Quintessentially Q
Page 16

Frederick didn’t say a word while I suffered and blinked, coaxing my eyesight to return.
Finally, a scramble of images came back to me, and I motioned for him to have my back as I moved toward the bathroom.
On the carpet, leading the way like a sinister path, were droplets of water. Staining the beige carpet a darker brown. It started off as a trickle, until splashes grew bigger and drenched the carpet outside the bathroom door.
Gulping back nausea and violence, I nudged open the door with my toe and charged in, waving the pistol into every corner.
Only once I knew the room was clear did I let myself take in the scene of my worst f**king nightmare.
“Q, don’t move. I’ll call the police.”
I stood in a puddle, staring at a bath full of water and no Tess. The towel rail dangled from the wall, and Tess’s clothes from that morning were on a chair.
The migraine swelled to epic proportions. I stumbled against the wall, shaking off the blackness, the cloak of unconsciousness. I wouldn’t let a weakness stop me from understanding.
Slapping myself, I managed to shake away the stupor long enough to move forward and dip my fingers into the water.
Lukewarm.
Tess had taken a bath like I told her, and while I sat in a meeting she suffered a f**king nightmare.
My broken eyes found Frederick’s. “How did they get up here, Roux? What happened to the goddamn security cameras and guards?” My heart beat thickly, sending more pressure to my skull.
I wobbled, but righted myself before Frederick could help. I didn’t want his help. I wasn’t an invalid! I was a bastard of an idiot for thinking Tess was safe.
How the hell did the motherfuckers find me? How did they manage to capture Tess right from under my nose!
I sagged against the wall as the migraine seized control. The mirrored tiles reflected a man with demons snarling at his heels and his world imploding around him.
“I don’t know. But I’ll find out. We’ll get her back, man,” Frederick said, his voice low. He left the bathroom, leaving me with horrible images: images of Tess beaten, raped, and sold. Ruined, and broken. Gone.
I couldn’t let that happen. Disregarding the fact I could barely see, I lurched out the bathroom and collided with Frederick, who’d stooped to pick up a piece of paper from the floor.
I snatched it off him, trying to read the scrawl, but the writing turned into insects on the page, scurrying away from understanding.
“Q. You really need to lie down. You’ll have a stroke at the rate you’re going.”
I snarled, “Don’t tell me to f**king calm down. A woman who was supposed to be in my protection has been taken. A woman who has lived through so much already has been snatched from my very f**king arms, and I failed her! So don’t tell me to f**king calm down until I find her and make the bastards pay.”
Shoving the note back under his nose, I demanded, “Read.”
Frederick took the paper, swallowing hard.
“Deal’s off, Mercer.”
My heart seized, and the room warped, squeezing in on me, crushing me.
Something smashed free inside, tearing at every bar, every lock I’d ever created. The last few days I’d tried desperately hard to tame myself. Brainwash myself into being a better man for Tess, but with those three words, I shrugged off the falseness that I could never be. I growled and welcomed the feralness, the raging psychotic temper.
The beast sprung free, and I breathed hard. This was who I was. A man who craved blood. A man who laughed when breaking a bone, and didn’t flinch when shooting a bullet into a ra**st.
Frederick continued. I didn’t want to hear anymore.
“I’ve taken back what was mine and sold for a better deal.
Fuck you.
Gerald Dubolazov.”
Gerald? In my moment of migraine weakness, I couldn’t remember which cockroach he was.
Frederick smoothed the crinkled paper, muttering, “The seal is the Red Wolverine.”
I spun and punched the wall so hard my fist disappeared through the drywall. I wished it was someone’s head.
That f**king Russian bastard. Dubolazov. The man who practically owned all of Russia. The Russian president thought he ruled, the mafia thought they controlled, but they were in the pockets of one man: Gerald Dubolazov, the king of everything dirty and wrong.
“Merde!”
Stalking back into the bathroom, I searched for clues. Anything that might shed light on how they found Tess and where they took her. The window of time to get her back was terrifyingly small.
Blonde strands littered the floor, and I clenched my jaw. Just the thought of someone hurting Tess made me see litres of blood and acres of f**king carnage.
