Becca XXX - Hard Time Ch. 12

I waited as the footsteps came closer. It sounded like three people approaching. Two of them sounded like heavy boots and the third person sounded lighter on the tiled floor.

The lead hulk appeared with his colleague bringing up the rear. Sasha was in the middle and she was crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, but apart from that she looked unharmed. I didn't know if they were tears of pain, sadness or joy.

"Sasha, are you ok?" I asked, being genuinely concerned.

I got up and moved towards her unhindered. My two hulks stayed where they were.

"I'm fine," she snivelled.

"What have you done to her?" I scowled at the two guys. "If you've hurt her, I'll fucking kill you."

"Calm down, Ms Sloan," said the lead guy, putting his hand up in surrender. "Sasha has told us everything."

I glanced at Sasha wondering how this man knew my name.

"It's ok Becca. I've spoken to my father on a video call," she explained, wiping her eyes. "It got a bit emotional seeing him again, but he knows I'm telling the truth about who I am. These men are going to take us to see him."

My anger slowly dissipated as I took in the new information.

"What did he say? What did you tell him? How did he know it was really you?" I bombarded her with questions in the quiet corridor.

"I told him everything... faking my death... being arrested... escaping from Bronzefield... you helping me to escape... everything. He was elated to see me alive. He knew it was me as soon as he saw me, but I told him things that only I would know about him just to confirm it was really me."

"It's one hell of a story," said the lead guy. "You could write a book."

I ignored him and carried on talking to Sasha.

"So, what happens now?" I asked touching her shoulder to comfort her. "Where is he?"

The lead guy interrupted before Sasha could speak. He was still very much in charge.

"We'll take you to see him," he said. "It's a long journey so you'll have to bear with us. Mr Hamilton likes his privacy. He has many enemies as I'm sure you'll appreciate. His safety and security is our top priority."

"Where is he?" I asked.

"I will need to search you before we leave," he said, ignoring my question. "Do you have anything about your person that could harm me or my men before I pat you down?"

I thought about my taser and baton and suddenly regretted moving them from my bag. I had no choice but to relinquish my weapons; they'd find them anyway.

"Inside my right boot and behind me in the back of my jeans," I said, raising my arms up behind my head to offer them no threat.

Sasha gave me a look that said, 'For fucks sake, Becca. Really?'.

I just shrugged at her as if to say, 'What can I say? I thought you were in trouble'.

One of the hulks pulled the taser out of my jeans and the baton out of my boot and passed them to the lead guy. He examined them with a wry smile on his face, which told me that he was impressed with my efforts.

"A girl can't be too careful," I giggled.

"I guess not after what you've been through," he agreed.

I took my bag off of my shoulder and handed it to one of the hulks, pushing my arms out to the side and waiting to be searched. The lead guy then patted me down, remaining completely professional. He didn't linger on my braless tits or between my legs, it was just a thorough search from top to bottom.

"She's clear," he said. "I'm sorry Ms Hamilton, but I need to do the same to you. Do you have anything about your person that could harm me or my men?"

Sasha shook her head and pushed her arms out to her sides. The security guard found nothing on her and began to treat us differently

"I'm sorry for the frosty reception, ladies," he apologised. "Like I said, Mr Hamilton's security is of the upmost importance. My name is Maurice and I am at your service. Do either of you have a mobile phone with you?"

We both shook our heads. We didn't want to carry such an easy tracking device with us and this guy was asking the question for that very reason.

"Excellent," he said. "I just need to wave a high-frequency wand over you to make sure you are not carrying any form of tracking device and then we can go."

One of his team produced a black paddle-shaped object which he waved over both of us. It made a couple of high-pitched noises, but he told Maurice that we were clear.

"Do you need anything before we leave?" Maurice asked.

"It depends where we're going?" I replied.

"I'm afraid I can't divulge his location for obvious reasons. Everything you need will be provided for you, but we must leave now. If the police find out that you're here, we'll have a problem. You've done an excellent job of staying under the radar, but they'll catch up with you eventually."

"Becca, it's fine," said Sasha. "My father has told me to trust these men with my life. They're part of his close protection team. We should go with them."

