Jordan's Redemption: Bad Boy Mafia Dark Romance book (The Generals' Sons 2) (2 page)

Chapter 3

Ashley woke up, dreading to see the sun was already up. She was still tied up over the bunker bed, feeling so dirty, so disgusting she would have died happily in that moment, but she knew things were just starting. She had never felt this bad in her life, her whole body ached from the straining position and the ropes wrapped around her, but more than the physical pain, there was the emotional distress. She wanted so much to be dead, to forget last night and not even think of what could happen in the next days. She missed Jordan so much, she had never felt this lonely in her whole life, and the perspective of not seeing him again was simply disheartening.

The door was kicked open and Hernandez came in with a scornful smile on his face. "Had a good night, miss prude?" He mocked her.

She remained silent, not even acknowledging his presence in the room.

He closed the distance between them, the damn knife still in his hand, starting to cut through the ropes and her underwear. She had to bite down her lips as pain shot through her body as blood returned to her numbed parts.

"It's time for you to take a shower. The boss would hate to see you this disgusting." He announced grabbing her by her arm and dragging her to a bathroom down the hall. He opened the shower jets and pushed her under the cold water. "Wash yourself, and do a good job, unless you would like to have my assistance." He ordered.

Ashley turned her back to him, feeling the sting of the cold water hitting her sore body. She washed as fast as she could, underneath the dreadful look of that weasel. She closed the jets when she was done and slowly turned to look at him, not hiding her desire to stab the bastard with the knife he had used on her the night before.

He threw a clean towel in her direction and waited for her to dry herself before dragging her back to her cell.

Over the bed, she found clean clothes and she put them on, with no haste. She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing her distressed over him. Last night had been more than enough.

"Let's go. It's time for us to move. The boss is waiting for you." He told her, grabbing her by her arm once more. She grabbed her purse and followed him out of the room, and out of the house, ready to grab any opportunity to escape.

Soon they were on the road once more, and after an hour more or less, her heart sunk a bit when she realized they were on the central highway. They were taking her out of the city and that meant bad news for her. It would be harder for her to escape or to be found in an unknown place in the vast country.

Almost half an hour later, she saw they were getting close to one of the biggest highway restaurants and decided to try her luck. "Please… I need to use the bathroom, urgently." She asked in a meek tone.

"No." Hernandez almost barked the answer.

"I really can't hold on. I'll pee over myself." She whimpered.

"I don’t care," Hernandez said once more.

"Are you insane, man? This is the boss' favorite car. If she pees on it, he will be furious." The driver said, turning his head for a moment to look at Hernandez.

"She will try to escape." He said curtly.

"Then go with her and don’t let her. I'll take the opportunity to get more gas." The driver said, starting to change direction to head to the restaurant and gas station.

Hernandez sighed impatiently. He pulled the threatening knife out of his military boot and showed it to her. "If you try anything funny I'll draw a map with this on your body. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, clearer than water." She nodded, but she was beyond his threats. Nothing would feel worse than staying in the hands of Nicholas Marquez and his minions. She needed to outsmart these guys and escape.

The car finally stopped in the line to get gas, and Hernandez hopped out of the car, walking around it to open the door for her. He grabbed her by her arm and escorted her to the public bathrooms a few yards from where they were. "Don’t try to ask for help, you'll only endanger all of those women's lives. I don’t mind creating a nice bloodbath in here." He warned her.

In that moment three buses filled with people pulled in and all of a sudden they were surrounded by a lot of people, looking to stretch their legs, use the bathroom or eat something. Hernandez managed to guide her through the crowd into the restrooms, pushing her in rudely.

She stood in the line to use the bathroom, looking around and thinking of a way to escape. There were over twenty women inside the small room, all chatting and protesting, for the line, for the lack of cell phone signal and the disgusting look of the place.

Ashley remembered her own cell phone and she pulled it out of her purse, just to confirm the other women's claims. There was no signal. She remembered it had been the same thing when she was in the taxi and came to the conclusion Hernandez had to be carrying something to kill the signal from all cell phones around.

