by Kylie Kent
Standing in a corner of the dark room, he doesn’t know I’m here yet. He doesn’t know that I relish the sound of his cries and pleas for help that’s never going to come.
Down here there is nobody to hear him scream, I wait a few more minutes for the fight that’s about to happen in the cage between Bray and Smith to start. The noise of the crowd will drown out this fucker’s screams. When I hear the roar of the crowd, I take a breath in, inhaling the smells of the basement, a dampness mixed with blood. Counting down in my head, knowing that I am going to get my hands on the douche anytime now.
I wait until I hear the ref’s whistle before I make myself known to the arsehole tied to my chair. “Smell that?” I ask, watching as he jumps, turning his head left and right attempting to see where I am. It’s useless though, he’s blindfolded and can’t see for shit.
“Who are you? Why am I here? Let me go,” he pleads, already begging before the fun begins, figures.
“I’m the guy about to give you a lesson on what happens to fuckers who drug innocent women in my fucking club.” I get right up to his face before whispering in his ear, “and I will enjoy every damn minute of this lesson.”
He pisses himself, literally just fucking pisses himself, the wet patch growing on the front of his jeans. Figures any guy that needs to resort to drugging a woman is a weak piece of shit.
Landing a punch to his stomach, then another to his face, I relish in the blood splatters that come from his mouth. Now I’m smiling, it’s a shame he can’t see how damn much I’m enjoying this.
The sight of his blood, that I caused it, releases something in me.
His cries get louder, “please, please let me go man, I did nothing.”
Pathetic is what he is. “Scream all you want mate, no one can hear you down here. And even if they could hear, they wouldn’t save you.”
He struggles against the ropes on his arms. Holding his head still, I land another punch to his ribs then one to his face. Letting go, he falls backwards, chair and all.
“Fuck you, untie me and fight me like a real man.” Now he tries to be brave, the fucker probably thinks I won’t fight him if he’s not tied down. Think again, motherfucker. Bending down, I remove the blindfold and nod to Dean, giving him the signal to cut the ties loose.
“Wha … what … what are you doing?” he sputters as Dean approaches, flicking the knife between his fingers.
“Making your wish come true, fucker. I’m cutting those ties so you can fight the boss like a real man.”
Dean laughs and kicks him in his stomach before leaning down and cutting the ties loose. The douche scoots backwards on his arse until he hits the wall.
“Stand up!” I command.
“N … n … no, please. You don’t have to do this, just let me go. I won’t say nothing to nobody.” He’s shaking his head back and forth violently.
“I thought you wanted to fight me like a real man? Now get the fuck off the floor!” I approach him, he still doesn’t stand up to fight, I kick him in his ribs and he goes into the foetal position crying like the mother fucking pansy arse he is.
I go at him landing punches to his face and torso, before I turn back to Dean who’s watching with a huge arse grin on his face, sadistic bastard that he is.
“Got that drink I had James send down here?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says as he walks over to the table picking up the drink.
“Good, make sure he drinks the whole thing before you throw his ass out to the back alley.” I walk out, hearing the asshole screaming and begging. I don’t need to be there for the rest, I have an angel that needs taking care of back in my office.
Chapter Three
Alyssa
My head feels like a hundred little men with big hammers are pounding away on my brain. Pound. Thump. Pound. Thump. Argh, I slowly try to open my eyes to the world. “Bright,” I mumble out to nobody but myself.
My angel fairy must be listening today because I hear the shifting of fabric and the room becomes darker. Much better, I try to open my eyes again, slowly coming back to reality.
Why is my bed so damn hard? Wait. I open my eyes. That’s when I see him. That’s when I realise I am most definitely not in my bedroom. Because, one thing I know for sure, the god sitting in the chair across from me would not be following a girl like me to my bedroom, or any room.
“Morning sunshine.” Oh god, he talks. His voice. A husky rumble that goes straight through to my core. He’s looking straight at me with a smirk on his face, one raised eyebrow, like he’s waiting for something.
