Bedrock (19 page)

Eighteen

Addison awoke to liquid being forced down her throat.
She was choking, drowning. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the sound
of a camera. It was snapping photos. Click. Click. Click.

“Wake up bitch.” He slapped her over and over. “You’re fucking
this up.”

She felt the vomit come up. Addie forced her eyes open. She was
being hosed down and the water was cold.
So cold.
The man was standing
above her, an angry expression on his face. She sat up as best she could.

“You stupid bitch. I thought you ruined everything.” The man
repeated over and over.

Addie sensed déjà vu. She had been in this situation before.
She
had woken like this before.
Observing her surroundings, she took everything
in. Badly beaten and bleeding, she tasted a mixture of blood and something else
. . . vomit. Her hands and feet were shackled, and she was in a small cage, maybe
five by five feet. They looked to be in a basement of some sort. It was smelly,
dark, and cold, so it had to be underground.

“Good. You’re coming around,” the man called, dropping the hose.
Addie stared at him.
She knew him
. He was the man on the boat—the man
from Capri.

Addie chose her words carefully. “Mr. Hammons?”

The man laughed an evil laugh. “That would be me.”

Addie cocked her head to the side and waited.

The man walked to a table set up in the corner. He grabbed a
plate and walked toward Addie, placing a sandwich in her hand. “I bet you’re
wondering what you’re doing here, huh?”

Wolfing down the sandwich as though she hadn’t eaten in days,
Addie stared at Scott Hammons, analyzing him. She thought back on the times
she’d woken up. How many was it now? Three or four? There was the first time,
the time she was beaten and suspended. Then there was the time he masturbated
in front of her and then this time. Although, she had no idea how long she’d
been out, Addie assumed that it had been long enough that people were beginning
to look for her. Her thoughts went to the boys as she imagined their faces and her
hugging them in the kitchen.

Addie blinked. “I am wondering, yes.”

Scott closed the cage door and locked it, dragging the chair
across the room; he sat and folded his arms, watching her as he sipped what
smelled like a glass of whiskey. Addie wasn’t sure he was going to answer,
until finally he spoke. “You’re William Hartman’s whore. That’s what you’re
doing here. He owes me. And I’m collecting on what’s due.”

Addie sat up straighter.
Play dumb.
“I’m afraid I don’t
understand.”

“Your lover boy, he stole from me. It’s his turn to pay up, which
is why you’re here.”

Listen. And buy time. He’s going to kill you.
Addie
thought for a moment, considering how she’d respond. With sudden clarity, she
devised a plan, her Domme training kicking in full gear. She laughed louder
than the situation probably called for. “You think I’m William’s whore? That’s
funny.”

The man’s face went pale. Clearly, Scott Hammons was taken aback.
He eyed Addie up and down and kicked back his whiskey. “Don’t fuck with me,
bitch.”

“I’m not William’s whore. I’m his Dominatrix. And the bastard
owes me a lot of money. So I highly doubt he gives a shit whether I live or
die.”

“His what?”

“His Dominatrix. He pays me to beat the shit out of him.”

Scott Hammons chuckled. “And why would he do that.”

“Because he’s crazy. He steals and cheats people. People like
you. And just so he doesn’t feel too badly about it, he enjoys getting slapped
around to ease his conscience.”

Scott stood and poured himself another whiskey. “I saw the way he
looked at you. He’s in love with you. I’ve sent him your photos—photos of you—like
this. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him soon.”

Addie didn’t skip a beat. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps what?” He asked, confused.

“Perhaps he’ll come. Perhaps he won’t.” Addie replied matter of
factly.

Scott Hammon’s face reddened. He stood, throwing his glass and
against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million pieces. “What do you
mean perhaps?”

Addie thought quickly. “I’m blackmailing him, so if he shows up,
it’ll only to be so that he can kill me himself.”

Scott stumbled to the corner of the room, clearly drunk. He
walked towards the crank he used to suspend her in the air. Addie remembered
vaguely waking up that way before. He cranked the chains she was attached to as
she slowly rose until she hovered off the ground. Walking furiously towards the
cage, he grabbed the belt from the table. Addie squeezed her eyes shut.
He
was angry
. And he was going to take it out on her,
which meant he was
buying it.
Scott struggled with the lock. Addie remained quiet, unwilling
to give him satisfaction and not wanting to further incite his anger. He
continued struggling with the lock, which only infuriated him more, until
finally he managed to open it. Once inside, he raised the whip, striking her
across the backside with as much force as he could muster. Addie held her
breath. He walked around the front, striking her again. Smelling the mixture of
blood and whiskey, she continued to remain silent. He hit her twice more until
he seemed spent. “You’re trying to trick me.”

Addie stared him straight in the eye and called his bluff. “If
you’re going to kill me, do it now. Because I’d rather you do it than give
William Hartman the satisfaction, if and when he shows up.” Scott stared at the
ground, thinking. “It’s clear that you have a lot of anger towards William
Hartman. I don’t blame you. I hate the bastard, too, which is why I’m
blackmailing him. What I want to know is what he did to you that made you hate
him so much? I can’t imagine it’s worse than what he’s done to me.”

