Cherise Sinclair - Breaking Free

Her breath hitched as panic rose inside her. She’d told Nolan she was leaving. Her mother wouldn’t expect to hear from her right away, not for a day or so. The cabin was in the country with no one around. Oh, God. Don’t panic. Think . “Listen, Kyler,” she said. “You don’t want to hurt me right now. How will you get me back to California if I’m all bloody?”

His laugh escalated, going higher and higher until she cringed from the sound. “I chartered a private jet. I told them you were in a car accident, but you’re crying to go home to Mommy. I’ll dope you to the gills, stick you in a wheelchair, and roll you onboard. They’ll think I’m the best husband in the world, pampering my injured wife.”

His plan would work. Oh, God. She closed her eyes, breathed through her nose.

“So, since you’re awake, let’s get set up.”

She tensed. Time to fight. But rather than coming closer, Kyler walked across the cabin and picked up a chain. Dismay filled her. The chain, attached to her wrists, went through a massive eyebolt in the ridgepole, and Kyler had the other end. As he dragged on the chain, it lifted her up until she dangled from her arms, her feet on the mattress. The metal cuffs burned as they cut into her skin, tearing open old scars.

Kyler tied the chain in an elaborate knot to a hook buried in the wall and looked at her. “Look at that. Just where I’ve been imagining you all these months.” He faced her toward the wall.

She heard him rummaging in a bag. Her teeth clamped together at the snap of his whip.

“I was going to start slow and work up to the good stuff, but I just can’t wait.” The whip sliced across her shoulders, the sting lessened by her shirt. At first. Until the whip sliced the fabric to ribbons.

Then the real pain began.

Hoping the pounding rain would drown out the sound of the engine, Nolan didn’t slow as the truck tore down the dirt road, fishtailing through the curves, bouncing through the deep ruts. Z braced one hand on the dash and stayed silent. Finally the truck broke out of the forest into a small clearing that held a tiny, ramshackle cabin. A white Taurus with rental plates was parked in front. “Got you, you bastard,” Nolan muttered.

Not daring to get any closer, he left the truck at the edge of the clearing. “Take the back,” Nolan muttered to Z and headed for the front door.

Just as he reached the cabin, a high scream cut through the noise of the rain and sent rage searing like fire through his body. One kick took out the door, leaving it tilting from one hinge.

Beth hung from her cuffed hands, a bloody slice across her stomach, her eyes glassy with pain. Even as his fury increased, relief spread through him. Alive. She was alive. She saw him and blinked. Frowned. Her lips formed his name. Master.

Nolan turned his attention to the fair-haired bastard standing in the center of the room, a knife in his hand.

“This is a private party. Please leave.” The man sounded as if he’d been interrupted at a dinner function.

“Let her go,” Nolan said, circling. How good was the bastard with a knife?

“She’s my wife, and she’s going nowhere.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who walked her to her car at the club. The one who kissed her.”

Nolan could see white around the guy’s pupils. The fucker was seriously nuts, and he had a knife. But angry fighters make mistakes. Pissing him off would even the odds. “Yes, I kissed her”-Nolan curved his lips into a gloating smile-“and more. She’s one hot little woman.”

“You fucked my Elizabeth? Inside her?” A howl burst from the man, but rather than attacking, he backed up. Reaching behind him, the guy hauled out a pistol.

Fuck . Knowing he was dead, Nolan charged across the room.

“No!” Beth screamed. Dropping all her weight on her cuffed hands, she lifted her feet and kicked the bastard in the back.

The pistol fired, a sharp blast of sound and a crack as the bullet hit the wood floor. Nolan slapped the weapon out of the guy’s hand and punched him hard enough to feel ribs break.

The bastard landed on his back, holding his side, and wheezing. And laughing.

Pulling back his foot for a kick, Nolan hesitated. What was so funny?

“You can’t win, you know.” Tears were in the man’s eyes as he lay on his back, not even trying to rise. “I hear sirens.”

Nolan could too. He glanced outside. Not in sight.

Silently Z eased past the broken front door and headed for Beth. The place had no back door, Nolan realized. He looked down at the asshole. “The cops will lock you up for a long time,” he prompted, wanting to see where the guy was going with this.

“And I’ll be out soon enough. I’m a lawyer. Rich. I’ll destroy you, and I’ll have her in the end. And she’ll pay for letting you touch her.” A flash of rage crossed the man’s face. He sat up, holding his ribs. “You did this for nothing.”

Nolan studied him for a moment, his mouth tightening. The bastard was telling the truth. Kyler was crazy. He was rich. And he wasn’t going to stop . The bottom line was that Beth would never be safe.

Nolan glanced at Z and saw the same conclusion in his expression. Z nodded. Coldness slithered up Nolan’s spine as his mind opened the door to his past.

So be it.

Beth shook her head and roused again at the sound of sirens. She could feel blood trickling down her arms, her back, and her stomach, and yet the pain was absent. And Kyler had stopped. With an effort, she focused her eyes and saw a man trying to unfasten the chain from the hook in the wall. Master Z?

Another man stood in the room, towering over Kyler. Nolan . He really was here. This wasn’t a dream. She watched as Sir’s expression changed, cold replacing anger. When he stalked toward her ex, Beth shook her head. No, no, no. Don’t trust Kyler . No matter how big Sir was, he could still get badly hurt.

“I hardly did this for nothing,” Nolan said to Kyler with a sneer. “She has a pussy worth taking. Yeah. Honey sweet.”

With an ominous whine, her husband pushed to his feet, and Beth whimpered. Don’t hurt Nolan . She turned to Z over at the knotted chain. “Help him,” she whispered. “Please.”

Z’s silvery gaze met hers. He shook his head.

He wouldn’t help? What was wrong with him? She tried to yank free, and pain seared her wrists.

“You touched her.” Kyler’s mouth twisted. “She’s mine. My wife.”

“Hell, she doesn’t want to be married to a wussy like you. She wants a man.”

Beth screamed as Kyler launched himself across the room. At the last minute, Sir stepped out of the way, and Kyler staggered to a stop almost at the far right wall.

“You know how good she sucks cock?” Nolan chuckled, and Beth stared at him in shock. Was he insane?

Kyler attacked again and hit Nolan in the face.

Sir grinned. “One more please.” And took another fist against his cheek. He shook his head like a bull shaking off flies, before hitting Kyler, forcing him back a step. Kyler groaned and attacked again. Blocking a fist, Nolan punched Kyler in the ribs where he’d hit him before.

With a howl of agony, Kyler folded over. Beth saw Nolan inhale, his muscles bunching, and then he hit her husband squarely in the jaw so brutally that Kyler flew backward. The back of his head slammed into the wood stove with a gut-wrenching crack , and he dropped onto the brick hearth.

Beth heard a roaring in her ears as she stared at the man lying on the floor.

When Nolan bent over him, then turned away, she tried to warn him that Kyler would jump up and hurt him…to watch out, only she couldn’t seem to find any air.