Moving_Violations (22 page)

There was Whittaker, in the thick of it shouting out orders. Roby and Martin were there as well, watching the activity going on around them. Jackson narrowed his eyes, watching the foreigners rather than those he already knew. He felt fear strike his heart as he recognized several of them. The terrorists’ faces were flashed across every police bulletin going through the nation the year before. Updates were sent through regularly, and he knew priority had been given to capturing several of them.

“What do we do?” Evidently, Becca had realized the danger involved here as well.

He could hear the thread of worry in her voice and cursed the moment he had decided to venture up the mountain.

He had left Sandor and Gray a message, so they weren’t without recourse. But dammit, the other men wouldn’t think to check on them until nightfall. Jackson had assured them that he and Becca could handle this little scouting mission.

“We get the hell out of here,” he muttered, motioning her back. “Stay down, Becca, keep behind the boulders until we get back over the edge, then we’ll run for it.”

They inched back, heading for the small ledge they had worked their way around earlier to get into position to see the cabin. The area they had come through was heavily sheltered, with numerous stands of boulders and large rocks as well as a thick undergrowth. He prayed it would keep them hidden from the men who were no doubt watching for a nosy hunter, or a dumb sheriff. If they were caught, they would die. It was that simple.

Jackson knew Becca was more than aware of this. The merciless intent of the terrorists had been displayed to a nation as it watched in horror. Several of the men now hiding on this mountain had been linked to the planning and details of the terror strike.

“Jackson, this is bad,” Becca whispered as they worked their way slowly back along the hard ground. “There’s too many there. How the hell do they intend to get them out without being seen?”

“Same way they got them in,” he growled. “A few at a time, or in campers or RVs.

They’re smart and they’re dangerous. A deadly combination, baby.”

Jackson glanced back, seeing the ledge as it came nearer. They were almost home free. If they could get past that without being sighted, then they had a chance of making it off the small mountain and back to relative safety.

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They were inches from just that when the first shot was fired. The bullet just missed Jackson’s head, burying in the trunk of the tree beside him instead.

“Fuck! Run!” Jackson screamed out at Becca, terror thudding hard and fast through his bloodstream as a stream of Arabic began to echo through the mountain.

He heard Becca curse, but as he jumped to his feet and cleared the ledge he saw she was already running. But he knew the bastards back at the cabin were running too.

Running with semi automatic rifles that could easily take Becca and him out with a properly placed bullet.

“Stay close to the trees,” he yelled as he came up on her, covering her from behind.

“Keep your head low.”

Goddamn it, he cursed silently as he spared a quick look back to see several of the terrorists top the ledge and come over it flying.

“Run, Becca!” He pushed her harder, knowing their chances of outrunning the bastards were slim to none, and their weapons hopelessly inferior. It was damned hard to battle automatic rifles with the standard issue police pistol.

Gunfire began to fill the silence of the mountains. Jackson jerked his revolver from its holster, firing back wildly, hoping, if nothing else, to force them to lose any proper aim they had on them. Bullets buried in the trees, ricocheted off boulders and kept them zigzagging, dodging the gunfire as they fought to escape to the relative safety of the vehicle at the bottom of the mountains. God, he had to get Becca out of here.

“Run faster, baby!” he screamed out at her as he glanced back. There had to be half a dozen of those bastards coming down the mountain after them and even more behind them.

The air filled with the sound of gunfire, Arabic curses, and the thunder of his own heart. He pushed Becca harder, screaming at her, urging her to run harder, faster, to get to the safety the caves would afford them. If nothing else, there was communication there, the vehicle. They would have a fighting chance.

He glanced back again, his heart filling his throat as he saw the two men kneeling, raising their rifles. “The trees,” he screamed, jerking Becca forward then coming to a halt and slamming her to the ground as a crazed figure rose up in front of them.

He covered Becca’s body, staring up at Jacob in amazement as he stood over them, the M16 in his hand spewing out cartridges like a summer storm spills its raindrops.

“Get!” Jacob didn’t spare them a glance as he screamed the word.

