Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
August 23 rd
1:14 A.M.
Pain throbbed in his shoulder as he hoisted himself up into a tree, but since he could move his arm, Connor didn't think the injury was life-threatening in any way.
Maybe a little more than a flesh wound but nothing that was going to hamper him.
Hell, even a life-threatening injury wasn't going to stop him from doing whatever it took to protect his girl.
Because once again Becca was his.
As far as he was concerned, there had never been a time when she wasn't, but for her things were different.
It had taken courage for her to put her trust in him again after he’d already decimated that trust once before, and it was a gift he would never squander.
Which meant whoever was out there had to die.
He wasn't sure how many of them there were, but after hitting the ground when the bullet striking his shoulder had him overbalancing in the wet and slippery grassy mud, he’d then used the dark to his advantage and slipped away into the trees. His plan had been to watch and set himself up in a position where he could pick them off as they approached the cabin. Of course, without night vision goggles, it wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't completely pitch black out there, and all he would need was a glimpse to make sure he hit his targets.
They needed one alive.
The chances that a random person was out there targeting them, going to this amount of trouble, was virtually non-existent.
Whoever was there had to have been sent by the people intent on silencing him and his family. Apparently, there had been four men involved, one of whom was Tarek Mahmoud. He was already dead, killed himself because he feared his co-conspirators so deeply. That left three men unidentified.
Three men with enough power to orchestrate attack after attack on his family and the people they loved.
Their last lead had also gone up in smoke while one of the men who had been involved had decided taking his own life was better than letting these men get their hands on him.
Another chance at intel couldn’t slip through their fingers.
If they wanted to finally get ahead, get a name, something they could use, they needed information. Having Cassandra’s DNA hadn't led them to her biological father but the men who had come after him and Becca at the cabin tonight might.
Just then, he spotted three shadows moving through the darkness close to where he’d tucked himself away. From what he could see, and it wasn't a lot, they didn't appear to be wearing NVGs.
Probably why he was still standing.
Not only did that substantially level the playing field, but it also told him these weren't highly trained men. Like the gang from Cambodia, these men were likely to be bloodthirsty and dangerous, but without the skill and training he’d gone through to become a SEAL they weren't going to have enough to measure up.
Numbers meant something but they didn't mean everything.
Unless there was an entire army of them, they wouldn't mean enough.
Another group of three men moved toward the group closer to him.
Six to one.
Connor liked those odds.
Especially with Becca tucked safely away in the cabin.
He was sure the men were coming up with a plan to find him, disable him, either by killing him or injuring him enough they could tie him up and either abduct him or force him to watch them torture Becca.
Not going to happen .
Only then the unthinkable did happen.
Light danced inside the cabin, spilling out through the windows.
There wasn't a chance in hell the six men didn't notice it.
Stay inside, Becca, please, moonlight. I need you to be safe.
While he hadn't had a front-row seat to her rape when they were in college, he’d been there for the aftermath. Through months of surgeries and therapy. He’d gotten a glimpse of what it would have been like to be there when she’d been hurt in Cambodia. Becca had been hit a few times and almost raped.
But if these men got their hands on her tonight, it would be so much worse.
Highly trained or not, they’d likely come with the same orders as the gang in Cambodia had been given. Do whatever they wanted with Becca and then kill her as a warning to his family, motivation to back off.
He had to kill the men before that could happen.
Although as soon as he fired his first shot, he’d give away his position.
In the dark and the rain, there was no way he’d be able to take down all six of them before they could return fire.
As he was debating if he should risk it or slip down, try to separate the men and take them out quietly one by one, his worst nightmare happened.
The door to the cabin opened and he saw Becca step out into the night.
Damn it.
She must have heard the gunshot, gone hunting for Cade’s emergency kit to arm herself with a flashlight, and come looking for him.
His brave girl was going to get herself killed.
As the flashlight in her hand danced about, indicating her path, he saw the six men disperse into the trees.
While the dark was working to his advantage in one way, hiding him and protecting him from being spotted, it gave the enemy the same advantage.
“No, baby, stay inside,” he whispered, his words caught by the wind and tossed away before they could reach anybody’s ears.
But she didn't.
Tracking her progress was easy as she headed toward the generator. That flashlight was a beacon, showing anyone within sight exactly where she was.
He knew the moment she must have spotted whatever the rain was yet to wash away of the puddle of blood he was sure he’d shed when he hit the ground because she froze and then dropped to her knees.