I nodded as Maurice walked us back to the elevator. We rode it back down to the lobby, but instead of heading out of the front exit, we turned towards the rear of the building.

"Bring the cars up now," Maurice said into his lapel microphone. "Two to transport to location Delta."

There was a squelch of radio traffic in his ear piece as his reply came in. I suddenly felt a lot safer than I had when we'd arrived. Now that they knew how important this girl was, nothing would stop them from reaching their destination.

We exited the building into the rain and were escorted to a waiting SUV. It was a black Jaguar F-Pace with blacked out windows. Another security guard opened the door of the car as we approached and we climbed aboard. Maurice jumped into the passenger seat and his men jumped into an identical car behind us.

As soon as the door was closed, we drove off sedately and joined the traffic on the main road. This was a well-rehearsed slick operation. These men weren't amateurs and if they were looking after one of the most wanted men in the UK, I was going to have my work cut out for me.

It had been a monumental task to get this close and I still hadn't set eyes on my target. I always knew that killing Hamilton would be relatively simple, but getting away with my life intact certainly wouldn't be. Hamilton would be surrounded by top level security and these guys were just the tip of the iceberg.

"Head for location Delta," Maurice repeated his instruction to the driver. "Stick to the speed limits. I'll radio through to the jet."

Sasha and I did a double take with one another.

"Did he just say jet?" I whispered.

"I think so," she whispered back. "Where the fuck are they taking us?"

"Delta one, this is Alpha one, copy," said Maurice into his microphone.

He waited for a reply and then continued his instructions.

"Good copy. Prep the G650 for immediate departure. Two female passengers," he continued.

He waited again.

"Copy that. ETA ninety minutes. Out."

He ended his conversation and stared out of the front windscreen through the blur of the wipers. I had to ask him the most obvious question.

"Excuse me, Maurice," I said politely. "Did you just say we were heading for a jet?"

"Indeed I did, Ms Sloan," he replied, not giving me any more information.

"Please, call me Becca. It's just that you might have a slight problem if we're taking a flight somewhere; we don't have our passports with us... or any other form of ID for that matter. Don't forget that the police are looking for us. I don't think going to an airport is the best idea."

"That won't be an issue Ms Sloan," he replied, refusing to use my first name. "We'll be bypassing security and border control. It's one of the perks of being in Mr Hamilton's good graces. You'll be in the air in ninety minutes."

"Heading where?" Sasha butted in.

"There's some drinks and snacks in the central armrest," he replied, once again ignoring our question. "It's only water I'm afraid, but they'll be pretty much anything you want once you're airborne. Just sit back and relax until we get there."

There didn't seem much point in asking him the same question again, it was obvious he wasn't going to tell us where we were going. We lifted the lid on the armrest and helped ourselves to some bottled water. After gulping it down, I turned to Sasha to see what had gone on between her and her father.

"How did your father take the news?" I quizzed.

"He was almost as emotional as I was," she replied. "He couldn't believe I was still alive."

"I'm not surprised. It's not every day your daughter comes back from the dead. Is he ok with me coming along?"

"Of course. In fact, he insisted on it. He wants to meet the girl who set me free," she giggled. "I think he can help clear your name as well as restore my identity."

"I fucking hope so. Did you notice anything on the video call that might tell us where we're heading?"

"Not really. I was too busy explaining everything. He was wearing a white linen shirt and stone-coloured chinos though. He owns properties all over the world so he could be anywhere. I'm hoping it's somewhere warm," she smiled.

Sasha had an air of excitement about her, like a child on Christmas Eve. She seemed genuinely thrilled to be jetting off to see the man who'd fucked his own offspring. Maybe she'd forgotten about that part and the fact he'd tried to force her into marrying him. Either that or she was looking forward to more incest with daddy - it was hard to tell.

I sat back and looked out of the window into the gloomy city, thinking about Lexa. Even if she knew I'd escaped, she'd have no idea I was about to leave the country. I had no way of telling her either.

Once again, I was on my own.

****

About an hour and twenty minutes had passed when Maurice sparked back up on the radio. It must have been some sort of secure comms network they were using.

