Piers
He watched, his face a cold, hard mask, reminiscent of his father, as the woman was hauled up, shackled, and her hands behind her back. Suitably restrained. He knew what a dangerous individual she was for he had gone through her bio. And he had no intention of letting her get away. As she was jerked roughly to the door, still in her T-shirt and shorts, her night clothes, the cat appeared. A large, aged tabby, who walked forward, tail in the air, an attitude of ownership in every fibre of its movement. Approaching her, it rubbed itself against her legs. She spoke then, in a throaty growl, her eyes, black marbles of anger, spearing him.
‘See that the cat is fed.’ And as Piers met her gaze coldly, she added, through gritted teeth,
“Please.’
He nodded, a curt gesture and then, she was being forced into the car, two of his men flanking her, her hands behind her back, making her squirm uncomfortably. Piers sat in the front, and met her angry gaze in the rear view mirror as his cars slid away, as silently as they had come. It was all done in a matter of a half an hour and she sat, stiffly, staring outside. Silent. Antagonistic.
Piers watched her curiously.
So the killer had a fondness for the old cat?
Something about the woman, her indefatigable spirit, reached out to him like tentacles and he hated himself for being aware of her. Her thin nightshirt did not disguise her body, the firm, small breasts, the slender hips and long legs, tapering down to slim ankles. The body of a person who regularly worked out. As though becoming aware of his intent gaze, she looked around and scowled fiercely but her cheeks colored delicately. She was beautiful, he thought in amazement, the black hair in a messy braid, her black eyes flashing and the wide mouth in the angular, classic boned face. He reluctantly looked away, swearing. He was actually getting the hots for the damned woman, he thought in disgust.
*
In no time, they were at the huge warehouse where Lucien Delano’s mob had its headquarters. Where the dirty work of imprisoning prisoners and torturing them took place. Not an elegant place like the Clubs, no. This was a cluster of large sheds, which would appear to be like a barn from a distance. It was away from the city and surrounded by land, a vast expanse of empty land. It was easy to spot anyone who was attempting to approach. And the barbed wire, along with the electric fence made for great security. Besides, there were armed men patrolling it day and night.
Hila looked outside stonily. She had not shifted, sitting forward, her brain working overtime.
She needed to escape and a plan was what she was desperately trying to hit upon. But the cold, pale eyes of the young man, a couple of years younger than her, perhaps? made her feel prickly. Aware. As a woman is aware of a man and his interest in her.
*
They entered the large warehouse and were met by a group of beefy-looking men, armed to the teeth. Hila smirked. As he stepped out, she raised her eyes to Piers and said, her tone mocking,
“So much security? For just one lone woman?’
Piers glowered, the skin under his collar becoming hot with rage.
The bi*ch was taunting him. Roughly, he jerked her upper arm, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. She was tall, she almost came up to him and he was a tall man himself.
“F*cking shut your filthy mouth , you wh*re,’ he snarled and dragged her roughly down the path into the cellar. She gave a gasp as her bare feet felt the sharp stones but she was determined not to show any weakness. She stumbled along, a gun prodding her into the small of her back as they marched to the basement.
*
The lights came on and she hesitated. Memories of another time, of having been captured and thrown into a dingy cell, where the soldiers of the terrorist group had raped her, almost unceasingly, came back to her, hitting her like a blow in the stomach and she faltered.
*
But Piers was dragging her and he flung her roughly onto a mattress that had seen better days. She managed to kneel, her hair falling wildly about her face as she studied him mutely.
Her lower lip trembled as she gazed up at the lone bulb on the ceiling, too far away for her to reach.
Her eyes moved to the face of the man who stood over her, breathing heavily. His men stood around, maintaining a respectful distance.
“Release my hands, you moron’ she whispered, ashamed of the throatiness, the weakness in her voice.
And before she saw it coming, he had raised his hand and slapped her, hard.
She almost fell but he held her.
” I have never hit a woman before, my Mumma has brought me up to respect women. But you…’
He was breathing hard as he went on, astonishment warring with anger as she turned to look at him, her matted hair falling over her face, as she glared at him silently, reeling from the hard blow.