Since all he could see of her was the flashlight and not her body, he couldn’t see her expression, but nonetheless, he could feel her terror floating through the storm to his perch in the tree.
A moment later, she was back on her feet, and even across the screech of the wind, he could hear her screaming his name.
She was spinning wildly in a circle, no doubt looking for him, wanting some indication that he wasn't dead, that he hadn't been snatched away from her.
As much as he wanted to give her that reassurance, he couldn’t.
In the dancing beam of her light, he could see the men approaching her.
They knew an easy target when they saw one, and whatever their orders, they weren't going to pass up a chance to get their hands on a beautiful and very vulnerable young woman.
Even from where he was, he knew the second Becca spotted them because she froze, and a scream tore from her lips as they pounced on her.
His finger twitched on the trigger. It would be so easy to start firing and make those men regret ever putting their hands on the woman he loved.
But shooting wildly, in the dark, in the middle of a storm, with his girl right in the line of fire, was a recipe for disaster. It was only going to make things worse, not better.
If he wanted to get Becca out of this alive, he had to keep his emotions in check and play this smart.
Right now, the men didn't know how badly they’d hit him. They knew he was alive, or at least that he had been, but they didn't know if they had incapacitated him or if he was still a threat.
That meant he had to leverage that and use it to his advantage.
For now, the men were dragging a kicking and screaming Becca back toward the cabin. They had abandoned their search for him, so he had a little time to try to set something up.
Becca wasn't going to be killed right away, and while his every cell urged him to go to her and protect her from any harm, he had to focus on the big picture. Getting Becca out alive was what mattered the most. Anything else they could survive together.
The light reached the cabin and moments later entered it, enclosing Becca inside with six men who would take great pleasure in inflicting pain.
Big picture.
Becca needs you to be strong right now.
You promised her you would never let her down again and that’s a promise you have to hold onto.
Already forming a plan, Connor climbed down from the tree. Those men weren't going to know what hit them. One by one he was going to lead them to their deaths, give them the only fitting consequence for their actions, then he was going to get the answers he needed to keep his girl safe.
Hold on for me, Becca, be strong.
August 23 rd
1:20 A.M.
She wasn't going down without a fight.
That was the one thing Becca was sure of right now.
When Dylan had raped her all those years ago, she’d fought. It hadn't done any good, he was bigger and stronger than her, his large hand around her neck, squeezing the life out of her had given him even more of an advantage.
But she had fought.
That fact had helped her in the weeks and months following her assault. It had given her strength when she’d felt broken, it was something she reminded herself of often, any time those bad thoughts came creeping in.
She wasn't weak.
She wasn't a coward.
She wasn't pathetic.
Just because she’d failed didn't mean she hadn't given it everything she had, and that mattered.
It did.
Just like it would matter now.
Six men were dragging her back toward the cabin. While it was dark other than the light from the flashlight she’d brought with her and she couldn’t see just how big they were, there was more of them than there were of her. That alone meant she likely wasn't going to survive whatever they had planned for her.
But she would fight.
And if she died, she would take her final breath knowing she hadn't given up, hadn't surrendered, that she was as strong as she could be.
With the men dragging her along faster than she could walk across the wet, slippery ground she kept stumbling. Almost hitting the ground only for a set of rough hands to grab her, yank her up, and shove her forward.
Just hours ago, these peaceful woods had been a safe haven. A place to find comfort, to relax and recharge, to find the pieces of herself that had been missing since she was twenty and her life had changed forever.
Now they were like a wet, windy hellscape.
Was this going to be where her and Connor’s story ended?
By the time they crossed the short distance from the generator where she’d found Connor’s blood to the cabin, Becca was shaking badly. The freezing rain and howling winds whipped through her, but it was nothing compared to the gaping wound in her heart from not knowing if Connor was still alive.
Stepping inside gave relief from the storm, but she would much rather still be out there hunting for Connor than be protected from the worst of the weather.
There was no time for her to recover or even catch her breath before a hand between her shoulders shoved her down onto her knees.
Not content with her on her knees before them, someone kicked her, and she sprawled out on the floor. Pain flared through her body, and her palms slipped on the puddle she was creating as she tried to push herself back up.
Before she could, a foot planted itself on her back, holding her down, and laughter echoed over the raging storm outside.
She wasn't stupid, she knew what was going to happen to her.
