Chapters 11-12 of End Game

Chapter 11 Meal Ticket

Laurel sat and stared at the blank wall. They’d moved her again, though she had no idea where. She had been placed in someone else’s hands now. No idea whose, but this must be the big boss. The guy who’d planned it all. He’d certainly done his research. It was uncomfortable to think how much work had been put into this. What was it all for?

Her thoughts returned as they regularly did to Darren. How was he? She knew he’d be trying desperately to get her out of this, but how had he ended up in this mess in the first place? What had he to do with men like these? If he was in trouble, why hadn’t he told her? For the first time in their married life, she was doubting her husband. What else hadn’t he told her? She shook her head. This wasn't healthy. She needed him. She needed to be able to trust him.

She let her thoughts wonder back. The Irishman had complained that he was getting sick of talking to her and had suggested she got some sleep. Before she knew what was happening she had felt herself become light-headed. He had obviously drugged her, though why she hadn't been able to tell with what. She had come round with rain pouring on her face. The blood had rushed straight to her head. She realised she was upside down. She struggled to right herself.

"Hey she's awake" someone yelled.

"Knock her out again then" someone snapped.

"Smack her over the head with a baseball bat"

"Nah she dies, there goes our juicy meal ticket"

"Give her the whole cocktail and let's have some fun"

She suddenly felt herself set on the ground. She felt someone feeling for a vein in her arm with a sharp object. She felt herself drifting again, as something new flowed through her veins.

Then someone was undoing the buttons of her red silk blouse. He skilfully unhooked her jet black bra and threw it. She braced herself knowing what was coming. Praying to God that this would end now. Let them kill her. She felt a cold, rough hand brush her breast and then an excited catch of breath. She shuddered, she couldn't stop herself. He took a firmer grip, digging his fingernails in. The cry of pain escaped her lips before she could stop it, stifled by the almost entire roll of tape, blocking her mouth. Some of the men laughed.  She waited for the next move.  Her thoughts drifted, this was just another summer's day. That guy wasn't a violent thug. She wasn't here, she was with Darren. She wanted to vomit, felt the bile rising in her throat. She was starting to choke. The ground vibrated underneath her, as someone fell to the ground next to her.

"You bastard, you broke my nose"

"The boss said he wanted her unharmed"

"He won't fucking notice"

"You wanna bet? Your funeral"

All in a rush she was set on her feet. The tape was ripped hurriedly off her mouth and she vomited. This done her head was pulled back by the hair She felt something cold and sharp against her throat.

“The very next person to make a move towards her I’ll gut him like a fish” a soft Irish voice threatened.

Chapter 12 Top Dog

She followed her thought through to its conclusion. No one had dared come near the Irishman. They knew him to be a deadly marksman both with the knife and the bullet. The only person who could best him at either was reputedly his uncle. He had won trophies for his accurate marksmanship. He, seeing no further opposition had lowered his knife, buttoned up her blouse, feeling the need to do nothing, but stare. Her "saviour", if you could call someone that sadistic that.

She had once again lost herself in dark thoughts, as she hugged herself. She could imagine what Darren would say if the worst came to the worst and she didn't come home. He would be told and he would be horrified, blame himself. He was probably already having nightmares about their treatment of her. His mind would be running riot. Some of his thoughts probably wouldn't be that wide of the mark either.

She had been drugged again, but this time it was more of a relief to escape the memories of the last few hours and she'd been brought here, to this hellhole. Marched in military style, black hood pulled down over her head, eyes down to the ground. She'd stumbled along, going from gravel to smooth stone floor. They'd forced her to sit on a chair and had chained her hands behind her back. She was almost used to this now. Her muscles had at least stopped protesting at being in this position. She had tried to reason out what day it was. Sunday? Monday? Could it possibly be less than two full days since she was shopping and chatting with Marina?

Now she sat across from "The Big Boss" "Top Dog." She had been surprised that she was allowed to see for this interview. But then again he was wearing a balaclava for the occasion. All she could see were grey eyes with the warmth and consistency of steel.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No"

"There are some things, which only your husband can do, that need attending to. We thought this the best way and I'm sorry for that. You may not believe me, but that is of no consequence to me and will make little difference in the long run. We thought he might give his full attention to it, if it was your life threatened, than say Edward or Courtney's..." he broke off with a cold smile of satisfaction, as she convulsed at the mention of the twins.

"You will be glad then that I chose you. That my nephew was able to find you. I had contingency plans in place at the hospital or at the pub. I am nothing but thorough, you see Laurel. May I call you Laurel?"

"Go to hell, you're a fucking psychopath"

One of the "bodyguards" for want of a better word stepped forward fists raised. He looked as though he'd recently had an argument with a brick wall and lost.

"Peace Hans. I asked a fair question. I got a fair answer. Mrs Hunter it is then"

He went on to question her about the ransom demands, but he got none of his answers from her and when Hans and Gustav had no effect, he left her threatening that he would give them free reign next time she refused to answer.  She was left alone.

She looked round her new prison. It was some kind of warehouse, with industrial pallets in the corner, green dripping walls, stone floor, one naked light bulb, dim, bucket as a toilet and rats for company. She was wrapped up in a brand new coat. It was freezing and presumably they didn't want her dying of hyperthermia. After all a dead hostage would get them nothing.

She was still chained to the chair, but sideways now so she dragged it over to the bed, the legs making a horrible screechy scraping noise. She lay down on the bed. Her mind full of images. Edward or Courtney in her place. Courtney experiencing what she had this afternoon. She was supremely glad that they had caught up with her first.

"Oh God Darren please find a way out of this" she begged in her head as the first salty tears escaped from her eyes.