Bitter Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance (Advantage Play Book 4)

by Kelsie Rae

  Then he takes a final puff of his cigarette and presses the hot, ashy end of it to my collarbone.

  My entire body contorts in agony as a tortured scream claws its way up my throat. I try to wrench away from the boiling contact, but my cuffs hold me hostage, leaving me with the slight scent of burning flesh wafting through the air.

  “Stop!” I beg. “Stop it!”

  A satisfied smile stretches across Sei’s face. “Answer me, Peach. Did he touch you the way I touch you?”

  I shake my head back and forth. “No. He would never touch me the way you touched me.”

  His gaze narrows. “Shall we check? Just to be sure?” He hesitates before grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “I have a better idea. Let’s play a different game.” Raising his index finger into the air, he motions for me to give him a minute, then disappears from the room. My breathing is staggered as I wait for him to return, terrified about what his game might entail.

  I just want to go home.

  A sob wracks my body as the image of Diece comes to mind instead of the apartment I was living in before I was taken.

  He’s my home now. And I was stupid enough to even question it.

  I just want D. I want him to hold me. To tell me he loves me. To tell me it’s going to be okay. But it’s not okay. I can’t fight Sei. I’m not strong enough.

  With a gasp, the word strong sparks my memory before Diece’s deep voice accompanies it. You’re stronger than you know. Braver than you think. And just broken enough to accept me.

  He was right. I do accept him. Flaws and all. Because he accepts mine without hesitation. And maybe I can be brave for him—strong for him—too.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I dig through my memories of our self-defense lessons, desperate to find a solution for this messed-up situation. I need to get out of here. If I could just get out of these cuffs, I might have a chance of escaping. But how the hell do I get out of handcuffs without a key? I struggle against the punishing metal for another second before giving up when my raw skin screams in protest. I won’t be able to break free. I need to convince Sei to let me loose. But why would he do that?

  The idea hits me like a truck and is quickly followed by bile creeping up my raw throat.

  Shit.

  I’m so screwed.

  34

  Q

  The floorboards creak in the hallway as Sei returns. A familiar knife is in his grasp, hanging at his side with the promise of more scars. More pain. More torture.

  I have no idea if this is going to work or if it’ll blow up in my face, but I have to at least try.

  “Do you remember this, my Peach?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “And did you miss it?”

  I can’t find the power to answer him, so I nod.

  His brow quirks when he recognizes my response. “You do?”

  “Maybe not the actual knife,” I clarify with a breath of laughter. “But it definitely had a way of making me feel alive.”

  Scraping his thumb along the sharp edge, he replies, “It does. Are you ready to play?”

  “I-I was thinking we could play my game instead this time?”

  “And what game is that?”

  “I’ll need my hands to show it to you.” My voice trembles with every word, but I hope he thinks it’s because of excitement and not fear.

  “I’m not stupid, Peach,” he tsks.

  “I never said you were. I actually think you’re pretty clever for snatching me out of Kingston’s estate without anyone catching you.”

  His mouth twitches with a smile, but he doesn’t comment.

  “You asked me what I’d be willing to do for water, and I’m willing to show you. But I need my hands.”

  Still, he hesitates.

  “Come on, Sei,” I urge him, hating the way his name tastes on my tongue. “We’ve played this game before, haven’t we? And have I ever tried to run?”

  “You tried last night,” he counters. His grip tightens around the wooden handle of his knife.

  “And look where that got me. With a twisted ankle, a mind-melting headache, and a mouth that feels like sandpaper. You really think I’d be stupid enough to try something like that when you have a knife in your hand?” I lift my chin toward the said object, and his gaze drops down to it. Fascinated, he tilts the blade left and right until the natural light from the window glints back at me.

  Then he looks up at me. His stare feels like a physical caress as it licks at every inch of my exposed skin. And I’m definitely exposed. In nothing but my underwear and a tank top, I’m vulnerable, which is exactly how he likes me.

