“You’re going to drop out of the race for mayor, and you’re going to do it by tomorrow, or me and my buddy here will be back. Tomorrow night we’ll slit your throat after we have a little fun with you. Do you understand me?”
I’m trembling all over so hard that it takes more effort than normal to nod my head. I’m not even sure what all I’m agreeing to, but I would agree to anything if it means getting them to let me go and leave. The stupid election seemed so much more important a few hours ago, but now it’s nothing compared to my life.
The guy behind me grunts and then speaks for the first time, his voice scratchy like a heavy smoker. “I don’t want to wait that long. How about we have a little fun with her tonight?”
I’m already shaking my head no when the arm banded around my waist slides up to squeeze my breast.
“Yeah, okay,” the man in front of me says when he takes a step back. “But make it fast!”
“Oh yeah,” the man behind me agrees, his breath growing heavy next to my ear. I lift my foot and kick back his leg as hard as I can, hoping my stiletto heel makes him bleed. “Fucking bitch! Put the knife back to her throat before I drop her!”
The other man sighs, but then he’s back again, the knife barely brushing my skin but hanging there like a warning that if I move too much, it’ll slice me open. My entire body freezes in warning, knowing without a doubt he would do it.
I’m momentarily distracted by the knife when the arm on my breasts yanks my suit and dress shirt underneath apart, sending several buttons to the floor. The leather hand is then cool on my skin, cupping me through my bra roughly before it starts moving lower, down my stomach to the top of my pants.
Cannon
Madison has just slipped into her townhouse and the window on the driver side of my SUV is about a quarter of an inch from the top when I hear what I think is a woman’s scream, making the hairs on my arms stand up. My left hand on the console freezes while my right hand automatically goes for the gun I shoved into my hoodie pocket. “Did ya’ll hear that?” I ask the prospects.
“Hear what?” Jake asks from the backseat when he leans up between the front seats.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Lucas agrees.
“It sounded like…I think someone just screamed,” I tell them when a horrible thought suddenly hits me. “We didn’t check inside of Madison’s townhouse!” Flinging my door open without even taking the time to kill the ignition or shut it, I yell to the prospects, “Come on!”
I don’t look behind me to see if they’re following, I just run at full speed to Madison’s townhouse. On the way, I realize how stupid I’ll feel if I’m wrong; but if I’m right…
Her front door is shut and there are no lights on inside seeping through the blinds on the front windows. Unless she likes walking around in the darkness, she should’ve flipped them on by now.
I bang the side of my fist on the door and yell, “Madison? Is everything okay?” because I assume the door is locked. But when I try the knob, it turns easily. Shit! She wouldn’t have left her door unlocked, would she? I vaguely notice the heavy footsteps and panting behind me, telling me the prospects have caught up when I realize I’m holding my gun in my hand and didn’t remember pulling it out of my hoodie. I throw the door open hard enough that it slams against the wall, mostly to make sure there’s no one hiding there, but also to make enough racket to warn Madison we’re coming inside in case she’s in the back.
She’s not. I find her right inside the foyer sandwiched between two men who are nearly my size, both with masks over their entire faces. Three sets of shocked eyes turn to me before one of them yells, “Run!” to the other and they take off through the house.
My feet instinctually start to follow, but then Madison makes a whimpering sound as she starts sinking down to the floor.
Fuck. I know I could leave her with the prospects, but for some reason I can’t. The choice is made in less than a heartbeat when I drop to my knees in front of her.
I hear another door in the house, probably the back door, which could be how they got in.
Looking up at the prospects, I can see they’re both wide-eyed and shocked all to hell. Still, I tell them, “Chase them down and shoot if you get a clean shot! Go!”
They both hurry around me, and I have a second of regret, worried they’ll get themselves killed. But they knew what they were getting themselves into when they put on the prospect patches. I doubt they have much experience with guns, but both have concealed carry permits, so they’ve had some training. I hope it’s enough.
Once they’re gone, I turn my attention back to Madison. She’s sitting with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, making herself as small as possible. Several strands of her dark hair are hanging loose on both sides of her face, telling me there must have been a struggle in the time it took for me to hear her and get moving. Her eyes are either lowered or closed, it’s hard to tell with her forehead nearly pressed to her knees.
“Are you okay?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer. My heart is racing, needing to know if she’s hurt anywhere. I want to touch her so badly to check her for injuries that I have to dig my fingers into the jeans on the tops of my thighs. “Madison, please tell me if they hurt you.”
Her head moves a little from side to side, and I think she’s telling me no, they didn’t hurt her, but I’m not convinced since she’s shaking all over either from the cold or the shock.
The front door is still wide open, so I put my gun in my hoodie pocket, then quickly reach over to close it to keep the cool air off of her. She startles and begins trembling all over when it shuts. Without the light from the parking lot, it’s nearly pitch-black inside, so I stand up and feel around the wall for a light switch, flipping the nearest one on. Now that I can finally see, I spot Madison’s long, white dress coat in a puddle on the floor near an open closet. Grabbing it, I take it to her, crouching down to try and wrap it around her knees and sides. Something crunches into the floor under my boot. And when I lean over to cover her, I can see a line of bare skin down to her chest that’s tucked to her knees. There’s a flash of lace that’s obviously her bra. Either she was in the middle of changing when the assholes attacked her, or they ripped her suit jacket and shirt open. I lift my foot and see a small, clear button under my boot and know it was from her shirt, answering that question.
Madison finally moves, grabbing at the coat to pull it to her tighter, covering her chest and half of her face, but not her eyes or the top of her cheeks that are glistening with tears.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” I ask her, and she shakes her head a little more certainly this time.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Her voice breaks on that one word. Finally, she lifts her eyes to mine and asks, “How did you…”
“I thought I heard someone scream. I wasn’t sure if that’s what it was or not,” explain. “I wish I had been wrong.”
“I didn’t think…one of them covered my mouth…so I didn’t think anyone would hear me,” she says sadly.