A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

instigated to find Julianna. Jackson wouldn't let her go without a fight.

Jackson was her linchpin; the man held all the aspects of her life together. Through him, she had a chance to accomplish her ambitions, instead of living them out vicariously through other people like her military father or the other agents with whom she once worked in her previous job. Yet here she was, kidnapped in a pathetic trap and awaiting some gruesome fate because she had chosen to be one of Jackson’s crusaders. The very excitement she had once craved was now holding her captive. It seemed she couldn’t do it after all – be the kind of person who saved the day. Just thinking about Mark crippled her.

If she slept a little, then her strength would return. Maybe then she could stomach eating an apple and a piece of dry bread. She lay down on the cardboard-thin mattress and closed her eyes. Between the walls, something dripped incessantly – a disused pipe? Mice scrambled along the board above her head in an endless race. The cellar reeked of stagnant air. Her palpitating heartbeats added to the chorus of distracting noises.

The bolt was shot back across with a clang. Julianna jumped. She had been asleep; a lethargic slumber brought on by her battered head rather than the need for rest. The room was swathed in a sheet of blackness; she must have slept for some time. She sat and the sacking fell away. The cold penetrated deep into her flesh, mingling with the aches of uncomfortable muscles.

In walked Stazki accompanied by another man. Unlike Stazki, this man’s face was hidden by a woollen balaclava. A squat person, his grim bearing was enhanced by dark jeans with a metal skull buckle on his belt, a shabby brown leather jacket, unzipped, and underneath, a white t-shirt that failed to flatter him; the newcomer carried before him a pot belly and lacked stature. However, when he bent his arm, the bicep bulged. In his grasp, held up high, was a gas lamp. The light flickered and macabre shadows danced along the imprisoning walls.

Julianna tensed, feeling the rise of paralysing fear. She shuffled backwards into the corner.

‘Get up!’ Stazki shaped his hands into boxer’s fists.

The masked man handed the lamp to Stazki. He strolled toward Julianna and stopped a metre short of her. By then adrenaline had awoken the stiff muscles in her legs and she stood. He said something to Stazki and the light was brought closer.

‘Julianna, a pretty name,’ the masked man said. He had a strong foreign accent, but his English flowed easily out of his mouth.

Julianna said nothing.

In the dim light his pupils looked entirely black against the bloodshot whites. Bushy black eyebrows peeked through the eyeholes. His breath was sweet and minty, not like his compatriot, who reeked of tobacco. Stazki moved closer.

She needed every drop of willpower to fight the fear. The pit of it lay in her belly, while the edge of it, a bitter acidity, rested in the back of her throat waiting to spew out of her mouth. She held the nausea in check.

‘Your man is surrounded,’ the newcomer said. ‘We can’t get at him. As much as my friend here would like to have him, we’re not going to risk delaying any longer. You will do. Just you unfortunately. Lowers the price considerably. But you’re feisty. A fighter. There are men out there who like women who fight off men, and not just lie back and hope for the best. You will fight, Julianna. You are that kind, as my friend here knows. He’s secretly impressed. Well, no, perhaps not, but I am. Will you fight, Julianna?’

‘I’ll do what I can to survive,’ she said carefully.

‘Ah. The ambiguous answer. I like it.’ He leaned towards her. ‘I wanted her too. Ellen. But Haynes has hid her too well. Poor girl never knew, did she? Once I found out she was the Clewer’s girl, I invested five people, five pretending to be me, keeping her happy. Demanding bitch. Then she let slip her brother ruined Henderson, and I had to move my plans up. Couldn’t wait any longer.’

He had confirmed his identity – Zustaller. The elusive villain was right there in front of her. The admission boosted her confidence. ‘Five men to groom her.’ She sneered. ‘How inefficient of you.’

He snorted. The shadow looming over her lengthened as he leaned forward, speaking right into her ear. ‘Four men and one woman. She called her sweetie. I watched. Added a little spark to the chat now and again. Kept things ticking over. I want her still. When I get her, I'll make her watch you.’

‘How gallant.’ Julianna risked much with her temerity, but the sarcasm was working. She snapped her shoulders back, presenting bravado instead of cowardice.

The balaclava failed to hide the pursed lips of a frown. ‘Now do you need anything, besides your freedom? You will leave soon. Your travel arrangements are being finalised. It is not going to be very comfortable. I apologise in advance.’ His eyes glistened under the lamplight; amused, not sorry.

The spike of confidence was counterproductive; she had to appear weak to actuate her plan. Drooping, she lost the boldness and hunched her shoulders. ‘I’m cramping.’ She laced misery into her voice. ‘I know it doesn’t bother you. But I’ve only the one pair of knickers and I don’t want to leave here bloody. I have what I need in my handbag.’ She pressed her palms together, mimicking prayer.

The pathetic touch worked. ‘Get her handbag,’ Zustaller said to Stazki. ‘Not that blood would bother my buyer.’ He laughed and circled a spot on the floor while they waited.

Stazki returned with the leather handbag, which had two compartments and a keyring sewn into the interior seam. Attached to the keyring was the moulded knob of plastic. Stazki held out