  “Why are you shaking?” he demands.

  Because I’m terrified? I want to point out sarcastically, but I bite my tongue and answer, “I think it’s a side effect of the drugs you used on me. My entire body feels like a shaken-up bottle of Coke.”

  Licking his lips, Sei stalks closer and drags the flat side of the blade against my outer thigh, fascinated by the way my skin pebbles under its touch. But I don’t shy away from it. Instead, I drop my thighs open and force my muscles to relax.

  His breath hitches. Then he digs into his pocket and retrieves the key to my handcuffs.

  “Alright, Peach. I’ll play along. Let’s see how sweet you can be.”

  He fumbles with the lock while I scramble to remember the techniques Diece taught me. My breathing is far from steady, but I try to hide it from my captor. When the handcuff unlatches, my arm falls onto the mattress. The blood starts to recirculate, sending prickling tingles from my shoulder to my fingertips before I pull my arm into my chest and flex my hand.

  One down. One to go.

  With his crotch inches from my face, he leans over me and toys with the second lock. Keeping my expression free from disgust, I wait to be released. The knife rests on the edge of the bed near my thigh so that he could use both his hands. But he would expect me to strike now with my newfound freedom. He’s not stupid.

  Which means I need to keep up this charade for a little while longer. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough, brave enough, or broken enough to follow through with it.

  My pulse flutters like a baby bird’s wings as it struggles to fly. It’s erratic and disoriented but desperate enough to keep trying. Licking my lips, I hold his stare and slowly reach down to the knife.

  He watches every movement with an arrogant smirk that tells me I’m not getting away with shit before I offer it to him. “Here.”

  Lips flattening, he takes it with furrowed brows. “What are you doing, Peach?”

  “You’re not stupid, Sei. And neither am I,” I return.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not going to let me get away again. So, why should I piss you off by trying when that would just mean more pain for me?”

  “So what are you suggesting?” There’s a curious glint in his eye that urges me on.

  With my back pressed into the mattress, I move slowly so that it doesn’t startle him and reach up to cup his cheek. It’s almost clammy with a light sheen of sweat clinging to it, but I hide my disgust and press forward. “I’ve experienced pleasure before, Sei. And if we’re going to have sex, then I might as well enjoy it with you, right?”

  His evil grin terrifies me as he counters, “Who says I want you to enjoy it?”

  “You did. The moment you called me your Peach. I’m special to you, aren’t I?”

  He stays quiet, but his eyes bounce over my face, searching for my sincerity. I just hope I can convince him that it’s there.

  Lifting my head from the pillow, I close the distance between our mouths while holding his gaze with mine. My chest rises and falls with an unsteady rhythm, but I pray he doesn’t interpret it for what it really is. Fear.

  “We’ve never kissed,” I whisper, ignoring the way my stomach churns as his acrid breath fans against my cheeks.

  “No,” he breathes.

  “Can I kiss you?”

&nbs
p; He tilts his head to the side but doesn’t refuse, so I do the honors and run my tongue along the seam of his lips. He tastes like sour milk mixed with a dirty ashtray.

  I want to vomit, but I swallow it back.

  His groan is animalistic as he tangles his fingers into the back of my head and pillages my mouth with his tongue. Sucking it into my mouth, the tears stream down my cheeks while my nightmares threaten to consume me. It’s too much. Too many memories. Too many senses on high alert, threatening to drag me back to the tortured girl I was in that room.

  Focus, Q.

  I hook my ankle around his leg the way Diece taught me and roll Sei onto his back so that I’m straddling him. His once liquid muscles turn rigid beneath me as if he’d anticipated my move before I grind my hips against him and bend forward to kiss him again.

  “Shhh,” I whisper against his putrid lips. “Let me enjoy it.”

  Then I slip my tongue back into his mouth and fake a long moan that would make a porn star proud.

  With another groan, his hands find my ass and keep me in place, pushing himself against my core.

