Take Me to Bed: A Collection of Naughty Bedtime Stories

by Michelle Windsor

  I wondered if they had another tarp for my body.

  A whimper escaped, and my shaking intensified.

  "Don't look at them. Look at me," he ordered.

  My gaze snapped back to his.

  "What is your name?"

  "It doesn't matter. No one will miss me."

  "I asked you your name."

  "Evelyn. But I go by Evie."

  Why I told him that, I had no idea.

  "Who did this to you?"

  Why was he toying with me?

  Why didn't he just kill me?

  "Does it really matter?"

  He bent, bringing his face close to mine. "You, Evie, are trying my patience. You need to learn something. If I ask a question, you answer. If I say do something, you do it. You understand?"

  "Y–yes," I breathed out, trying to control the shudders that made my body jerk in small spasms.

  "Who did this to you?"

  "His name is Alan."

  "Is Alan your husband?"

  I felt a flash of anger. "Why? If he was, does that give him the right?"

  His eyes narrowed, glittering, angry, and black in the muted light. "No."

  My shoulders slumped. "No, he isn't. He was my boyfriend. He started beating me after my dad died."

  "When was that?"

  "S–six months ago," I choked out.

  "Did your father like this man?"

  I didn't understand his line of questioning or why he cared.

  "No. He didn't."

  He rubbed his chin. "Your father was a smart man. Tell me."

  I swallowed the painful lump in my throat. "My dad got sick, and I left work to look after him. When he died, Alan insisted I move in with him until I found a job, and that was when it started. It's been getting worse. He always apologized and promised not to do it again. Then a month ago, it stopped. I thought he had changed. He brought me here to Chicago on a business trip. Except when we got here, I found out it wasn't a…business trip."

  "And?"

  I shut my eyes as the tears flowed. "He had planned to take me to some sort of party. Sh–sharing me with other men. He'd stopped beating me so I wouldn't be bruised. When I found out, I tried to leave. He got angry and lost it." I wiped at my cheeks, knowing tears were useless. "He slapped me, threw me against a table, and I fell to the floor. I pretended to be unconscious. He left me there in the hotel room and went to get a drink downstairs. I knew when he came back he was going to start again. I ran."

  "After you took his money."

  "I–I thought at least I deserved that. I had nothing else left. I needed some money to find a place to stay."

  "And you ended up here."

  That was all he said. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me. There was an odd expression on his face. He leaned against the side of the old desk, his arms crossed.

  "What hotel?"

  I wanted to ask him why he cared, but I remembered his earlier warning. "The Conrad."

  One of his men walked into the room. "It's done, Boss. Vince is taking out the garbage."

  The devil stood. "Fine."

  "You want me to handle this?" He nodded toward me.

  The Boss didn't say anything. He regarded me with his dark eyes, silent and watchful.

  "I'd be happy to take her elsewhere and handle it. I'd enjoy handling her, if you get my drift," he added, leering at me. "An added bonus for a job well done tonight."

  It happened so fast. My terror grew knowing what was about to happen. My life would end tonight, but before it did, I would be subjected to even more pain and humiliation. The devil spun on his heel, momentarily distracted, cursing and shouting. I lunged, grabbing the gun on the desk, pushing it up under my chin.

  I backed away, my hand shaking, the cold metal of the gun pressing into my skin.

  The men froze, and the Boss stepped back, meeting my eyes.

  "Give me the gun, Evie."

  "No," I rasped out. "I wouldn't let Alan, and I won't let you give me away like some piece of trash."

  He moved toward me, his voice commanding and lethal. "Give me the goddamn gun."

  I cocked the trigger, and he stopped. "No. At least this way, I'm in control."

  "You don't have to do this—you don't want to do this."

  I barked out a laugh. "Why? So you get the pleasure? At least I get to deny you that much."

  "Evie," he warned.

  "I'm going to die tonight. I have nothing left. At least I can do it myself." I met his eyes. "Please give the money to someone who needs it."

