Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (23 page)

“Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles,

a thousand victories.”

Sun Tzu

Chapter 64

Mia had two overriding thoughts in her mind. One, how to help Daddy, and two, how to protect their baby.

After beating and raping Mia, both Prescotts thought the best place for her would be at the estate. She could be watched and taken care of there with much fewer hassles.

Mia stood naked in front of a full-length mirror in her room at Prescott Manor. She was inspecting the bruises. Her breasts were becoming fuller. Her nipples were still sore and sensitive, they had been pinched and bitten last night. They were puckered and hardened.

She hadn’t seen a lot of naked women so she didn’t really know how her breasts compared. They were a little on the small side but she knew they were pretty good for a thin girl. Mia thought that her areolas were maybe just a tad big but they were a nice shade of dark pink.

Mia really liked the way her ass looked from the side. Her long thin legs ended at a perfectly round little ass. She took an extra minute just twisting and bending, looking at her backside. She liked how it then ran up into her slender waist and back. If it wasn’t black and blue, she knew she had a nice ass.

Luckily, she wasn’t showing yet. She slid her hand down her flat belly and wondered how long before the baby bump started to show.

Her mind was in overdrive. What was she was going to do once Jeffery found out she was pregnant? There was no doubt the baby was Daddy’s. It was conceived during one of their very first moments together.

She knew this because she knew something even Jeffery didn’t know; Jeffery was sterile. Mia hadn’t used any birth control in over eight years. Prescott, of course, looked no further than placing the blame on her for their childless marriage. Mia knew better. It was also fine with her. The thought of having Prescott’s child made her want to gag.

Daddy, however, was another story. Who knew he still had swimmers at his age? Mia giggled. Well, he wasn’t
that
old. She recalled the look on his face when they were sitting on the bed just after making love. She could tell he was excited at the thought too. If they could just get free of the present problems, they could go somewhere together…

Mia slapped herself out of the daydream. She had to dress for an important political dinner and play the part as Jeffery Prescott’s devoted wife. She had to stand beside him, grasp his hand, and look lovingly into his eyes as any proud wife would.

It made her almost ill thinking about the charade she would have to play. She also knew if she didn’t, Daddy would suffer.

Mia’s future wasn’t much better. As soon as it was politically convenient she would be killed and someone more suitable would take her place. If it wasn’t for the baby and Daddy, she would have welcomed the idea. She had to figure out a way to help Daddy.

She decided then and there, if Daddy and her baby weren’t a part of her future then she would just as soon be dead, and she would take Jeffery Prescott with her.

Once that decision was made, and firmly planted in her heart, she felt much better, much calmer. No matter what, she knew, there was an end. An end she could accept the outcome either way. That was when Daddy’s voice came into her mind, as though he were whispering into her ear.

Everything is going to be okay, Baby Doll. Everything is going to be all right,
his voice said.
The voice calmed her immediately.

Jeffery Prescott barged into the room just then, without knocking.

“How’s my lovely wife this morning? I certainly hope the events of the last few days haven’t put a damper on your mood, because tonight’s a big night.”

Mia turned around and looked at him, hating the sight of his false smile. She hated his blow-dried hair and polished teeth.

“Jeffery? Darling husband?” Mia put on her best, sexy kitten voice. “It’s going to be a pleasure to kill you.”

Prescott strode across the room and smacked her with an open hand.

“You think I’m afraid of you? Hey Jeff? I just wanted you to know…you’ve got a really small dick.”

Prescott’s rage filled his eyes, raised his hand, then closed his fist to let her have a good one.

“Go ahead, little dick, do it,” Mia goaded.

“Jeffery? Now is not the time,” Elder Prescott said from the doorway. “There will be plenty of time to deal with her later.”

Ever since Mia got back, no, even before she left, there was a change in her. She was no longer afraid of him. It was like she was some sort of Samurai warrior. He remembered her standing in the living room of their house with a knife in her hand, and determination in her eyes. She wasn’t afraid of pain, she wasn’t even scared of death.

Which made Jeffery Prescott afraid of her.

Mia stood before the two men, naked, with her hand on her slender hip. Not the least bit self-conscious. Again, she heard Daddy’s voice,

“You are their equal. You are mentally stronger than they are, and they know it. Battles are first won in the mind. Show them you aren’t afraid of them, and they will fear you.”