  But that means he isn’t holding the knife anymore. And I’m in control on top. Just like Diece taught me. Continuing to kiss Sei, I blindly search for the forgotten blade on the mattress, but all I feel is the cotton sheets. His hand inches up my tank top, and I know I’m seconds from no return when a sharp bite of pain blossoms along my fingertips.

  I found it.

  Grabbing the handle, I take a deep breath then plunge the pointy end into Sei’s side with all of my strength. He shoves me off him, and I crash onto the ground with a hard thump as the blood seeps a few inches above his hip bone.

  “What the hell did you do?” he shouts, his face red with fury.

  I scramble back like a little sand crab toward the hallway. But he’s too quick. Too determined. Too filled up with rage and adrenaline to let the pain from his wound consume him for long enough to let me get away. Like a snake, his arm darts out and grabs my ankle. Then I’m dragged toward him. My screams feel like blades against my raw throat, but I don’t stop yelling, praying someone can hear me and will call the cops as I kick my legs as hard as I can and claw my way across the ground to get away from him.

  But it’s no use. With both hands diffusing my feeble attempt to get away, he throws me onto my back and climbs on top of me. I try to throw him off me, twisting back and forth, but he pins me down with his weight and throws his legs on both sides of my waist. I can’t move. Claustrophobia sets in, making me feel like I’ve run a freaking marathon as I try to catch my breath. My chest rises and falls way too quickly to do me any good, but I can’t stop it. I feel like I can’t breathe.

  Then he cocks his arm back and hits me in the side of the face. My head snaps to my right while the familiar sensation explodes across my cheekbone.

  Shiiit.

  His fists are deadly. I try to protect my face with my forearms, but it’s useless. I can still feel it all.

  At least it’s not a knife, I think to myself, before pushing aside the sarcastic glimpse of insanity that I’m currently swimming in.

  My vision blurs with dancing black spots that I can’t blink away. He hits me again. And again. And again.

  “Six!” I plead, delirious. “Six. Six. Six.” The safe word tumbles out of me over and over again in cadence with his fists. But I can’t control myself from muttering the useless gibberish that falls on deaf ears. I know it’s a waste of precious time. I know he’s probably getting off on it. But there’s comfort in the word. A weight of respect that should accompany it. A promise to end the pain. The suffering.

  All of it.

  If only Diece could hear it.

  Then I’d be safe.

  I’d be with him.

  I’m seconds from slipping under. The damage from his punishing brutality is too much to handle. But at least I fought. At least I tried. That has to count for something. Maybe Diece would be proud of me even though I didn’t get away.

  I can feel my face swelling as the darkness threatens to pull me under when a loud bang breaks its way through my ringing ears. Sei’s head snaps toward it before he delivers a final, brutal punch.

  One that sends me into oblivion.

  35

  Diece

  “What’s the plan?” Dex asks from the back seat as our car rolls past the stop sign. At least the intersection was empty.

  I squeeze the steering wheel a little tighter and wait for Kingston’s orders, but the bastard doesn’t say a word.

  “Boss?” Stefan prods next to Dex in the back.

  Glancing to my right, Kingston stares back at me from the passenger seat.

  “Depends on what Diece wants,” he returns.

  “You’re the boss,” I counter.

  “Today, it looks like we’re at your disposal. How do you want to handle this?”

  This.

  As in, how do I want to handle the motherfucker who has been holing up in Ace’s apartment, scrambled our cameras, kidnapped Q, and has likely been raping her ever since?

  My jaw tics before I push the gas pedal down further. The streets blur as I race toward the rundown apartment like a bat out of Hell.

  “D?” Kingston prods.

  “If she’s still alive, then she deserves to look the bastard in the eyes when he dies. We’ll take him with us to the shed.”

  There’s a heavy silence that sucks all the oxygen from the cab of the black Cadillac before Dex clears his throat. “And if she’s not?”

  “Then, he’s mine.”

