Hope Restrained (Estate Series) (17 page)

Xander was somewhat surprised when the large SUV returned to
The Estate compound. However, once they’d been hidden and snuck past the guards
at the gate, the SUV pulled up to Patrick’s house on the outskirts of the
property and Xander realized how brave the maneuver had been on Patrick’s part.
Being that he lived within the section where he’d run the searches, Patrick
must have been certain that nobody would have thought to check his personal
space.

“The bitch will have to be drugged when we get inside. I
like to keep the slaves compliant and quiet. You have no idea how annoying
their screams and cries can be after a while.” Patrick spoke as if they were
discussing nothing more than the weather.

“I’m quite familiar.” Xander reminded him. “You forget that
I was raised within the mansion itself. I’d just learned to block out the
noise, I hadn’t considered drugging the bitches. Although, to do so, would have
been the same as asking for death. Joseph preferred to hear their screams.”

“He was something else. Despite the unfortunate rules set in
place by Aaron, it has been somewhat easier to breath since Joseph’s death. No
longer fearing asking for additional money from the network is nice, however,
being babysat constantly by Aaron tends to drown at the relief. Hopefully, when
I take over The Estate, the men can benefit in both areas.”

Xander eyed him while stepping out of the vehicle. Tugging
on Hope’s chain, he stepped aside so she could climb out, noticing how another
man immediately restrained her at his side so that they could inject something
into her body. He nodded his head toward her and asked, “Will this knock her
out completely?”

Patrick smiled. “Not at all, it will just make her a little
more lively when you demonstrate her worth. I’ve been looking forward to
hearing her scream.”

Xander’s hand fisted around Hope’s chain and he resisted the
urge to pull his gun and spray Patrick’s brain over the interior of the truck. He
knew they had less than forty-eight hours to determine the identity of the men
involved in this ring and he had to
play
nice
if he hoped to obtain it before Aaron discovered their location. He
wasn’t nervous that they’d been removed from the warehouse and knew Aaron would
be smart enough to look closely at Patrick when he discovered that Xander and
Hope were not there.

Approaching the building, he noticed how Hope tripped over
her own feet, the drugs already taking effect. When she fell, he fought to
restrain himself from turning to assist her back to her feet. Staying in
character, he yanked at the chain, tensing to hear her cry from the force. “Get
up, slut. This is just the beginning.”

Patrick laughed while walking through the doorway. “You’d
think she’d be stronger than the others.” Glancing back, he smirked. “But I
guess it’s the same with all whores. You drug them and they offer their asses
up in the air like cats in heat. The chains really aren’t necessary, but they
are helpful to hold the bitch down for the more
violent
encounters.”

The interior of the house was dimly lit, the windows blacked
out to prevent people from seeing in. The practice wasn’t unusual and Xander
knew that no man trusted the other within the walls of the compound. The narrow
hallways were quiet as they walked and Xander had to take a deep breath when
they finally reached their destination in the underbelly basement of the house.
The room stretched the length of the house and, much like the warehouse,
contained cages large enough for a crouched human. These cages, however, held
live women, their frightened eyes also bleak from the effects of the drugs
pumped into their systems. Xander scanned their faces, noticing that none of
the cages contained Hope’s sister. He did recognize one face, however, and
instantly felt sorry for the decorator, Erica. Working for The Estate was a
hazardous occupation, regardless of the position you took.

Rather than having shackles attached the walls, the men were
using tables, crosses and other equipment to restrain the women not held in
cages. Their bodies hung heavily from the chains and memories of his many years
under Joseph resurfaced — the all too familiar twisting of his stomach to
see how the women had been treated.

“Take a seat.” Patrick held out his arm indicating an
arrangement of couches and chairs within the room. “I say we have a drink with
some entertainment before getting down to business. We’ll leave your toy with
you for now, however, after you’re done with her, I prefer she be caged like
the rest.”

