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Back Brutal Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. BRUTAL
  3. Dedication page
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. Prologue
  6. PART ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. PART TWO
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. PART THREE
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. Epilogue
  55. BRUTAL
  56. By Mandasue Heller

Roused by their friend’s cry of fear, the other girls woke up. Amused when they sat up and huddled together, covering their breasts with their hands, Nick grinned as he pulled his belt out of the loops of his jeans.

‘Who wants to go first?’ he asked, picking up one of the syringes.

‘No, sir, please . . .’ one of them whimpered. ‘We want go home.’

‘You are home,’ he purred, choosing her to take the first fix. ‘Now be a good girl, and hold your arm out. Unless you want me to hit the wrong vein and make you bleed to death?’

Sobbing now, the girls held on to each other, and the terror in their eyes made Nick’s dick throb even harder. If he’d had the time, he would have indulged in a nice little three-way blow job. But the search for Jacko’s imaginary friend had put them behind schedule, so it would have to wait.

27

Evan had been sitting at Yvonne’s bedroom window for over an hour, and he’d just lit his umpteenth cigarette and was contemplating going home when he heard the rumble of a diesel engine, followed by the glow of headlights strobing through the gaps in the hedgerow. The Transit van came into view a few seconds later, and he ducked his head and peered at it over the edge of the windowsill. It was too dark to see who was driving, and he couldn’t see through its back windows when it trundled past, but it was only half an hour later than he’d seen it going out the previous night, so he figured it was probably heading to the same place – with the same cargo.

When the tail-lights had receded into the distance, Evan stood up and pulled his jacket on. Then, stuffing his flask and binoculars back into the rucksack, he let himself out of the cottage and cycled back to his car.

The Transit was a couple of miles ahead when Evan had joined the motorway ten minutes later, but there weren’t many vehicles between them, so he eased his foot off the accelerator to avoid being spotted. Relieved to find that it had long gone by the time he reached the exit for Manchester, he took an alternative route to the brothel so he wouldn’t cross paths with them.