Shattered (Broken Trilogy Book 2) (13 page)

“Do you think it was wise to mention Roth to her?” Tim’s voice seems far away.

A ticking sound makes my stomach turn. I know he’s here; his damn boots give him away.

“Are you questioning my motives?” His voice makes my blood freeze in place. “She needs to know that her life is over, that she can be reborn again with me. I never gave his name, never said how close he’s getting to—” I can’t hold on. I feel myself slipping back into a place that makes me feel no pain, only love.

Three hours later I am in agony. I cry out as the American slaps me and then punches me in the stomach for the second time. My mouth is getting me in trouble again. I know it would be better for me if I kept quiet, but I’d rather make him angry and be hit than be forced to sleep with this man.

“You will bend to my ways, Savannah,” he barks down at me as his stupid cobra boots tap along the wooden floor. For the last hour he has been questioning me, trying to gain some information on where Tim went. He had heard from one of the girls that Tim had spent some time in my room when I arrived. I wasn’t about to out the one person who may be helping me. “Did you sleep with him, Savannah? I should have known you were a little slut. You probably spread your legs for the whole damn Army.” I smirk at him, thinking that if he suspects I slept with his muscle that maybe he won’t touch me. “You think this is funny?”

“No.” I slowly shake my head, feeling lightheaded with pain. “I think it’s hysterical. You wanted me so badly that you hunted me down for so long, and five minutes with Tim and he’s got me against the wall doing the one thing you’ve been fantasizing about for all that time?” Well, that was it. I found The American's weak spot. His eyes widen as red hot anger flickers across them. I see him lose all sense of control. Oh, shit.

I curl up in a ball, my knees protecting my stomach and my arms covering my head, and hold on. This beating takes me to the edge, and I know it could be the end. I force my thoughts to turn inward, ignoring the punishment my body is taking.

I’m twelve, sitting on my bed and clipping pictures from a magazine. My mother comes in my room holding two cups of lemonade. She’s so weak she can barely hold their weight, so I hop up and take them from her, then clear a spot on my bed for her to sit. She leans over to see what I’m doing. I return to gluing the pictures on the Bristol board, telling her it’s my art project for family studies. We have to show what our perfect apartment would look like.

“I love the colors.” She smiles, pointing at the red couch and matching red appliances. I try not to stare at her for too long. She gets uncomfortable with how much weight she has lost. She has commented on her own reflection and old she looks. She has taken to wearing silk scarves around her neck in pretty colors. I think she still looks beautiful, even when she’s just wearing her head scarf and not her wig. My mother could walk around bald and still be the most gorgeous woman in the room. “You know, when I was eighteen, my best friend Jessi and I got a place together. It wasn’t much, but we had been saving for two summers and we went out and bought everything new. I remember I bought a red Mixmaster. It cost me a lot, but it was the absolute favorite of all that I got that day. I loved that mixer. I had so much fun experimenting with recipes. It’s how I started making those chocolate chip cookies you love so much.”

“Oh, so that’s the story of how your famous cookies came about. Well, in that case…” I reach behind me and hold up a red Mixmaster picture and glue it on my counter. “Now my apartment is perfect.”

She reaches out and runs her soft hand along my cheek. “Promise me someday when you get your own place you’ll live for both of us.” I want to burst into tears. I hate when my mom talks like this, but it’s the truth, it’s our reality, and my mother who I love more than anything is dying a slow, painful death. And every day she is here trying to be strong for me and my father, a father who is rarely home anymore. “All I ask from you, Savi, is to live it to the fullest and be happy. Do it for me, if not for yourself.”

“I promise,” I whisper, fighting the tears.

“You can cry, honey. I cry too.” She lets go and starts to tear up along with me. “It’s okay not to be strong. Part of living is feeling, and part of feeling is hurting.” I move to crawl up next to her. “As long as you don’t let the hurt consume you. Sometimes we all just need time to work it out.”