Immediately turned his head to lock eyes with Patrick, Xander’s
contempt rolled in waves through his body. “She stays with me.”

Patrick smiled. “Then I’ll give you the key to her box. I
will not allow an assassin — no matter how incapacitated she may be
— to roam freely. If she were to escape, it would lead to some serious
issues for us both.”

Xander didn’t like it, but if he held her key, he could live
with it. “I prefer we talk before starting the entertainment. I need to know
the extent of your resources. How many units are involved?”

“Three, so far. But, that number is growing.” Patrick arched
his brow. “I’m not willing to discuss any more details, however, until after
you’ve performed your demonstration.” Raising his hand, he motioned towards a
metal table situated in the center front of the room. “Please feel free to use
our facilities.” His lips curled lewdly at the suggestion.

A chill ran down Xander’s spine. Turning to look at Hope, he
instantly noticed the haze in her eyes. Whatever they’d given her was stronger
than what he’d slipped her previously. She staggered on her feet, but didn’t
appear lethargic. Her breathing had sped, her body glowed from a light sheen of
sweat, her pupils were as large as saucers and she rubbed her hands over the
skin of her arms, leaving trails where her nails had dragged across it.

“Fine.” He pulled on the chain softly and noticed that even
the small amount of force had almost thrown Hope to the floor. He took her arm
to steady her and lead her towards the front of the room, being sure to make
the gesture look like it was done more from annoyance than from concern.

When they approached the table, he recognized it as one that
had been removed from Joseph’s wing. Taking a deep breath, he resigned himself
to what he’d have to do. Years ago, when Aaron had been requested to present
Maddy in a similar way by Joseph, Aaron’s refusal based on not ‘fucking in
public’ had been a brilliant way to avoid having to perform. Unfortunately,
Xander’s situation was not as easy. The men had to believe he was as much
against Aaron’s hatred of depravity as them.

“Bend over.” He eased Hope’s body over the silver surface of
the table, noticing instantly how she flinched at the cold bite of the steel. Kneeling
down, he secured her ankles in place and moved to the front of the table to
secure her wrists. Once locked, he moved her head so that her chin rested
against the notch on the edge. He could hear her teeth chattering in her mouth
and he angrily ground his in reaction. The last thing he wanted to do was
violate her in front of the men, but this wasn’t about what he wanted to do
— it was about what he had to do.

“There’s a strap hanging from the wall. It’s quite useful as
reigns to ride the bitch as raw as you’d like.” Patrick spoke from the couch
that sat fifteen feet from the table. His posture was relaxed back into the
cushions, one arm hung casually over a pillow, and he held a glass of dark
liquor in his hand.

~
   
~
   
~

When they’d first entered the house, Hope had struggled to
focus on the faces of the women held in cages at the back of the room. Desperate
to find her sister, she was disappointed when none of the women in the cages
had been Honor. The acrid taste of fear filled her mouth, but she refused to
believe that Honor was no longer alive.

The longer they’d remained in the room, the harder the drug
wore against her thoughts. She couldn’t focus her eyes, and it felt like she
was floating even when she’d knelt on the floor at Xander’s feet. Each candle
in the room was nothing more than a fuzzy halo, leaving her lost within a dark
space of shadow and nothing more. Even though she could comprehend the words
spoken between Xander and Patrick, it sounded like they were in a tunnel, each
sound echoing against the other, mingling to a point where she needed to
concentrate to follow the conversation. When Xander had finally moved her
towards the table, the sudden weight on her legs caused her knees to buckle, her
own feet so heavy she tripped over them as she walked. She wanted to scream
when he’d bent her over the surface of the table. It was like lying on a block
of ice. The cold surface of the table bit at Hope’s nerves, just before a
numbing sensation fell over the skin. The drugs that coursed through her veins
amplified pins-and-needles bursts that exploded all over her body. Her head
swam from the drug; however, despite her rapid loss of self-control, she could
still think somewhat clearly. It was as if they’d made her own body a prison
— taking her ability to move, but failing to completely numb her mind
against the horrors occurring within the house. Slowly, she sunk further, the
poison finally reaching her mind, her thoughts consumed in waves of confusion.