Ashley thought she would give all she had to change places with one of the women, and it was then it hit her. That was her way out of there. She needed to convince some of these women to change clothes with her.

Making up an incredibly silly story she convinced three of them to do it. One of them gave her, her shirt, another one her skirt and a third one gave her sunglasses and  a hand-woven hat, that she used to hide her mane in. She put it all on, and she was sure not even her mother would have recognized her easily.

She waited to exit with three other women, and she walked by Hernandez without him spotting her. Her heart was thundering so loud she thought everybody around was able to hear it. When she was a few feet away from Hernandez, she looked around, searching for a better way out of there.

Almost getting to the highway entrance there was a bus stopped, taking his last passengers, and she quickly rushed there to take it. She didn’t care where it was headed, she just wanted a way out of there.

She asked the driver to buy a ticket until the next stop and he accepted, informing her that their next stop would be in approximately three hours. She agreed, despite the fact it would take her further from the capital, she just wanted to get out of there, so she bought the ticket. The bus closed the door and started his engines, heading to the highway.

She looked at the bathroom door where Hernandez was starting to realize she had escaped, and she let out a small burst of laughter.

Taking her seat, she picked up her cell phone, praying to heaven to be able to turn it on. But there was no use. The phone was completely off. Cursing her luck, she fought the tears welling in her eyes and tried to calm herself down. As soon as she arrived in San Carlos, the city they were heading to, she would find a way to charge it and call Jordan. He would probably be worried about her disappearance.

"Is your phone dead?" The old woman sitting beside her asked, with a kind smile.

"So it seems, just when I most needed it." She replied, running her hand over her face, feeling so tired.

"I think I have one of those portable chargers in my purse. My daughter got it for me because I was always found myself with my cell battery dead. “She explained with a self-mocking smile. ”Maybe it has enough charge to power your cell phone during our trip." She offered, looking for it in her purse and handing it to Ashley.

"Are you sure? You might need it later." Ashley asked though she wanted the charger badly.

"Yes, sweetheart, go ahead. I won't need it. But don’t turn on your cell. Let it charge for a while first. According to my daughter, that's the way you have to do it." She warned Ashley.

"I won't, thank you. I'll plug it into charge and leave it off." She connected her cell phone to the small device and put both into her bag.

With a sigh, she took the hat off and put away the sunglasses. She had escaped, that was all that mattered, she thought to herself closing her eyes, letting some of the stress coming out of her strained body.

Chapter 4

"Boss, we got it!" the shout was heard through the whole house, as Wilson ran from the office to the stairs to call for Jordan. But he was already flying down the stairs.

"What is it?" The past twenty-four hours had been terrible, and his rage and fury had been building up inside to levels he hadn’t known before.

"Someone turned on the phone, and it's on the move," Wilson explained.

"Where?"

"She's on the central highway, she has just passed Valencia."

"What are you waiting for? Go get her. Take the helicopter, I don’t want you to lose her again." Jordan barked the orders, tense. He was too furious to go himself.

He paced around his office for the next few minutes, rage building inside him, covering his hurt with a red layer of fury. The phone rang. "Boss, I managed to reach the cell phone  signal. It seems she's on a bus. Do you want me to intercept her or should I wait for the bus to stop?" Wilson asked.

"Are you over the bus?" he asked, barely containing his rage.

"Yes, boss."

"Then wait for it to stop. Go as unnoticed as possible."

"Yes, boss." He ended the call and decided to get some work done. He needed to keep his mind occupied or he would grab a car and would go after her himself. He was so furious, that he feared his own reaction.

Hours later he finally got the call he was waiting for. "Got her, boss. On my way back."

"Good, I'll be here, waiting. Make sure she doesn’t escape." He ended the call, squeezing his cell in his hand, relieved but probably even angrier.

