“Liv!” Two other cars follow, the rest of their crew, but I don’t know who it is. I didn’t catch any other faces.
“I’m calling the police!” the driver exclaims.
But I shake my head. The police won’t know where to find them, and even if they did, they’ll show up before Liv’s brothers can fuck Callum and Milo up. I don’t want them in our way.
I pull out my phone and Google Jaeger’s Lawn Service. A moment later, one of them picks up.
“Trace…” I cry.
I BREATHE HARD, sucking my hair into my mouth as he presses my face into the seat.
Someone else pins my hands behind my back, securing them with some kind of cloth, and then I’m hauled up and into Callum’s lap as Delaney Cooper, who graduated last year and attends Vanderbilt now, drives. Wanna bet Callum’s trying to impress his future frat brother?
I glare at Callum, seeing pure satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. I growl, slamming my forehead into his nose.
Motherfucker!
He winces, howling, and I try to see out the window behind us, but Clay is out of sight.
If he hurt her…
His grip eases, and he holds his nose with one hand, a trickle of blood spilling down. “Goddammit!” he spits out.
I flail and whip, and while I know full-well I won’t escape, maybe if I’m enough trouble, he’ll toss me from the car. Does he have any idea what’s going to happen to him if he hurts me? Does he care?
He wraps his arm around me and then grabs my neck, squeezing it.
A groan escapes as he cuts off my oxygen. “You sure you want to do this?”
“This was always how it was going to go,” he whispers. “Especially since I know you weren’t going to come tomorrow night anyway. You gave Macon the key, didn’t you? To break into Fox Hill? To trash the painting? To crash our party tomorrow night and fuck us up?”
So he decided to surprise me a day early.
Well, he’s only partially correct. There wasn’t going to be any fight, and my brothers were never going to make an appearance. They did a lot more than Callum thinks they did that night when they burned the painting.
But this changes things. He stole me off the street. Out of a car. Macon won’t let this go. He can hold his temper for a lot, but not this. And while Callum will get exactly what’s coming to him, the police won’t get lazy when a founding son goes missing. My family won’t get away with anything for long.
Please Clay, don’t call them. Please.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Shit.
I twist, screaming and thrashing as I try to reach for the door with my hands to throw myself out of the car if I get a chance to, but Delaney presses the gas, speeding up, and Callum digs his nails into my neck. “Stop,” he grits out. “Or we’ll go back and get Clay for this too.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask. “She saw you. She saw your faces.” I look around at Milo, Delaney, and the other guy in the passenger seat I don’t recognize. “She’s calling the police by now.”
“You think so?” he taunts. “What will the police do to me?”
I close my mouth, staring at him.
“I think she called your brothers instead, don’t you think?”
My heart sinks a little. Her instinct would’ve been to get me back and to make Callum Ames pay. She wouldn’t have trusted the police, given who his father is.
And he knows that. He knows exactly what’s coming.
“That’s what you want,” I say quietly. “You’re drawing them in. You want his attention.”
He falls silent, but his eyes never leave mine. I always knew this wasn’t about me. I just underestimated how far he would go.
“Unless you told them about the night we planned, then no one will know where to find you, so no…,” he says. “I don’t expect your brothers to actually show up. It’s just us. I’m sure they’ll find me in the days to come, though. After we’re done.”
Oh, God. I swallow down the vomit.
Would Clay know where they’re taking me? She said she wasn’t aware of any clubhouses.
No one is coming for me. My phone is somewhere in the limo, so no one can track me, and there are four of them. Panic seizes me. Shit.
We race onto the highway, speeding down the dark lane, and Del dips off to the left suddenly, taking the long, smoothly paved road up to Fox Hill.
The oaks on both sides provide a canopy from the moon and stars, and I can only make out the sheen in Callum’s eyes as I stare at him and he stares back at me. Darkness consumes us, and he knows what’s about to happen as well as I do.
I feel a sting on my neck and know his nail has cut my skin. “You will never come back from this,” I murmur.