  The tires screech against the black pavement as I turn into the parking lot. Shoving the car into park, we open our doors in unison then scan the area for witnesses. Other than the homeless guy near the back of the lot, it’s empty.

  The light near the entrance flickers like a horror movie, hinting at the climax that is guaranteed to chill my bones. I shake off the thought, then pull out my pistol and let the stairs take my weight as we creep up them.

  When we reach Ace’s door, I brush my index finger against my lips and strain to hear anything on the opposite side.

  A loud thump reverberates through it.

  My blood is pulsing in my ears as the unfamiliar rush of fear damn near chokes me. Dex lifts his chin toward the handle.

  It’s locked.

  “Six. Six. Six,” a soft voice whimpers through the door. And it’s more than I can take.

  The door flies open with a heavy kick, and I raise my gun in the air before surveying the apartment that once belonged to Ace. The small family room is trashed but empty, along with the barren kitchen that’s littered with empty take-out containers. He’s been holed up in here for a while.

  Elbows locked and my finger on the trigger, I take another step into the apartment and study the dark hallway that leads to Ace’s bedroom. An unconscious Q lies on the floor. She looks more like an abused ragdoll than the woman I’ve fallen for. And it confirms my worst fears.

  I close the distance between us as fast as I can when a large shadow catches my attention from my periphery. Running on pure adrenaline and instinct, I dive for the figure at the last instant, catching us both by surprise. He scrambles for the knife at the foot of the bed, but I yank him back by his long, greasy hair before slamming his body against the floor with all my strength. Like a little bitch, he squeals when my fist connects with the left side of his face, but it only fuels my fury. His blood splatters along my arms and once-white shirt before a set of arms drags me back.

  “He’s out, man. He’s out.”

  “I’m gonna kill—”

  “Let Q have her shot first,” Dex reminds me. “Like you said, she’s earned it, remember?”

  Her name snaps me back to reality, and I scramble toward her still unconscious body that’s surrounded by Stefan and Kingston, who are checking for a pulse before I shove them away and take their place beside her.

  “She’s okay,” Kingston informs me.

  “Bullshit,” I spi
t back at him. I know my anger is misplaced, but I can’t help it. Ignoring my guilt for a later day, I cup her bruised cheek and cradle her head in my lap. Her nose is broken and will have to be reset. Her eyes are nearly swollen shut with dark hues of purple and blue marring her perfect skin. But her lips are slightly parted as she breathes in and out in a steady rhythm that holds an ounce of hope.

  “Q,” I murmur. The rage slowly seeps from my pores and is replaced with overwhelming helplessness that acts like a knife to my ribs. “Q, wake up.”

  A soft moan slips out of her as she nuzzles into my touch. When her brows pinch in pain, my chest follows suit.

  “Let’s get her out of here,” Kingston suggests. “We can help her more at home.”

  With a lump in my throat, I nod and lift her into my arms, cradling her against me.

  A satisfied Kingston turns to Dex and spits, “Make sure he’s secure, then put him in the trunk.”

  “Sure thing, Boss.”

  “Oh. And find Johnson’s laptop,” he adds.

  Then we leave. I’m just not sure if it’s with my Q in my arms or the same broken girl I first met who refused to give me a chance.

  Because I failed her.

  I didn’t keep her safe.

  And it’ll be my greatest regret for the rest of my life.

  36

  Q

  “Hey,” a low voice murmurs, tugging at my memories. I know that voice. The sound pulls me from my deep sleep like I was doused in cold water.

  My eyelids flutter open. The room is painted with soft light from the open balcony window. The familiar sight is like a balm to my frazzled emotions. I’m back at Kingston’s estate. I’m safe. I’m free. Which means he found me. He saved me.

  “Hey,” D repeats with a soft smile. But the worry lines seem permanently etched between his brows as he inspects me closer. “How are you feeling?”

  A light laugh escapes me, followed by a wince as a cut on my lip splits itself open.