“Gonna be juicier when I bust my load in it,” the first guy says. He gets his fingers under the waistband of my panties. I hear the fabric rip as he tears at them. In the mirror, I can see myself reflected, naked and writhing. I strain against the cuffs on my ankles, trying to press my thighs together, but one of the others has taken a crop from the bag. When he delivers several sharp strikes to my bare breasts, I shriek and stop moving, then turn my head as bile rises up my throat. I spit the bitter taste from my mouth.
“Don’t bother fighting it, Andrea.” Mark rises, flicking the camera to switch it on. “Smile nicely. This is your ticket to the big time.” He walks to the side of the bed, standing between the others as they strip the shredded remnants of my underwear from me.
“Fuck you! You pig!” I hiss. “You need these men here because you’re not man enough to do the job yourself…pussy!” I narrow my eyes on him.
My words are sharply cut off as Mark steps onto the bed, roars at me, and then aims a kick. I feel something crunch in my ribcage beneath the sole of his shoe, and my air rushes out just as he kicks me again, then again…and again.
“It’s true!” I still manage to choke out. “You’re not a man. You’re pathetic. But I’m glad you can’t get it up! Because fucking you was the biggest letdown of my life!”
I cringe as I see his foot come up once more. But if this is the way I go, at least it will be with my pride intact. I scrunch my eyes shut, waiting for the blow. Nothing comes.
There’s yelling from somewhere beyond the door. Staccato gunfire.
Footsteps thunder down the hall. Someone’s coming.
Oh, my God, Mateo…no!
Chapter 11
Mateo Ricci
Iwant to roar with impatience as the elevator seems to inch its way upward.
“Come on, come on, comeon!” I eventually yell, jabbing at the button for the penthouse floor repeatedly.
“It’s not going to make it move any faster, Mateo,” Raoul says calmly. The pair of us are in ballistic vests bearing FBI insignia, along with half a dozen of Reed’s men, who crowd the elevator behind us. The irony of seeing him dressed like this is not lost on me. If he feels it too, he doesn’t say anything. I’m just glad I’ve managed to bring him along; but when Reed finds out, he’s going to have a shit.
“He’s had his hands on her for hours, goddammit! Anything could be happening in there!” I yell at him. “Why didn’t we come in with the fucking chopper?” I kick the door, leaving a dent in the brushed steel surface.
“Because he would have heard us, Mateo. And then he would have killed her for sure. This way, we keep the element of surprise. You know this.”
He’s right. We both know it. I scrub my hands over my face, staring up at the buttons. Ten floors to go. We’ve left a trail of Whitlock’s men behind us – not that there were many. A pair at the door and two more in the reception area. It was fast and efficient. Reed had called ahead to tell the building staff he was scheduling an operation that needed their cooperation. He’d convinced them it was to do with a follow-up sting over the club attack. When Raoul and I arrived dressed as part of the FBI team, they had no idea what hit them.
I’m confident they didn’t get a chance to get word upstairs.
She’s going to be okay. He doesn’t know we’re coming…
Five more floors. My nerves are taut, blood pumping. I feel the men around me begin to brace themselves. Raoul slides a pair of goggles down from the Kevlar helmet he has crammed over his thick hair. I set my own into place, then tighten my grip on the assault rifle I’m hefting. Raoul flashes a grin at me.
“What?” I cock my head.
“Just thinking how good I make this look.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I turn away just as the doors slide open, and then we’re bursting through into the interior of the luxury apartment.
“FBI, get down!” somebody yells. A big guy spins around to face us. I see his hands twitch, and then something cracks beside me as Raoul lets off a round. The guy’s hands fly to his chest, and he drops like a stone.
“He was resisting arrest,” Raoul says, stepping over him deftly and moving past me.
For fuck’s sakes!
The others in our team have scattered, sweeping through the sprawling apartment. Shouts break the silence as more occupants are uncovered.
“They’re getting out!” one of our team yells. Doors slam and footsteps thunder through somewhere in the apartment. And then there’s more yelling. “Suspect’s making his way toward an exit.”
The earpiece tucked behind my ear crackles, and one of the team from downstairs radios in.
“Service elevator’s on the move!”