Rapport building.
That’s what this was called. Addie
thanked God for her training as Domme; she had never guessed in a million years
that it might one day help save her own life. “Because if you’d like, I can
tell you what he did to me. It’s a thousand times worse than any beating you
could give me. Hell, you could do this all day long and it wouldn’t touch what
he’s done.”

Addie studied Scott Hammon’s face. The look across it was blank. For
the first time she could swear she saw a subtle hint of emotion, somewhere down
deep, locked inside. He closed the cage, though he didn’t replace the lock, and
took his seat in the chair. Picking up the whiskey, he drank straight from the
bottle. “William Hartman stole my life. He took everything: my family, my
business . . . everything. And the Bible says:
‘Thou shall not steal.’
William stole. And now he has to die.”

Addie spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “William stole
my dignity. He used me, and when I didn’t want him, when I didn’t love him in
return because I knew he was a sick man devoid of any emotion, he took what he
could get. He robbed me of thousands of dollars, cost me my job, and I learned
that within a month or so my children and I were going find ourselves out on
the street. So that’s when I decided to take matters into my own hands and
blackmail him. Show him what it feels like to have your world come crashing down
around you and be left with nothing. Trust me. The death you have planned for
me here means nothing in comparison to what that’s like. No amount of suffering
can top what he’s done to me. Or what he had forced me to do in return. I will
repay him, even in death, if that’s what it takes.”

Scott Hammons sat for a long time in silence, finishing off his
whiskey. When the bottle was empty, he turned and climbed the stairs without
bothering to lock the cage. Addie knew it was a win but only a small one.
Eventually, he would have to figure out what to do with her. And she wasn’t
placing any bets on him letting her walk out of there alive.

William woke to the sound of his phone buzzing,
startling him. He must have drifted off and had been dreaming of Addison. They
were in Capri. He was standing on the beach, and she was in the water, when all
of a sudden she began drifting further and further away from shore. She was
calling to him for help, but his feet wouldn’t budge. He was stuck in the sand,
and slowly it was changing to quicksand. He was sinking further and further,
and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn’t reach her. He
couldn’t save her or himself.

Taking his phone, he went to the sink and splashed cold water on
his face. He dried his eyes and clicked his phone on. Two new texts. William
gasped as he opened the first one. It was a picture of Addison: naked,
bloodied, bruised, and beaten. William felt the tears sting his eyes. Running,
he barged into the room his security team had set up in. Out of breath, he
panted. “Anything?” All eyes were on him.

Carl stood and ushered William to a chair. “Sit. What is it,
William? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

William exhaled, handing his phone to Carl. “It’s me. This is my
fault.”

Carl took his phone and examined the contents: two texts, two
incredibly graphic photos of Addison Greyer naked and badly beaten, and a
demand:

William, we play by my rules now. If you ever want to see the woman you
love again, meet me where Middle Creek Road and Monarch Ranch Road intersect,
tomorrow at noon, sharp. Come alone and unarmed. Do not notify the authorities.
Do not bring members of your security team. There will be a car waiting there
with keys in it and a phone. Get in, drive, and wait for my call. Do exactly as
I say. If you break any of my rules, she dies. If you fail my test, the next
text you receive will be a video of Mrs. Greyer’s beheading.

Carl handed the phone to one of the security guys. “See if you
can pull any data from that. I think the intersection he mentions isn’t too far
from where Mrs. Greyer’s vehicle was found. Get me the maps. And run all of the
home sites within a hundred-mile radius. It’s remote. Find out who lives
there.”

Carl ushered William to the living room. William sat with his
head in his hands. “She’s the only thing I’ve ever really loved. Goddammit,
Carl,
I did this.
Whoever this is, is doing this because of me. If she’s
harmed any further than she already has been, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Carl sighed. “I understand, Mr. Hartman. And it’s my opinion that
we hand this over to the FBI and let them do what they do. This is serious,
William. The photographs clearly show us what this perpetrator is capable of. I
don’t think we should play around here.”

William stood and walked to the window, taking in the Austin
skyline. It was beautiful at night. But the only thing William could think
about was the fact that Addison was out there somewhere, hurt and in danger. It
was his fault. He never should’ve gotten involved and put her at risk. He hadn’t
properly protected her, knowing that he was a target and because she was seeing
him that she would be too. He should’ve known better. But out of all the
questions that plagued him, weighing so heavily on his mind, there was one that
bothered him the most. Why hadn’t he fought harder? He could’ve won. He always
won. If only he’d tried harder. Why didn’t he try harder? It was quite possible
that Addison would die at the hands of this madman. Not only would it be his
fault but she would never know how much he truly loved her because he was a
fucking coward. When the going got tough, he preferred to save his own ass, and
so he ran, trying to avoid the pain. And yet here he was.

“No, Carl. We’re doing as he says. No cops. I’ll use every dime I
have to my name, if I have to, to nail this bastard, but no cops. First, we’ll
play by his rules. And then we’ll play by mine.”

Addie struggled against her chains. She scooted inch by
inch, careful not to make too much noise. It must have taken hours, but finally
she reached the edge of the cage. Unfortunately for her, that was about the
time there was no more give in the chains. She was stuck.