Jackson jerked Becca to her feet and pushed her back to a dead run. They were nearly there. With Jacob’s help and the damned canon-sized weapon he was carrying they at least had a chance now.

“Get to the jeep!” he screamed at Becca. “If we’re not in it with you, then get the fuck out of here.”

“Like hell,” she yelled back, breathless with fear and flight as they tore from the mountain.

“Keep her running, Jack,” Jacob yelled out behind them. “We have more coming.

Let’s get the hell out of here.”

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“Fuck. Fuck.” Jackson pushed harder, hope filling him as they broke the line of trees. “Jeep.”

They ran for it as Jackson pushed his hand in his pocket for the keys. It was the last thing he knew. He heard Becca scream, but as he fought the darkness overcoming him, he prayed that if this was his last breath, then Jacob could protect her.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

Thank God for Rambo, wherever the hell he came from, Rebecca thought as she ran.

Almost there, almost there, she looked back and saw Jackson and Rambo go down.

“Jackson!” she screamed. For just a moment she thought her heart stopped. She started toward them when a hand seized her arm and spun her around.

“Not so fast, Rebecca,” Todd said with a sneer.

She had no time to think, running on pure emotion and adrenalin. She struck out with her free hand. He caught her and held her against him in an iron grip. Todd had always been strong. She stiffened, twisting against his hold. She distracted him enough to stomp on his instep. He grimaced and cursed but held her firm. His fingers dug into her flesh and he shook her hard, rattling her teeth. “You bastard, you fucking bastard,”

she snarled and kicked out. Her knee missed his groin by an inch.

“Stop,” Todd yelled.

“Like hell.” She grunted as he jerked her against him again. She looked up, surprised to find he wasn’t talking to her. She turned and saw two Middle Eastern soldiers standing over Jackson and Rambo, guns aimed at their heads.

Panic rose in her and she fought. “No.” The word screamed in her brain though it escaped her dry throat as a plea. Todd’s grip was unyielding as he squeezed her arms harder; she winced but didn’t take her eyes from Jackson.

“I want him alive.” He lowered his head and ran his tongue over her ear. “For now.”

The caress made her blood boil, and her stomach clench. She wanted to recoil in disgust. Instead she turned her head quick and bit his cheek as hard as she could. She tasted his blood and spat onto the ground. He yelped and pulled away from her. She used the moment to wrench free. She made a mad dash for the gun she knew was in the jeep, only to be caught by Martin and Roby, the two idiots. She twisted futilely against their hold.

Todd stalked toward her. His hand touched his face, and then he looked at the blood on his fingers. She saw the rage in his icy glare. She knew she was outnumbered but she’d be damned if she’d give in or make it easy for them. “Go to hell, you son of a bitch.”

Fury flashed in his eyes. He stood over her, fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head back. “You belong to me. Did you really think I’d stand by and do nothing while you whored yourself out to this dirty country bumpkin?”

Rebecca glared at him, refusing to look away. “I never belonged to you, Todd.

Never.”

He slapped her hard. Her head snapped back. He waited till she turned back to him.

“You did!” he screamed at her. His breath was soughing in and out of his lungs. “You 118

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do. And now that hillbilly sheep fucker is going to see. He’s going to see that you are mine and then he’ll die knowing.”

“He knows better,” Rebecca said through her teeth.

He kept his gaze locked with hers. Her teeth marks were plain to see in the drying blood on his cheek; a sinister smile slowly curved his lips. She wondered why she didn’t see this side of him in the beginning. What had ever made her think she could care for this man? Roby and Martin were chuckling, standing too close, their fingers digging into her arms, rubbing against the outside swell of her breasts.

“Those trees over there will be perfect for what I have in mind.” Todd gestured with a nod of his head. “Tie them up,” he said to the soldiers. “Make sure the sheriff has a good view.”

Roby and Martin dragged Rebecca to the place where Todd had directed them. He sauntered up to her with the rope from the jeep, watching the soldiers tie Jackson and Rambo to a tree not far from them. That same smile was still fixed on his face as Todd stepped closer. With a pocketknife he cut the long rope into three shorter pieces. Rebecca struggled, twisting her body, tugging her arms.