She stared at them both. She looked each in the eye, then said quietly,

“Daddy is coming for you. You will not beat him, and you will not beat me. We will take you down. We are going to destroy you both.”

Both men looked at each other, then burst out laughing. However, their eyes said the laughter was forced, and fake.

William Prescott stepped up to Mia then, taking her chin roughly in his hand,

“Little girl, you have absolutely no idea who you are fucking with. As far as your ‘Daddy’ goes,” he almost spat the word, “neither does he. Even so, don’t you worry little one. I’m going to make you watch his execution. Which should be coming to a theater near you sooner than you think.”

Mia didn’t flinch. Instead, she swatted his hand away.

“I think you have one part of it right. I will be watching an execution soon. But I don’t think it will be Daddy’s.”

Rage boiled up in Elder Prescott then. To be talked to in this fashion by this little whore was almost too much to control. He promised himself, when the time came, and he would make sure it came soon, he would personally put the bullet in her head.

Still Mia didn’t flinch, she stared right into his eyes. She knew, she could see it. She WAS stronger.

“You have absolutely no idea the world of pain, awaiting you,” Prescott said.

“You have it backwards,” said Mia quietly. “You have no idea the pain awaiting you.”

Elder Prescott lost it then and slapped her, sending Mia to the floor. What he didn’t expect was when she got back up, went and stood at the place she had just occupied, and started laughing at him.

Mia felt herself leaving her body and the warmth of Daddy surrounding her. She didn’t know where it came from, or why she said it, but her next response was,

“I’m coming for you both.”

Book Three

Daddy

“A man who won’t die for something is not fit to live.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

“He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot,

will be victorious.”

Sun Tzu

Chapter 65

The vet was good on his word.

He injected Daddy with enough painkillers to eliminate any pain. Then before he left, on the excuse he had to administer antibiotics, he injected him with something and Daddy felt strength returning. Daddy knew it was masking the pain and it would be short lived so he had to act fast.

After DOP and his boys got their jollies, they had pretty much left him alone, or maybe they were called off. It was time to act, and Daddy needed to figure out a plan.

Okay, what is binding me?
he thought. He looked over his head at the rope and pulley and realized he was in luck.

Fucking amateurs,
he thought.

The rope suspending him was hemp and/or manila. It wasn’t a synthetic. Which means it will stretch. He put his weight on it by lifting his legs off the floor. Sure enough, it stretched.

The rope bit into his wrists, but he blocked out the pain. He did that as long as the pain allowed, then put his legs back down. He gained about an inch of slack.

He took another breath, held it, and lifted his weight off the floor, putting his full 220 pounds on the rope. Each time he did it, he gained more slack, the rope trailing down his back, unseen to anyone coming through the door. Soon he would have enough slack he could chew through the ropes binding his hands.

Then, he heard voices outside the killing room.

“Yo, mothafucka. Bout time. Yo boy tied up in the room, there.”

“You hurt him?”

“We fuck him up a bit. He’s an old fat dude. He ain’t so tough.”

The “white” voice he recognized from somewhere. He’d heard it before. He stood up, letting all the slack he’d gathered from the rope hang down his back unseen. Judging by feel, he had three or four feet. He suspended his arms back up in the air so it would look like he was still hanging tight.

There was a scuffling sound outside the door then a large guy, wearing a black baklava, the kind terrorists and cops prefer, came in. Just his eyes were visible in a dark, cloth-covered face. He opened the door, and pulled a chair in with him. Then disappeared, and came back in carrying a car battery and jumper cables. Disappeared again, then came in carrying a five-gallon pail of what looked like water.

Okay, so I’m going to get tortured for information. Which means they need something from me,
he thought.
Which means I still have a while to live.

“Your name is Flynn, isn’t it?” Daddy said to the figure in black.

The man remained silent. Instead he sat down on the chair studying his victim.

“Yeah, I remember. We met when you pulled me over. You can hide your face Flynn, but you can’t hide the eyes.”

“What’s your name?” Flynn asked.

“You can call me Daddy, if you want.”

“A mystery man, uh?”

“No. I know who I am. It’s no mystery to me. Flynn, what happened to you? This isn’t your style.”

