Page 69 of Payback

The caretaker whirled around and fired his shotgun. “Fuck off, you sanctimonious ponce!”

Even with my pulse pounding in my skull, and with my ears ringing from the gunshots, I heard the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the ground.

Screams filled the hallway, and adrenaline filled my veins. I writhed in his grip and nearly fell off, but his arm secured me in place.

Mr. Carbuncle sprinted through the entrance hall and out of the double doors, where a jeep awaited with its engine still running. Panic crushed my windpipe and cut off my air. If I got into that vehicle, he could take me anywhere. Images flashed before my mind of forests, out-of-the-way fields, and the bottom of a ditch. I thrashed my arms and legs, but he flung the passenger door open and threw me inside.

My head hit the dashboard, and everything went black.

Chapter 19

The pounding in my head overwhelmed my senses. It was like I had a boom-box instead of a brain. Reverberations of intense pain struck with each beat of my pulse. My ears rang as though I’d fallen asleep next to a siren, and something scratchy irritated my back. It could have been a blanket, or it could have been an ant’s nest. Right now, it was a struggle not to drown in the fog of pain and confusion and nausea threatening to engulf me back into unconsciousness.

A rough hand massaged my breast, a tongue lapped at my nipple, and bristles brushed against the surrounding skin. Shivers of revulsion scattered across my skin like an army of centipedes, and memories of the shooting slammed back to the forefront of my mind. I wanted to open my eyes, but the thought of seeing that man’s face up close was too much to bear.

“M-Mr. Carbuncle…” I whispered. “S-stop.”

He raised his head from my chest and let in a gust of fresh air.

“You smell like you’ve just been fucked.” His breath ghosted over my skin, bringing with it the mingled stench of strong alcohol and stale tobacco.

Nausea swirled in my stomach. It spasmed, but nothing came out. I turned my head and tried to escape his scent, but it was a futile effort.

Mr. Carbuncle shifted, so his mustache tickled my ear. In a breathy, excited voice, he whispered, “I wanted to fuck you while you were sleeping, but then I’d miss those little expressions.”

Pain mingled with relief, and shallow breaths moved in and out of my lungs. He hadn’t removed my jeans—yet. I cracked an eye open to examine my surroundings, but the man straddled my thighs and lay on top of me, resting his weight on his limbs. His bulk blocked my view of everything except an ancient tree whose branches curled and twisted on a ground consisting of bare soil. The sun hung low in a cloudy sky, indicating that hours had passed.

I clenched my teeth, still not daring to look at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanked over your pics? Can’t get enough of them. Wanted to see you up close.” He ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of my ear.

All the muscles of my upper body seized. I cried, “Stop!”

“This time, there won’t be no Peter to interrupt us.”

“D-did my stepfather pay you to do this?” I gasped out. “I-I have money in my account. You can take it all if you leave me alone.”

“Trommel?” He cupped my breast. “Once I’ve sent the ransom letters, old Rudolph will pay a fortune to have you back.”

My stomach dropped. He didn’t know. Didn’t know that Philippe had set up the original abduction as a way to make me suffer. Didn’t know that Rudolph would use me as a tool to control Mom. The old bastard would probably leave me in Mr. Carbuncle’s clutches until I was dead.

“D-didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what, cock-slut?” He ran his huge hand down my belly and slipped his thick fingers into the waistband of my jeans.

I wriggled and jerked, trying to throw off his filthy hand. “Peter and Philippe are in jail—”

“I heard about Pete.” His fingers skimmed the lace of my panties.

“But Rudolph paid Philippe to arrange the kidnapping.”

Mr. Carbuncle’s hand stilled, and he said nothing for a tense moment. “Why the fuck would he have his own stepdaughter abducted and beaten up?”

“H-he was planning to draw the story out for weeks to sell more newspapers.” My mind whirred for ideas. I got the impression that he would empathize with Rudolph if I told him the syphilis story. “And hurting me was a favor to Charlotte. She was sleeping with Philippe and Rudolph.”

“The dirty fucker,” he snarled. “He won’t pay out, then?”

“But I will.” My throat convulsed. “If you let me go, I’ll give you everything in my bank account.”