  He nodded, holding up his hands. I slammed my eyes shut and pushed harder, the gun digging into my skin.

  With a final shuddering breath, I pulled the trigger.

  3

  Matteo

  There was nothing I could do but pray. If I tried to tackle her, more than one person could die. I couldn't talk to her—she wouldn't listen. So all I could do was pray.

  Pray the fucking chamber that had advanced didn't contain a bullet. The revolver should only have five bullets in it, if my men had done as I instructed.

  And they always did.

  "Not her." That was the odd thought that ran through my head as I stared.

  I shouldn't care. It would save me a lot of trouble, but I didn't want her to die.

  The sound of the trigger and striking metal were loud in the room, but there was no bullet. I had no time to be grateful as I lunged forward and grabbed the gun away from Evie, hauling her tense form back to my body.

  Frank shook his head. "Stupid bitch. You should have let her die, Boss. I would have." Then he laughed menacingly. "But at least we can still fuck around with her."

  Evie hadn't moved. She hadn't made a sound since the gun failed to give her what she wanted. Death. But when Frank spoke, her body began to tremble. Long violent convulsions racked her frame. She was beyond petrified, yet she didn't struggle against my hold.

  She was strong. Stronger than she knew. But my loathing of Frank had grown, and his time was up. What I planned to happen later was happening now.

  "Mark," I called.

  He appeared.

  "Bring me the package."

  "Boss?"

  "Now."

  I moved forward, pushing Evie down into the wooden chair where I had first discovered her. "You will sit there and not move—do you understand? You will remain in that fucking chair no matter what happens next."

  Only her terrified, shortened breathing answered me.

  I faced Frank who was watching me with a bored, insolent look on his face.

  That would be changing soon.

  There was a commotion from the other room as Mark returned with the package. He dragged in a highly angry and vocal Carly. She twisted and clawed at him, cursing and hurling obscenities. He flung her on the floor, brushing off his sleeves.

  "Bitch."

  Frank rushed past me, snarling. "What the fuck are you doing?" He kneeled beside Carly, whispering—no doubt telling her to let him do the talking.

  I checked the gun, and once satisfied, I cast a final warning look at Evie. "Don't move."

  I strolled in the room. "I got you a gift, Frank."

  "What's going on? Why is my wife here?"

  I walked around them, scratching my chin with the gun. "Imagine my shock, when the crew discovered a new child pornography ring, and Carly's name came up as being part of it."

  "Impossible," he sputtered.

  I stopped in front of them, ignoring his denial. "Then, when we dug further, we discovered she had help—your help."

  He shook his head. "Lies, Matteo. All lies. You know I'm loyal. I would never…"

  I narrowed my eyes, pointing my gun. "Filth, scum—the lowest of humanity that preys on the weak and the defenseless. The very basis of what we do, and now I find out you’re one of them?"

  "No, no…"

  I cocked my head to the side. The rest of my crew leaned against the walls, watching. I could feel their hate growing. Frank had never fi
t in. He was never part of us. Garrett had been blind to his weakness.

  I pointed the gun between them, cocking the hammer. "I have proof that one of you is part of this. One of you speak up. I'll spare the other."

  Carly pushed to her feet. "It was Frank! It was his idea—he said with all the contacts you had he could find everything he needed to make his own ring! He wanted to make millions and he didn't care who he hurt!"

  I had planned to set them up, pitting them against each other, playing Russian roulette with the gun. I wanted to watch them throw each other under the bus and fight for their lives. But Evie had changed that plan. I no longer had one empty chamber.

  I squeezed the trigger, the pleading on Carly's face turning to shock. She sank to the floor, grasping her chest as blood spread, pooling around her.

  Frank stared at her, no emotion showing on his face. He turned his head, a sneer on his face. "I knew she was up to something. And trying to pin it on me. You can't trust a fucking woman. Right, Boss?"

  I lifted the gun. "Right."

  He was dead before he hit the floor.