“Ah … umm.” I stumble over my words.
“Usually the response would be good morning. I’d even accept morning handsome, morning sexy; your choice really I’m not picky.” Picky, maybe. Cocky, definitely.
“Morning?” My greeting comes out more of a question than an actual greeting. “Where am I? Do I know you? Oh god, we didn’t, did we?”
I freak out as I look underneath the jacket that lies on top of my dress, my dress which is still in place, thank god. I mentally run an internal category of my body, my head hurts for sure, my stomach is seedy; but other parts, the important parts, nothing. Surely if we did anything, I would feel something, right?
Looking at him, I don’t see how I wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to get him naked. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans, black v-neck shirt that stretches across his chest and broad shoulders, and black boots. Did he just come from a photoshoot? His biceps are on show from the short sleeves of the shirt.
He’s not disgustingly huge like a bodybuilder. Just the right amount of muscle, enough to know he takes care of himself and spends time in a gym. His shirt is tucked in slightly to the waist of jeans, which hang low on his hips.
His hair is damp like he’s just stepped out of the shower, mmm now that I would like the see, him in a shower, water running down his body. I’m pulled from my thoughts as I hear his laugh, it’s deep and rough, almost like his voice is not used to the concept of laughing.
He’s laughing at my obvious distress. “Trust me sunshine, if we did,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “you would most certainly remember, not to mention feel it for the next few days.”
Yep, most definitely a cocky ass, probably has girls falling at his feet left and right. Why does that thought make me want to throw up even more?
He hands me a bottle of water and aspirin that were sitting on the table. “Take these and drink this, you can thank me later.”
I swallow the pills and drink half the bottle of water before looking back at him. “Thank you, but you didn’t answer my question, where am I and how did I get here?” I wave my arm around the office I woke up in, then take a moment to look around the space. It’s obvious no money was spared fitting out this office. A huge mahogany desk sits centred in front of wall to ceiling windows that overlook the view of the Sydney Harbour. Dark timber shelving line the walls, some stacked with bottles and glasses, others with photographs, books and ornaments.
“You’re in my office, I carried you up here after you collapsed on me down at the bar.”
Bits of night come start coming back, I remember sitting at the bar, I remember staring at the man who now sits in front of me, GQ, and then I remember Ethan.
“Ethan?” I question, unsure what happened to my date, unsure if I exactly care what happened to him either.
At the mention of the name Mr GQ looks away from me, face hard as stone clenching his jaw. “He your boyfriend or something?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Or something,” I answer shrugging. He doesn’t seem happy with my answer, just stares blankly at me like he’s waiting for more. Well, he can keep waiting, I’m not one to discuss my ins and outs with strangers. “Have you got a bathroom I can use?” I ask as I stand up on wobbly legs, looking up at him as I regain my balance.
“Through there.” He nods to a door. I pick up my clutch from the table and make my way into the bathroom, shut and lock the door beh
ind me.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I say out loud as I try not to panic at my current situation. I pull my phone out to see a million missed calls and texts from Sarah, Reilley and Holly. Sarah must've told them I didn’t come home. I read through Sarah’s texts first.
Sarah: Where are you? I thought you’d be home by now.
Sarah: Seriously Lyssa, text me back so I know you’re still alive.
Sarah: Ok, if you don’t call me back, I will come and hunt you down.
Sarah: You left me no choice, I had to call Holly and Reilly. Now you have three pissed off friends. Seriously call me back so I know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere!!!
Sarah: Wait, you’re not dead in a ditch, are you? Shit, because if you are, I will revive you just to KILL you myself for making me develop stress wrinkles.
Holly: Lyssa, there’s no shame in getting your freak on. There is shame in making your friends worry, text me back so we know you're still breathing.
Reilley: Is he hot?
At this, I laugh a little and then stop myself as I realise I’m probably sounding like a crazy person to Mr GQ on the other side of the door. I quickly send out a group text to the three of them.