She could hear Xander move around the table securing her in
place, each shackle buckled with a soft click of metal against metal.

Patrick spoke again from somewhere she couldn’t see. His words
sounded odd and foreign —
strap,
wall, hang
— fuck! He was saying something but the sequence of words
slipped from her grasp, folding over themselves to the extent she couldn’t form
a coherent thought.

White noise washed over her ears as the room went silent and
Xander’s response brushed across her thoughts, even though she was unable to
understand what he’d said. She fought against the fog that was thickening over
her mind, desperate to remain aware enough to hopefully learn the fate of her
sister. Losing the battle, she felt Xander’s hand on her head, felt his thumb
move between her lips and pull her bottom jaw down. He slipped something bitter
between her lips, so big that it hurt the skin at the sides and she tried to
spit it out. He caught it, forcing it back in and securing it tightly to her
head. Tears formed at the back of her eyes, but stopped when her attention was
drawn to something warm on her skin, something sharp softly being dragged down
her spine until he reached her lower back. Her body responded out of instinct,
arching upwards to push against whatever he held against her that felt so
fucking good. It was sensation times ten because of the drugs, the softest
brush against her skin sending waves of excruciating pleasure through her body.

Like a cat in heat
… that bastard’s vile words replayed in her head, but she realized the bastard
was right: if the restraints hadn’t held her down, her body would be pushed up,
exposed, inviting the intrusion she knew was to come. The faint sound of a
zipper pulling, her hips grabbed, the tip of each finger sending a spear of
exquisite pain shooting up her nerves, settling lazily against her mind,
exciting her more than the drugs had already done. She was suddenly mad, an
internal battle inside her to resist what was being done because she didn’t
want to give those men the
entertainment
they sought. But, his hands … fuck … his hands, he fed her bits of pain, bits
of numbness within her thoughts, a place she could sink into. He woke up the
darkness inside her, left her within a familiar place where he knew she could
hide.

She went emotionally dead, the hormones mixed with the
chemicals mixed with her blood and when he shoved in, when she was suddenly
filled, each muscle gripping and her teeth biting down even when her lip split
at the sides from the motion — thought was removed and she was left
floating within a space far from the pounding rhythm against her body. The
hurt, the pain, the feeling of being ripped apart and put back together, and
then there was heat, blooming, igniting, sparking along her muscles and bones. And
the scream that tore from her throat from the relentless slap of skin against
skin, from the tips of his fingers gripping into the flesh of her hips, and
from the contrast of the burning heat of her body against the unbearable cold
of the steel table — it was a scream she didn’t recognize as her own. It
was pleasure and pain, fur and razors, intense ecstasy wound around a violent
release, and her body swam within it, her ears ringing from the sound that she
wouldn’t believe had come from her own throat.

He pulled away and she was left empty, the void growing and
settling through her stomach and chest, her body shivering against the sudden
loss of his connection. In the distance, someone clapped, the sound pounding
within her head, anger returning now that his fingers had released their iron
grip from her skin. Metal snapped from her ankles, and the thud of his boots
sounding from his path back to the front of the table. The strap was pulled
from her mouth and she tasted the bitter iron of her own blood where her lips
had split at the sides. Her tongue flicked out, the salt of her skin sinking
into the wound, returning small bits of the same pain he’d previously given.

Now released, she slid from the table, caught at the waist
by the steel band of his arm and she purred against him in response to the heat
of his body rolling against her own. Her mind wasn’t strong enough to control
the her body’s reaction and she died inside knowing that she’d given these men exactly
what they’d wanted to see.

