“Tell me you’re just daydreaming and not plotting your next escape attempt.”
Startled, Allie glanced over her shoulder at Greg who had entered through the patio door and was walking toward her. He stopped next to her island perch to look her over with amusement. She was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island wearing a flowing rose-coloured summer dress over black calf leggings. Her hair was thrown up in a messy top knot to keep it off her neck while she baked cheese biscuits for the guards. She’d decided it wasn’t their fault Jay hired them to babysit her and the house.
She had been deep in thought over an actual course on social activism she wanted to take. That and blow jobs. She had little to no experience on that subject and she thought maybe she could use a refresher and wondered how she could go about asking Jay without horribly embarrassing herself.
Allie glanced over at Greg and wondered which thought she should tell him about. She decided against blow jobs, since he seemed like the fatherly type. Actually, more like a badass uncle that liked to blow shit up. Instead, she decided to ask him something that’d been bothering her since her escape attempt earlier in the week.
“Since you brought it up… can you tell me what happened to the guys that were guarding me when I got away from the book store? I haven’t seen them or Hershel in a week and I’ve been wondering.”
Greg quirked a bushy brow at her. “Been feeling a little guilty?”
“If anyone should feel guilty it’s Jay!” Allie pointed out vehemently.
Greg chuckled. “Well they aren't sleeping with the fishes if that’s what you were worried about. In fact, Hershel’s due to start back at the house shortly here. Most of them were put on dock duty, loading and unloading incoming freighters. It’s hard, dirty work that most in the organization work their asses off to get away from. Jay’s a tough, but fair man. You screw up once and you usually end up on the docks.”
“What happens if you screw up twice?” Allie asked curiously.
Greg looked at her steadily, his hazel eyes eloquent.
“Oh.”
“Something sure smells good,” Greg said appreciatively, sniffing the air.
Allie smiled and wiggled toward the edge of the counter just as the oven buzzer went off. Greg reached out to take her arm and help her down. She put on oven mitts and pulled two pans out of the oven, pleased to see the fluffy golden colour of the baked pastries. She would set a few aside for Jay to enjoy later with his supper. She closed the oven and set one of the pans down. With the other pan still in her hand, she turned to ask Greg how many he wanted for himself. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in terror.
“Greg!” she screamed.
He didn’t have time to react. Hershel shot him twice in the back. Greg crashed forward against the island counter and then staggered forward into the stove before collapsing. Allie let go of the hot biscuit pan, pulled off the oven mitts and dropped down onto her knees beside him. One hand went to his neck while she placed the other one tentatively on his back. Strong, steady pulse. She had First Aid training certification every two years which included training in gunshot wounds because of her work with vulnerable populations. She realized almost immediately that Greg was wearing a bulletproof vest. But he was out cold. Likely the close range impact of the bullets had broken some ribs. Hopefully they hadn’t punctured any vital organs.
Allie looked up at Hershel who was standing over her, the gun levelled at her face. She shivered. It seemed odd to her that she was in another life threatening situation less than two months after her last one, yet somehow she’d managed to go her entire adult life in serene safety. Jay was going to put her in bubble wrap and never let her out of his sight after this.
“Jay’s going to kill you for this.” She said the first thing that came to mind.
Hershel looked particularly stupid today in a tailored Gucci suit with a persimmon-coloured shirt. He was wearing his signature sunglasses indoors. She decided her initial impression of his looking like a dog walker assassin was accurate. She would just picture him with a poodle and poopy bags along with the gun. It would help stave off the panic threatening to bubble up inside her.
“Le Croix can’t touch me, baby,” Hershel waved at her to stand up. “Time to go.”
Allie arched her eyebrow at the ‘baby,’ which sounded a little bizarre coming from a guy several years her junior. Just… ew. And what the heck was up with Hershel? Why was he shooting the place up? She’d thought he was a little off, but this? Apparently they’d all misjudged the jackass big time.
"Is this about the bookstore?" Allie asked, frowning. "Greg said you were sent to the docks. I'm... I'm sorry that happened. I didn't know Jay would do that."
