Maya Banks - Shades of Gray

“I still can’t believe you broke my bracelet,” she said in a pouty tone. “It was my favorite.”

“It wasn’t even real,” Nelson said impatiently. “Besides, you won’t need it. All you need to worry about is pleasing me.”

The threat in his voice sent a hot flush down Cole’s body. Rage. Anger that P.J. was vulnerable and as of now he didn’t have a fucking clue where she was. She was trying to give them clues through the wire Donovan had planted on her.

Steele, Donovan, Baker and Renshaw burst into the room, their expressions grim. They’d heard everything he had.

Cole looked up as cold fear replaced the heated fury that had boiled in his veins. He held up the broken bracelet so the others could see it.

“We have a huge fucking problem here.”

P.J.’S nerves were shot to hell by the time they arrived at the looming stone house just a few miles from the city center. Though on the fringe of the hustle and bustle of downtown, it was a quiet neighborhood with much more space between the homes. And the one whose garage he’d driven into was huge.

She oohed and made the appropriate noises of appreciation all the while trying her best to convey enough information that her team could find her. She probably sounded like a complete airhead with the way she parroted information, but damn it, she was scared.

Never before on a mission had she felt fear like this. If someone handed her a rifle right now she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. But then she’d never been separated from her team. She’d always had their backup and unwavering support.

Now? She was completely on her own.

She was convinced that the asshole had broken her bracelet on purpose, which meant she was in some pretty deep shit. If he suspected she wasn’t who she said she was or even if he just wanted to play it safe, it still left her without a huge safety net. And it meant he had some not-so-nice plans for her.

At least she still had the patch on her arm so her teammates could hear her.

“You talk too damn much,” Nelson snapped as he herded her toward the door.

She halted and made a show of getting huffy. “Then maybe you should just bring me back to my hotel.”

His hand curled around her nape and he all but shoved her inside the house. “Not going to happen, princess.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded as she tried to wrench herself free from his grasp.

But his fingers pressed tighter into her flesh and he all but picked her up, dragging her into the spacious sitting room. He tossed her down onto the couch and then wrested the bottle of tequila from her hands.

“Don’t even think about going anywhere,” he threatened.

She held up her hands hoping to hell they weren’t shaking.

“Hey, chill out. Pour us a drink. No need to get so damn rough. Are you into that kinky shit? Because let me say before things go too far that I’m not. And if you are, then let’s just call it quits right now.”

He gave her a look that told her without words to shut up. She went silent and waited, every single second agonizing.

He pulled out glasses that damn sure weren’t shot glasses and he poured a liberal amount of tequila into both. A moment later he returned and shoved one of the glasses into her hand.

“Bottoms up,” he said.

Maybe if she got him drunk enough she could toss his ass and be out of this. Or maybe she could at least buy enough time for her team to come get her. Either plan worked for her.

She gulped down half the contents of the tequila, stopping before she risked puking it all back up. She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand as he finished off his. To her surprise he didn’t get angry that she hadn’t drunk it all. He took the glass from her then touched her hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture.

He gave her a look that seemed regretful. “This isn’t the way I wanted things to go down for the evening, but the boss saw you and he wanted you. Not much I could do after that.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit! Her adrenaline shot up and her pulse started pounding like a jackhammer.

Despite her heightened anxiety and her increased pulse rate, the room was moving in slow motion. She tried to lift one of her arms and it felt like it was encased in lead.

“You drugged me!” she accused, hoping she wasn’t so garbled that her team heard and knew it was time to yank the plug for this mission.

Nelson grimaced. “I like my women to fight. Drugging is the coward’s way out, but my boss gets off on knowing they’re completely helpless.” He shrugged as he made his way over to where P.J. was precariously sagging toward the couch. “I don’t mind a few scratches. Makes it more exciting when I overpower them.”

“You’re sick. All of you. Sick bastards,” she croaked.

He put his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the couch and she cringed, trying to fight him off. She was as ineffectual as a kitten batting at a lion.