“Are you ready to talk business?” Xander held Hope up beside
him knowing that if he let her go, she’d fall to the ground. He was disgusted
with what he’d had to do, his body barely responding to her chained and offered
up to him on that cold, metal table. Playing out the role had been difficult,
faking a release only to end the encounter. Rage bloomed in his chest at having
the men see her unclothed. That rage grew and twisted into fury when he had to
lay her across a table intended for torture and pain. But having to be the one
inflicting harm — to have to embarrass her and treat her as nothing more
than meat — had been the act that pushed him over the edge. He’d never
felt anything like it and he remembered clearly the look on Aaron’s face many
years before when he’d been forced to hurt Maddy. It was a terrifying cruelty: to
love someone and be forced to abuse them; to be made to tear apart the mind and
body of the only thing you found beautiful in the world. That is what Joseph
had made Aaron do and that is what Xander was being forced to do now.

Patrick held up a key, the ring dangling from his finger. “Put
away your pet and have a seat. Her cage is behind your chair.”

His words caused Xander’s blood to boil, but he bit back his
anger, maintaining a mask of indifference over his face. “Thank you for
allowing me to keep her close.”

Patrick smiled. “We are nothing if not accommodating. With a
trophy like that, I can understand your hesitancy to let her go far.”

“I’m sure. I’d love to see her twin. I find it hard to
believe that two exist.” He fished for information, hoping to discover if Honor
lived.

Patrick’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “I’m sure we can
make that happen.” He held up his glass. “But first — let’s have a drink.”

Xander took the key from Patrick and led Hope to the cage. He
grit his teeth when he opened it and forced her inside the box already stained
with the sweat and blood of its previous occupant. While locking her inside, he
commented, “It appears this has been used before.”

Patrick laughed. “Yes, well there are
accidents
that occur. The men can get somewhat aggressive at times.
Only makes the entertainment that much more interesting.”

Taking his seat in a chair facing Patrick, Xander asked. “Who
are the units you’ve pulled to your side? If it is only three, then our outlook
is quite grim. They’ll never be able to force their leadership of the network.”

“It is building slowly. Most of the units are happy with the
money Aaron is able to filter in their direction. They haven’t been affected
yet by the bullshit rules Aaron is imposing. But they will be, and when that
happens, they’ll come to our side.”

“Who leads the rebellion?”

“I do.” Patrick eyed him before reaching to retrieve a glass
from the table between them and filling it with dark liquor. Offering it to
Xander, he said, “Have a drink, it’ll help settle your nerves. I can’t imagine
what it’s like to know you’re Aaron’s next kill.”

Xander took the glass, swirling the liquid around the
crystal, watching as Patrick poured himself another. Only after he’d seen
Patrick drink from the same bottle, did he bring the glass to his lips and sip.
He didn’t trust the bastard sitting in front of him.

“Aaron doesn’t appreciate being disobeyed. He is very much
like his father in that way — brutal in his punishment of even the
slightest bit of defiance by his men.”

“At least Joseph had style. Aaron is nothing more than an
aggravating nuisance. However, now that we have you, we have a wealth of
information. I’m sure that we can be beneficial to each other.” When the phone
rang next to Patrick, he pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the display
before downing his drink and excusing himself to answer it.

Xander watched as Patrick walked away, speaking in a hushed
whisper so that no other person in the room could hear what was being said. Every
once in a while he’d glance at Xander.

Finishing his call, Patrick walked back over, retaking his
seat. When he opened his mouth to speak again, he was interrupted by the cries
of one of the caged women. Annoyance flashed in his expression before he
ordered the guard to silence her. Xander watched as the guard approached her
cage, smiling at her before kneeling down to speak. “What’s wrong, whore?”

Xander couldn’t hear her response. Eventually, the guard
stood again. “She says she’s thirsty.”

Patrick’s responsive laugh was sickening. “Well, then give
her something to drink.”

The guard smiled and moved to retrieve a hose. Her scream
bounced against the ceiling and walls when he directed the violence of its
blast at her cage. The other captives cried with her, each of their bodies
shaking against the bars.

