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“You have an hour to get cleaned up. Mrs Brown is making dinner for us all and you know she’ll watch over us until we eat it.”
“How’s she doing?” Maximus asks looking up at me.
“She’s as can be expected. Jasmine and her have grown close. I think they have the mother/daughter relationship they both always wanted.”
Mrs Brown has been with us for years. I can’t remember her husband, who used to be the gardener and maintenance man for our family home and various fight clubs. They never had any children of their own, I don’t think they could.
Mr Brown died when Maximus and I were two and Mrs Brown has never truly gotten over his death. She throws herself into looking after us, especially after our mother died when we were twelve. Watching the interaction between Mrs Brown and Jasmine it’s obvious that they care greatly for each other, it also gives Jasmine a female to go to about certain things. Having four men around can’t be easy for her, but Mrs Brown is more than happy to be that female confidant that she needs sometimes.
I let out a sigh a walk out of the bathroom leaving my twin to have his shower.
“Get sorted, I’ll meet you in the kitchen for a coffee,” I call as I walk out of his room and try not to look in the direction of Jasmines, silently making a promise to her.
I don’t know where you are, princess. But we will not rest until we find you, and bring you home.
38
Jasmine
To say I’m done with surprises would be a fucking understatement after today. Of all the people to have paired up with Taylor I never in a million years would have imagined my own fucking mother!
We are now all sitting around the room having a cosy conversation with my mother and what? New stepdad? As well as my old stepfather or future father-in-law. I couldn't make this shit up; I need to start my own brand of hallmark cards for fucked up families.
“Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Tommy demands as he stands against the wall. He looks furious and I can’t help but take some satisfaction in that.
“Isn’t it obvious? We’ve been using you to get the intel on your sons so that when we bring them down there will be no way back for them,” Taylor admits casually as he leans back in a chair with his arm across the back of my mother’s.
“So what is it, Mum? You realised you couldn't sell my virginity anymore, so you just soldme?”
“Don't be so dramatic Jasmine, not everything is about you.”
I throw my hands up in the air emphasising our surroundings.
"I’m sorry I forgot me being kidnapped was hard on you,” I sigh sarcastically. She looks at Taylor and points to me.
“You see what I've had to put up with. People wonder why I turn to drink and drugs, well look no further than the daughter I was forced to bring up.” The woman has the audacity to make out like I’m to blame for all her bullshit! Five months ago, I would have probably accepted that and felt guilty. But if my daddies have shown me anything, it’s that I’m not to blame for anything my mother has done. She was turning to drugs before my father left, how can that possibly be my fault? I was eight! No, I refuse to let her blame me for any of it.
"Don't make me laugh. You didn't bring me up, you were too off your face to do anything but sleep and run off with whoever you were fucking at the time,” I laugh. "Seriously Mother, you are one of a kind.”
Mum’s face turns beetroot red as she looks ready to explode. She looks to Taylor, lets out a deep breath and sits back in her seat. I take it he doesn’t like her outbursts. It’s amazing how quickly her personality changes by who she is sleeping with at the time. It was one of the reasons I liked her with Tommy, she seemed laid back and content with her life. There again both ripped me off and tried to sell me to the highest bidder, so no wonder they got along so well. Two people looking for ways to make money out of others.
“I think we all need to take a deep breath and calm down, don't you? You are in no position to disrespect those caring for you,” Taylor warns before his phone starts ringing. He looks down at the screen and points to me, "gag her.”
Before I can blink Hudson has a gag wrapped around my face and forced into my mouth. I start to moan against it as I try to pull the fabric from my face. He pulls it tighter with one hand as his other hand tightens around my throat.
“Shut your mouth and don’t move, or I will cut off your air supply until you pass out, again.” I know better than to test him after last time.
“Christian, any news?”
I glare up at Taylor as he answers his phone. It kills me to know that Christian is just on the other end of the phone, talking to someone he thinks he can trust. I find myself straining just in the hope of hearing his voice, but Taylor is too far away from me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement. I look to see Tommy messing with the cuffs of his trousers. As he looks up he seems to take note of the fabric around my mouth and for a split second, he looks almost angry. As our eyes meet he looks at me for a split second before looking at the chest of drawers beside him. I purposely look away from him in time to see Taylors eyes snap to Hudson.
“You found the guy who took her?” he repeats and Hudson shrugs his shoulders not looking worried in the slightest. "He couldn't tell you anything at all? I’m sorry to hear that … No, I've tried a few different contacts of Hudson’s and no one has seen hide or hair of him. He hasn't been in touch since the last video?... Okay what time do you want me there? ... I'll see you then.” Taylor ends the call and looks furious when he turns to Hudson.
“Maximus was able to track down Trent! If that moron can track down one of your mates it won't be long until the others find someone!” Taylor roars. Hudson loosens his hold of my throat and lets go of the gag, removing the disgusting piece of fabric from my face.
“No one knows where we are, or that I’m still working for you. The only people who know aren’t allowed to leave this estate. It's fine I've covered all bases.” Hudson looks at me with that arrogant grin, I roll my eyes as I look towards Tommy who’s staring at Taylor.