"Delta one, this is Alpha one. Copy."

He heard the reply and gave more concise information down the network.

"Good copy. On final approach. Ten minutes out. Wheels up in fifteen. Copy."

There was another delay as the reply came back.

"Copy that. Out."

The road signs I had seen along the way told me that we were heading for Heathrow airport. I was expecting a private air field somewhere in the middle of nowhere, but that obviously wasn't up-market enough for Hamilton. I had no idea how we were going to get on the plane without a passport, but Maurice didn't seem concerned.

We approached the airport on what looked like a service road with a high wire-mesh fence running between us and the runway. Further along, there was a manned barrier which opened as we approached. The driver didn't even slow down as we drove onto the airport grounds and sped across the wet concrete to a waiting plane. A small white private jet was idling on the edge of the runway with four men dressed in suits standing in the rain under umbrellas.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you both," said Maurice, turning in his seat as we pulled up next to the plane's steps. "This is where we part company."

That was our cue to leave.

"Thank you for everything, Maurice. I'll be sure to let my father know how well you've treated us," purred Sasha.

"Yes, thank you so much," I added.

"Have a pleasant flight," he smiled back.

The doors were opened and we jumped out of the car. We were then escorted to the waiting aircraft under the protection of two men with umbrellas. Two more guys in suits beckoned us up the steps and into the warm dry cabin.

Once we were on board, we walked through a small reception and galley area where a flight attendant was busy pouring champagne. There were four seats for the staff and crew, but we kept going to the main cabin area.

"Welcome on board," said the pretty brunette, as the steps were pulled up and the outer door was closed. "Please take a seat, we are cleared for immediate take off."

There was no time to even think as the pitch of the engines changed and we started to taxi to the runway. Despite its small size, the main cabin was about as luxurious as you could get. It was fitted out with a plush cream carpet and cream leather reclining flight seats. Some of the seats were facing forwards and some were facing to the rear with enough seating for twelve people. If that wasn't enough, there was a four-seater sofa, set lengthways on with a huge flat screen TV and comfy chairs opposite.

No expense had been spared and the cabin stretched back into a walled off section which I guessed led to bedrooms.

We slipped our coats off and took a seat as the flight attendant served us with a glass of champagne before disappearing back to the reception area with the two body guards. The door separating us was closed making it completely private.

The plane slowed as it got to the end of the runway and lined up for take-off. Neither of us spoke, mainly due to the shock of how quickly things had escalated. Only a few hours ago, we were fighting our way out of prison after being gang raped and now, here we were living a life of luxury, jetting off to an unknown destination in a private plane like a couple of rock stars. The contrast was beyond compare.

The engine whine turned into a roar and we accelerated down the runway. I sipped my champagne and enjoyed the feeling of being pushed back into my seat by the G-force as we took off into the grey cloudy sky. There had been no safety announcement or security checks and we were soon above the clouds gazing down on top of them with brilliant sunshine and blue skies above us. The aircraft levelled out as we reached cruising altitude, but we still had no idea where we were heading.

"Oh my god. Can you believe this shit?" gasped Sasha, grinning from ear to ear.

"I know. How rich did you say your father was again?" I laughed. "This plane must have been at least fifty million."

"At least. He seems to have increased his wealth considerably since I last saw him," she replied.

"Indeed I have, my beautiful child," came a voice from behind us.

I froze in my seat.

It couldn't be - could it?

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. His choice of words and the confidence in his voice told me everything I needed to know.

I was almost too scared to look at him as I realised I was now within metres of the man I'd been hunting for the last few months.

He was a wanted man.

He was a man who was almost impossible to find unless he found you.

He was Sasha's father.

He was Charles Hamilton.

"Daddy?" quizzed Sasha like an inquisitive child, turning in her seat to face him. "OH MY GOD, DADDY?"

She couldn't get her seatbelt off fast enough. She fumbled with the latch and then leapt out of her seat, throwing her arms around him like a long-lost lover. In a way I guessed she was.

