Ben Bracken: Origins (Ben Bracken Books 1 - 5) Read Online Free Page B

bends, but doesn’t crumple, and Ben holds him upright to face the door. Ben shifts right behind him and plunges his hand into the man’s jacket pocket. He had noticed it as soon as he saw the man bending to pull his pants up - that heavy sag across the left breast-piece of the jacket. An unmistakable gun. As Ben’s fingers touch it there is a horrid moment of reconnection within Ben’s mind, as if he and the gun have a love-hate relationship borne out of experiences both good and bad, but predominantly awful -‘There you are, you bitch’, ‘Oh it’s you again, couldn’t stay away for long could you...’
    Gun in hand he holds it to the man’s head and thumbs off the safety. He pushes the man towards the door.
    ‘Name’ Ben states.
    ‘Fuck off’ the man offers, and Ben roughly pushes him towards the door and into the living room - where the other two men are now waiting. Steroid squat man holds Freya up by her hair, who writhes uncomfortably like a fish on the line. Ben can see dark bruises forming on her legs. The other man holds a gun against her chest. At the sight of their master with a gun to his head, they flinch slightly but maintain form.
    Ben begins to speak slowly and clearly.
    ‘You are to let her go or I end this man’s life. Nothing can be gained from this situation anymore - the laptop is destroyed.’
    This seems to stop everyone a little cold - apart from Freya, who still tries to stay upright despite being held out by her hair.
    ‘If you want to take issue with anyone, it’s me. The lady has no purpose or part of this anymore’ Ben continues.
    ‘Like hell she doesn’t. She’s our leverage now. You’ve done me quite the favour. Destroying the laptop destroys any evidence of our lovely little cash cow - I could thank you,’ growls the man Ben holds. Ben pulls the man closer so his right ear is tight to Ben’s mouth. He whispers.
    ‘You are as low as anything I’ve come across. You are low-rent shit in a modest apartment. Nothing more. But I’ve got a big problem with you. You fucked with my friends. You are part of the plague this country finds itself swallowed in. I know exactly what you are: you are the vile central cog of an obscene child sex ring. You are as low as low gets - profiting from the gross sickness that is paedophilia. Your precious laptop is gone, and with it that empire. But I’m not sure. The only way to be sure, is to kill you and your friends here and now, and I’m here to wipe the dog shit off Manchester’s heel.’
    ‘Don’t let her go, boys’ says the man.
    ‘Is that how you want to play this? You two - you want to play this too?’ Ben asks.
    ‘Fuck you. Kill her,’ barks the man. Freya screams on hearing the words she has been dreading since the ordeal began.
    ‘Finally, Keith,’ replies steroid squat man.
    Keith. The name resonates with Ben - every now and then, a name brings something to mind. Often it’s to do with relationships or celebrity. For Ben, the name Keith will always be synonymous with evil.
    Ben shoves Keith sharply into the kitchen, and drops to one knee. He calls to mind an occasion in Basra when he was hidden beneath a broken-down lorry on a roadside, and a member of his team had been captured by Taliban forces. As they were passing his position, he had to choose between letting them get away and probably execute his colleague, or shoot up their legs, knowing that that would not kill anyone, that the wounds would be severe, but if his colleague took a bullet or two, he would survive. That time, he fired his automatic weapon into the passing group of captors and captive. He managed to get his man out of there alive - just. His colleague took a bullet in the thigh (from Ben) and one in the shoulder (from the enemy). But he got him out of there. Now, Ben was holding a semi-automatic 9mm, a much more controlled weapon in an environment where there is only one other gun. The odds seemed pretty good to him.
    Taking aim, Ben fired as