Chapter Thirteen

Petrified did not come close to describing the way Rebecca felt huddled in the corner of her windowless room upon the lumpy mattress that Brantley had so expertly made love to her on mere hours before.

She had heard the men. She knew that Martin had not paid them. They were here now to make her pay for her husband's stubbornness. Her heart hurt to realize she had been right and wrong in so many ways.

She had worried Martin wouldn't pay for her twice but, yet, she had thought the man cared about her. She had thought that part of his heart would hold a fondness for her after eight years together.

She had been so very wrong about that.

Rebecca should have known. Martin rarely even spoke to her and the only time he touched her was when he called her into his bed in an attempt to produce a child—which he'd been doing less and less as it became obvious she was unable to give him one. They never spoke, never shared dreams, never had talks of the future. He refused to let her see her family. He refused to let her have friends outside of his own. He refused to let her do anything other than sit in that house and feel the guilt of her barren womb.

Rebecca realized, in that moment, that she'd been a prison for nearly a decade. Sure, it had been a fancy, gilded one but it had been a prison just the same.

Brantley had shown her a peek of something different. She'd seen the chance of a love like the love her parents had shared. The gentle touches for no reason, the warm glances, the meaningful, quiet conversations.....

But that too had a been a lie. She did not belong to Brantley and he did not belong to her. Life had come to tear their roots from the ground before they'd even had a chance to bloom.

The commotion outside the door grew louder, drawing her from her self-lamenting thoughts. She heard Brantley's angry voice denying the men entry and then she heard the unmistakable sound of a fist striking flesh.

The scuffle was loud but it was short-lived. Very soon, the door was being kicked open and she found herself staring at a bright-eyed Hoff. He had a smile on his face that curved the scar on his cheek and caused her blood to freeze in her veins.

"Hello there, Mrs. Smallwood. As tempting a picture as you paint all curled up on that bed, I'm afraid my visit isn't what you rich, high society types would call a social one."

Hoff stepped further into the small room with two other men flanking him. All of them had knives in their hands—large knives. Knives that Rebecca could imagine slicing into her skin and cutting her to pieces.

She let her gaze dart behind them and saw a beaten and bloody-faced Brantley led into the room by three more men. Two with guns in his ribs and the third behind him with a gun to the back of his head. He appeared nearly dead on his feet and it was clear the men had beaten him badly.

Poor Brantley... His pain was her fault.

"I'm afraid we had to make sure Brantley wouldn't be in any shape to get worked up when we do what we have to do to you, my dear."

Rebecca swallowed hard, keeping her knees curled up in her chest. "What exactly are you going to do to me?" she asked, forcing a steadiness to her voice that she did not feel in the slightest.

Was she going to be raped? Or killed? What was Hoff's plan?

"Leave her alone," Brantley growled, jerking against the men holding him and earning himself a solid punch to the gut.

Rebecca whimpered his name which caused Hoff to laugh heartily. "I should have known this would happen if I left Brantley alone with a pretty woman. He always had a softness in him that the rest of us lacked—that's why he never quite fit in. But he's good with a gun and tough as sun-dried cow leather. That's why I keep him around."

Rebecca chose not to speak. What could she say? There were no words she could voice that would help her situation.

Hoff motioned to the men on either side of him and they stepped toward Rebecca. Fight or flight became her only focus. She unfolded her legs and leaped from the bed. But where could she run? The room was small, there were no windows and the three men holding Brantley were blocking the only door.

Still, she attempted to elude the approaching men only to find herself grabbed roughly and thrown back onto the bed. One of the men pinned down her legs while the other held her arms tight behind her in a tight embrace that caused her shoulders to scream in pain.

Rebecca screamed. She screamed. She begged for them to stop. All of her pleas were in vain.

Hoff approached the bed with Brantley's voice roaring in the background. Rebecca knew he couldn't help her. She was at Hoff's mercy and that was terrifying—Hoff the man who had shot an unarmed Felix dead in cold blood. The man who had those dark, emotionless eyes that spoke to a blackness in his soul.

Rebecca froze and did not dare move a muscle as Hoff held out that large knife and laid the blade against her cheek. She trembled and shook as her tears slid against the cold metal.

"That husband of yours is saying you aren't quite worth what I'm asking. He keeps attempting to negotiate your worth. Can you believe that?"

Rebecca swallowed hard but said nothing. What could she say?

"I believe he will pay what I'm asking; he's just going to need a bit of encouragement." Hoff's gaze went to the fat man who was holding her arms and breathing his hot, foul breath against her ear. "Give me one arm, Samson."

As soon as Rebecca's arm was free, she swung it hard and caught Hoff in the face. The man's eyes widened with surprise just before his laughter filled the room. "A woman with spirit? That's a rare find."

His arm shot out, and gripped her wrist. The hold he had on her was vice tight and Rebecca knew he'd leave behind bruises. But as he brought that knife toward her hand, Rebecca knew bruises were going to be the least of her worries.

"I have found that the best way to offer encouragement when it's needed is to offer it one piece at a time."

Rebecca screamed and sturggled against the men holding her. She yelled and yelled until her voice was hoarse as that knife blade pressed against the finger she wore her wedding band on. Her screams and yells grew in intensity as that blade pierced through her skin and Hoff began to work it back and forth as if he were sawing a branch.

Blood coated her hand, dripping on the bed. Nausea swirled in her gut as Rebecca's vision began to swim. She found consciousness becoming harder and harder to hold onto. Never had she known such pain.

Hoff was laughing and that was the last sound Rebecca heard before her world went black and she fell into unconsciousness.

***

Pain was the one resounding awareness echoing in Rebecca's head as she began to awaken. Her finger hurt terrribly—never had she felt such a pain in her life.

Her eyes fluttered open and, with a moan, Rebecca glanced at her hand. Her moan quickly became a scream. She'd been mistaken. Her finger was not hurting—it was gone.

An arm tightened around her middle and whatever she was laying against tensed. "Hey now, love, you gotta quit that screaming. My head is killing me."

Rebecca's mouth slammed shut. Brantley was holding her. They were in the tiny room at the back of the cabin and she was lying on his lap on the tiny brass bed.

"Brantley?" she whispered, her voice raspy from over-use.

His lips gently caressed her brow. "I'm here. They're gone."

"And so is my finger..." Rebecca's stomach rolled and she knew she was going to vomit. As if he'd been expecting that reaction, Brantley's gnarled hand was instantly sticking a metal pan in her face and Rebecca proceeded to lose the contents of her stomach inside it.

Rebecca fell back against Brantley, feeling more exhausted than she'd ever felt. Her hand was bandaged, though the white cotton was soaked in blood. "Did you do this?" she asked.

"I cleaned it up and bandaged it, yeah. I don't have anything to give you for the pain. The bastards didn't seem to care that you'd be hurting."

Rebecca closed her eyes tightly. "Those bastards are your family. Remember?"

A low growl, rumbled from Brantley's chest and Rebecca had never heard so much hatred in a voice when he replied. "Not anymore."