Chapter Four

Warning: mentions rape (18+) The drive back to the ranch felt much shorter than my initial attempt at an escape from it. The dumb brute force that I am surrounded by as we slowly pull up to the side of the red barn do not really seem intent on a conversation. To them, I am a task; an item to bring back to Damien who is probably going to shoot me, and nothing more.    As we reach the barn that I had originally met Damien in, we are met with a line of strict looking men. The end of that line holds an unpleasant Damien who is frowning with his arms crossed over his chest. How did I ever find him attractive? The jeep stops in front of the line and he stalks over to me slowly. I have never been afraid of Damien before. Is he actually going to shoot me? After what I heard just hours ago, I have to believe it.    “Vanessa.” He said leaning his entire muscular body over the jeep as I remained handcuffed to it.    He looked down shaking his head like he disapproved of me. I am terrified right now but I was also unhinged with anger. How was Damien capable of this? I thought I knew him. I even was starting to think that I was in love with him. I didn’t know him at all, and he did not love me at all. Somehow, I don’t care. My heart is not broken or anything. The only thing I feel right now is dread and anger both directed at Damien Cole.    “Get her out of the car and put her in barn Yuri.” Were his clear orders.  Red is Yuri, the man that handcuffed me. He got out of the driver seat and marched around the vehicle. He is overflowing with threatening violence. He unclicks the handcuffs and I was perfectly fine lifting myself out of the jeep on my own. My wrists are worn raw with a streak of reddish black blood from being tossed back and forth in that car ride and my arm still hurts from the car door smashing against me.    I might have looked attractive before but right now the slit of my white dress is torn further up my leg from jumping out of a glass window, my calves are covered in red caked dirt and mud, and my brown wavy hair is a blanketed mess over my face and back. I am also walking with an uncomfortable lean because of only one high-heel, having lost the other back in the park when I tried to pull free from Yuri. I decide to kick the second heel off so I can at least walk steady and not look so ridiculously helpless. I want to appear tough and strong but I know that I simply look absurd.    Inside the barn, Yuri takes my upper arm forcing me uneasily towards a chair by the table of paperwork. He sets me down in it and then handcuffs me to the armrest. It is wood. I immediately plan on breaking it the second they are out of this space. He took a second pair of handcuffs and clicked my other wrist to the opposite side. I shifted slightly with pain from the cuts to either of them against the metal.    “Thank you, Yuri.” Damien addressed his evil conspirator.    “Why Damien?” I demanded.    If he is about to kill me, I want an answer as to why he was doing this. I want to know why he wanted Mr. Briggs dead. I want to know who Damien actually is, because he is not at all who I thought he was.     He ran his hand over his neck and I could hear it click from here. It sent a shudder down my arms and I am sure that he noticed my discomfort.    Yuri, that hunk of mass that just handcuffed me to the chair, is now standing over my back right shoulder with his hands neatly placed behind his back. Damien was in control here and I don’t like that idea at all.    “Unfortunately, you just overheard a rather important conversation. I told you to stay in the barn. Why couldn’t you have just listened for once, eh?”    “Why?” I questioned again.    He walked towards the small wooden side table to the right of the empty horse’s pin and picked up the pitcher of water. He poured it into a glass and took a sip. It made me realize how thirsty I was and how much I would like a drink of that water. My attempted escape had led to dehydration, but that is not really what is most important right now.    “There is a quarry about five clicks north of our position. It is in the way of the prime site for a luxury hotel. I have been attempting for three months now to negotiate the sale of the quarry so that it can be demolished and the hotel built. It overlooks the park. The possibilities are endless. A five-star hotel with a golf course and a Micheline restaurant, right outside of Houston. Peter Briggs owns Briggs Mining and half the quarry’s in the U.S. All of them are on such a wealth of land. He is refusing to sell because he started his business up himself. He is nothing but a stubborn old man. I will make him sign that contract if I have to. It is only a matter of time. Unfortunately, as you have heard just what means I am willing to go to for that signature.”   “What the hell Damien?” I gasped unbelieving, all of this for a piece of land?    “I am a business man and I get things done Vanessa.” He said with anger and strode back over to me placing the glass down.    He pulled the hair that was loose around my face to the side of my neck. I felt his fingers caress the side of my throat gently trying to coax me to turn in his direction, which I am definitely not going to do. He is trying to taunt and play with me like I could forgive him for this. That is not happening. Mr. Whitaker, where are you?    “Now what?” I asked trying to sound unnerved by his touch.    He lifted his hand back away, moved in front of me, and knelt down.    “I did not want you to hear me threaten Briggs, Vanessa, but you did. And I cannot risk you telling anyone about that because murder is kind of illegal.”   Was Damien really making a joke right now? I am starting to despise the man I thought I had felt passionately for.    His eyes darted to my breasts tightly compacted in the sexy white dress that I had worn on purpose for such an effect. His finger trailed against my neck to rest just lightly against the curves and I could not stop my breathing which lifted my skin further against his fingertips. I still did not look him in the eye. I simply couldn’t.    “You could convince me to keep you alive for a while longer.” Damien smiled dropping his palm to my leg revealed by the slit in my dress and running his fingers slowly up my thigh.    