  There was an odd sound from the room behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Evie was hunched over, dry heaving. She rested her head in her hands, her shoulders hunched in defeat.

  I glanced down at the bodies at my feet. I should feel shame. Guilt at taking human life. All I felt looking at them was disgust.

  "Mark."

  He approached. "Yeah, Boss?"

  "Get rid of them. Liquidate everything they had. It all goes to the fund."

  "I'll get Alex to start right away."

  "Yes."

  "What about her?" He indicated Evie with a lift of his shoulder.

  "I need a wet cloth."

  "Um, Boss?"

  "And bring around the car."

  He opened his mouth to speak, then seeing the look on my face, changed his mind.

  "Okay."

  I held out the gun. "You know what to do." I nudged Frank's foot. "I want his memory wiped away. Completely. His name gets no respect."

  "I'll make sure of it."

  "Good."

  I approached Evie, my hands held out. She was a huddled mass in the chair, shaking like a leaf. "I'm not going to hurt you."

  Her mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.

  I handed her the cloth. She stared at it, making no move to use it. With a low sigh, I tilted up her face, wiping it, then her hands. Her skin was pale and her hands cold. I tossed the cloth aside.

  I set a bottle of water on the desk. "I thought you might need that."

  She attempted to reach for the bottle, but her hand shook so hard it fell over. When she finally picked it up, she couldn't control herself enough to open the bottle. The bottle fell to the floor, rolling away, unopened. She stared at it, not moving.

  I kneeled and picked up the bottle, wiping it on my sleeve. I twisted off the top and held it to her mouth.

  "Drink."

  She didn't move. Her eyes fixed behind me, her gaze vacant.

  Maybe I had misjudged her. Perhaps this was too much for her and I needed to rethink my plan.

  I grasped the back of her neck, pressing the bottle to her mouth. "I said drink."

  She swallowed. Then again. She drank until the bottle was empty.

  "Better?"

  "Y–yes," she rasped.

  "What did you just see?"

  "You killed those people."

  "And you're scared of me?"

  She was honest. "Yes."

  I stood. "Do you have any family?"

  She bit her lip, lifting a trembling hand, pushing her hair off her face. A dark bruise skated the length of her cheek. My fists tightened at the sight of it.

  "No. Not anymore."

  When they started cleaning up the bodies, her gaze shifted, and I snapped my fingers.

  "Here. Me. Focus on me. Nothing else."

  Her eyes shifted back to mine.

  "When I'm in the room, that's all you pay attention to. Nothing else, do you understand?"

  "Okay," she whispered.

  I kept questioning her. Her replies were short and non-committal. I repeated myself, and she never faltered. Her gaze never strayed from my face. My determination grew, the inkling of an earlier idea, solidifying.

  "I have a problem, Evie."

  "Me."

  "Yes. No matter what you say, you did see something. You saw a lot."

  "I know."

  "I can't let you go."

  A shudder ran through her. "May I please ask you something?”

  I withheld my smirk. She was a fast learner. "Yes."

  "Just kill me. Don't let anyone…"

  I leaned closer. "Why are you so willing to die?"

  "I have nothing left. Even if you let me go, Alan would find me and either beat me to death or worse."

  "Worse?"

  She only nodded. Without explanation, I knew what she meant.

  I was shocked when she reached out her hand, touching mine. I could feel the tremors racing through her, and strangely, I didn't mind her touch.

  "Please make it fast and give the money away. Don't let anyone else near me." A tear ran down her face. "Please, Boss."

  I covered her hand with mine.

  "I can't do that, Evie."

  She began to shake her head, getting ready to beg. I interrupted her.

  "I can't kill you. I don’t kill innocents.”

  "I–I don't understand. You can't let me go."

  I stood. "No, I can't." I raised my voice. "Vince!"

  He appeared at the door, his massive shoulders almost filling the space.

  "Is the car here?"

  "Yeah."

  "We're going to the house."