In my mind the sound of a huge, ominous clock began to sound. Tick, tick, ticking the seconds away, marking the moments Tess’s life hung in the balance. I had to find her before it was too late.
Something crunched under my shoe, and I bent to investigate. The moment I set eyes on it, my migraine left the realm of excruciating and amplified into kill-worthy.
I toppled sideways as Frederick appeared over my shoulder. “Fuck me, that isn’t good.”
He could say that again.
The evidence of what happened to Tess enraged the beast, clawing at my mind. I forgot everything but the need to plunge my hands deep into the kidnappers’ chests and rip out their f**king hearts.
I want blood. I want corpses. I want to dance on unmarked graves for this. I wouldn’t rest until every single person involved died a slow and bone-shrivelling death.
My hand closed tight around the object of my rage, and I made an oath. I would find Tess, I would save her, and I would kill every last son of a bitch who took her.
The gentle clink of breaking glass sounded over my harsh breathing. The broken syringe sliced my palm, and one lonely drop of blood landed into a puddle of water.
The same syringe that drugged Tess and stole her away from me.
My esclave—so strong and fierce and sexually feral—was gone.
Her cage wasn’t me anymore.
It was them.
Chapter 8
Don’t show me mercy, don’t cut me loose, I need you to tighten that noose.
“I told them to take you, esclave.
“Did you honestly think I could want you?
“You aren’t enough for me. I was kidding myself, and it’s time to end this. Time you went to an owner who wants you.”
Tears rained down my cheeks as I huddled on the floor by Q’s feet. He stood proud and regal, entirely closed off and robotic. No cares, no feelings, no love or need in his eyes.
Just pure, calculated indifference.
“You don’t mean that. You don’t. I know you, Q. I know you—” I sucked in a huge breath, sobbing at his rejection.
“It’s done. You’re dead to me.” He spun on his heel and prowled to the door. With a parting glance, he sneered, “Don’t let the wolverines shred you alive.”
The door slammed, and I was left in a pit with twigs and mud facing three pacing, starving wolverines. Looking half-wolf, half-badger, and full demon spawn, they slobbered and stalked, their yellow eyes glowing with the thought of an easy dinner.
“Q!” I screamed, scrambling backward. The wolverines twisted into dinosaur size, all of them with barcodes stencilled across their furry chests. They growled and blood spewed from their mouths, creating a river of red, lapping at my feet.
I’m in hell. I’m dead, and this is my penance.
“Stop screaming, puta. For f**k’s sake, trying to sleep here.” Something sharp kicked my thigh, and my gritty, heavy eyes opened.
I tried to sit up, but my body no longer belonged to me. It belonged to the chemicals blocking my brainwaves. It succumbed to the sweet fog, stealing my consciousness, and evoking horror-filled nightmares.
Giving up the fight to corral my limbs into working order, I lay back. My vision was glassy, and the cracked mouldy ceiling above gaped wide and spoke in slow motion. No words. No sounds. Just speaking silently with its weird ceiling teeth.
Someone poked me in the cheek; I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He laughed. “Fuck, you’re high.”
The voice turned my heart to lead, and I fought harder to move, to get far away, but every part of my body was weighed down by whatever they’d injected into me.
Hot, cold, numbness, sensitivity. I couldn’t distinguish anything anymore.
Fingers landed on my thigh, squeezing hard. “There, there. You’ll get used to it soon. It’s a f**king trip when you let the drugs take over.” Leather Jacket loomed above me, licking his foul lips. “You wait till we get where we’re going. I’ll make you feel real good.” He ducked and dragged his foul tongue up my neck.
I rattled with grotesqueness. Unable to move from the slime, my eyes gushed with tears. They cascaded down my cheeks, filling the shell of my ear with salty liquid. I wanted to tell him to leave me the hell alone, but my tongue was bound in lethargy.
“Dammit, Ignacio. You were told not to touch her until we arrived.”
Leather Jacket reared back, wiping his mouth with a sneer. “I didn’t touch her.” He gave me a wink. “I licked her. And I’ll be f**king her too before the week is out.”