“I don’t want you to leave me, Mom.” I sob into her t-shirt. “I don’t know what to do without you.”

She holds me as tight as she can. “Just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not here, Savannah, and you’re half of me, so therefore I’m never really gone.”

A sharp kick to my battered ribs jolts me back to reality. I'm flooded with incredible pain and everything goes black as I pass out again. This time my mom is nowhere to be found, only darkness and pain and loss. Once again I am alone.

“Up.” His voice breaks my lovely dream.

My mother starts to fade, and the last thing I hear her say is,
“Fight, my sweet Savannah, fight for your life.”
Sunlight burns through the holes in the roof, making me squint. I see The American is wearing nothing but a pair of satin PJ pants.

Oh no.

He reaches down and undoes my handcuffs, scooping me in his arms and holding me close to his chest. His lips make contact with my hair and I force my tongue back. “How badly did I hurt you?”

Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a joke?

He walks me out of the attic, down the stairs, and through a hallway I don’t recognize. The lights are dim, the smell of flowers fills my nose, and faint music can be heard as we approach an open door. I catch the blonde girl from dinner peek out the door at me. Her eyes fill with tears as she steps back in the darkness.

“I want to make you feel better, Savannah.” His voice is low and in control, not like earlier. “This is my room,” he says as he steps across the threshold.

Oh my hell.

A king-size bed sits in the middle of a large room. Brown curtains with gold patterns hang heavy throughout the space. A fireplace is lit, and a record player is playing an old Louisiana tune. Candles hang off the wall on dungeon-looking holders. I do spot another pair of handcuffs dangling from the headboard.

I thought I was past feeling fear, thought I’d seen it all.

He places me on the bed. “Now, my love, time to use your mouth in the way it’s intended. Lean back and open up.”

No. I was wrong. This is my deepest, darkest fear.

***

Cole

Cole checks his watch once again. Every minute that ticks by makes him grow more and more angry. All he can think of is that while this fat fucker sleeps in a warm bed, Savannah is chained to a wall. He senses Mark's mood is the same. All it takes is one look at him and they both slip out of the SUV with their weapons raised.

“I was wondering how much longer,” Keith smirks as the rest exit the SUV.

It’s nearly four thirty in the morning, and darkness surrounds the house. The team moves as if they are part of the night. Cole takes a quick inventory of how many are in the house, and they confirm six. Tim Powers, his three men, the mother, and younger woman.

Daniel moves smoothly as he picks the lock and opens the door for John and Paul to move in. The two brothers are passed out on the couch. Cole and Mark move into the bedroom Tim and the younger woman are in. Cole nods to Mark as he points a gun at the woman's head. Cole wraps his gloved hand over Tim's mouth and nudges his rifle hard into his side. Tim’s eyes pop open. He starts to move but stops when he realizes what’s happening. Cole tells him to keep quiet and points to the girl with a gun to her head. Tim nods that he understands.

“Good. Now get up and walk outside. Our men have everyone in this place covered. We have plenty of firepower, so keep your mouth shut. You try anything, and they all die.”

“Yeah,” Tim shakes his head, then Cole pulls him to his feet and shoves him out the door. Tim moves through the living room, taking in the fact that Paul and John have guns pointed at his friends. Once outside, they hurry him to the SUV. They cuff him, pat him down, and then push him into the truck. A steel divider separates the back from the rest of the vehicle, so Daniel keeps a gun pointed on Tim as they speed away from the house. Within minutes they’re on the road heading to an open field they saw earlier.

Pulling off the road, Mark hops out and opens the back of the truck, grabbing Tim and slamming him to the ground. The men point their weapons at his face. Green lasers bounce around on his chest. Cole pulls out his flashlight and shines it in his face, making him look away.

“I take it you’re here for the girl?” Tim grunts, shifting his body in obvious discomfort on the rocky soil. “I was waiting for you.”

“So here we are; now where’s the girl?” Cole asks calmly.