“I’m not worried about me.”
“You should be,” I say. “This is gonna hurt.”
No one is really evil. And not many are crazy or sick.
He’s angry. He won’t always feel like this. Is he sure this is a road he wants to cross?
His eyes narrow, and I can tell he’s thinking about it. Can he still let me go? Or has he gone too far and might as well finish?
Reaching behind me slowly, I slip off the gold strappy heels I put Clay in a month ago. I won’t be able to run in them.
Del slams on the brakes, and the SUV screeches to a halt. I dart my gaze out of the window, seeing we’re on the golf course, around the back of the field house. Aracely used to work the beer cart on the course, and I had to pick her up one time.
The doors open, the scent of wood, grass, and sweat hitting me as someone grabs me and pulls me out of the cab. Delaney spins me around and looks down at me as Callum tightens the band around my wrists. A smile lights up Del’s eyes, and I’m not sure this guy has ever looked me in the eye, or knew I existed when he was at Marymount, but he sure knows now.
His eyes trail down and then back up my body, and it hits me that I’m in my underwear. Panties and a little corset, my dress on the floor of the limo.
“What a waste,” he gripes.
And his hands spread over my stomach, sliding to my back, and I fight, hollering until my throat is raw.
And then, all of a sudden, teeth sink into my ass, and I whip around. I kick Milo, not giving him time to fight back before I throw myself on top of him, both of us falling to the ground and my knee slamming into his groin.
“Ah!” he bellows.
I growl, he yanks my hair, pulling my head back, and then someone pushes me off him, and I land on the driveway on my back.
I bolt up, but Callum is there, pinning me down. He places a vial in front of my face. “You wanna remember this?”
I still, my breath hitching for a moment.
I look at the drug and then back to him, my fingers smashed and hurting behind me. He said he didn’t drug people. Would he really use that on me?
I swallow hard, nodding. If he forces that down my throat, I’ll be unconscious. I won’t be able to fight back, run, give a positive I.D.…
He doesn’t want to give it to me. He wants a willing girl. He wants what he thinks we agreed to.
But he’ll take it if he has to.
Motherfucker.
“I doubt I’ll remember it anyway,” I spit out, putting forth what pathetic fight I have left.
He simply chuckles, challenge accepted, and hauls me off the ground.
“Take her.” He shoves me to Milo, who’s rougher as he fists my hair and squeezes my arm.
They lead me inside the dark building, and I spot paintings on the walls in gilded frames and smell all the wood polish and leather furniture. They push me through a sitting area, tables and couches and a bar gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the windows, and after a moment, we’re in a hallway.
My knees shake a little, and I feel tears threaten. I drop my eyes. Please. God, please. I don’t want anyone to hurt me. Please.
I want my dad. I want Macon.
No one can touch me but Clay. This isn’t happe
ning. I’m still in the limo. I’m with her.
In her arms.
A sob escapes, but I push it down, burying it, and grit my teeth.
Fuck him for this. I’m going to kill him.
“There are witnesses,” I say, keeping my tone calm. “There were cameras on the streets.”
“You’ll go home in one piece,” Callum replies. “We had an agreement. I want what you promised.”
I spin around, getting in his face. “I never promised.”
But he just growls in a low voice, “Walk. Walk and pay up, and this won’t have to escalate. I know how to hurt you without laying a hand on you.”
Milo pulls me back around, shoving me head first through a door. He grips me hard, holding me as I stumble down some stairs, another hallway, and into a room.
I smell water. Is this a basement? Those aren’t common in Florida.
I spot a few more bodies in the room and instantly stop, dread coiling its way through my gut.
Two other men wait in the room, and a young woman leans against the back wall. Next to the pool table.
She cocks her head, taking me in, and I know that she’s for me.
Petite, blonde, blue eyes…like Clay.
But not Clay.
