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There were lights on in what seemed to be the main living areas of the house and one room toward the side. I imagined that was the bedroom. And since there was no basement to this ranch, I figured that the bedroom was the next logical place to keep someone you abducted and wanted to assault.
I wasn’t going to be able to haul myself up into a window. It wasn’t something I was proud to admit, but my back was screaming. It didn’t matter how much I wanted it, my body wasn’t going to let me do it.
Decision made, I made my way around the house, pausing at the window where the light was on, wanting to make sure I was right in my assumption before I broke several laws by charging into a stranger’s house armed.
The others filed in behind me, silent but for their breathing as we listened.
And then we heard voices.
Two women.
“I think I might play with you a little hard,” the first voice said. It wasn’t Billie, so I had to assume it was Reggie’s wife, Lizzie. “I’ve seen some videos, you know.”
“What kinds of videos?” Billie asked, voice tight. If you didn’t know her, you might not have caught how strangled she sounded.
And then the Lizzie chick proved she wasn’t just an innocent bystander.
“The kinds where men use their whole hand, sometimes even their arm. You know… inside a woman.”
We were only catching the tail-end of a conversation, but the implication was clear. For reasons unknown to any of us, this chick wanted to put her fucking fist and arm inside of Billie.
So much for the soft, feminine gaze.
Inside the house, there was a clicking sound.
A door closing.
Reggie. That had to be Reggie.
“Oh, we’re going to have fun now!” the woman said. And, I shit you not, she clapped her hands.
She clapped her hands at the idea of not only watching her husband assault another woman, but to participate in it herself.
I had to fight down the growl that grew in my throat as I nodded toward Slash who had moved in behind me, then turning back to make my way around the house, knowing we needed to step in and fast.
I said a silent thank you to whatever higher power there was in the world that the small front porch was cement, not wooden planks that I would have to worry about making noise.
I reached for the doorknob, feeling it turn in my hand. That didn’t seem like something Reggie would overlook, but he was also likely trying to haul in an unconscious, or conscious and livid woman.
Whatever the reason, it was a stroke of luck.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door, wincing, waiting for a squeak that never happened.
The inside of the house was a lot like the outside. A little outdated, kind of cold and empty, but meticulously clean.
The only thing that gave me pause was the wooden easel set up in the corner of the living room with a picture of Billie’s face drawn there.
Before I even got a chance to analyze that, there was a crashing sound in the back room followed by shrieking.
My heart flew up into my throat as I recognized the voice.
Billie.
I didn’t think.
I didn’t check to see if anyone was at my six.
I rushed through the house, ripping open the bedroom door.
And then there was the scene before me.
Billie on the floor, broken pieces of a chair still attached to her ankles with ropes, sprawled out on her back with that motherfucker straddling her waist, his hands ripping at her shirt. Then there was the woman, Lizzie, holding Billie to the ground by her shoulders as Billie shrieked and squirmed.
“Get the fuck off of her,” I growled, making three heads whip in my direction at the same time.
Billie, thanks to years of relentless training from her aunts, managed to recover first, taking advantage of her attackers’ surprise, bucking her hips upward and yanking out of Lizzie’s hold.
Billie pulled in her legs, landing her feet on Reggie’s chest, and shoving him back hard enough for him to crash into the dresser.
Billie popped up, knocking Lizzie onto her ass in the process.
I reached with my free hand, yanking Billie forward.
“Run,” I demanded, moving out of the way of the door so she could escape.
Someone would get her out of there.
I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but I had to deal with the sick sonofabitch who planned on hurting her.
“No no no no!” Lizzie shrieked, hopping to her feet. “Don’t hurt him.”
“He was going to hurt someone who means a lot to me,” I told her, aiming at Reggie. “He has to pay for that.”
I saw the recognition in Reggie’s eyes, followed by the fear, for all of ten seconds before my finger slid to the trigger and pulled.