“The American has her,” he answers, pissing off Cole. He wants a damn location, not the name of the shit he already knows.

Cole grabs his shirt and sends a powerful punch into his face, breaking his nose.
Fuck that feels good
. Tim shouts and slumps forward, hitting his head on the ground. Mark pulls him back to a kneeling position.

“I repeat, where is the girl?”

Tim spits blood on the ground, breathing hard. “I was helping her, man, I was going to get her back to you.”

“Bullshit.” Cole pulls his arm back and glances at Mark. “Kill the brothers.” Mark starts to turn, but Tim shouts for him to stop.

“Please! Don’t!” He curses and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “Denton has her at his place.” Cole slowly lowers his hand, waiting for him to go on. “Denton, The American, he has her.
Mierda
! I'm not lying. He has her, he has many girls in the house. I can take you to him. She is in the attic, her mouth got her in trouble, so...” Tim lifts his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “I can show you where, but don't hurt my family. My brothers may be
hombres
estupidos
, but they’re all I've got.”

“Girl first.” Cole nods to John, who shoves Tim into the middle row of the SUV. Cole calls Mike back at Shadows and fills him in on everything, including The American’s proper name. Mike has arranged for a chopper to be standing by, ready for the pickup. Mike tells Cole that he has established contact with a few Mexican police, friends of a friend, willing to provide support with the mission and to take out The American if need be. Nothing would please Cole more than to kill The American, but they need him alive. They have questions on so many other kidnappings that only he can answer.

They drive for forty minutes down a long desert road, and Cole knows the sun will be up in an hour. Time is running out. Normally they’d wait until that night, but there’s no way he’s making Savannah stay in that place for any longer than she has to. Cole speaks to the team in French, letting them know how the attack will play out.

“See that light up there?” Tim points to it with his chin since his hands are cuffed behind him. “That’s the house. Denton will either be in the attic with your girlfriend or in his bedroom in the back.”

Cole leans forward to get a better view of the grounds as they get closer. John pulls off to the side of the road, pulling on his night vision goggles, as do the rest of the men. John starts asking Tim about the security system and any triggers around the property. Tim fills them in, but they all take it with a grain of salt.

Finally, after sending the coordinates to Mike, they head on foot toward the house.

Cole signals to his father and Keith to take the west, and to Paul and John to take the north side of the property with Tim. Mark nods to Cole as they sneak up behind one man and his dog. Mark tosses a rock in the opposite direction, throwing the dog off while he wraps a rag around the animal’s mouth, making him fall fast asleep. Cole’s arm slips around the man’s neck, snapping it without hesitation. Mark lowers the dog carefully to the ground and gives him a quick pat.

Moving on, they encounter three more men, killing them instantly. Before they hear the panting, they see the flash of color leap in the air and grab Mark’s arm, sinking its teeth into his flesh. Mark jams his gun in between its jaws, breaking its hold. The dog whimpers as he runs off toward the house.

“You good?” Cole asks, scanning for their next victim.

“The bitch bites me, and
he
has the nerve to cry. What the fuck?” Mark hisses, wrapping his wound. “Why can’t people have cats? Really, all they do is sit there and plot your death…is that so bad?”

Cole chuckles as he shifts positions, happy to hear Mark is indeed all right. “Remember that the next time you’re cursing Scoot for getting your pants full of fur.”

“Love the furry prick,” Mark huffs.

A snap from behind them has Cole pointing his laser beam at his father’s head. “The west side is a no go.” Daniel nods to Keith coming up next to him. “I say we enter through the north door, keep a low profile, grab Savi, and get the fuck out.”

They quickly hatch a new plan, fill Paul and John in on it, and hurry to make their move before the sun starts to rise.

“Watch your step.” Keith points out two triggers that will set the house alarm off if you step on them. “They’re scattered throughout the property.” Cole nods, taking note. It makes him wonder how many of The American’s men set off the alarm in the past.