Chapter 11
Mason watched as Laura Townsend’s head snapped back. A shiver ran down his spine, and his stomach roiled. He knew what was coming.
A gasp behind him made him look over his shoulder.
Jess stood stock still, wide eyes glued to the TV screen, mouth open.
Fuck!
He caught a glimpse of the black blade as it sliced through Laura Townsend’s neck. Gurgling gasps filled the room as she choked on her own blood while it spewed from her open neck. The sound was inhuman.
He grabbed Jess by the upper arms and pulled her into his chest. Glancing at the screen, he watched the knife make a final swipe. Laura Townsend’s body slumped to the floor.
The man held her head, blood drained from the detached neck. A trophy.
Jess slumped against him. “Oh, God,” she whispered, and then wretched.
Pushing her backwards, he got her out the back door and onto the grass. She turned away from him, bent over, and vomited.
He rubbed her back and held her hair as she choked on cries between heaves.
“Shh, it’s okay, Jess,” he murmured.
She whipped her head around, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and faced him. “It’s not okay!” She balled her hands into fists and slammed them against his chest. “It’s not okay! It’s not okay!”
He stood still. Let her hit him. He would stand there as long as she needed, pounding on him until she could come to grips with what she had just witnessed.
Tears streamed down her face and fell to the ground.
“Why?” she screamed. “Why didn’t you save her? You should have protected her instead of me! She didn’t do anything wrong! It should’ve been me!” She battered her fist a few more times, and then collapsed into him. “It should’ve been me.”
Mason wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight to him. Sobs wracked her body. Her cries filled the air. Every one of them drove a stake into his heart. He couldn’t take the amount of pain she was in. He felt it as if it were his own. She was mourning for her friend.
Kissing her on the top of her head, he waited until her breathing was almost back to normal. He turned her so they could walk, but kept her tucked close into his side with a protective arm around her shoulder.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go home.”
* * *
Yurik gripped the back of the young woman’s head, his gaze riveted on the movement of her lips sliding up and down his cock. Tension in his muscles felt like the taut strings of a newly tuned guitar. His body hummed in pleasure, testicles retracted into his scrotum, ready to fill her mouth and throat with his seed.
There was no better sight than an eighteen-year-old sucking him off. Unless it was a virgin, pink and new, under him as he slammed into her for the first time. Yeah, that was also good. It was hard to find girls non- prepubescent girls that were still virgins these days. A sad reflection on society. He did not get any satisfaction from fucking little girls.
But he had many customers who did. And paid top dollar for the pleasure of breaking the seal of a young girl. Those men had unknowingly funded the RRA.
Yurik should write a book on how to fund a revolution. Sex and drugs. And weak men with hard dicks who would always pay top dollar for the best product.
The muscles at the base of his cock contracted, and his climax was so fierce, a roar of satisfaction burst from his lungs. He watched as the young woman pulled her head back. Yurik clasped his hand over her mouth, forcing her to swallow his come.
A knock at the door caught the girl’s attention. Her eyes were wide, and she tried to stand, her hand reaching for her cover. Yurik tightened his grip on her head.
“What is it?” he called.
His right hand man, Stefan Ivanko, opened the door. “Sir, you wanted an update on the situation in the U.S. regarding Nikolai.”
Yurik gestured for the man to come in. He removed his hand from the girl’s mouth. “Go to my room. Wait for me in my bed. Understand?”
The girl nodded, stood, and held her silk robe like a shield in front of her. Yurik grabbed her wrist, took the robe, and tossed it aside. He didn’t want her creamy, unblemished, young skin covered. “And bring the other girl—the one you came here with—I want to see how you work together.”
Tears rimmed the girls wide, wild eyes. A warm feeling flooded Yurik’s chest. Fear was a heady aphrodisiac. His cock stirred to life. He smacked her on the ass as she walked away, the sound music to his ears. He watched as the pink hand print turned to a dark red as she moved to the door.
Yuri exhaled, zipped his pants, and turned his attention to Stefan. “I trust you have good news?”
“The live video feed of Ms. Townsend was transmitted, and as far as we can tell, received.”
“And what of Ms. Baylor?”
“Still no word on her whereabouts.”
Yurik stood. Rage coursed through his body and lit every last nerve ending on fire. “There is no guarantee Ms. Baylor saw the video?”
“No, sir. Should we release the video to the media?”
“No. They will close ranks around Ms. Baylor even more so than they have. The Americans will be incensed, and demand the government step in. We cannot afford for Moscow to get involved. They have left us alone so far…I would prefer to keep it that way.”
“What would you like to do, sir?”
“Send a message directly to the source. What do we know about The 13, and their actions lately?”
“We have received information from a trustworthy source that members are training somewhere near Acacias, but do not have an exact location.”
“It is enough to know the general area for what I have in mind.” Yurik moved around to his desk and sat in the large leather chair. Stefan handed him a folder. Yurik flipped through the documents and smiled. “Call Alexei and have him set the charges, as we discussed.”
If Ms. Baylor thought she could hide away, she was sorely mistaken. Yurik had what he needed to smoke her out of her hiding place.
And he would be there when she did.