Chapter 30


    The Story Continues in


    Exclusive ? material by N?(/v)elDrama.Org.


    Saviours


    Mastering the Virgin


    Part Seventeen


    Saviours


    Saviours


    Richard


    “Go. Find Charlotte.”


    White-faced, glossy-eyed and reluctant, she leaves. Images of ck-masked men, gunfire and smoke


    headlined across my brain, the offices are under attack. I must deal with that, but I have sent my


    beloved Elizabeth to the safest ce I know; the penthouse apartment under Charlotte’s care.


    She’s proved her survival skills….


    …. and her loyalty….


    Elizabeth has only just been rescued by Charlotte from abduction by traffickers, and is still recovering


    emotionally from the experience. My gut clutching, panic wells up in me at the thought of her reaction to


    what is happening now….


    She’s as safe as it’s possible to be….


    Get a grip.


    Do your job….


    Think….


    Act.


    I take another look at the security monitors, then lean in closer at what I see….


    Christ!


    The building’s on fire….


    Elizabeth….


    And I sent her up….


    Snatching at my mobile, I ring Elizabeth’s number…. It rings….


    …. Then I realise I’m hearing the ringtone from the other side of the room: Elizabeth’s phone sits there,


    shing at me.


    Fuck!


    Charlotte….


    I stab at my contacts.


    Christ, she’s not in there….


    Of course, I’ve always contacted her through James to avoid any…. issues….


    Her Dom.


    The inte….


    I tap in the code for the penthouse suite but hear only the crackle of static….


    Lines must be cut….


    How far has the fire spread?


    And I set off at a run….


    Not the elevators….


    ….. and I head helter-skeltering to the stairs….


    Running hard, I take the steps upwards two at a time, two stories, three, four….


    As I take the seventh flight, now beginning to breathe heavily, the lighting flickers and goes out.


    Thank God this happened in daylight….


    And I keep running, but as I hit the twelfth flight up, fire-crews in yellow protective suits areing


    down. “You can’t go that way. Down! Get down….”


    “There’s women up there….”


    “You can’t help them by going this way. The fire’s already on the floors above. “


    “They can’t escape?”


    “Not this way. Now move….”


    *****


    Bech


    Fire-engines are still screaming into the site, their sirens adding to the cacophony of police,


    ambnces and the wail of rms. In the background, against the cordon, the ‘general public’ stands


    gawping at the show, pointing and goggling, most with that ‘it happened to someone else’ look about


    them.


    Vans screech up, “City TV News’, and the camera crew tumbles out, lenses gorging on the spectacle.


    Bech watches all this with the semi-interested detachment of one who expected it all. But he’s not


    happy.


    This is madness….


    …. His obsession with this woman is going to put all our heads in the noose….


    A column of smoke, ck and bulging, spirals up from the Haswell office building, surging from the


    lower floors and now emerging from the upper floor windows too.


    Flush them out….


    All the fucking women that have gone through his hands over the years….


    …. Hundreds of them….


    He could have taken any of them….


    …. Had them doing whatever he wanted….


    Bech snorts augh to himself, but there is no humour in it.


    He’s in a position to insist….


    So, what’s the fucking deal with this one?


    Still, a little ‘interpretation’ of orders….


    The bitch’ll not make it alive out of this….


    …. And good riddance….


    A tall man in casual cks and shirt bursts from a side-door at ground-floor level, a cloth pressed over


    his mouth and nose, followed by a fire-crew hot on his tail.


    Bech mutters under his breath in recognition, eyes slitting as he watches.


    That’s Haswell….


    The man takes the briefest of looks around him, then up. The smoke, ck and menacing, is billowing


    from windows right up the height of the skyscraper now. mes flicker out from some floors, licking up


    the side of the building. Anyone more than a few floors up has no chance of escape.


    Haswell jerks a phone from his pocket, tapping in a number and after a short pause starts talking into it.


    After a moment, palm pressed over his other ear, he starts shouting into the phone.


    Bech grabs a clipboard and his radio, gets out of the car and angles closer to the billionaire, a spot


    where a uniformed officer can loiter unnoticed.


    *****