Page 78 of The Twins
“Phone could have been dumped miles from where she is, a red herring so to speak,” Phil said.
“I don’t think this Reg Jacks is that smart,” Cillian said, staring straight ahead now we were approaching the big locked gate. “In fact, I know he’s not, ’cause he’s messed with the wrong guys, big time.”
“Not much going on there.” Dalton was using binoculars to check out the farm. “There’s three cars, though, and one is white, so I’d say at least three people are home.”
“Yeah, good shout,” I said.
“Could be the white car we’re after,” Phil said.
“Any dogs?” Jamie asked.
“No, can’t see any life. Oh…wait…there’s some guy walking across the yard.”
“What’s he wearing?” I asked.
“Black, black everything including beanie…in this weather, twat.”
“Fuck, that’s him.” I turned to Finn. “That’s what he was wearing when he took her.”
“She’s there,” Finn said. “I know it.”
“We need to be quick. Go faster.” I twitched with adrenaline. “Hurry the fuck up, Jamie.”
“I am…fuck, this damn road.”
We were all jostled as he flew over several potholes.
Phil’s head hit the roof. “Fuck!” he muttered.
He then drew to an almost skidding halt in front of a five-bar metal gate that had a substantial chain around it and the post to its left.
“Soon sort that.” Phil slid open the door and leaped out. After rooting around in the back for a moment, he appeared with massive bolt cutters. It took him all of six seconds to free the gate and open it wide.
Jamie drove through it, and he jumped back in.
“You still see Jacks?” I asked Dalton.
“No, he’s gone, into a stable, I think.”
“Fuck, bastard can only be up to no good.”
“If she’s fucking in there and he hurts a hair on her head…” Finn slammed his fist into his palm.
We were almost at the yard now, and weren’t even pretending to keep our cover, though Jamie did pull up into the shade of the stable block.
Finn and I hit the cobbles running.
“That one, second on the left,” Dalton called after us. “We’ll check out the main building.”
Neither of us replied. We turned the corner and raced over the straw-littered ground. Desperate urgency had gripped us both. I could sense it as acutely in Finn as it was in myself.
I scanned the area, kept on running. There was no movement, though a door in the farmhouse was wide open, as though someone was about to come out of it.
When we reached the black stable door, Finn shoulder barged the center. It flew open in one piece but then crashed up against the wall and splintered in two.
The scene that greeted me made my blood turn to pure liquid vengeance. Our beautiful Rebecca was being forcibly held down on a pile of straw. She was squirming and twisting andtrying her best to get away. Her ass was exposed, and her cries were filled with both terror and fury.
“What the fuck?” Her attacker turned to us, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. He had his erect cock out, pants shoved to his thighs. “Who the hell are you?”