  "Roger that."

  "Call Geo and Father John. I want them both to meet us there. We'll be leaving in five minutes."

  He hid his surprise. "Done." He turned and walked away.

  Evie stared at me.

  "I don't understand what's happening."

  "Geo is my personal physician. He will examine you, so I know you're all right."

  "And your father?"

  I smirked. "Not my father. My priest."

  Her brow furrowed. "You're going to make sure I'm all right, then give me last rites?"

  I shook my head. "No. He is going to marry us."

  4

  Evie

  After making his announcement, I gaped up at the man standing in front of me.

  "What?" I sputtered.

  "I can't let you go. I can't kill you, so I have no other choice."

  I looked over his shoulder to the room behind him, remembering what I had witnessed.

  "You killed those people—I saw you do it."

  He lifted one shoulder. "Yes."

  “I expected you to kill me."

  "We don't kill innocents. Ever. But I need your silence."

  I pointed behind him. "They–they weren't innocents?"

  "No," he snapped.

  "I don't understand."

  "Under the law, you can't be forced to testify against your husband. I already know you're a loyal person. You'll marry me for the protection I offer you; I will marry you for your silence, and…” His voice trailed off. "You will be safe,” he repeated.

  "But those people…"

  He pulled me to my feet, holding onto my arms when I swayed. "I will explain when I’m ready to explain. You don't question what I do. How I do it. You need to accept this. Accept me." He shook me gently. "There's no choice here."

  His voice was low, and he met my eyes steadily, no emotion showing.

  He was right. What choice did I have?

  "Will you hurt me?" I whispered.

  His face softened, but he stood tall, with conviction. "No. I will protect what's mine."

  The dull light emphasized the dark color of his eyes. As he studied my face, they became liquid and warm. His expression changed, the stress leaving his face. He looked handsome, almost approachable. He raised o
ne eyebrow quizzically. "Well?"

  "I don't know your name."

  He smiled; it was slight, but it changed his features. He stepped back, shrugging off his coat, draping it around my shoulders. "My name is Matteo."

  "Why?" I breathed. "Why don't you just kill me? You don't know me. I don't mean anything to you."

  He tilted his head, studying me. "I can't kill someone so beautiful and innocent, and whose only mistake was stumbling into a place she shouldn't. You've already been punished." He ran his finger down my cheek. "And you are wrong. You do mean something. Time will tell us what that is."

  I shook my head, still confused. "But…why?"

  He held out his hand, his tone brooking no argument. "Because I can." He waited as I stared at his outstretched palm. "Your choice, Evie. I suggest you choose wisely."

  I let him lead me out of the building.

  The car raced down the highway, the rhythmic sounds of the tires almost soothing. Beside me, like a silent sentinel, was Matteo. He had been busy on his phone, spitting out orders in the same foreign language he used earlier, and now he stared out the window.

  "Were you…were you speaking Italian?" I asked bravely.

  "Yes."

  "Ah."

  "When we arrive, you don't ask questions. You don't fight. I expect you to show respect and act like a lady. Do you understand?"

  A tremor ran through my body. "Yes."

  I was surprised when his large hand covered mine. "I will not leave you alone, unless needed. I will help you through the evening. I know you're hurt and exhausted. I promise you, Evie, you will not be mistreated. But I need your promise you will do as I ask."

  His eyes were serious, his touch gentle, and his voice low. In that moment, he was only a man reassuring me. My fear lessened at his promise.

  "I will."

  He squeezed my hand. "Good girl."

  Those two words brought me unexplainable comfort. The odd sensation of wanting to please him surprised me.

  When the car stopped, Matteo helped me out and escorted me inside. The house was large and grand, and I felt overwhelmed. I stumbled, and Matteo's arm shot out, steadying me. He didn't stop, sweeping me up into his embrace and climbing the steps. I felt surprisingly safe in his arms. He set me on my feet in a spacious room, sliding his coat off my shoulders. Then he urged me toward a door.