“Oh, Princess…” A chuckle—followed by a light in front of me—a flame that moved to the tip of a cigarette protruding from Rourke’s lips. “Nobody’s coming to help you.”
“We’re the only ones here—the only ones for miles.” Another chuckle—this time it was from Brody who was standing next to Rourke.
“Please…” I looked up at them. “Please don’t hurt me!”
“We’re definitely going to hurt you.” Brody reached down, grabbed my legs, and turned me over so hard my chin slammed into the wood. “But first, we’re going to have some fun.”
His weight descended on me—I was pinned to the floor underneath him. I felt his hands on my ass—then he ripped my dress. I screamed, but that didn’t stop him. He wrapped his hand around my panties and tore them off my hips with one quick yank.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun.” He pressed down on my back and I heard him unzip his pants.
Oh god.
Brody
A few hours earlier
“The money is there.” I opened the driver’s side door and slid behind the wheel. “Just like they promised—one million dollars.”
“It’s not going to matter much if we don’t get to spend it.” Rourke looked over at me and shook his head. “The cops are going to be looking for us—it’ll be a full-fledged manhunt considering how much the press loves putting our faces on television.”
“Yeah.” I exhaled sharply. “I called my uncle. Nobody’s staying at his cabin. We can hide out there for a few days and let the heat die down some.”
“I don’t want to hide,” Rourke growled under his breath. “We need to find Anabelle.”
“Then it’ll be a good place to hide once we do.” I nodded and cranked up the car.
Rourke was right. The cops would be looking for us and our freedom was definitely limited. The only way we could ensure that we were able to see the outside of a prison again once they found us was to make sure Anabelle Prescott learned how to keep her mouth shut when those perfect pouty lips weren’t doing what they were made to do. I just hoped Rourke could go through with it.
There was a good chance that we would have to kill Adrian Prescott’s baby girl in order to make sure she didn’t testify against us. That wasn’t going to be easy for Rourke—he loved the bitch. He couldn’t even kill a bastard who deserved to die like Josef Weber—then again, he didn’t know my history with Weber, or why I was so intrigued by the offer. I didn’t need to be paid for it—I would have done it for free under the right circumstances. The money was just a bonus.
We hit up some of our old contacts and got two cars, along with a change of clothes. After that, we stopped for supplies at a store near the neighborhood we grew up in—the kind of place that was used to criminals walking through the door and wouldn’t call the cops if Charles Manson walked in with blood on his hands. We also put the word out, that the person who could tell us where Anabelle Prescott was would be a hundred grand richer. It took less than an hour for my burner phone to light up like a fucking Christmas tree.
“She’s downtown.” I walked over to Rourke’s car and bent down to look in the driver’s side window
“Yeah, she won’t be downtown long.” Rourke motioned to the radio. “The news just broke the story about the riot—and named us as two of the prisoners that escaped.”
“Then we need to move fast.” I motioned for him to follow me and headed towards my car.
The plan was pretty simple. There was only one road that led to Prescott Manor and if Anabelle wasn’t inside, that was the route her driver would have to take. I
volunteered to ram her car because I was afraid Rourke would hit the brakes and change his mind at the last second. I knew what love would do to someone—even if the person they cared about betrayed them. I felt that sting once, but it wasn’t a knife through the heart like the one Rourke got from Anabelle. My foot wasn’t going to come off the gas pedal, even if I saw her pretty emerald eyes before the impact—I didn’t even care if I killed her—that would have actually made it a lot easier than dragging her back to my uncle’s cabin.
There she is—just like we predicted.
I motioned to Rourke and hit the gas—I accelerated fast, gripping the steering wheel with my hands as I braced for impact. The hit would probably fuck me up a little bit, but I could take it. I had been hit by things that hurt a whole lot worse than a fucking airbag. The sound of metal on metal and broken glass was like music to my ears—then my vision went white when the airbag slammed into my skull. It didn’t knock me unconscious and a few seconds later, Rourke was dragging me out of the car. I stumbled for a moment but managed to get my balance.
“It went down there.” Rourke pointed at the car that was sitting at the bottom of the embankment.
“Let’s get her.” I bent my knees and started running down the incline as fast as I could without falling on my face.
“Don’t hurt the others—they don’t deserve it.” Rourke grabbed my arm as soon as we got to the car.
“Fine.” I nodded as he grabbed the door and yanked it open.
There she was—the little ice princess—missing one of her red-soled shoes, but mostly unharmed. The driver was alive. I wasn’t sure about her bodyguard, but I really didn’t give a fuck. The little ice princess put up a fight—but I gave her a quick tap on the back of her head—hard enough to help her take a nap but not hard enough to crack her skull. That felt good. I had been wanting to put my fists to that bitch for over a year.
“Fuck man, you didn’t have to hit her.” Rourke bent forward and threw her over his shoulder.