Lyssa: Not dead, not in a ditch, be home soon!
Not even three seconds later my phone vibrates in my hand, I don’t bother opening their messages. Looking in the mirror I audibly shriek at the reflection staring back at me. Racoon eyes much?
“Jeez, no wonder he was staring,” I mumble to myself. I make quick work of doing my business, washing my hands and face before picking my phone back up and opening up the Uber app.
I walk back out of the bathroom to find Mr GQ standing at his desk, at least I think it’s his desk, he looks like he belongs here. Realising I’m staring at him again, I look back down at my phone.
“I’m just going to call for an Uber and be on my way, thanks for whatever it is you did for me last night.”
“No,” he says staring straight at me. I swear he can see right into my soul; his stare is penetrating, mmm penetrating. Damn it, now I’m thinking of him penetrating in other ways.
Shaking my head, I question him “No? What do you mean, no?”
“Exactly that. No, you won’t be getting an Uber home. I’ll drive you.” I must look like a confused nut job around this guy, he never seems to make sense to me.
“Well that’s nice of you, but I don’t even know you, I’ll just take an Uber.”
“Do you know every Uber driver in Sydney?” he asks.
“What? Of course I don’t know every Uber driver in Sydney,” I respond, shaking my head at him.
“So, it’s safe to get in a car with a complete stranger, but not safe to get a lift home with the guy who saved you from being date raped last night?” He’s so matter of fact.
“What do you mean date raped? I wasn’t …”
“No, you weren’t, but you would have been had I not stepped in. That guy you were at the bar with, Ethan,” he clenches his jaw as he grinds out the name, “I watched him put Rohypnol in your drink at the bar. Although he must have already given you something before you came in here because you passed out without even touching the drink you ordered.”
Holy shit, someone drugged me, no wonder my head feels like shit, I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say to GQ so instead, I stand awkwardly staring at him.
I finally decide that I have manners. Reaching my hand out I say, “hi, I’m Alyssa, and thanks for helping me out last night. It’s all a bit foggy for me. I remember being at the restaurant and then coming in here for a drink. I remember seeing you at the bar, I mean, how could I forget seeing you. That’s not a face anyone would forget in a hurry, and oh god, now I’m rambling. I’m just going to shut up now and go home.”
Before I can even turn around, he grabs my hand and I’m stunned again at the zap of electricity going through my body. I wonder if he feels it too because he says nothing for a beat, just looks at me confused.
He gives his head a subtle shake before speaking. “I’m Zac. Zachary Williams, but you can call me Zac, and I’m still driving you home.”
With that, he picks up a pair of keys from his desk. He walks over to the couch to pick up his jacket before turning back to me and placing it over my shoulders, wrapping me up in his scent. It seems like such an odd and intimate gesture, something someone I don’t know shouldn’t be doing. It feels right, though.
The fabric is soft. I gather the top of the jacket in my hands and bring it to my nose and sniff. It smells like him, woodsy with a mix of citrus. If he thinks it’s strange that I literally sniffed his jacket, he doesn’t say anything, just smirks at me showing me a dimple I can see myself licking. Before I can lose myself in my head again, he places his hand on my lower back as he leads me out of the office.
“Come.”
I shiver at the demand, wild thoughts of him demanding me to come while spread out naked on his desk run through my mind. I contemplate how his hand feels warm, complete opposite to how Ethan’s hand felt when he touched me last night.
The thought of Ethan makes me furious, how dare he drug me. I don’t have time to stew on my anger now. As Zac, aka GQ, leads me through the building I’m focused on trying not to trip over myself with all the people around openly gawking at me? At him?
Zac leads me out through a back door that opens to a car park, grabbing my hand he takes me over to the passenger side of the closest car to the door, well at least I think it’s a car. It’s shiny, black and has wheels so it must be a car, right? Zac presses a button on the door, which has the door automatically opening out and then up. Ok, so definitely not an ordinary car.
