Fury - Page 81

Demon frowned, but nodded his agreement anyway, dropping his eyes to the floor and bowing his head.

We moved quickly, skulking across the carpark like an elite task force.

“Would have been good to have a weapon or two,” one of the twins behind me grumbled.

“You are a weapon. What do you reckon your fists are for? Anyway,” I continued. “I counted three in that van last time I saw it. There’s more than a chance we outnumber them.”

We paused at the door, listening, but the thick metal muffled any sounds other than my breathing. I pushed at the metal, feeling the door give way, opening easily, and we slipped through into the cavernous space beyond.

Heidi was there at the far side, slumped in a chair, her limbs limp, three men crowding round her, totally unaware we’d entered their space. And on either side of them were rows of coffins, like some sort of coffin storage space.

Holding my fist in the air, I stopped the men beside me. I pointed to the twins and Reap, directing them down the side of the building to my right, and sending Magnet and Demon off to my left. I’d cause the distraction, pull the attention of the men surrounding my girl to me, and my brothers would strike from the side. A Kings’ formation.

Heidi stirred, coming to. I crept closer, carefully placing each foot to the floor, covering the ground as quickly and as quietly as I could, gaining as much distance before the men at the front noticed me. She stirred again, trying to move her arms.

“Quick,” someone at the front grunted. “Pass the rope before the bitch wakes up.”

I wanted to growl. To yell and jump on him, ripping his head off for the words he used, but I waited. One foot in front of the other. Carefully. Slowly.

Someone moved beside him, passing him the blue rope. Heidi was awake now, pulling at her arms, trying to yank them from his grasp. The man beside him pounced, wrapping the rope around her wrist, tying it to the arm of the chair. She cried out, half anger, half fear, throwing her legs out, but not connecting.

“Get off me! Get off me!” Her voice was shrill, full of panic, hitting me hard in the chest. Anger. Fear. Rage. Possession.

A word was muttered, something I couldn’t make out. But I could make out the hand that came crashing down against her face, snapping her head sideways, a gasp and whimper mixed together, and not the same kind I liked to hear.

“For fuck’s sake, you dumb fuck,” a voice right at the front cursed. “Now you’ve fucking marked her. This is supposed to look like an overdose. Tie that other fucking arm down.”

“No! No! No!” Heidi’s voice rang out in the air.

Chapter Thirty Seven

My head spun, specks of bright light flashing in the incessant darkness. I couldn’t see, not at first, only hear. Men’s voices. There were more than one. Thick Geordie accents surrounding me. And I was cold. Really cold. Bit by bit the darkness dissolved, a pounding pain in the back of my head replacing it. I blinked. Each movement hurt, but each movement clearing my vision.

Three men. That was how many. One tugged at my arm, pulling a rope around it. I pulled back, trying to break free of the fingers clamped painfully around me. But he was too strong, and I was still too weak, too dazed, my body slow. I threw a leg out, slow and cumbersome and missing completely.

“Get off me!” I managed to say something, to shout. “Get off me!”

But the hands didn’t let go, the rope tied in place. And now panic raced around my system, pumping through my veins, meeting the heavy ache in my head and intensifying tenfold. I struggled again, kicking and wriggling. The man on the other side of me grabbed at my other arm, yanking and pulling, his fingers digging into my skin, holding me tightly.

“Get off me, you ugly fucker,” I growled.

The back of a hand came from nowhere, crashing against the side of my face heavily. My head spun again, a strain down the side of my neck where my face snapped to the side by the blow, and for a moment, I thought I would pass out again.

“For fuck’s sake, you dumb fuck. Now you’ve fucking marked her. This is supposed to look like an overdose. Tie that other fucking arm down.”

The rope secured around my wrist and now my arms were tied tight against the chair. Someone reached for something. A syringe. And it was full of something brown. Something I didn’t want in my veins or anywhere near me. An elastic tie was wrapped around my bicep, pushing my blood into my vein, plump and blue. The needle advanced. The syringe of whatever drug they were going to overdose me with. And there was nothing I could do about it, my arms tied tight, my legs not reaching their targets.

“No! No! No!” I screamed.

I was going to die here in this place. This place filled with coffins. Coffins. Gordon. This was Gordon. It had to be. Fuck. And now I was angry. Not frightened. I wouldn’t let this look like an overdose. I would make sure that it looked suspicious. I struggled again, throwing my weight around the chair, thrashing and kicking. This time my toe connected with a shin.

“Shit,” someone cursed.

I kicked again, rocking my body, launching my toes at all three of the men. It was keeping them back now.

“Fuck’s sake,” one of them shouted. “I’m just gonna hit her with something.”

He turned away, the sound of dragging metal nearby. At least it wouldn’t look like an overdose. The metal clanged suddenly. A grunt and a commotion. And now there were more bodies rushing forward. Arms flailed; bodies entangled. I could see black helmets, black leather and right in the very middle, a man with dark hair piled on top of his head.