He worked for a while longer before he went to the house to wait for them. He had managed to calm himself down, but he knew his rage and disappointment was still there.

Three very long hours later, the bus finally arrived at the stop. She handed the old lady her charger and she headed out of the bus, being practically the first person to jump out of it.

She had only given a few steps away from the bus when a big hand grabbed her tight by her arm. Startled, she struggled to release herself, until she realized Wilson was the one grabbing her. "Oh, god!" She had never felt so relieved in her life.

"Thought I wouldn’t capture you, puta?" he asked with a hideous grin.

"What?! What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, confused, stumbling behind him, as he dragged her to a car parked nearby.

"Shut up and get in. The boss is waiting for you." Wilson said and pushed her into the car's back seat. In the driver's seat was a man she didn’t recognize.

She entered the car, feeling too tired to analyze the man's words. Wilson had always been a pain in the ass, and she shouldn’t have expected a different behavior from him, just because he had come to rescue her. "How did you find me so fast?" she asked puzzled.

"A tracking device on your cell phone." He answered, with a grimace.

"Oh, but my cell was dead. I was only able to charge it a few hours ago." She said closing her eyes and leaning her head back, with relief beyond words.

"Yes, and you'll pay dearly for this, I'm sure of that." He added, grabbing her and pulling her arms behind her back before wrapping them with cable ties.

"What are you doing?" she squirmed, trying to free herself.

"Making sure you don’t escape again." He said covering her mouth with duct tape, preventing her from speaking, before restraining her ankles as well. "You shouldn’t have tried to escape." She mumbled her denial, but he paid no attention to her. "You just managed to end the good life you had been enjoying." He continued with a pleased smile. He picked up his cell phone and called someone. "Got her, boss. On my way back."

Ashley knew Wilson hated her guts, what she didn’t understand was why he assumed she was escaping. Well, yes, she was escaping from Nicholas and Hernandez, but not from Jordan, she would never escape from Jordan, not only because that would endanger her mother, but because she didn’t want to. A dreadful thought crossed her mind and she cringed with fear. Could it be possible Wilson was working for the Marquez? That was the only logical answer, but she didn’t even want to consider that possibility. It was too horrible.

The ride back to wherever they were going wasn’t too long. Soon she realized there was a helicopter in the next field, and Wilson carried her over his shoulder to the vehicle, buckling the seat belts around her and himself before they lifted off.

She was feeling desperate, by then, not knowing what to expect, or what was waiting for her at the end of the road. She just wanted to close her eyes and forget the past few days had ever happened.

After what seemed like centuries, they finally arrived. The helicopter landed on a roof, and she wasn’t sure where they were, but soon she recognized the gardens and sighed with relief. They were back at Jordan's.

Wilson carried her inside the house and downstairs ignoring her muffled protests and angered cries.

He dropped her rudely on the floor, and she turned to look at him furiously.

"Where did you find her?" Jordan's voice, made her turn around immediately. Wilson had dropped her at his feet. She raised her eyes to look at him, protesting through the tape. But he never looked at her, and a chill ran down her spine.

"In San Carlos. I had picked up her signal on the highway, and after making sure she was on a bus, and what its destiny was, I simply flew there and waited for her, like you told me, boss." Wilson explained.

"Was she with someone?" Jordan asked.

"No, boss, she came out of the bus alone."

"I still want you to trace the call she received and investigate the taxi that picked her up on the street." He ordered, his eyes never glancing at the squirming figure at his feet.

"Yes, boss, I'll get to it." Wilson accepted.

"Good. Take her out of my sight. I'll take care of her later." Jordan said, and walked away leaving her on the floor.

"Jordan!" she cried out through the tape, but either he didn’t listen or simply didn’t care.

"No use calling him, puta. You've lost all the privileges you ever had with him." Wilson said, picking her up again and taking her to a basement similar to the one they had in the island house. She went all the way there screaming through the tape, trying to loosen it from her mouth to no avail. He dropped her inside of a small cell and ripped the tape out of her mouth.

