Page 33 of Jake

Over and over, I swung the wooden device, peppering every inch of his skin until he resembled a piece of tenderised meat. When he passed out, Waigi slapped him back into consciousness. I knew exactly how he felt—the crippling pain he was feeling. I had absolutely no sympathy.

When my arm began to ache, I handed the piece of wood to Quinn and sat gathering my breath. My brother swung mercilessly, turning the arsehole’s skin to pulp. When he’d had enough, he turned and walked away.

“Logan, Mala, Waigi.” All my closest friends would have a chance at revenging what had happened.

I was all but done. I’d had my revenge on at least one of the pieces of garbage who had been a party to my torture. There were a few more things to happen, and I would move on with my life.

Where Daly liked to take the dick and balls, Logan loved slicing out tongues. The time had come for him to take his turn.

Removing the gag, Logan reached into the man’s mouth, and seconds later, the tongue was thrown to the floor. The screaming no longer bothered me; the man’s time was up.

Take him down, Waigi, Mala.

I watched in satisfaction as the men’s methods for taking him down from the wall involved Mala slicing off his left hand at the wrist and foot at the ankle while Waigi took care of those on the left side. He dropped to the ground, screaming as much as he could without the aid of a tongue.

Logan and Daly dragged him up and headed towards the back of the room where the furnace was primed. Connor pushed me to where I was able to watch what happened next.

Waigi opened the door to the furnace to reveal brightly burning orange and red flames. Logan and Daly tossed the semi-conscious man in, the door was locked shut, and the blood-curdling screams didn’t cause me to feel remorse… only satisfaction.

The past couple of months had shown—no one crossed a Masterton and The Kumul Cartel and lived to do it again.

Connor wheeled me back to the bathroom attached to my room. After cleaning up and taking a piss, he helped me into bed.

“Do you need anything else before I go home?”

“Ask Dad to have Nat checked out.”

“Things are that serious?”

“I think they are, and even though she’s been with the Bonello family for most of her life, I want to make sure she’s not another person lurking around the edges to catch us unaware.”

“I’ll call him first thing tomorrow.”

He clapped me on the shoulder, said goodnight, and left.

CHAPTER TEN

NATALIE

I climbed into the hotel bed, exhausted after a long day, but knowing sleep wouldn’t come easy. If it did, it wouldn’t be long before the nightmares tore me from the depths.

Images of Jake, the incredibly handsome, tall, well-muscled, dark-haired man with eyes the colour of obsidian, and well-trimmed scruff on his jaw, filled my mind.

Other images, much more recent, took centre stage and I smiled. Over the past weeks Jake had brought me to orgasm in ways I never knew existed. His wicked tongue and talented fingers had resulted in my moaning, screaming, and begging for more on many occasions. Being able to finally give him a blow job, and test out how his dick would respond, had been like almost reaching the peak of a mountain. Jake’s dick had warmed to my touch and risen to the occasion, finally blowing deep into my throat.

Over the past weeks, we’d developed strong feelings for each other, which scared the ever-loving shit out of me. What had happened to him had almost replicated what Francois had suffered. Only Francois hadn’t survived. I wasn’t fool enough to deny there were probably men out there searching for me, and I could very well be putting Jake in further danger. The possibility of him being caught in the crosshairs made me feel ill, but I couldn’t seem to detach myself. I was putting my faith in the Bonello family to keep me safe. What would happen if he discovered who I really was, that I’d been lying to him?

My thoughts drifted to the past I was so desperately trying to escape…

***

One year earlier

Mid-morning

Francois and I had spent most of the previous evening dancing at a masquerade ball in London. Our attraction towards each other was instant, and we arranged to meet in the Conga Café the following day for a coffee; to learn more about each other, including our names. The Conga was a small café located in the East End and I loved the anonymity it afforded.

Francois had been waiting when I arrived, and when our eyes locked, our faces no longer concealed behind masks, he wore the expression of shock that I also felt.