“Get in,” he grumbles.
I tentatively duck into the car, turning to him. “You know, you really don’t need to drive me, I can find my way home.”
He silently presses a button on the door and suddenly I’m closed inside what is no doubt the fanciest car I’ve ever seen. I’m too frightened to move on the off chance I dirty or break something. Sitting there frozen, I watch as Zac makes his way around the front of the car before climbing into the driver’s side.
He shut’s his door, turns the car on and then turns and looks at me like he’s waiting for something, he doesn’t say anything for a minute and I squirm under his stare, not knowing what he’s waiting for.
Unable to handle the intensity of his silent quest, I hesitantly try to break the silence. “Umm, so …” That’s about as intelligent of a sentence I can put together right now.
“Buckle up sunshine, it’s a fast ride,” he says as he reaches over, putting my seatbelt on for me. I can feel the heat rise up my neck and reach my face as he plugs the seat belt in.
Zac takes off out of the carpark and into the easy Saturday morning city traffic. Saturday morning.
“Oh, shit,” I mumble under my breath as I dig through my clutch for my phone to find out what the time is and how late I will be for my shift today. “Dammit!” My phone would choose this moment to be dead flat.
“What’s wrong?” Zac questions with a deeply concerned look on his face.
“What time is it?” I attempt in the calmest voice I can muster, externally attempting to appear cool, calm, and collected. Internally I’m a freaking mess, considering the worst possible scenarios. I’m late, I’m getting fired; I’m going to be jobless and homeless within the month. Maybe I’m being the glass is half empty kind of girl, but when you had the childhood I had, the glass is never half full.
Zac looks at the gold watch on his wrist, before looking back across at me. “It’s 9:15.”
9:15 a.m. Not so bad, I’m mentally calculating the amount of time I need to get home, shower, hike to the station. If I hurry, I can probably make the 10:15 train which will get me to work at around 11:30 a.m.
“Fudge it, can this Batmobile of yours go any faster?” I plead.
“Batmobile?” he repeats laughing a little. “This beauty,” he taps the steering wheel with pride, “is a McLaren
570S. Yes, it goes faster.”
“Well, do you think you can make this beauty go faster and get home as quick as you can?” I’m trying hard not to come across as panicked, by the look on his face, I don’t think it’s working.
“Look, if I’m going to go about breaking every road rule in the book, I need to know why you’re in such a rush to get home?” He makes a scene of sniffing himself. “I showered while you were passed out on my couch, so I know it’s not because I stink that you’re in such a rush to get home, so what is it?”
Wow, just wow. Well here goes, try not to sound desperate in front of the hot guy Lyssa, I give myself a mental prep talk before admitting just how desperate I am. “You don’t stink, I’m late. I have to be at work at 11:00. I need to get home, I need to shower then I need to make the trek to the station, then it takes at least a forty-minute train ride to work. I can’t be late, oh god, I cannot be late!” Well, I think I totally came across as every bit as cool and collected I was aiming for, right? Yeah, probably not.
“Sunshine, breathe, it’s ok, I gotcha. I’ll get you home in no time, hold on.” Zac cruises through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic a little faster. He reaches over and gives my hand a little squeeze before turning his gaze back to the road.
I’m momentarily stunned by the electricity I feel run up my arm from his touch. Looking at him, his muscles stretching out the black v-neck, his forearms tensing as he grips the steering wheel, damn. Unintentionally, I squeeze my legs together and supress the moan that wants to escape. What the hell is wrong with me? This handsome stranger is nice enough to give me a lift home and all I can think about is jumping his bones.
I hear him curse under his breath. “Where do you work?” he asks, obviously trying to distract me with small talk. Could this moment get any more embarrassing? It’s obvious he knows I was checking him out.
“I work at RNS, I’m a nurse in emergency,” I say with pride. Zac looks over and smiles briefly, before masking his face again.