I shivered as strong arms lifted me, cradling me to the solid chest of the man who made me wish I'd chosen another career, or at least made me wish I had just stayed a cop. I sobbed into his shirt as he carried me from the room. Even if I hadn't heard the beeping as the door at the top of the stairs unlocked I would've known as soon as we stepped into the hallway. Warm air kissed my shivering skin, and white noise fluttered to my ears. I hadn't realized how deathly silent the dungeon had been.
By the time we got to his chosen destination, my sobs had quieted and I'd pressed myself into him as if he'd saved me. As if he wasn't the one doing this.
"It's all right, Laila, you can let go," he whispered in a soft voice I hoped to God wasn't imagined as I clung to his suit jacket. I still clung to him as he set me down on a hard surface and pried my fingers from his shirt. My eyes finally shot open as I made contact with the surface, and I looked around in a panic to see I was in a white porcelain tub. Jake knelt beside it, removing his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt.
"What're you doing?" I asked, bringing my arms around my knees and scooting back.
"No offense, hon, but you've been sitting in your own urine. I'm not bringing you to my bed until you're clean."
My eyes widened, and I watched in horror as Jake turned the water on. Cold water touched the bottom of my feet before it became warm. "Jake, please. I don't want to go to your bed."
His face pinched as he glanced toward me. I couldn't decipher the emotion that hid under the surface of his hard expression, but it couldn't possibly be surprise. No one was that arrogant.
"Not like that," he forced through his clenched jaw before standing and grabbing the handheld showerhead.
My anxiety lessened by a few degrees, but so many questions remained unanswered. "Then what are you doing?"
Jake bent to his knees and allowed the showerhead to rest against the wall of the tub. "I'm sorry, Laila. Honestly. I know it means nothing right now, and it won't mean anything later when I can't stop it, but I want you to know anyway. This isn't my choice. Because of the investigation, I'm no longer in charge. Dravin is, and for now, he decides what happens to you." Jake paused, running a hand through his hair and taking another deep breath. "He doesn't check up on you, and I know when he plans to go down there. So if you want, I can keep you from sleeping in the basement."
My eyes narrowed and brows creased. "You didn't seem all that opposed to hurting me yesterday while you held a rag over my face."
Jake cringed, seemingly genuine about his displeasure of it. He looked away for a moment and sighed. "Like I said, it wasn't my call."
The argument the two men had in the basement yesterday played in my head, and I considered there might be some truth to his statements. Or maybe that was just what I wanted to believe. There was still another part of me that knew what Isabella said was true and this could be just another mind game. Still, it was a mind game that didn't involve me getting hurt.
My gaze drifted to the running water. It reminded me too much of the stream Dravin had held to my face, but I shook off the memory. Jake was right about one thing—I stank like urine.
"Okay. But I don't need you to help me bathe. I can do it myself."
"Of course," he said, motioning toward the showerhead. "Go for it."
"Alone."
A smile stretched across his face, and he chuckled. "Maybe if you weren't a trained law enforcement official I held prisoner in my home." Jake stood and took a step back to lean against the counter. "Hurry up. It's late."
I eyed the water once more, and after much consideration, inched forward to pull the knob. Water sprayed from the showerhead, and I shook as I held it in my grasp, aiming the stream toward me. Breaths blew over my lips in short puffs and my heart rate picked up to a dangerous speed. No matter how many puffs of air I inhaled, my lungs screamed for more until it felt as if I couldn't breathe at all.
The stream vanished and a hand gripped my shoulders. My eyes darted to Jake as he stared at me appearing concerned. "You're all right. Just breathe."
His voice sounded far away, but the words still registered. I wrapped my arms around my knees once more and rested my head against the side of the tub. I ignored the hands and cloth that touched my skin, and focused instead on inhaling deep breaths. The smell of pomegranate drifted through my senses, and I furrowed my brows until I realized it was the soap Jake applied to my skin.
"Don't," I said as he lifted the shirt above my head, but my fight was futile.
I allowed him to clean me, moaning as strong hands massaged my scalp with shampoo and conditioner. I hated that he did this. That he'd fractured my mind and then gave me the kindness to cling to. That I held onto his soft touch as if it were my safe haven. His hands never seemed to glide across any of my more intimate areas. It was all very clinical, calculated, but it was still very much exactly what I craved. Just any hope at all that someone might help me, and it was all displayed in the simple act of cleaning my body.
Eventually, Jake wrapped a towel around me and carried me into a bedroom. Neither of us spoke as Jake laid me down on the bed, smoothing the hair back from my face and wrapping the comforter around me before I drifted off to sleep.
Jake
I watched her as she slept, my head tilted and heart racing with each deep breath that grazed her pink lips. This wasn't what I'd planned, but it worked just the same. Better even. I’d expected her to fight me. To pry my fingers from her and beg me not to touch her. Instead, she'd leaned into my touch, whimpering at the shred of kindness I'd given her.
I knew what had happened to her, and it'd worked in my favor. But instead of triumph, all I felt was pity. I sighed as I pulled my eyes away from the sleeping woman to get the cuffs I kept in the nightstand drawer.