Same thing that would have happened to her in Cambodia if Connor hadn't gotten them out of that camp before it could.
“Made it so easy for us,” one of them taunted.
When she tilted her head as shoes stepped into her line of vision, she saw a man spinning the weapon she’d stupidly set on the ground when she found the blood and forgot to pick back up.
How could she do that? If she’d kept hold of it at least she might have stood a chance.
Connor would be so disappointed in her.
Tears of frustration burned the backs of her eyes. She knew better than to make such a silly mistake, and yet she’d been so focused on her fear for Connor, of losing him, that she hadn't been able to think of anything else.
Now Connor might die because of her stupidity.
If he was out there somewhere bleeding out and in need of first aid he wasn't going to get it. She was trapped, a captive of these men who had been sent after them, and he was all alone out there in the pouring rain.
I'm sorry, Connor.
“You're prettier in person than in your picture,” another one told her as he knelt in front of her.
When he reached out toward her, Becca tried to shrink away, not wanting to feel more people touching her without her permission, but there was nowhere for her to go. The foot on her back held her in place, pressing hard enough that her healing ribs screamed for mercy.
Not that screaming or pleading for mercy would result in receiving any.
“Can you just wait one moment before you start drooling all over her,” another of the men snapped irritably. “We have all the time in the world. She’s not going anywhere, and neither is her boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. She liked hearing someone call Connor hers, but right now her fear for him stole any joy it might have given.
The men said Connor wasn't going anywhere, but was that because he was dead? Because he was too badly injured to fight back? Or because they already had him restrained and tucked away somewhere?
“Put her in a chair, I want to get out of these wet clothes, then we can get started,” another said, his tone lazy like he didn't have a care in the world.
Apparently, his word was law because the foot holding her down was suddenly gone and in its place were two sets of hands, grabbing her biceps and hauling her to her feet. Becca didn't even have a chance to get her bearings before she was shoved down into one of the solid wooden chairs that sat around the table. She’d sat in those chairs several times over the last couple of days, enjoying the smooth wood and rustic look. She’d even wondered if Cade, or one of his brothers, had made them by hand.
Now it felt too big, too strong, and as her wrists and ankle were firmly attached to the arms and leg of the chair, she knew there was no way she’d be able to fight her way out of them.
Upright again, she was able to get a better look at her captors. All six men prowling around the room were big, but not as big as Connor. They were dressed all in black, and even if they hadn't lucked out with the timing of the storm they would have faded into the night.
Weapons hung from holsters on their hips, and the man who’d picked up the gun she had carelessly discarded was still spinning it on his finger even though she knew how dangerous that could be. He didn't seem to be worried about it, and when he saw she was looking at him he shot her a cocky grin.
“Can't wait to get my chance to play with you, beautiful,” he taunted, stepping closer. Eyeing the weapon he was so carelessly playing with, his smile turned sinister. “Never played with a girl and a gun before.” He snickered at his words. Then he shifted the weapon so it rested on the chair between her spread legs. “Could be fun,” he added, nudging the gun closer until the muzzle brushed against her center.
“Would you knock that off,” another of the men snapped, shoving the gun freak in the shoulder.
“Yeah,” another added. “We’re all supposed to get a turn before we hack her into pieces and have them delivered to the homes of her boyfriend’s brothers. You keep that up and you're likely to kill her too soon.”
Becca was still stuck on what was supposed to happen to her.
She was going to be viciously gang-raped, including with a gun if the sick look on the man’s face was anything to go by, he was all in with his new idea. Then her body was going to be cut up and sent to Connor’s family.
To Cade who had a little daughter who would be traumatized forever. To Cooper who had only just started a new relationship with a woman who had suffered at the hands of the people who had sent these men. To Cole who had likewise just started a relationship with another woman tormented by these men who thought they were untouchable. To Jake and Jax whose dad had been collateral damage and yet had never once backed away from supporting their stepbrothers in a hunt for answers.
That couldn’t happen.
But how could she stop it?
She was tied up and helpless, surrounded by six big men who watched her like she was nothing more than prey they couldn’t wait to pounce on, tear to pieces, and then devour. The storm raged outside, isolating her even further. No one would hear her screams when they were torn from her lips. And Connor was possibly dead, but at the very least, incapacitated in some way and wouldn't be swooping in to save her like he had in Cambodia.
Right as one of them reached out and palmed one of her breasts, an ear-shattering boom shook the cabin.