Page 32 of The Professor
And then everything went black.
Tightness wrapped around me, thick arms, and I was slammed against a hard body.
I went to scream, but a hand slapped over whatever had been shoved onto my head and a big palm pressed over my mouth.
Panic surged. I wriggled violently. Threw my head back in a reverse butt that hit only empty air.
My feet were off the ground. I was being carried. Hot, heavy breaths blasted into my ear.
I tried to call for Andrew to save me. To come get me and fight the brute attacking me. Andrew had muscles, fine ones, I was sure he’d come off best.
Still I struggled. The fight instinct was alive and strong.
“Bring her through here?” a deep male voice with an Irish accent snapped.
“Mmpfh!”
“And don’t fucking hurt her, he’ll go insane. One bruise and he’ll break your goddamn legs.”
“I ain’t hurting her. Slippery little thing, though.” The arms around me tightened.
I struggled more and tried to kick his shins. I hit home with my heel, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“You saw nothing, okay.” Another male voice.
“No, I saw nothing,” a female said, “I’ll leave you guys to your own agenda. Nowt to do with me.”
There was a woman here! She had to help me. I tried to plead with her, but the words were trapped inside my mouth.
Still I was being half dragged, half carried. I sensed the coolness of an indoor room. A door shut with a slam. The presence of men was acute to all of my senses.
“Sit.” I was pushed down, and my bum hit a chair.
The second the arms left me I went to stand, but they were too quick, and within moments my arms were behind my back and my wrists bound. More rope attached my ankles to the chair legs, spreading my thighs apart beneath my yellow cotton skirt.
I tried to look around, but the blackness was dense, barely any light filtered through the material covering my face. “Who are you? Let me go.” I yanked at my binds. It was no good. I was held secure.
“That her? That the right girl?”
“I really fucking hope so.” That was the guy who’d grabbed me, I was sure of it.
Oh, where was Andrew? He couldn’t be far away. I’d seen him heading toward this very house. Or at least I presumed I was inthathouse. Maybe I’d been carried much farther than I thought.
“You really reckon she’s worth that much?” The Irish voice again.
“Yes, she is most definitely worth that much. Her family have hit all the rich lists in the past.”
I turned to this new softly spoken man. He was very upper class, not your usual kidnapper.
Oh fuck! I’d been kidnapped. That’s why they were talking about money and my worth. “Let me fucking go. My father will kill you all for this!”
“Your father will pay us for your release, love.” The Irishman again.
“Take this off, let me go!” I demanded. “Now! This instant.”
“I think you can safely presume that’s not going to happen.” Another voice.
Fuck. How many were there?