Her face twitched and a small moan crept up her throat as I raised one of her arms to the headboard and secured the cuff. She rolled onto her side facing away from me, but she seemed to still be sleeping. Her breathing remained heavy and muscles relaxed. I suspected she was exhausted.
A knock sounded on the door, and my gaze lingered on Laila a moment longer before I walked toward it and stepped into the hall.
"Well?" Dravin asked, his eyebrows raising.
"It's working."
"What did she tell you?"
I lifted a finger to my lips and peeked back inside the room to see Laila still sleeping soundly. After shutting the door, I turned back to Dravin. "She hasn't told me anything yet. I'm still establishing trust."
"You said she already trusted you." His angry whisper irritated me, and I narrowed my eyes.
"It's not that simple, genius. Just trust me on this." I looked back toward the door. "She's having panic attacks. You need to cool it down there."
"I haven't even left a mark."
"Even so. Just tone it down a notch."
"Listen, Jake, if we're going to work together on this then—"
"Then, what?" I snapped, taking a step toward Dravin. "If it weren't for me, she wouldn't even be here and you'd still be firing random people in hopes that one of them was the mole. Do you really want my father to know that was your strategy?"
Dravin huffed, popping his neck and taking a step back. "How long?"
"How long, what?" I asked, the irritation lingering in my voice.
"How long do you think it'll take?"
My shoulders lifted in a shrug. "A few days, give or take."
Dravin nodded. "All right. You've got three days. After that, we do it my way."
"Fair enough." I turned to head back to my room.
"Jake." I twisted to peer back at Dravin. "Don't make me regret it."
Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the room and shut the door. With the way things had gone tonight, I'd have been surprised if Laila hung on another twenty-four hours before telling me who the mole was. Three days would be plenty of time.
Shrugging off my clothes, I stared at Laila's sleeping form. To my surprise, I didn't ge
t hard. It was difficult to even pinpoint the emotion I felt as I watched her, but I knew it wasn't good.
In only boxers, I climbed underneath the comforter and scooted closer to Laila. The urge to wrap my arm around her in an embrace overtook me, and I did just that. The feel of her skin underneath my fingertips brought me comfort, and by the way she unconsciously snuggled into me I imagined it brought comfort to her as well. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of pomegranate before finally I fell asleep.
9
Laila
Pressure sat heavily in my bladder, bringing me out of sleep. My head pounded from the light in the room as I forced my eyes to peel open and myself to sit up. It didn't surprise me to find one of my hands secured to the headboard with a pair of cuffs, but I still sighed in disappointment as I jerked against the metal.
"Jake?" I called out as I searched for my captor. "Jake, I have to pee."
No response came, and there was no sign of him. I closed my eyes, but it did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.
"Jake!" I screeched. I needed to get to the bathroom before my bladder burst.
The door opened, and I shrank back into the bed, lifting the comforter to my chin. A finely dressed man who I'd yet to see stepped into the room with a pissed-off look. I cowered back and whined as he stormed up to the bed. He lifted a remote of some kind and pressed it in front of my face. On it was a note that read press when awake.
"Sorry," I said, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.
"What do you want?" he snapped. The man regarded me as if I were a piece of garbage, and I sank against the headboard even more.
"Where's Jake?"
"Mr. Cryson is working. He's instructed me to take care of your needs until he gets back. Do you need something, or did you just feel like screaming?"
My eyes drifted to the nightstand the remote had sat on and noticed a bottle of water with two pills sitting beside it. "What're those?" I asked nodding toward the pills. The man rolled his eyes before turning and stomping toward the door. "It's Ibuprofen. Take it or don't. I couldn't give a fuck."
"Wait!"
The man glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes.
"I have to go to the bathroom."
A long breath blew over his lips before he walked back over and undid the cuff with a key he pulled from his pocket. I didn't have time to feel any relief from my hand finally being free before the man grabbed both my arms and rolled me onto my stomach.
"What're you doing?" I asked, my breaths coming quicker as cool air kissed the bare flesh of my back. The man secured the cuffs around both my wrists before yanking me to my feet, exposing my naked body to him in the process.
Tears unlike the ones I'd cried in pain slid down my cheek and dropped onto the plush carpet. I didn't bother asking him why he felt the need to be so rough or where his compassion was. The answer was simple. He was just an asshole.
My feet moved on their own accord toward the bathroom, and the man pushed at my back. I'd never felt so exposed in my life, and my cheeks heated with my humiliation. It only got worse as he followed me into the bathroom.
"Can you leave now?" I asked, contempt flooding my voice.
He said nothing, just stood there leaning against the frame with that same pissed-off look. I wiped the tears on my shoulder and sat down on the toilet. As humiliated as I was, it would've been nothing compared to if I'd urinated on the floor, and my bladder was moments away from bursting.
After emptying my bladder, I hurried past the man out of the bathroom and back to the bed, doing my best to ignore the smirk he so clearly displayed. He strolled behind me with his head high, and roughly planted my face into the mattress as he undid the cuffs. His hips grinding into me didn't go unnoticed, but I kept quiet. The less I provoked him, the sooner he'd be out of there. Jake wouldn't allow one of his asshole guards to actually do anything, would he?