I cringe at his touch and feel my body stiffen. But my mind focused on that phrase, keep me alive longer. He was going to kill me, it was certain.    “Go to hell Damien.” I seethed through my teeth.    “We are already there Vanessa. Did you not see the chopper ride in? This place is a hole, this is hell.” He stated.    I had thought the ride above the rough red countryside of Texas was incredibly beautiful. I did not see Damien’s hate for the world at all. But he is nothing more than a demon from hell, so why should he not see it that way?    I pondered over his offer for only a fraction of a second. If I agreed to have s*x with him right now it would give me more time and possibly another way to leave. No, not a chance, I think almost immediately dismissing the notion. I don’t want Damien Cole to touch me ever again.    “Get your hands off of me.” I whispered through my rage.    “Maybe I won’t give you a choice.” He said and hardened his grip over my thigh. “Maybe I will just take what I want.” He added as he pulled my calf against the side of the chair.   “Don’t touch me.” I ordered again but he only smiled in a sinister way.    He lifted a key from his pocket and unclasped the cuffs around my left wrist. He is about to force me to have s*x with him, is my sudden realization. I am intent on fighting him as my right wrist becomes loose. Yuri is still behind me. what chance to I have at taking either of them on at the same time? They are both so powerfully built. I don’t care, I am going to fight them.     I form a fist and prepare to punch him, but just as I move to do so, there was a gunshot outside of the barn entrance.   Damien shot upward immediately standing erect and ready for a fight. I was shocked as he pulled what could only be a gun from the back of his pants and pointed it at the entrance. Damien had a gun? I had never seen him with a weapon before. What horrors was this man capable of?   There was another gunshot. One of my hands was free but he still had the key to the other. I began to pull tightly on the second handcuff with my entire arm and body to get free of the chair, despite the searing pain.    Damien and Yuri both bolted towards the entrance and darted in one of the other directions. All I saw were shadows moving like lightening against the holes splintered throughout the wooden walls of the building. And all I heard were gunshots becoming frighteningly more frequent.    “I’ve got her.” I heard a Spanish sounding accent behind me as a man in a black operation suit covered from head to toe pounced into the barn from the back entrance while speaking into an earpiece.    He had a black gun in his right hand. He was big and sounded older. His eyes were a hazelnut brown. His skin too was painted operation black with lines of dark gray. I am in the middle of a rescue mission; I hope to myself. But that was not at all the same voice as Mr. Whitaker. You sound Spanish, I think to myself, not the refined American man that I spoke to on the phone.     “Miss Ericson?” he said kneeling down next to my still bound right wrist.    “Mr. Whitaker?” I asked despite his accent.    He laughed releasing my second handcuffed wrist with a key of his own.    “No. But taking you straight to him. Up we go.” He said helping me stand from the chair.    “Loose the cuffs.” He ordered briskly walking back towards the back entrance that led to the park with his gun in hand and finger on the trigger.    I do not really feel like running through that park again, but it is exactly where he headed and I have little choice but to follow. I did not argue, taking the handcuffs off and throwing them to the ground happier than ever to be out of them. Both my wrists burned with pain, but that is not what I am thinking about right now; I am getting out of here.    The tall figure, maybe six-eight making him even taller than Yuri, lead me out of the side of the barn. It was dark now and there was shouting all around us. He took off into the trees surrounding the perimeter of the ranch and I did not question about following him, though still barefoot.    We made our way with me stumbling constantly with difficulty through the thick forest of the large park reserve as the darkness of night settled around us. Two others joined us within a few minutes. They were equally dressed in black clothes and black-grey face paint. All three of them had a backpack of gear on them. To my surprise one of them was a rather short young woman. Her hair was long, straight, raven black and pulled into a ponytail. Despite her height, at several inches less than myself, she looked fierce.    I continuously want to ask where we are going but I say nothing thinking that to remain in absolute silence right now is probably the best course of action.    After some time following their leader, the Spaniard, I eyed the other two who were walking behind me and constantly edging their bodies around in all directions with their guns poised and ready to shoot towards any sound. Apart from Miss Fierce, the other is tall, though shorter than the leader, and beyond strong appearing. While the leader is muscular, he is also lean, like a sleek black panther. The second man, Mr. Muscular, is a few inches shorter and much bulkier with a broad chest. His legs alone look like they could probably crush a human being. If the leader is built for stealth, that second man is built for force, and the fierce woman walking on his other side, is built for speed.    I can see a fire burning off behind us. That must have been Damien’s barn, and I think it is going to draw a lot of attention. Was that on purpose?    After hours of walking at the fastest speed I can I know it must be close to the middle of the night. The adrenaline has passed and I feel exhausted and sore. I don’t want go any further.    “I need a break.” I say resting against a rough bark tree with a gulp of air.    “Emilio, carry her.” The Spanish leader said stopping and looking back at me as he spoke to Mr. Muscular, giving that man a new title: Emilio.    “Ok, fine. Where are we going?” I said jolting away from that heap of stone named Emilio before he could touch me and trying to continue despite my aching bare feet.    “Like I said; Mr. Whitaker.”