21. Lincoln
Lincoln
Every single part of me was in excruciating pain. I think even my hair hurt.
“Tell me.”
Thwack, thwack . Two more blows to my ribs. I would be surprised if every one of my ribs was not already broken. These assholes had been using me as a punching bag for hours, days really.
“Speak, mother fucker.”
I felt spittle hit my battered face. I kept my mouth shut.
It was the same thing every time. I was praying I would just hurry up and pass out from the pain; I could get a reprieve, even if it was only for a little while.
I still did not have all the information I needed to escape; there was still one more door I needed to see behind .
I would die in this hell hole before I would sell my brother out.
Mother fucking Christ! I felt the sear of the burn before I smelt the burning flesh. My back was on fire, another burn; the impact of the fist to my back came next.
My head dropped forward and my vision blurred.
“Tell me, you stupid gringo.”
Sweet oblivion…
I smelled her before I saw her; the sweet smell of her lotion filled my nostrils.
I made my way further into the house, inhaling deeply.
Walking through the simple living room of the safe house we are living in, my eye paused on the framed picture of Laura and I in front of the sandstone Brandenburg Gate.
I loved that picture of Laura; she was looking up at me with a huge, bright smile while I was looking at the camera.
It was taken the day after we got married.
I went in search of my wife, stopping in my tracks when I found her in the kitchen, sporting a workout top and the tightest pair of spandex shorts I had ever seen.
A feral growl slipped past my lips as visions of my woman in various yoga poses flashed in my memory.
She was still recovering and had only been approved to do light workout activity.
“Oh, no, big boy, I hear you over there snarling like a beast ready to pounce. I just got done and I am all sweaty gross. You’ll have to wait.”
She laughed and continued to cut up cantaloupe, never even looking my way.
Of their own accord, my feet took me to her.
I had been happily living my life, one operation after another, never thinking about the future or wanting to be tied to one woman.
Then I saw Laura Bennett and everything else in my life seemed to pale in comparison.
It was all bland and monochrome. She was a bright light, full of color and hope and my future.
I knew it the minute my name passed her lips. She was mine.
I pressed my front to her back, not caring that I was dripping my sweat on her; I needed to touch her, smell her, be next to her.
“Funny that. I am all sweaty, too. What do you say we go clean up together?”
I felt rather than heard the intake of breath. She had stopped cutting and grabbed onto the side of the counter, slightly arching her back.
“Are you hungry? ”
“Yes, baby, I am.”
“I cut up fruit and I can make you an omelet.”
I pressed my hard dick into the small of her back and she squirmed against me.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.”
“Hell, yeah. I’ll race you to the shower.”
She pushed off the counter and shot off like a bullet toward the bathroom, giggling as she ran. Chuckling, I chased after her.
That’s my girl!
“Wake up!” I felt a boot kick me in the gut and I tried to curl up into a ball to protect my broken ribs.
I was back in the cell, lying on the concrete floor.
All I could do was bide my time, assess how many guards were in this shit hole with me, how many rooms there were, and where the exits were.
These guys were a joke, mistake after mistake.
You do not transport a prisoner anywhere without taking their eyesight first, yet they walked me around this compound without a blindfold or hood.
Idiots. You certainly never leave a man like me with the use of his arms and legs.
They had yet to break either. Amateurs. They also were no longer shackling me to the wall.
I guess they figured the bullet wound, knife wounds, and the burns would slow me down.
Stupid fuckers were underestimating me at every turn.
They would soon learn. It would be the death of them.
There was one room I had yet to see into.
The door always remained closed, a guard placed in front of it.
Someone or something in there was important.
Another swift kick. “Come on, gringo, we have a special guest for you today. Get up.”
I sat up slower than I needed to, keeping up the pretense I was no threat.
The guard shoved and pushed me down the hallway, trying to get me to move faster. Where was everyone? The guard normally in place on the closed door was gone; the normal chatter I heard through the small house was gone. Fuck, shit, damn, this was not good. As in “I am about to get dead” not good.
I stopped in the doorway when I saw who was sitting in the lone chair in the room. My blood heated and every muscle in my body coiled, ready to fight.
“The fuck?”
“Hello, Ghost. I see you are still the uncouth, wild animal you always were. ”
“Yeah, that’s me, uncouth. Better to be that than a sell out and a mother fucking traitor. You will bleed for this, asshole. I am going to tear your ass apart.”
“You’ll be dead, Ghost. Your threats are so meaningless, I couldn’t care less.”