Hell Bent

Simon could both see that it contained a portable, retractable massage table and various bottles of oils, a selection of CD’s, and a few scented candles.

Simon waited until Annabelle looked back up at him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Will you be okay? His expression asked.

Annabelle nodded. Simon smiled and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Victoria asked Annabelle a couple of medical questions as she took things out of her case and began to set up. Annabelle answered the questions to the best of her ability and watched as Victoria lit a fire in the hearth in the master bedroom and set the table up a few feet away. She then took out a CD from the case and turned back to Annabelle.

“Now, I can tell that you’re one who really needs to relax, so I don’t want you trying to make idle chat with me because you think I’m uncomfortable,” she said, smiling. “Is that clear, luv?” Her eyes twinkled and Annabelle couldn’t help but smile back. It was funny because Annabelle had been worried about exactly that. She really just wanted to slip away from herself for a while, and talking would force her to stay in the moment.

“Yes, it’s clear,” Annabelle said.

“Good. When I want you to turn over, I’ll gently tap your shoulder and hold the blanket for you. Got it?”

Annabelle nodded again.

“I’m going to put this in the player,” Victoria said, gesturing toward the built-in speakers in the ceiling. The stereo system’s controls were hidden in a closet in the hall joining the weight room and the bedroom. Albrecht most likely knew this already from having attended to Jack and, possibly, his employees.

“While I do, why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the table. We’ll start with your back, so lay face down. The blankets are heated and you’ll be sure to let me know if you’re uncomfortable with the temperature at any time, right?”

Annabelle nodded. “Okay.”

Victoria disappeared and Annabelle shrugged off the robe. She pulled the folded blanket down on the massage table and then lay on the table, facing down, just as Victoria had told her to. She deftly nudged the sheet back up when she was finished.

As she tucked her arms under the blanket, she listened to the fire crackling in the hearth and the soft sounds of ocean waves and rain that were now playing over the speaker system. Slowly, she began to relax. It was hard not to. The combination of the warm blanket on her naked flesh and the sound of the fire and the rain were like a sedative cocktail.

She closed her eyes. Above and behind her, she heard the cap of an oil bottle being unscrewed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to let the calm steal over her entire body.

The first touch was instantly soothing. The hands on her back were warm – almost hot – and that heat spread across her skin and into her muscles as they began to work out Annabelle’s knots. The ministrations were incredibly deft; her massage therapist seemed to know exactly when to touch what part of Annabelle’s body, and exactly how hard – and in what way – to rub.

Annabelle simply couldn’t help the moan of pleasure that escaped her lips as, bit by bit, her body seemed to slip into another plane. On this plane, there was no pain. No tension. Her headache was gone and the fear that had been riding her about the inevitable upcoming fight with Jack began to float away.

I can handle Jack, she thought. I can do this.

She felt stronger, more capable.

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder and Annabelle remembered that she was supposed to turn over. Her arms felt a little like jelly at this point. She smiled to herself as she slowly pushed herself up and rolled over, keeping her eyes closed against the sudden light above her.

The blanket was repositioned over her and she tucked her arms underneath.

And then something cold, hard, and decidedly sharp was pressed against the side of her neck.

Annabelle’s eyes flew open and light flooded her vision. She blinked repeatedly as a face came into focus. It was a man’s face, handsome but cold, with eyes like blue ice, and it was framed by a mass of hair as blue-black as the darkest night.

“Need a ride, mate?” Avery asked. He’d come up beside Jack, his stance rigid, as if he were prepared to move fast at any given moment.

Jack was about to answer when the phone in Alex’s front pocket rang. Everyone looked at him. He hesitated and then swallowed, almost audibly in the sudden silence surrounding them.

Then he reached into his pocket and extracted the phone. With a wary glance at his boss, he flipped it open and placed it to his ear.

“Jackson.”

His expression went from one of stressed wariness to one of terrified shock in a matter of short seconds.

He looked back up at Jack, his eyes wide.

Jack didn’t think twice. He immediately jerked the phone out of Alex’s hands and placed it to his own ear. “It’s Thane. What’s going on?”

On the other end of the line, someone coughed. It was a wet sound, full of pain and probably blood. “Sir… Drake is alone in… her room…”

Jack’s gut clenched.

“… With Night.”

“Adam.” Annabelle barely managed the whisper. Her breath was caught in her throat. She swallowed, and the blade of Adam’s knife threatened, cold and hard.

“Aye, luv.” Adam smiled, flashing those perfect white teeth. “Feel better?” He stood over her straight and tall, his body angled so that the knife he held was out at arm’s length, pressed almost casually against her neck.

Annabelle’s pulse raced wildly. She felt dizzy with it. She blinked, and stars swam in her vision when she re- opened her eyes.

“Where…” Her voice trailed off, and she had to start over. “Where is Victoria?” She asked softly. She really did sound as if she was about to faint.

Something dark flashed in Adam’s icy gaze. His smile disappeared. “She was bought and paid for, luv,” he told her. “Osborne got to her before Jackson did.”

Annabelle watched him through tunneling vision. She blinked, knowing her expression must reflect the confusion she felt at that moment.

Adam’s gaze slid from Annabelle’s eyes to her lips and then down to the knife at her throat. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then he slowly removed the blade.

Annabelle knew better than to sigh with relief. If Jack was telling the truth, Adam was unpredictable, at best. He might only be pulling the blade away so that he could swipe it back across her throat with more momentum.

But she did at least find that she could breathe a little easier. The spots in her vision began to recede.

Adam deftly slid the blade into a sheath wrapped around his left bicep, all the while not taking his eyes off of Annabelle. “She was sent to kill you,” he told her, almost matter-of-factly. “The oil’s poisoned.” He turned slightly and retrieved a bottle from the table behind him. Then he held it out above Annabelle, allowing her to stare up at it.

“Kills on contact. Would have hurt like a bugger, too.”

Annabelle found herself swallowing audibly once more. She stared up at the small bottle, her mind spinning wildly out of control. It was Adam all along. Touching her, easing her pain… Victoria had never laid a hand on her. Annabelle wondered, in fact, where the dead woman was at this moment.

Adam put the bottle back down behind him and turned fully toward Annabelle once more.

Before she could blink, he was leaning over her, bracing himself above her with a hand on either side of the massage table. His face was mere inches from hers, his eyes boring into her own.

She could feel his breath across her lips when he spoke next. “Here you are,” he whispered, “holed up with arseholes too stupid to properly check for weapons, and you don’t even know what the man looks like who wants