Walking over, she smiles gently, her long, smooth hair falling over her left eye just a little, and her full red lips open to perfect, white teeth. She’s dressed conservatively in tight black pants and a short-sleeved, tight black T-shirt, and I don’t think she’s more than a year or two older than me. Beautiful, young, soft...
But then she drops her gaze, noticing my arms behind my back. “Why is she tied up?” she asks.
Callum comes around to my front and looks between the girl and me. “This is Morgan,” he tells me, ignoring her question. “Your date.”
Her finger slips inside the hem of my panties, and I fire up. Shooting out my foot, I kick her in the stomach. “Ugh!”
She yelps, stumbling backward, and I steel every muscle, preparing.
“What the hell?” she blurts out, holding her middle and glaring at Callum. “You didn’t tell me she wasn’t into this.”
“She’s into it.”
But she charges to the wall again, grabbing her bag as she continues to hold her stomach. She marches for the door. “I don’t do shit like this.”
And before I can follow, she’s gone. She no doubt has a pimp they don’t want to mess with.
I hold my head up and meet each of their eyes. “Looks like you’ll have to do your dirty work yourself,” I tell Callum, as I try to work my hands free. “Come on. Who’s first? It’s my first dick, so I’d prefer a little one to start. Milo?”
I meet Krisjen’s ex’s eyes, and a snarl crosses his mouth.
“Come on,” I chirp. “Blow my mind. Fuck me so good I go straight.”
He charges up to me and grabs the back of my hair, shoving me onto the pool table. “Shut up.”
My heart races, fear coursing through me, but I’m angry, too. I flip over, sitting up. “Come on, baby. Come on. Show me what a man is.”
He reaches down, unfastening his belt and jeans and breathing hard, ready to show me what I’ve been missing, and I almost crack. Tears pool, but I shove them back down.
“Yeah, look at that thing,” I grit out, biting my lip and staring down his pants. “It gets bigger when it gets harder, right? I can’t wait to see.”
He grasps my throat. “Shut. Up.”
He’s getting angry.
I tip my head back, laughing, and I know I sound crazy, but it’s like I’m not in my body right now, and it’s either this or cry.
I laugh harder, rolling my wrists and working the bandana or necktie or whatever they tied me with looser and looser. “Oh, come on, baby,” I growl. “You wanna feel me? Huh? Wanna give it to me? Wanna show me how it’s done? I know you can. I know it.”
He shoves me back onto the table. Tears hang at the corner of my eyes, and I arch my back, moaning.
“I don’t think you can,” I groan, writhing. “I bet your dick is so soft, it’s like a floppy, wiggly worm.” I cackle wildly. “You’ll have to turn me around so you don’t have to look at my face. Isn’t that right, Callum?” I look to his friend, standing back by the door. “Isn’t that how you’ll have to do me, too? Turn me around and jam that pathetic, droopy appendage inside me by pretending I’m him. By pretending I’m—”
“Shut up!” Callum yells.
Milo’s hand whips across my face, but it doesn’t wipe the smile off my face. “I’ve got five of you motherfuckers at home!” I shout to the room. “Is that the best you got? Huh?”
Not that my brothers hurt me, but I’ve gotten used to rough-housing.
I work the tie, almost able to slide it over my knuckles, but Milo grabs the backs of my knees and yanks me down to the end of the table.
“You’re such a man,” I coo. “Come on. What are you gonna do? Huh? Do it. Come on, baby. Do it. Blow my mind.”
He reaches inside his jeans, and I stare, feigning excitement when I just want to throw up.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “More, more. Come on, come on.”
“Come on, Milo!” someone shouts, but his brow is etched in anger, and I can see his face flush with strain.
“So, is this it?” I laugh. “Is it happening now? Is this what I’ve been missing?”
A laugh bubbles up from my stomach so deep there’s no sound as I shake. “He can’t fucking get it up,” I taunt.
He shoves me down and grips my throat, digging his fingers in, and I fight not to squeeze my eyes shut. He can’t tell how badly my body is shaking in the struggle.
