems that all surround you.”

I remain silent

“SO now, I have to keep you. Until
your boyfriend can come up with $5.3 million and I want his most valued
employee. I also want his brother’s club and for him to call off the guards
that are keeping my human trafficking business out of business. You see before
Ryan and Dean Corvus took over, Matthew Corvus and I had an agreement. I turned
a blind eye to his shady dealings and he turned a blind eye to mine. Since I
have been unable to transport things have been tight financially.”

I look around the room. This place
is fancy, even just in the office. The suit that Red is wearing is expensive. This
man isn’t hard up for money. He’s just an asshole.

Red can tell what I am thinking
obviously because he jerks forward quickly and slaps me across the face
“Disrespect will not be tolerated Miss Taylor.”

“As I was saying. Your boyfriend
and his brother own the underground business’s in this town. Matthew had the
largest cut of everything. Since he died, my pieces have been dwindling. I have
had to rely just on the drug cartel aspect of things, which isn’t quite
satisfying my appetite if you know what I mean.”

Of course I don’t. He knows I don’t
know anything about any of this.

“So, we have a really nice room all
done up for you. Later tonight we will film a little video and post it online
for Dean and Ryan. I don’t know if they will be willing to accept our
negotiations, but if not… Well I have a nice little plot out back with your
name on it.” He smiles motioning with his hands towards me again.

The scary man with the gun
approaches me, he leans over and removes the handcuff that was secured to the
heavy desk. He drags me down the hall, I try to look around for signs of where
I am but there is nothing. The window’s outside show nothing but wooded area on
one side and miles of field on the other.

I am pulled down old wooden steps.
They don’t seem safe. The basement is scary and old, unlike the one where Dean
had me. That was musty and a little damp in some areas but this was not safe.
There was an abundance of cobwebs, old paint cans and boxes of cloth. The
support beams holding the house are showing signs of rot. There are nails sticking
out of random parts of the wall where clearly boards have fallen off with
neglect over time. On one wall there was a large assembly of weapons. Bullets
on the book shelf. And rolls of clear plastic. I shudder when I consider what
those are used for.

The tall man laughs noticing my
line of vision “don’t get any ideas girly, you won’t be free in this room.”

He drags me across the room to a
small area that looks even more disgusting than the first part of the basement.
There are chains sticking out of the wall. Chains I thought were only used for
slaves.

That’s exactly what I pretty much
am at this point.

He shoves me down and begins to
strap my leg to the one chain, then he attaches another to the same leg “you
won’t be getting both of these off, so don’t bother trying.”

He makes quick work of locking me
up, and without another word he is gone. Leaving me alone in the dark room. I
look around, the only window in the basement is 10 feet behind me. No way can I
reach it. It’s letting in very little sunlight, but there is a dim light across
the room that I pray stays on. I don’t know that I could handle being here in
the dark.

I wonder if Dean knows where I am.
I wonder if he is even looking. Maybe he is relieved that I have been taken off
his hands.

There is an old sheet folded up and
placed in the corner. I reach for it and slowly unfold it. Dust billows up from
the dirt and grime of the room. I know it’s been here for a while. But the
alternative is laying on this floor bare, and the thought of what is on this
cement makes me shiver. I lay it out around me so that I can sit. Trying not to
pull my chains.