The same man who allowed you to be tortured and took a part in it himself? Probably so, Laila.
More tears leaked from my eyes, but the man's hips left me, and he yanked one of my arms to the bedframe, securing it as it had been.
"Do me a favor and don't need anything else," he said before leaving the room.
No problem.
I scurried farther onto the bed and yanked the blanket to my chest. My eyes flickered to the nightstand, and I grabbed the remote along with the pills and flung both across the room. As if I'd willingly consume a pill from these people. I didn't even bother to drink the water so that I could avoid needing to use the bathroom again.
Luckily, I didn't have to worry much about it because some time later before my tears could fully dry, the door opened and Jake appeared. "Hey," he said, walking toward the bed and picking up the water bottle. "Thought maybe you'd sleep the day away."
I turned away from him and wiped the tears on the comforter. What I wanted most was to be left alone. I couldn't play his games today.
"Laila, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting down next to me on the mattress.
I snapped my head toward him with my eyes wide. "What's wrong? Are you serious?"
His jaw ticked, and he craned his neck to ease tension. Apparently my distress irritated him. "What, Jake? Should I be thanking you?"
"You know, just a hint of gratitude would be nice," he gritted. "And could you please. Please, with fucking cherries on top, stop using my name."
My jaw dropped at the sheer arrogance of the man. "Oh well, in that case, thank you so much for bringing me up here so your guard could assault me. What should I call you? Master? Well thanks a lot, Master."
Anger bubbled inside of me so much I didn't even think about the words that came from my mouth. I just spoke, and it felt great. It all came crashing down, however, when the anger I felt was no match for the utter rage that flared behind Jake's irises.
"What did you just say?" he asked in a tone that screamed violence.
I shrank back into myself, lifting the comforter to my chin. "Please, just leave me alone. I'm sorry. I won't call you by your name anymore."
"The guard," he growled, brushing off my pleas. "What did he do?"
"Nothing. J-just forget it."
I avoided his eyes and suddenly became very interested in the design of the comforter. Even if the rage wasn't directed at me, no one near Jake appeared to be safe right now.
I flinched as Jake's hand snaked out and grabbed hold of my jaw. He turned my head toward him and only loosened his hold a degree when I whimpered. "Did he touch you?"
"No," I forced out. "Not really."
"Not really? You're not in trouble, Laila. Just tell me what he did." Jake's reassuring words didn't reach his eyes. He looked like he might explode at any moment.
"He just, you know. H-he kind of thrust against me. It's okay."
In a moment, the tight grip on my jaw vanished, and Jake stormed out of the room.
Jake
I stood outside the bedroom door for several moments before building up the courage to go in. She'd been in there for hours probably fearing my return. My housekeeper said when she'd brought food to Laila earlier, my poor captive wouldn't even meet her eyes. Somehow, I'd managed to scare her even more than when I’d held her in the basement. I'd fucked up, but there wasn't much time before Dravin would be expecting her.
I took a deep breath and ensured my features were relaxed before opening the door and stepping into the room. Laila was as I’d left her, curled up in the comforter with her back pressed against the headboard. Her eyes never met mine as I came to sit on the mattress beside her.
"Are you thirsty?" I asked extending the bottle of water I'd brought with me as a peace offering. Laila shook her head, never moving her free arm out from under the comforter. I sighed and moved my eyes to her bound wrist. I considered for a moment removing the cuff, but thought against it as soon as the idea floated into my mind. Now was as good a time as any for her to attempt an escape.
"Do you need to use the restroom?"
"No, sir," she said on a whisper.
I cringed at the use of the moniker, even though I'd insisted earlier she not call me by name. I allowed few people to call me Jake—only people on the same level as me, and Laila was certainly not. Not as my captive, at least. Still, her use of the moniker only served to remind me of how royally I'd fucked up. Why getting angry at one of Dravin's hired men was her breaking point, I couldn't comprehend. Especially since it had been in her honor. Still, I'd shown a part of myself I hadn't intended to.
"Laila, I'm sorry I scared you earlier. I had no intention of hurting you."
Laila shifted on the bed. She seemed to be fighting the urge to look at me, and after a few moments it appeared that she'd won. Just as I searched for even gentler words to say, she spoke.
"Who are you?"
My brow quirked and one side of my lip pulled. "What?"
She shifted again and tugged the comforter even tighter around her shoulders. "What do you do… for a living? What's your role in all this?"
My face relaxed as I realized the meaning behind the question. It amazed me that she'd followed me who knows how many times and studied me, yet still seemed to know so little.
"Aren't you the one investigating me?"
Her eyes finally met mine, and in them was fear and uncertainty. She really had no idea who I was, and her lack of fear in the beginning began to make sense.
"Are you a part of the trafficking ring?"
My head tilted as I took in her completely serious expression. "How about we make a deal. I'll ask a question, and if you answer honestly you can ask me one. Sound fair?"
"I'm not giving you any names," she said as her eyes narrowed.
"I know. And I won't ask. It's the only way either of us come out of this mess, Laila, but right now I'm curious about something else."
Dethroned (Darker Places Book 3) Page 7