Chapter Twenty-Three
Ariella
Fear drenched me to the core of my existence. I trembled under the blade of his knife. The smirking bastard with breath old and putrid nicked my neck, reminding me he was in charge.
I could do this. I had to do this. I talked myself up. My hands in fists at my side, gathering strength. I stomped on his toes, his boots thin, then shoved my knee hard up into his groin.
He doubled over in pain to grab his family jewels when the knife clanked to the floor. I yanked my knee hard up again, this time into his face, before ramming him headfirst into the wall. He fell like a ton of bricks.
I bent down and snatched his knife. The handle trembled in my hands. It was my only line of defense to get out of the cellar.
“Nice one. You know if you kill him, it means more money for me,” said the second man who had sat on his stool whittling his stick. He stood, the sharp instrument in his grip.
I stepped over the imbecile, keeping my back to the wall for protection. There were no windows in the basement. The small space closed in on me like a coffin. My fingers grazed the cement, reminding me it wasn’t moving. The dizziness was all in my head. The room constrictive, and as car doors slammed, beads of sweat trickled down my forehead.
“Let me go,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “I told you I have money. I can give you far more than anyone else will for killing me.” I’d tell a million lies if it would save my life. Would he fall for it?
“Unlike Carter, I don’t want to kill you. I prefer to play with the merchandise.” He snickered and unfastened his belt.
My eyes widened, and my stomach somersaulted. I gripped the handle of the knife until my knuckles turned white.
“Come here, girly,” he said, stalking toward me.
I screamed loud and hard. My lungs burned from the pain. My throat would be hoarse tomorrow, but I didn’t care if it meant that I lived to see another sunrise. I screamed again, hoping to bring the men from outside down to the cellar. They wanted me dead, and while I didn’t want to end up six feet under, I also wasn’t about to get raped by a madman after a payday. I skirted the wall, my gaze finding nothing, the only weapon in my defense a blade that was smaller and meant getting closer than his sharpened stick.
“We could play a game,” he whispered. He was grabbing my arm and pinning it back above my head, forcing the damned weapon to fall. At least he didn’t have his shaft either.
It took all the courage I had to muster the words he wanted to hear. Could I convince him to let me go? “I like games,” I said and swallowed the lump that formed in my throat.
His decrepit hand stroked my cheek, and I turned my head away, refusing to look at him. He grabbed me by the chin and forced my face to look at him. “Doesn’t look like you enjoy this game very much,” he said. He leaned closer to me, his body just inches from mine.
The room spun. Had the thermostat been suddenly turned up? Sweat licked my skin and my stomach recoiled. I stomped his foot, but he wore steel-toed boots, offering him protection and only making the bottoms of my feet throb. I winced but didn’t let him see my discomfort or surprise that the maneuver hadn’t worked.
His hand that had been on my chin fell to my knee. “Don’t even think about fighting this, girly. You know you want it.” He leaned toward me.
“I could never want anyone like you!” I spat on his face and squirmed to escape his grasp. The knife lay on the floor out of my reach with my hands pinned above my head. He kept me trapped, and though I attempted to use the force of my entire body to fight him, he was taller than me, heftier, and had me restrained.
“I do like a girl that fights,” he said and snickered.
The other man who had attacked me earlier and had been lying on the ground stirred awake. He grabbed my legs, keeping me from kicking either of them again.
I screamed again, and the bastard who had me pinned to the wall and my hands clamped above my head shoved his hand over my mouth. I bit down on his fingers, unwilling to give in to his demands or temptations.
“You bitch!” he snarled and threw his hand back, smacking me hard across the face. “I’ll show you,” he said, unzipping his pants.
Heavy footsteps pounded against the ceiling of the cellar. “Help!” I screamed, thrashing as I tried to break free of both men.
“Ariella!” Jaxson’s voice was music to my ears, the sweetest symphony I’d ever heard in my life. His boots slammed against the stairs. He and his buddies came tearing down the basement to help.
“What the hell?” the man spun around, pants at his ankles.
The other man on the floor released his grasp from my legs and grabbed the switchblade to defend himself.
“I’ll kill you!” Jaxson screamed, slamming his fist into the first man’s face, the guy with bloody fingers. I hadn’t realized how deep I’d bit down. Seeing the blood made me gag.
Lincoln and Mason tore down the dimly lit stairs with Jaxson, disarming both men, knocking them momentarily unconscious. I threw myself into Jaxson’s embrace. Lincoln pulled out a pair of zip ties and secured both attacker’s hands to ensure they were no longer a threat.
Being wrapped in his strong, warm arms made me relax. I rubbed my cheek against his chest and closed my eyes, drinking in his strength.