Part 7 of Drake Sisters series by Christine Feehan 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 He let go of her throat and walked out, leaving her with the blood streaming around her in a thick puddle. She heard herself screaming. The floor softened under his punch, absorbing his flesh, allowing him to punch through as if the floor was gel and not solid. I know where you are. He hit the floor again out of sheer impotence, seeing her broken, torn body, feeling her shattered soul.
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Part 7 of Drake Sisters series by Christine Feehan 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 He would never get the images out of his head--not ever--of Elle stripped naked, her skin covered in blood-red stripes, swollen bruises marring her soft skin. Worse, her brilliant mind shattered, her spirit nearly broken.
There was no room for anything else in his mind or his heart. He would get her back and find a way to put her back together. The radio in his ear crackled. Team two is entering the water and team one is going to be vulnerable as hell. He looked at the three remaining. These boys may be trigger-happy. Matt shook his head and somersaulted backward into the sea. He swam away from the boat, gave them the go-ahead and the boat proceeded in the direction of the island. He glanced at the sky. Already he could feel the difference.
The weather beginning to deteriorate, the wind picking up, the dark, heavy, clouds boiling angrily. He signaled and his team went underwater, swimming the remaining distance to keep from being detected. They moved fast, knowing Kent and his men, James Berenger and Luke Walton, had no weapons if something went wrong.
It took longer than he would have liked, and Matt was aware of every moment his teammates were without backup. The necessary wind Hannah brought in to aid team one ultimately hindered them as the waves built and the undercurrent grew stronger. Jonas was standing by to intercept another phone call if any questions were asked.
Not only did he look the part, he spoke the language fluently and had a reputation for talking his way out of any situation. A small detonator was put in the bag as a precaution. Slinging weapons over their shoulders and around their waists, they caught up the bag for team one. Matt and Tom took off running through the shadows to try to catch up with the other team, who had a good twenty-minute start on them and had been driving a vehicle. The villa was on the west side with the power station beyond that to the east.
The wind hit them in blasts, although Matt had to hand it to Hannah--she angled the wind to aid their speed, rather than hinder it. And Kate--his heart turned over just thinking about his quiet, nonadventurous fiancee--she was a woman with a steel cord running down her spine, someone to stand beside him, not walk behind him.
Each of the Drake sisters would give everything she had, everything she was, to get her youngest sister back. Matt slipped his earpiece in, commenting as he and Tom maneuvered around guards. Two on the southern side, in the rocks, but moving position up toward higher ground as the waves increase in height and strength.
Matt dropped with him, lying prone, his gun in his fist as he watched the vehicle and guards go slowly by, flashing spotlights along the crevasses of the boulders and into the brush. He counted the seconds, each one ticking by a beat of his heart, each passing moment increasing the risk to the three men who had been driven to the mini power plant.
He was up and running the moment the vehicle had passed out of sight. Staying to the shadows, but increasing his speed over the uneven ground, avoiding the manicured drive he knew the roving patrols would most likely stick to in the storm. The waves broke over the rocks as the storm began slowly to increase in strength. The power plant loomed ahead, a small structure behind a chain-link fence. The gate was open, a vehicle sitting sideways by the open door. Tom and Matt slipped inside the fence and made their way to the door.
Tom caught the handle and waited until Matt was in position before pulling the door open so Matt could slide in, gun steady in his hand while Tom covered him. He cleared the immediate area, moved forward to give Tom entry and cover. They went forward in standard search-and-clear formation as they moved through the rows of wires until they heard the sound of voices. Gratsos, we searched them. There were no weapons on them. His entire being was focused on the safety of team one.
The three men faced him, fingers locked behind their heads, all looking indignant. Kent looked especially annoyed, his brows pulled together as he glared at the guard who had his back to Matt. Steal with all you guards around? Matt cleared his throat. The guard pointing his weapon at team one swung around, his finger tightening on the trigger instinctively. Matt shot him. We need to disable the generator. Stavros killed easily, yet he refused to even argue with Sid when Sid intervened.
Sid had been gentle, washing her, checking her ribs, whispering to her in Russian, telling her to stop fighting, to just endure, to wait. For what? If anything was real. Everything around her seemed hazy and faraway. She turned her face toward the long glass wall and looked out to the sea.
The wind slammed against the building, rising to a shriek and then retreating, only to return with full force, knocking, again and again. Her breath caught in her throat. The wind. Watch for the wind. She pulled experimentally at the cuffs on her wrists. He drove the point home to her often. He was tired of her fighting him, and in truth, she was tired of it, too.
She looked toward the glass again, moistening her dry lips. Had Jackson come? Had her sisters sent the wind to tell her they were coming for her? A prickly sensation crept down her spine and she knew without turning her head that Stavros had entered the room. She let her head fall back on the pillow and braced herself for his touch. And if he did, it was a sick kind of love--ownership she wanted no part of.
His eyes went wide at her answer. She rarely responded to anything he said or did, her only real way of keeping control. Stavros looked pleased. Immediately, as if to reward her, he crossed to her side and bent down to brush a kiss over her mouth.
Elle forced herself not to turn her head. This house is a fortress. Nothing will destroy it. He loved the humiliation of her having to ask. Sometimes he made her "ask properly"--asking "please" and thanking him afterward, even when he stayed in the room with her. Elle glanced again out the window, trying not to hope, forcing herself not to reach out to see if Jackson or her sisters were close. Elle took a breath and let it out, letting him see how fragile and vulnerable she felt.
If it lulled him into a false sense of security, she would concede to him almost anything. She nodded her head. How long now? Stavros helped her to sit up, holding her when she swayed a little, still holding the sheet over her body. At his look of annoyed impatience, she took another stab at playing to his ego. My hair is tangled and my bones are sticking out. The room spun for a moment.
She was weaker than she realized. She waited for the world to right itself and stepped upright onto the floor, leaning on Stavros a little more than she wanted.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her to walk to the bathroom. The wind slammed against the glass wall and Elle jumped, turning to look over her shoulder at the darkened sky. The clouds spun, whipping around, slowly forming pictures, taking her breath. Long hair blowing wildly with the wind, six distinct faces, looking left and right, searching. She wanted to walk over to the long glass wall, not away from it. She could feel her entire mind reaching for those faces.
See me. She could only hold her breath and pray that they would see her--feel her. The faces turned almost as one, eyes wide open and sharp, piercing the veil of the storm, hair swirling around in the clouds, as her sisters looked at her.
And she looked at them. Elle felt each distinct heartbeat in her body like a drum playing in her head.
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