“Damn bitch. Be still!” Roby spat.

Todd knelt down and tied a length of rope to each foot. He backed up on his haunches, measuring distances by sight then motioned for them to bring her forward.

He stood, pulling the ropes, and her feet came out from under her. Roby and Martin dropped her. The breath whooshed from her lugs as her back hit the hard packed dirt.

Martin planted his booted foot on her chest. She fought for breath as Roby knelt quickly and grabbed her arms, jerking them over her head. He tied them together while Todd and one of the soldiers each took a leg. Rebecca kicked and bucked. Todd just laughed as he spread her open, tying them wide apart.

“What the hell?” Whittaker was out of breath and sweating like the pig he was.

“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Lawrence? Just kill ‘em and be done with it.”

Todd scowled at the man. “I’ll handle this the way I see fit. If you can’t stomach it then take the men and go back to the cabin.”

They glared at each other for a tense moment, until finally Whittaker waved a hand.

“Fuck it. Do what ya want. The nosy little bitch and her fuck buddy had it comin’.”

Whittaker turned and motioned to the soldiers to leave.

Todd knelt between her legs and began cutting her clothes from her body. She grit her teeth, pulling against the ropes that dug into her wrists and ankles. Her stressed joints burned as she bucked and jerked. Rebecca knew what was going to happen. She refused to think about the fact that Whittaker, Roby and Martin stood to the side, their arms crossed, their eyes glassy waiting for the show.

She shuddered with revulsion as she watched Todd. His hands roamed over her, cutting away her shirt, her bra. She held her breath as the knife lightly circled her nipple.

Hating that they involuntarily tightened from the feel of the cold metal, she swallowed the knot of fear and anger that rose inside her, threatening to choke her. He sat back and let his gaze travel over her naked body hungrily, predatorily. “Wake him up,” he said with a grin.

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She wanted to cringe but she didn’t. She faced him, hated him with everything in her for what he was about to do to her, to Jackson, to their relationship. She’d feed on that hate. Todd’s hand replaced the knife, trailing over her breast. He squeezed. Her stomach lurched and she swallowed. “You disgust me,” she snarled.

His gaze locked with hers, his features contorting as his fist plowed into her jaw.

Pain flashed through her skull as her head bounced off the ground. Breathing deeply through her nose she tried to resist the need to puke. Glaring at him she worked her jaw to assure herself that it was still intact. An ominous growl reached her ears and she knew it came from Jackson.

“You stupid whore,” Todd grunted. He turned, facing Jackson. Rebecca clenched her teeth as Todd shoved his fingers inside her, sending sharp pain radiating through her. “This is my cunt. I’m taking it back. You’re going to watch,” he snarled and began unbuckling his pants.

She turned her head then. Jackson was watching her, his gaze locking with hers.

Fury reflected in his hard, cold eyes. He strained against the ropes binding him, his expression murderous. The muscle in his jaw jumped, the muscles and veins in his neck bulged.

If they did somehow live through this it would never be the same. Once Todd raped her, Jackson would never look at her the way he once had. She would be lost to him. The only man she ever loved. No matter what Todd did to her, her heart, her mind, her soul would belong to Jackson. Only him. She couldn’t help the tears that fell across the bridge of her nose. So many things she never said. “Jackson.” She mouthed his name.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

“No! Goddamn you, Lawrence!” Jackson screamed, every bone and muscle in his body rioting as agony flashed through his soul. Lawrence was daring to touch her. He would kill the son of the bitch; if he had to do it from the grave, he would kill him.

Becca. His Becca. God, why hadn’t he told her he loved her, told her what she meant to him. He saw the bastard touching her, as he felt the tears that radiated from his soul, searing his eyes as hers fell along her bruised face. Fucking bastard, he was going to kill him. He would kill him with his bare hands. He fought the ropes at his wrists, refusing to watch what Todd was doing to her. He kept his eyes locked with Becca’s trying to show her, to love her, to give her the strength he knew she would need to get through this.