"Wilson, please…" she started speaking through ragged gasps.

A hard slap crossed her face, shutting her up, efficiently. "Señor Wilson, for you, puta."

Burning tears ran down her cheeks as pain radiated through her face. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered, sobbing.

"You shouldn’t have escaped." He answered, turning to walk out of the cell.

"Escaped from where? From Hernandez?" she asked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

He glanced at her with scorn."I'm talking about yesterday, stupid cunt. Did you really think you would be able to escape from Jordan?" he asked, and without waiting for her answer, he left and locked the door.

Ashley was so shocked that it took her brain a few minutes to understand what had happened. When she had left the house the morning of the previous day, they thought she was running away. They didn’t know she had been captured by Hernandez and had managed to escape. Thanks to the tracking device they had planted on her cell phone, they were able to find her and not rescue her, like she had thought, but recapture her. She sobbed for a few moments, cursing her damned luck, and she was still crying when she remembered his words: '…your mother will gain an invisible bodyguard that will become her executioner the moment you escape from me. And then, I'll find you, and believe me, there is no hole in hell where you can hide from me. And when I do find you, you'll regret the day you were born. I don’t forgive treason, so you better keep that in mind.'

"Oh, god, no!" she cried out. He thought she had escaped from him. "God, no, please no." she cried harder. "Mom… no… please… he can't have done that." She crawled on the floor to the door, desperate and started to bang on it with her feet.

"Jordan!" she shouted to the top of her lungs. "Jordan!"

She kept banging on the door and calling out his name, until her feet and her throat was sore. But no one came, and her exhausted body fell into unconsciousness.

Some time later, Ashley regained consciousness. She was still on the floor, her hands and ankles still tied with the cable ties, and she could barely feel them due to the numbness. Whimpering, she moved away from the door, crawling towards the bed, leaning against it, still too tired to try and get on it. Her whole body ached and she felt more desperate than ever. She had to explain things to him, she had to believe her mother was still alive, that he hadn’t ordered her death. She had to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel, that unfair. She had to believe despite all, he was a good man, that he wouldn’t harm an innocent person out of vengeance. But, with every minute that went by, her hopes were smaller and smaller. Her eyes were dry, though, she was beyond tears, in so much pain that all she wanted was to recoil and beg to die.

All of a sudden the door opened up and startled she looked up, hoping it was Jordan and she could clear things up with him. But it was Wilson, accompanied by Garcia, carrying a tray.

Wilson picked her up from the floor, rudely, throwing her over the bed and proceeding to cut the cable ties from her wrists and ankles. As blood rushed down to her numb extremities, pain shot through her whole body making her whimper and rub her hands. "Please, Wilson, there was a mis…" she tried to explain, but he shut her up, slapping her hard across her face.

"Shut up, I'm not interested in your lies. Eat, or we'll force the food down your throat."

She rubbed her abused face, as tears ran down her face, and looked at the food Garcia had put beside her on the bed. How could she eat? Her stomach felt completely squeezed in a tight fist and she had a huge knot in her throat.

"Do it!" Wilson yelled at her.

"Please… I can't. I just can't eat." She pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

"I don’t care. Either you eat it or we shove it down your throat." And she was sure they would. She looked at Garcia, hoping to find some help there, but this time, the man's face was even darker than Wilson's, something she had never seen before.

Slowly she grabbed the fork and started to eat the food, her eyes seeing it, but not even acknowledging it. It tasted like nothing, and it felt like sand in her mouth. She ate as much as she could, struggling to keep it inside, fighting the nausea, under both men's hard look, before she dropped the fork. Apparently, it was enough for them, because Garcia picked up the tray and they left the room, locking her inside.

As soon as they closed the door she jumped out of the bed and ran to the toilet, just in time to throw up all of the food. When she was done, she sat on the floor and let the new tears run down her cheeks. What the hell had she done to deserve all this?