Was it possible his time on the docks had unhinged the normally impeccable Hershel? She knew from discussions she'd had with him prior to the bookstore incident that Hershel had been raised in the foster system, similar to Jay. She thought maybe that was one of the reasons Jay had hired him. But Allie felt the two men shared very little else. A conclusion she had come to even before Hershel shot Greg. Despite the inborn toughness the street had bred in Jay, there was a deep-seated integrity that Hershel lacked.
Hershel laughed coldly, leering at Allie. "I've been on the Triad's payroll for a while now. My being assigned to you just happens to be real fucking convenient for them right now."
He took her arm in a hard grip and dragged her roughly over Greg's unconscious body. Allie held her breath, but Greg didn't utter a sound. Hershel held her close against him, breathing into her hair as he spoke. "Be a good girl and maybe you'll get out of this alive, baby. We need to walk down to the dock nice and calm, like we're going to see the yacht. Understand?"
He looked her over and with quick, ruthless movements, jerked her hair down from it’s knot on top of her head and fluffed it around her shoulders so it partially obscured her face. He then slid the gun into his suit jacket and pressed it hard against her side. His grip on her arm tightened until she was sure there would be bruises on her arm. Allie shuddered and bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain.
“I said, do you understand?”
She jerked her head in a nod and he loosened his fingers. He adjusted his hand so his arm was linked around her elbow. It was definitely more touching than Jay would normally allow his men to have with Allie, but they would probably make it down to the docks without security getting too concerned. He guided her toward the back door and out into the blinding sunlight. Allie blinked several times and stumbled as he pulled her several steps away from the house.
"Shade your damn eyes with your other hand so they can't see your face, you're too fucking expressive," Hershel snapped at her.
Allie did as he said, jerking her arm up and covering her eyes, hoping the move looked more natural than it felt. The barrel of the gun jabbed into her side so hard she gasped and tried automatically to move away, but he held her tightly by the arm. She glanced up at his face from between her fingers and shivered at the near manic grin plastered on his face. It was the same smile he'd flashed her dozens of times while hanging out and chatting with her over the past weeks, only now it wasn't benign. Now he looked like a shark. A killer.
He walked her down to the dock, chatting quietly with her the entire way about nothing in particular. He stopped once to point across the cove, as though showing her something. He instructed her to nod. Allie bit her lip and complied, holding back a rush of tears. She hoped Greg was going to be okay and that he might wake up and be able to call for help, for both their sakes. She didn't know what Hershel planned to do with her, but based on his actions so far it wasn't anything good.
They made it down to the dock without drawing undue notice from the security team. Hershel stopped them in front of the Predator yacht and stepped back from Allie, giving her a friend zone amount of space. She stiffened in surprise and nearly bolted before remembering the gun. She forced herself to take a deep breath and turn to face Hershel, dropping her arms stiffly at her side.
"Good girl," he said coldly. "Now cross your arms in front of you, like you're keeping warm from the breeze and smile at me while we talk. Flash some of those pretty teeth for the watching eyes.”
Allie struggled with the need to launch herself at him and claw his eyes out. She wondered if her punching skills were still accurate or if she would hurt her fist on his stupid face. She very much hated him in that precise moment for making her feel like a puppet on strings.
"I changed my mind, I don't want Jay to kill you," Allie said, crossing her arms loosely in front of her and smiling up at Hershel as he'd instructed. "I want that pleasure for myself."
He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly an unscripted move, then started laughing in genuine amusement. The smile slid from Allie's lips. He tilted his chin down to look at her, still keeping a respectful distance. She thought she could barely see a glint of gunmetal from inside his jacket.
"Maybe instead of the bonus they promised me, I'll ask if I can keep you when they're done using you against Le Croix," his voice held chilling promise as he spoke. "You know what I like to do to my girls, Allie?"
She shook her head, staring at him mutely, knowing she didn't want to hear more.
"I like to cut, baby. Watch them bleed while I fuck them. I usually content myself with finding girls that like it too, but my favourite are the ones that don't. The ones that scream, and beg and struggle to get away." His voice dropped and she could feel his eyes crawling all over her. "I've imagined you bleeding and screaming underneath me from that first moment you fell into my hands. I would draw it out, make you beg, right until the very end."