He lifted her off the floor and hugged her close, burying his face into her neck. They held their embrace for a couple of minutes as they reconnected after so long apart.

I knew from his file that Charles Hamilton was in his late fifties, but he looked a lot younger in person. He had greying hair and was a little under six feet tall with a medium build. It was hard to believe that this guy was anything more than just a regular business man.

They finally parted and he gazed into her eyes before stepping back and looking her up and down.

"Wow," he gasped. "It looks like my little girl is all grown up."

There was an edge to his comment as though he was talking about more than her general appearance.

"Oh daddy," she said bashfully. "I'm the same as I was before."

"No, you've definitely filled out in a few places. My god, what a fine young woman you've become."

His gaze finally shifted from his daughter's sexy body to mine as I sat in my seat with a glass of champagne in my hand.

"And this must be Ms Sloan," he said admiringly. "The young lady who's responsible for bringing my daughter back to where she belongs."

"Please, call me Becca," I said undoing my seatbelt and standing up to greet him. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Hamilton."

I held my hand out and gave him the once over. For an older guy, he was still in good shape. Most men his age had a beer belly by now, but he didn't. He didn't look his age either. I wondered if he'd had cosmetic work done to make him look nearer to forty rather than sixty. His piercing blue eyes almost bore a hole into me and his strong jawline and overwhelming confidence made it seem as though nothing could touch him.

He shook my hand with a firm grip and looked me up and down slowly. Like all men, his eyes stayed a moment too long on my breasts, but I couldn't blame him - I was braless after all and the cold weather wasn't helping my nipple situation.

"The pleasure's all mine," he bowed, kissing the back of my hand. "My daughter has told me a lot about you. Apparently, you're quite the hero."

"I'm sure Sasha has exaggerated," I smirked.

He had an authoritarian aura about him, like an ex-military commander who'd turned to politics. He spoke with a strong, posh English accent and his deep voice sounded as powerful as the empire he'd built. His facial expression gave very little away, but I could tell that he was more than pleased that his little girl had been returned to him.

Everything about him made it impossible not to feel in awe of such an elusive and powerful man. I didn't know if it was his wealth and power or his handsome good looks and winning smile, but I found him very attractive.

"Please, let's take a seat and you can tell me more about your daring escape," he gestured to the sofa area behind him.

Sasha led the way and her father waited for me to take a seat next to her before sitting opposite us in one of the leather chairs. He was very polite and chivalrous and it made me wonder how a man this nice could be so evil.

"There's not much to tell," said Sasha. "I already told you most of it on the video call."

"You did and it sounds almost unbelievable. Being arrested as Melody Thomas and putting up with all that abuse must have been horrific. I'm glad you found some friends who could help you out of that mess," he said. "Since your call, I've been watching it all on the news and I recognised your photo straight away. If you hadn't come back to me, I would have sent my teams to search the world for you after seeing that. I'm intrigued to know where the third girl is who escaped with you - the one with the tattoos?"

"The Crow? I have no idea," replied Sasha. "We weren't exactly friends in prison."

Sasha did most of the talking and explained how we'd escaped from the rape room, after being fucked senseless by the Governor and his band of criminals. His expression was surprisingly calm as he listened to the finer details of his daughter's ordeal.

The flight attendant served us with more champagne as the Hamiltons got caught up. I joined in at key points, but this was about the two of them reconnecting as father and daughter and I didn't want to get in the way of that. The weird thing was that they were both giving each other playful glances and despite what Sasha had told me about Charles, I could tell that she still loved him.

The conversation began to trail off after about an hour into the flight. Sasha finished off by telling Charles about the evidence pack that she'd sent to the police and the news channels to expose the Nigel Fisher Foundation for what it really was.

"My dear girl," he chortled. "It looks like you've thought of everything. You're like a chip off the old block without a doubt. Blowing the lid off a rape gang like that will send the media into a frenzy."

"I know," I added. "It's just a shame that we're in the middle of it."

"Yes, our faces are plastered all over the tv and newspapers and we've become Britain's most wanted. Can you pull a few strings and make it go away?" Sasha asked. "We're innocent in all of this and it was The Crow who burned them all alive."