“How do you know what my style is?”

“Letting girls get ass raped and beaten for the pleasure of sick fucks like Prescott is your style, Flynn? Is it a regular part of your job arranging kidnappings with the home boys? And when things get boring, moonlight as a torturer, and dirty cop for that ass Prescott? How long are you going to carry that boy’s filthy laundry? You know he’s going to fuck you over in the end, Flynn. It’s his nature.

“What about when you pulled me over, Flynn, remember? You could have rousted me. Busted me on some bogus, bullshit charge. Beat the shit out of me for resisting. Splayed me out in the middle of the street in handcuffs, maced me, tazed me. But you didn’t. You didn’t use any low-class cop tactics. Instead, you played it smart. Played the game the way it was supposed to be played. You played it with
HONOR
,” Daddy raised his voice on the last word. “So, I ask again, what the fuck happened to you?”

Flynn collapsed in on himself sitting in the chair. Daddy’s words hit home. The truth, people didn’t want to face, worked every time.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re a cop, Flynn. I bet at one time, an honorable one. Did you join the force to be some rich boy’s dirt bag?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s
exactly
like that, and you know it!”

“We came up together. You know how it is. He helped me in the early years and we kept in touch. We traded favors back and forth, that sort of thing. This thing with you and Mia, it got out of hand.”

“This ‘thing’ with Mia and me? Are you kidding me? I helped her get away from a sexual sadist! So now, you’re going to torture me to get some information for your boss, is that it?”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah. So why don’t you just tell me your name. Save yourself the pain, and me the trouble.”

“You’re leaving out the best part, Flynn. It also means you’re going to have to kill me because I know who you are. That’s really why you’re here isn’t it? Now, it isn’t trading favors back and forth. It’s murder one. Are you telling me that sick suck ass is worth your pride, your honor, your pension? You’ll murder for a scum bag like him?”

“Like I said, it wasn’t always like that. Shit happens. Life happens, and…”

“And pretty soon you can’t stop the merry-go-round. Am I right, Officer Flynn?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. It sucks and I’m sorry. You probably don’t deserve it. But I’ll make it quick.”

Flynn stood up, hooked up the jumper cables to the battery and came over to Daddy. Using a large sponge, he soaked Daddy’s chest in cold water. He dropped the sponge into the bucket and picked up the cables.

“What’s your name?” Flynn said, advancing towards Daddy.

“Hey Flynn? I think you told me the truth just now. I think it was the first time in a long time, you’d been honest with yourself. I think it also felt good to tell the truth for a change. I think , deep down, you are a man of honor. For that reason, I’m going to let you live.”

“You are one ballsy motherfuck…”

Daddy launched himself straight at Flynn’s chest, wrapping his feet around his stomach. He whipped the rope slack two quick turns around Flynn’s neck, then, in the same motion, pushed himself off Flynn with his feet and fell to the floor.

The reflex action of suddenly losing his air supply made Flynn drop the jumper cables, and his hands flew to his neck.

Too late. The momentum of Daddy’s fall to the floor jerked the rope tight, and hauled him partially in the air. Daddy rolled over the rope, keeping it taut as it stretched, slowly strangling Flynn.

Both men stared at each other, Flynn thrashing, Daddy rolling taking up the slack with his body. Flynn made a final effort to kick Daddy in the face. Daddy took the blow and shook it off.

Daddy watched as the light dimmed in Flynn’s protruding eyes, and his tongue started to extend. In case it was a fake, he held the line taut, past the time necessary, then dropped Flynn to the floor. He searched his pocket and found a knife and cut himself free, next checked Flynn’s pulse on his neck.

No pulse. Fuck me,
Flynn
, thought Daddy.
You smoke too much.
He gave Flynn mouth to mouth. Still no pulse.
Don’t you even think of dying on me.
He tried CPR, then switched to mouth to mouth again, then back to CPR. There, he got it. Flynn’s pulse was thready and weak, but he was breathing and his heart pumping blood. Color returned to his face.

Now, you owe me,
thought Daddy.

Daddy took Flynn’s shoes and found his uniform with the Glock 17, and the spare magazine. He stuffed them in his pants pockets. Then, took the mace and the baton as well.

It was time to see if the Duke of Pussy, was a Duke, or a pussy.