I work the tie again and again. Come on. Please.
“Is it happening yet?” I force out at the top of my lungs. “Come on, baby. Fuck me up. Come on!”
“Goddammit!” he shouts, throwing me off and stuffing his shit back inside his pants. “She won’t shut the fuck up.”
Del hands him a roll of duct tape, and I wiggle my hands out, sweat beading my brow. I pull my hands through the fabric, finally freeing them as Milo comes over. He bites off a strip of tape and moves for my mouth, but I launch up, grab the bar light over the pool table and yank it again and again, screaming at the top of my lungs.
It crashes down, right on top of Milo’s head, disorienting him, and I move fast. Shoving him off, I bolt off the tables, run for the door behind me, and fucking pray it’s not a closet.
I dive through, the hallway on the other side dark, but I spot a bit of light at the end and race for it. Shouts echo behind me, and I pass a small, black table against the wall and shove it to the ground as they launch through the door after me. I run for the end of the hallway, diving into a great room, moonlight glowing through the window and across the floor.
“Ah!” someone bellows.
“Fuck!” Callum growls.
Grunts and crashes sound behind me, and I know they’ve stumbled over the obstacle in the hallway, hopefully fucking piling on top of each other.
Throwing open the front door, I leap outside, into the night, the sprinklers spraying in long, misty arches over the green.
Digging in my heels, I run for the tree line in my bare feet.
“Liv!”
And I recognize the voice instantly.
I whip around, seeing Clay run for me, and I catch her in my arms as she rushes me.
“Baby,” I cry. I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her neck.
“What did they do you?” She kisses me—my cheek, my lips, my jaw, again and again.
“Shhh,” I tell her, trying to calm her down. I spot Macon and Army just as Dallas pulls me toward the bushes, and we all crouch down. Iron and Trace run up from the service entrance road, and I look around at my family as Clay touches my face, her eyes scanning every inch of my body.
Her gaze locks on my cheek, and I register the sting still there from Milo’s slap. It’s probably red. “It’s okay,” I say. “They didn’t do nearly as much as I
did to them.”
“Liv…”
I dart my eyes to Macon. “It’s okay,” I cut him off. “They didn’t hurt me.”
Not badly anyway.
Dressed in my underwear, I know what he’s thinking. And I know exactly what he’d do if he knew what might’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten out of there.
I kiss Clay again, pulling on the flannel Iron tosses me.
“How did you know they brought me here,” I ask her.
“I didn’t.”
I look up at Macon, but he’s already walking. I shoot to my feet, seeing Callum and Milo run out of the field house, Del and the other two stopping dead when they see my brothers charge across the green and right for them.
I start after Macon. “No.”
But Clay interjects. “Let them fuck them up,” she tells me, handing me my phone I’d left behind in the limo.
Macon, Army, and Dallas head straight for the patio, Del and the other two backing away. They bolt, disappearing back into the clubhouse, or out of sight.
I stare at Clay. “They won’t win this and you know it. No fighting.” And then to my brothers, “This wasn’t the plan.”
We’re not Collins’ or Ames’. We can get physical and keep up in a fight, but they can hurt us, because we’re poor.
She touches my face again, lightly. “Who hit you?” she whispers.
I close my mouth.
“Who was it?” she demands again. “Callum?”
I glance after Dallas for less than a moment before answering her. “No.”
“Milo?” she presses.
I say nothing.
And she has her answer. She straightens, locking her jaw, and grabs the hunting knife Iron has strapped to his belt.
She charges off, Iron and Trace following her.
“Clay, no!”
“Fuckin’ yes,” Trace replies.
She goes, they follow, and I run after them all, trying to figure out who to stop first as I button up the flannel.
Milo pulls something out of his pocket, and Dallas swats it out of his hand. A phone goes flying, but Callum just takes a seat at a table, unfazed.
Army grabs Milo from behind, Macon kicks his legs out from underneath him, and he falls to his knees.
Tryst Six Venom Page 41