Allie could feel the blood draining from her face and tightened her arms until she was hugging herself in comfort. She was shivering in earnest now and the cool breeze from the ocean had nothing to do with it.
He took a step closer to her until she could see his eyes behind the screens of his sunglasses. "If you were a good enough lay, I might even keep you alive long enough to fuck you again."
Vomit rose up in Allie's throat as the image he was painting imprinted in her brain. She turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut, conjuring Jay's solid, comforting image instead and silently begging him to come for her. She imagined his fingers, tattooed with her name, reaching for her, beckoning her. She desperately wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him.
“Turn around and walk onto the boat now. Do it casually, like you just want to have a look,” Hershel instructed her.
Allie’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what he intended. It was risky. The yacht was fast, but it was also large and wouldn’t be easily maneuvered away from the dock. As soon as the boast started moving security would be all over it. She didn’t see how Hershel was going to manage both her and the yacht. She turned around and climbed onto the yacht, placing her hands carefully so she wouldn’t trip and piss him off, give the asshole a reason to shoot her in the back. Like Greg.
She felt his hand at her waist and sent a vicious elbow into his stomach as he stepped up behind her. She smiled pleasantly for anyone watching at Hershel’s pained grunt. He gave her a little shove and a hissed ‘careful’ before ushering her into the stateroom. Allie stopped and covered her mouth in shock. Three Asian men wearing dripping wetsuits stood in the shadows of the room. All three held semi-automatic weapons pointing at the deck. There was a wet bag that she suspected must be waterproof at their feet.
“Wǒmen zǒu ba,” one of the men snapped at Hershel and pointed at Allie.
She understood now how Hershel planned on both driving the boat and stopping her from launching herself off the side and swimming back home. Hershel swung Allie around and shoved her roughly onto one of the couches. He strode toward the front of the boat, throwing over his shoulder, “Zheng will shoot you in the foot if you try to jump.”
“Fuck you!” Allie hissed furiously at him, gripping her seat hard to stop herself from launching an attack.
One of the guys chuckled. She glared at the floor. They probably thought Hershel looked stupid too with his wannabe power suits and ridiculous indoor sunglasses. She didn’t really condone killing, but she sort of hoped the Triad, or whoever was behind her kidnapping, turned on him. She was beginning to believe Hershel was an unredeemable waste of space, which was pretty harsh coming from someone who considered herself an optimist.
One of the guys followed Hershel to the front of the boat and then she felt the engine engage. The boat jerked sideways, throwing her back against her seat and banging her head into the wall behind her. Allie grabbed hold of cushions and tried swiftly to right herself so she could see what was happening. The other two guys were swaying with the jerking movements of the boat as it rapidly pulled away from the dock. She could tell from the jerking movements that Hershel or the other guy were trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to move them away quicker than the yacht was designed for.
Allie’s heart thundered in fear as the boat picked up speed. Then she heard shouting coming from the direction of the house. The two men ran toward the back of the yacht, lifting their weapons in anticipation. With dawning horror, Allie realized exactly why Hershel had three men as backup on the yacht. The loud, popping sound of gunfire confirmed her terrible suspicion. Without thought, Allie launched herself off of the sofa and toward the men shooting at her new friends. Two of Jay’s security team were exchanging fire from behind the boathouse. She saw Greg staggering down the stairs toward the dock with his gun arm extended toward them. As soon as he saw her emerge he dropped his arm so he wouldn’t hit her, leaving himself open.
One of the Asian men took advantage and aimed his weapon at Greg. Allie launched herself at the man, yanking his arm away so he shot into the trees instead. She sighed in relief. The yacht was picking up speed and increasing the distance between them and Jay’s security. There was no point in exchanging fire any more. The guy turned on her angrily, shoving her back. She heard Greg’s warning shout a second before the man’s fist connected with the side of her head. Allie’s last thought before the world spun into blackness was of Jay and the tracking bracelet she had begged him to remove.