“Shut the fuck up!” Patrick screamed. Standing up from his
seat, he pulled a gun from the back of his pants and shot the woman who’d asked
for water. The guard turned the hose off, laughing. Xander closed his eyes for
a brief second, his head dizzy from the depth of cruelty of these men.

Sitting again, Patrick motioned towards the now dead woman
with his hand. “Like I said: There are
accidents.
”
Looking back toward to guards at the back of the room, he commanded, “Clean the
bitch up before she starts to smell.”

Two guards approached the cage to carry out his order,
removing the body and dragging it to a side door on the other side of the room,
a trail of water and blood remaining from their path.

“So, tell me, what information can you offer us that will be
useful in our
mutual
objective.” Patrick
poured a third glass while he questioned Xander.

Taking another sip, Xander answered, “It depends on your
intentions. If it is to solely kill Aaron, that’s simple. However, if you
intend on taking over The Estate when he falls, that is a much more delicate
and involved task.” He gave just enough information to sound useful, but not
enough to come close to betraying his friend.

“It seemed simple enough after Joseph was killed. In this
network, it’s every man for himself, they’ll align with me just as easily as
they did Aaron as long as I give them what they need.”

“You’ll need the business. If Aaron dies, there will be no
one left to manage the daily operation of the company that launders our funds.”

“Do we?” Patrick grinned. “Who is watching us anymore that
will give a damn? The authorities have been on The Estate payroll for years. Even
if the business falls, nobody will care about dirty money. This town has been
overrun by us for years and there is nobody that can stop us.”

“Even Joseph was not arrogant enough to believe that.” Sweat
beaded down the skin of Xander’s neck, the room becoming uncomfortably hot.

“Joseph was drugged the last several years of his life. Everybody
knew it was Emory who led the network — and that bastard couldn’t care
less about the business. It’s a shame he was killed. He would have been quite
useful to us.” His words echoed even though they were spoken quietly and Xander
attempted to shake himself of the odd sensations creeping along his spine.

“You look tired all of a sudden. Perhaps you’d like another
drink.” A knowing grin stretched across Patrick’s face, making it apparent he
knew that Xander was feeling unwell.

Xander looked behind him, down at Hope laid out in her cage.
Sweat ran down her skin, dripping to the metal base from her forehead. Her eyes
rolled behind their lids and she panted as she breathed. She looked like he felt
and he knew instantly that he’d been drugged.

“You must have built up a tolerance. You drank from the same
bottle, yet you appear unaffected.” His words started to slur when he returned
his gaze to Patrick’s arrogant expression.

Patrick’s smile grew wider. “It was not the liquor that was
laced. It was your glass.” He swirled his own drink before musing, “I’m
surprised you drank at all. I could have sworn you were more intelligent than
to do something as stupid as that.”

“We are on the same side.”

Patrick looked up from his glass. “Are we now?” Chuckling,
he admitted, “Our reach is farther than you think. I happen to know you are not
as hated by Aaron as you claim. However, you are still useful, so you’ll have
to excuse me for lying to get you back here.” He smiled. “You might be just the
thing we need to trap Aaron finally. I assume he’ll be looking for you at the
warehouse. It’s a shame he won’t be able to find you.”

“Fuck you.” It was all he could say. The drugs were rushing
through his veins, poisoning his body and mind, his comprehension slipping when
he crashed into a deeper void of confusion and lethargy.

“I’m not into men, however, I’m sure some of my men won’t
mind taking you up on your offer.”

Two guards approached Xander from behind, grabbing his arms,
one placing a gun to his head and the other immediately chaining him to the
chair. Once he was secured, Patrick stood up and walked over to take the key to
Hope’s cage from Xander’s pocket.

Holding it up, he said, “Now the real fun begins. If you are
nice, I’ll even let you stay long enough to watch.”