managed to look over at Bastard and the two other guards, snorting and laughing with amusement.
‘Did you see her go?’ she heard Lazy Eye say in Russian. ‘She came right off the ground!’
Bastard was beaming with pride at his accomplishment. ‘See? I told you it would work.’
Now she understood. Somehow he’d wired the metal water tap into the room’s electrical system, turning it into a giant cattle prod. As soon as she touched it, the resulting discharge had thrown her clear across the room.
Only Rash seemed to show any concern. ‘I think she’s really hurt,’ he warned. ‘Look at her. What if she dies?’
No doubt he was more worried than anything else about the repercussions for himself if a prisoner died on his watch. Even here, questions would be asked.
Striding forward, Bastard knelt down beside her and sat there on his haunches for a few moments, grinning as she tried feebly to move her arm. ‘Had a little accident, did we?’
Her eyes blazed with anger. She wanted to reach out, to tear the bloated, sagging flesh from his face with her bare hands, to gouge his eyes from their sockets, but her body wasn’t listening to the commands her brain was sending it.
‘She’s fine,’ he decided. Rising up, he drew back his boot and slammed the steel toecap into her exposed abdomen. Unable to protect herself, she could do nothing but groan as a fresh wave of agony tore through her.
‘See? Nothing wrong at all.’
The blow was repeated a second time with even greater force. This time she did move, but only to double up and be violently sick across the tiled floor. All of her food for the day, gone in a single moment.
Satisfied, Bastard took a step back, watching with a kind of amused curiosity as she groped and flailed for his boot. Was she trying to attack him? To plead for mercy?
She lay naked before him, helpless and vulnerable. Only her eyes still burned with defiance and rage. He could feel himself becoming aroused just looking at her.
He loved it when he saw that look of helpless rage in her eyes, when her mask of self-control slipped aside and he saw her for who she really was.
He looked at his two companions. ‘Wait outside.’
The two men glanced at each other, but neither uttered a word of protest. The sound of their footsteps on the tiled floor receded. She heard the rasp as Bastard unzipped his trousers.
She was helpless, unable to protect herself, unable to resist as he grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her stomach. She could barely feel the chill of the tiles on her naked skin, but she did feel the first gut-wrenching penetration as he thrust inside her.
She closed her eyes and tried to separate her mind from what was happening, wanting nothing more than for it to be over.
Chapter 8
OF THE FOUR specialists that Drake had requested, Keegan was the first to arrive. Living in the small town of Brookeville just a few miles north of DC, he was within easy reach of CIA headquarters.
A short, wiry man with a wrinkled, deeply tanned face, dishevelled blond hair, pale blue eyes and a bushy moustache, he always looked as though he’d just dragged himself out of bed. He was the sort of guy who could make a thousand-dollar suit look bad, so it was just as well he wasn’t a follower of fashion.
Ignoring the dress code at Langley, today’s ensemble consisted of a worn brown leather jacket, a crumpled white shirt, faded Levi jeans and a pair of scuffed hiking boots. Pretty much the same thing he’d worn the last time Drake had seen him.
‘Ryan. How the hell are ya, buddy?’ he asked with his distinctive South Carolina drawl, cracking a toothy grin as they shook hands. He might have been built like a rake, but there was a robust strength in his wiry old muscles that belied his size.
‘Keeping busy, mate.’
‘Well, good. I guess you’ve got a real shit bird lined up, huh?’
Drake couldn’t help but smile. Keegan was closer to the truth than he knew. ‘You’ll find out
‘Did you see her go?’ she heard Lazy Eye say in Russian. ‘She came right off the ground!’
Bastard was beaming with pride at his accomplishment. ‘See? I told you it would work.’
Now she understood. Somehow he’d wired the metal water tap into the room’s electrical system, turning it into a giant cattle prod. As soon as she touched it, the resulting discharge had thrown her clear across the room.
Only Rash seemed to show any concern. ‘I think she’s really hurt,’ he warned. ‘Look at her. What if she dies?’
No doubt he was more worried than anything else about the repercussions for himself if a prisoner died on his watch. Even here, questions would be asked.
Striding forward, Bastard knelt down beside her and sat there on his haunches for a few moments, grinning as she tried feebly to move her arm. ‘Had a little accident, did we?’
Her eyes blazed with anger. She wanted to reach out, to tear the bloated, sagging flesh from his face with her bare hands, to gouge his eyes from their sockets, but her body wasn’t listening to the commands her brain was sending it.
‘She’s fine,’ he decided. Rising up, he drew back his boot and slammed the steel toecap into her exposed abdomen. Unable to protect herself, she could do nothing but groan as a fresh wave of agony tore through her.
‘See? Nothing wrong at all.’
The blow was repeated a second time with even greater force. This time she did move, but only to double up and be violently sick across the tiled floor. All of her food for the day, gone in a single moment.
Satisfied, Bastard took a step back, watching with a kind of amused curiosity as she groped and flailed for his boot. Was she trying to attack him? To plead for mercy?
She lay naked before him, helpless and vulnerable. Only her eyes still burned with defiance and rage. He could feel himself becoming aroused just looking at her.
He loved it when he saw that look of helpless rage in her eyes, when her mask of self-control slipped aside and he saw her for who she really was.
He looked at his two companions. ‘Wait outside.’
The two men glanced at each other, but neither uttered a word of protest. The sound of their footsteps on the tiled floor receded. She heard the rasp as Bastard unzipped his trousers.
She was helpless, unable to protect herself, unable to resist as he grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her stomach. She could barely feel the chill of the tiles on her naked skin, but she did feel the first gut-wrenching penetration as he thrust inside her.
She closed her eyes and tried to separate her mind from what was happening, wanting nothing more than for it to be over.
Chapter 8
OF THE FOUR specialists that Drake had requested, Keegan was the first to arrive. Living in the small town of Brookeville just a few miles north of DC, he was within easy reach of CIA headquarters.
A short, wiry man with a wrinkled, deeply tanned face, dishevelled blond hair, pale blue eyes and a bushy moustache, he always looked as though he’d just dragged himself out of bed. He was the sort of guy who could make a thousand-dollar suit look bad, so it was just as well he wasn’t a follower of fashion.
Ignoring the dress code at Langley, today’s ensemble consisted of a worn brown leather jacket, a crumpled white shirt, faded Levi jeans and a pair of scuffed hiking boots. Pretty much the same thing he’d worn the last time Drake had seen him.
‘Ryan. How the hell are ya, buddy?’ he asked with his distinctive South Carolina drawl, cracking a toothy grin as they shook hands. He might have been built like a rake, but there was a robust strength in his wiry old muscles that belied his size.
‘Keeping busy, mate.’
‘Well, good. I guess you’ve got a real shit bird lined up, huh?’
Drake couldn’t help but smile. Keegan was closer to the truth than he knew. ‘You’ll find out
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