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“Now, get on your fucking knees and open wide, my love. You know that I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he says with a sadistic grin. His hand runs up my arm from my wrist before eloping my shoulder. His grip becomes hard, biting into my skin as he forces me down onto my knees. I am running out of ideas, so I decide to play along with his little game, and then pray I can flee when he is relaxed.
“No, Daniel, please. Don’t do this. Please, if you loved me, if any part of you ever loved me, please, I beg of you, don’t make me do this.” The pleading tone of my voice makes me feel even sicker. I am not succumbing to him. I would rather die. But I play the part, now down on my knees, looking up at him, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“You look like such a good little slut with your tears already running down your cheeks…” he groans out as he lowers his zipper, opening his trousers.
“No, Daniel. Stop!” I say trying to be more forceful since begging is now out of the question.
“You are so fucking sexy with your mascara smudged under your eyes and your red lipstick smeared. Now bring those glossy red lips forward, my love, and wrap them around my cock.” He pulls himself out of his underwear, gripping himself hard.
“No. No. No…” I say and start to shuffle back on my knees, trying again to get away from him while he is so enraptured with himself.
“Fuck!” he yells, clearly agitated that I won’t do as he says, and he grabs my hair, rougher this time, yanking me back in front of him.
I scream out as it feels like he has ripped my hair from my scalp, and as he holds my head firm in one hand, his other flies across the other side of my face.
“Do as you are fucking told, or so help me God, I will walk down that hallway and have your daughter take her last fucking breath right in front of you,” he grits out, spit flying from his mouth, sweat pouring from his forehead, bearing his teeth as pure evil runs over his face. And my heart stutters.
He is at breaking point, and I have no doubt that he will kill Ivy to get to me. I don’t miss that he calls her my daughter, even though he helped create her.
“Now get on your fucking knees and open that fucking mouth.” Letting go of my head, he pushes his pants down to his knees, baring himself to me.
With disgust clearly written on my face, I lean away from him, my back hitting the sofa. I feel trapped.
I have no one to help me. I have nowhere to go.
Do it for Ivy. Do it for Ivy.
42
Carter
The boys and I make quick work of the building maintenance team and now don their uniforms. It is better than the monkey suit from earlier, but I still itch to get it off. After disabling the cameras and paying off a few of the key security team—who knew exactly who we were and are now on their way home with enough money in their banks to buy a house—we are following William through to the rear of the foyer to the private elevator reserved for the penthouse.
“Here, take this,” he says, handing a swipe card to Sebastian. “It will give you full access to the top floor. I only had access for today; it will expire at midnight, so you don’t have much time.”
As an art curator, William is often hired by the wealthy of New York to purchase and hang art in their homes and buildings, and tonight is our lucky night. After he saw us outside, he told us that he is currently redesigning the interiors of the building, and doing so at night to avoid interrupting too many residents.
“Go to the compound and see Goldie. Don’t leave before I get back,” Sebastian says by way of instructions. Although I appreciate the favor, it means that William will have to lay low for a while, staying out of sight and not talking to anyone, so we can make this disappear with the authorities, which we know will take some time.
We are not dealing with low level thugs here; we are dealing with some of the wealthiest men in New York.
“Good luck,” William says as he nods to us, then runs back to one of our cars, our men waiting to take him to the compound. The boys and I jump in the elevator, heading up to the top floor. Nico remains in the car outside, our other soldiers now also on the scene, walking the perimeter. Others are stationed in the streets nearby to block traffic if we need a quick getaway.
“We need to jump on them early,” Dante says, giving us instructions, and with every second that passes, I get increasingly anxious to get to my girls. I know we have come up with a plan. But whether we have a plan or not, I am fucking getting my girls, and I will die trying.
As the elevator moves, I check my weapons for the tenth time tonight. A gun in my hand, a gun at my back, a knife in my boot, a switchblade in my pocket, and my fists are ready too, if needed.
I watch the levels light up as we progress, and before long, PH lights up.
“Fucking showtime,” I grit out and step forward the minute the doors open, with my gun raised. As is typical in these places, the elevator opens right into the main living room, the wealth of it all hitting me in the face.
“What the fuck?” a man's voice barks, and I look sharply toward him. It is just who we wanted to see, standing with his pants down right in front of Cat.
She is on her knees, tears streaming down her face, blood covering one side, her hair disheveled, and I see red.
“Get the fuck away from her,” I seethe, my finger twitching to pull the trigger, but not yet sure if he is packing or if anyone else is here. He stands looking at me in shock for a moment. “I said, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” I scream at him, my anger now exploding.
Gritting my teeth together, I walk slowly toward him with my gun raised, aimed at his head.