‘That one,’ he said grimly, his well-muscled chest rising and falling in fury, as he spoke,
‘ That one is for my brother Paddy, whom you tried to kill. And, ‘ he advanced on her and slapped her again, a backhanded slap that made her cry out as her lip split, bleeding. Tumbling onto the ground, hitting her side painfully on the rough concrete floor, she turned to look at him, anger and hate in her eyes, ‘For my other brother. Claude. Remember how you attacked him?’
He almost spat the words, his face thunderous.
“You dared to sneak into my father’s Club, you wh*re!’ he snarled and she managed to raise herself to her knees, as she jeered,’ It is easy, Piers Delano, to hit a person who is tied up. And a woman?’ She laughed, the taste of blood in her mouth as she spat at him and went on.
‘Looks like the saintly Proserpina Delano did not bring you up so well, did she?’
He gripped her hand painfully, his face close to hers as he growled,
‘Keep my mother out of this, you …’
‘Or what?’ she taunted silkily although her scalp was screaming from his painful grip.
They were so close, he could feel her breath on his face, and noticed that her pupils had small specks of brown in them. Saw that she had laugh lines at the corner of her eyes. She smelt of bed, warm and inviting, a tangy aroma of the citrus soap she must have used, still on her skin. And her mouth, those wide, plump lips, one of which was cut and bleeding…
With an oath, he flung her away and she cried out as she landed on the floor, hitting her shoulder hard.
“You bas*ard!’ she said in a low voice but she was breathing hard. And it was not just because of the anger; it was the awareness of the man who had held her head, so close, he could have kissed her. She felt rage now, anger at her weakness for she had wanted to feel that well-shaped mouth on hers, wanted him to run his fine hands on her body, up her shirt, … and she lashed out, screaming curses at him as he turned and strode off, leaving her in the dim lit room.
As he reached the door, her husky voice stopped him.
“Wait up, pretty boy! Your sister…’
He swung around, his eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions, arousal, anger and confusion. His sister? Whom was she talking about?
She laughed, a brittle sound as she swayed on her knees. He came back into the room in three quick strides, a group of his men hovering close by, their hands on their drawn weapons, ready to shoot her.
She lowered her head and laughed again, a scornful sound.
“Untie me, pretty Piers,’ she said in that tantalizingly husky voice that made his groin tighten with desire.
Piers grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him, the wide, black eyes, spitting disdain at him as he growled threateningly,
‘Who are you talking of?’
Was it Ria, his thoughts raced, what was this sl*t at his feet going to say about his twin sister?
To his surprise, she threw her head back and laughed at him, her eyes flashing, knowing that she had made him anxious.
Waving her weapon under his nose, she said, arrogantly,
“Not so fast, Delano. Untie me. And …’
To her astonishment, he moved closer, into her space, jerking her up roughly, a large hand closing about her slender throat, her hot, trembling body against his.
He smiled, his lips moving in a grimace of a grin as he breathed,
‘Ah. Baby, you better be careful. I got your little old sibling Moshe to a safe place of ours. So,’ and he tightened his grip on her throat as he went on slowly,’ So be very, very careful, darling.’
She gaped at him in momentary shock, stumped for words. And then she smiled seductively, but the fear was there in her eyes as she said,
‘So both of us have winning cards, eh?’
He shook her and she grimaced, his cold, flat gaze unwavering as he spoke hollowly.
“No, bi*ch,’ he said slowly,’ I hold all the winning cards. You better tell me about that mother f*cker Paval or…’
‘No, pretty boy,’ she breathed, leaning into him and he tensed, his awareness of her inviting body teasing him as she rubbed herself against him, deliberately taunting him, as she whispered in a husky voice,
“We make a deal about our respective siblings and walk away from here.’
He shook her hard and she swallowed painfully as he snarled his hands tightening,
“I do not make deals with scum like you, wh*re.’
She hid the flash of pain that shot through her at his abusive words. Hiding her shame, she shook her head, her black hair moving in a sheet as she said, in a growl,’ And what about your precious sister Tara?’
He stared at her in shock. She laughed, throwing her head back, her body unconsciously pressed to his for balance as she stood, her hands still in a bind behind her back.
Now she had the upper hand and she was enjoying the moment of triumph.
‘ Silly little Tara. You did not see that coming, eh, pretty boy?’