He pushed her down to the couch and stuck his hand in the bodice of her dress, ripping downward.

“Nice lingerie,” he murmured as he stared down at the black lace bra and panties she wore. “I’ll leave them on for the boss. He likes black.”

As he moved away she whispered brokenly, hoping her team would hear. “Please, please, you have to pull me out. I’m drugged. I can’t fight him off. Please, he’s going to rape me.”

The sound of a door opening made her slowly move her head in that direction, hope alive that maybe they’d come for her. But when she met the satisfied gaze of Carter Brumley, her heart sank and she knew there was nothing anyone could do to save her now.

THE entire van froze when P.J.’s broken plea came over the comm. Cole punched the back of the seat with enough force to knock the headrest loose.

“Goddamn it! Where is she? We have to find her now. Those assholes are going to fuck her over.”

“I’m working on it, damn it!” Donovan shouted.

Every single one of the team members was tense. The van vibrated with rage, helplessness and dread.

“How did this happen? How the fuck did this happen?” Cole raged. He needed someone or something to blame. Hell, he blamed himself. He should never have allowed it. It didn’t matter if P.J. never spoke to him again. At least she’d be safe and not in the hands of a monster.

“Shhh!” Steele snapped. “Brumley’s there. Goddamn it. I hear him.”

The tremble of emotion in the team leader’s voice was uncharacteristic. He was generally cool under pressure but this had shaken him badly.

The van went silent as Donovan received more intel on every residence that Brumley owned or was associated with in the area.

Even Donovan looked up, his expression tense when Carter Brumley’s voice came over the wire again.

“I know you picked her out, Nelson, but there was something about this one that spoke to me. I had to have her. Did you make sure she was clean?”

“Yeah, boss. Only jewelry she was wearing was a necklace, earrings and a bracelet and I trashed them at her hotel room. She’s an American bimbo who crashed the party looking for a good time.”

Brumley chuckled. “Very nice. I’ll do my very best to accommodate her.”

They could hear his breathing, so they knew he was close to P.J., but she hadn’t uttered a sound. Had the drug affected her so much that she could no longer speak? Was she rendered incapable of fighting back?

Then he prayed she wouldn’t offer resistance. They’d likely kill her. Oh God. It made him nauseous that he actually wanted her to lie there and take it because he couldn’t bear for her to be hurt even more if she fought back.

There was a peculiar popping sound. Metallic. Cole screwed up his forehead and looked at the others. “What the fuck was that?” he mouthed.

A moment later, P.J. screamed in pain and Brumley laughed.

“It sounded like a knife opening,” Dolphin said hoarsely.

“Dear God,” Renshaw whispered. “What is that sick fuck doing to her?”

“What have you got for us?” Cole asked Donovan in a desperate voice. “That son of a bitch is cutting her up.”

Another scream rattled the entire team. Baker was driving and he slammed on the brakes, pulling to the curb. He stared back at Donovan, his eyes blazing with fury.

“You pick a location, Van. Use the info she gave us. There can’t be that many that fit the bill. Get me a goddamn coordinate so we can go in and get our girl. This is bullshit!”

Two more screams sent the hairs on Cole’s nape straight up. And then complete silence followed by the unmistakable sound of thighs slapping against thighs. There was a quiet sound that Cole had to strain to catch amid the other noises, but he heard it.

It was soft weeping.

He buried his face in his hands, his own eyes burning with tears. Having to listen as P.J. was violated was the worst thing he’d ever endured in all his years in the military and in KGI. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

Donovan thrust the map with shaking hands at Baker. “Here,” he said hoarsely. “This has to be it. There are only two locations that work with the information she gave us, and given the time frame in which they arrived, this one has to be it.”

Baker gunned the accelerator and roared into traffic, causing everyone to brace themselves as he swerved around cars.

Brumley let out a satisfied grunt, and then the sound of flesh being struck echoed over the comm. The bastard had slapped her. And then the unmistakable sound of pants being zipped back up.