My heart died and rotted in my chest. This was it then. My life was over. I’d never see Q again. Never be free. My mind was shackled with chemicals; my body would become a plaything until I died of some horrible malady.
“Crap, turn her neck. I forgot to deactivate it,” Jagged Scar said.
Leather Jacket exploded into abusive Spanish, ranting and raving at him.
I tuned him out. Wishing my other senses, hearing, and eyesight would abandon me, too. Living as a blind, deaf mute would be better than living through the awfulness when Leather Jacket finally raped me.
My mind flew back to another kidnapping—being owned by Q. He’d slowly turned my eyesight, hearing, and senses against me, but he did it in a way that I accepted, wanted.
I tried to conjure Q, to find some sense of peace even while tears poured from my eyes.
Harsh fingers twisted my neck to the side, and the same iPhone-looking contraption from when I was first tagged, waved over my throat before emitting a painful shrill.
Once again, I tried to shift, to wriggle away from his grip, but nothing worked. Every command fell on fogged receptors, rendering me a vegetable.
“It’s done. If they thought to chase her by the tracking number we provided, they won’t have any luck now.”
The first jolt of life came into my body at the thought of Q coming for me. He’d never rest until he found me. I knew that in my soul. Q had his downfalls, but saving those who needed saving wasn’t one of them.
Please find me. Before it’s too late.
“Shit, man, they could’ve been tracking us for two days.” Leather Jacket glared at Jagged Scar. “That was your f**king job to make sure it was taken care of. The Wolverine is gonna be beyond pissed if we f**k this up. You heard what he told the boss.” He cuffed him around the ear, and something clattered to the floor. “You incompetent little worm; I’ll show you how to make sure that bastard doesn’t sniff her down.”
The sound of a switchblade snapping open sent panic overriding the fog of narcotics. I tensed as Leather Jacket sat beside me and grabbed my throat. He put the knife tip against my skin. His black eyes burrowed into mine. “Gonna cut you, bitch.”
I whimpered—it was the best I could do. Screaming required muscles that were no longer in my control.
“What the f**k? Don’t, you idiot.” Jagged Scar grabbed the knife and tore it from Leather Jacket’s grip before he could stab me. “I already deactivated it! It needs to stay in so we can reboot when she’s sold again.” Jagged Scar huffed, rolling his eyes. “Fucking moron.”
Leather Jacket roared upright and decked Jagged Scar in the chest. “What did you just call me?”
My heart raced faster as the two psychotic kidnappers wrestled and cursed. If they couldn’t work together without killing each other, there was no hope for me.
I closed my eyes, ignoring the raging argument. My forehead furrowed as I coaxed my fingers to move, straining to override whatever they’d pumped into me.
Nothing happened. The bizarre feeling of being untethered from my body caused more panic to race.
I needed to look around, to figure out where I was. I needed to keep track of everything Leather Jacket and Jagged Scar said so I could spy an opportunity to run. But all I could do was float in a sea of sickness, staring at a cracked talking ceiling.
I’m weak. I’m terrified.
The thought of what would happen almost caused me to throw up.
Leather Jacket appeared in my vision again, smiling with his disgusting teeth and pockmarked skin. “Not long now. I’ve arranged a special welcome-home party just for you.”
Images of ra**sts and murderers filled me with dread. Oh God, I don’t want to survive.
I mentally slapped myself for the thought. I was stronger than that. I would eventually be coherent enough to fight back. My body betrayed me and my mind was slush, but I had to stay focused and ready to run. Run back to Q and watch him detach these bastards limb from limb. My hand twitched into a fist on its own accord, and a flare of pride filled me. I overrode the drugs.
Leather Jacket frowned, his eyes falling to my hand. “Well, that’s just f**king annoying.” He turned to Jagged Scar, holding out his hand. “She’s coming round. Give her another dose.”
Jagged Scar inched closer. I forced every cell in my body to get moving. To launch upright and punch their vile faces in. But it seemed my fist curling was the extent of my progress.
Jagged Scar pulled out a syringe but paused. “I don’t know. If we give her too much she might coma and not wake up.”