First Taste of Darkness

by Cynthia Eden

  His life. Or mine.

  There was no reason for them both to die.

  Jess forced herself to speak. “Blake, I-it’s me.” Oh, crap. He probably didn’t even remember her. Like he was going to recognize that strangled whisper. “It’s Jess.”

  The blade pressed harder against her throat.

  Her eyes flew open.

  The blond glared down at her. “Tell him to meet you.”

  “Jess?” Shock was clear in Blake’s voice. “Where are you?”

  The blond’s glare vanished. He’d obviously heard Blake’s words. The blond pulled the phone from her ear, only to bend and put his mouth in its place. When the jerk spoke, his lips pressed against the shell of her ear. “Tell him to come and meet you at the old motel just past Wicked Ink. Your lover knows the tat shop.”

  Wicked Ink. She knew that tattoo shop, too—most people did. If she’d been braver, Jess would have even gone in and gotten herself inked during her I’m-Wild-And-in-Vegas trip.

  But she’d been too afraid of a little pain.

  His mouth was gone. The phone was back at her ear.

  “Jess?” Blake’s snarl. “Answer me!”

  “I wanted a tattoo,” she heard herself say. “Something sexy. Maybe right on my ass.”

  “What?”

  And the blond was back to glaring at her.

  “I wanted one, but I was scared of the pain. A needle doesn’t seem so scary now, not when it’s compared to a knife.”

  And that knife sliced across her throat.

  Jess cried out.

  “Jess!” Her name wasn’t a snarl anymore. It was a roar.

  But the psycho hadn’t cut her so deeply that she couldn’t talk. He’d just given her a little slice. A taste of the pain to come. He probably thought that move would scare her into complying with him.

  Jess lowered her lashes. Tried to look beaten and afraid.

  She’d made her choice.

  “I’m supposed to tell you…meet me at the old motel near the tat shop, past Wicked Ink, but…” She sucked in a deep breath. “But don’t come here, Blake. The crazy jerk who tried to shoot you has me. If you come, he’ll kill—”

  The crazy jerk snatched the phone from her. He threw it against the wall and it shattered. “Bad fucking move.”

  No, it hadn’t been.

  He lifted the knife. She could already see her blood on the blade.

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my smartest move.

  But it had been her bravest. There wouldn’t be much more bravery from her. The knife lowered, and Jess started screaming.

  ***

  “Jess?”

  He’d heard her scream. That last, pain-filled cry. Then…silence.

  Blake immediately tried to call her back, hitting the number that had appeared on his screen. But the line just rang and rang.

  I’m supposed to tell you…meet me at the old motel near the tat shop, past Wicked Ink.

  She was supposed to tell him?

  But don’t come here, Blake. The crazy jerk who tried to shoot you has me. If you come, he’ll kill—

  Jess hadn’t been able to say more.

  And the line was still fucking ringing.

  He forced his hold to loosen around the phone. Fury beat inside of him, threatening to break free. But he held tight—so tight—to his control. Blake turned and walked out of his suite. Every muscle in his body was tight as he entered the elevator.

  The damn elevator moved too slowly.

  I can smell strawberries.

  On his skin. On him. Her scent seemed to cover him.

  The elevator’s doors opened. He headed straight for the hotel’s lobby.

  “Sir!” It was Carson’s voice, and Blake saw Carson hurrying toward him. “I wanted to report on the…” Carson’s dark gaze cut around the lobby, “the situation at the Landon Hotel.”

  “I’m handling it.” He brushed by Carson and headed outside.

  But Carson wasn’t one to be easily dissuaded. Carson followed right on Blake’s heels. “Sir, it looks as if the intruder searched inside your suite. I don’t think we’re just talking about an attack on your life. The man wanted something—”

  “He still wants something.” Blake’s car was waiting a few feet away. “And the bastard thinks that he is going to use Jess in order to get it.”

  “What?” Carson jumped in front of him. “What are you talking about?”

  Blake still had the phone in his left hand. He lifted it toward Carson. “Jess just called me. She was screaming. That bastard has her, and I’m going to get her back.”

  Carson stared down at the phone. “The woman from last night?”

  “Yes. Jess.” She wasn’t just some woman. She wasn’t a random fuck. She’s not like the others. “He’s got her. And I’m getting her back.”

  But when Blake stepped toward his car, Carson moved to block his path. “You need to calm the hell down, boss. This isn’t like you. Just tell me where the woman is, and I’ll get a team out there. There’s no way I can let you risk yourself like this. Especially not over some—”

  He shoved Carson out of his way. “Be very careful, Carson. Very careful, or I’ll forget the fact that I’ve considered you a friend for the last two years.” His breath seemed to burn in his lungs.

  Control. Get it the fuck back.

  Because, dammit, Carson was right. This wasn’t Blake. He didn’t run off wild. Well, he hadn’t, not in years. Not since he’d learned to keep his emotions under lockdown. Not since he’d traded in his dark past for the new life he’d made for himself.

  “They’re at the old motel past Wicked Ink…” He knew the tat parlor well. He’d gotten his ink done there. “I go in, and a team can be there for back-up.”

  Worry etched deep lines onto Carson’s face. “You go in, and you could be dead before that back-up ever gets through the door.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “This is some girl you picked up last night. She’s not worth your life. We need the cops on this one. Dammit man, this is crossing the line.”

  Fury rose within him once more. “You don’t know what Jess is worth.” Blake didn’t, either, but he was starting to figure it out. “If the kidnapper sees the cops, he’ll kill her.”

  Carson’s breath heaved out. “Then they stay back. You and I will go in—we both go in, got it? And the cops can come in to clean up whatever hell is left when we’re done.”

  Whatever hell is left…

  There wasn’t going to be much left. Blake thought of the man who’d taken her. If she’s dead, asshole, then so are you. So the fuck are you.

  Chapter Four

  She wasn’t dead.

  Jess wasn’t sure how much longer she would actually be able to keep on breathing, but, for the moment, she was alive. And she was planning to fight for every moment that she had.

  The guy hadn’t used his knife on her again. He actually hadn’t even come near her in the last twenty—thirty?—minutes.

  They were in some old, rundown motel. The carpet on the floor was thread-bare, and the chipped ceiling was lined with spider-web like cracks. And the place smelled of piss.

  He’d put them in two rooms, connecting rooms. When he’d first walked away, she’d screamed, thinking that she might be able to alert some other folks in the motel.

  He’d laughed at her. Told her that they were all alone.

  Alone in hell.

  There were no lights in the room—she doubted now if the place had actual electricity. Sunlight spilled through the yellowed, cracked blinds that covered the window near the door.

  Her kidnapper had headed into the connecting room. She’d heard him call someone, but his voice had been muffled so she hadn’t been able to make out exactly what he said.

  While he’d been busy, she’d been using that precious time to try and slip out of the ropes that bound her to the chair.

  She’d managed to rub her wrists raw, but she hadn’t broken free. Not yet.

  “You were in the wro
ng place…”

  His voice drifted to her.

  Jess stiffened. Her fingers were fisted behind her.

  “You shouldn’t have walked into the bar. Not his bar. If you hadn’t…” Now the guy was walking back toward her, stepping through the doorway that connected the two rooms.

  The knife was in his hand. Light glinted off the blade. “If you hadn’t been in that bar, Blake would have picked up another woman to screw. Maybe she would have let him die in that elevator. Or maybe she’d be the one tied up in that chair right now.” His lips twisted in a cold smile. “Life’s funny that way, isn’t it? The little choices we make can change everything for us.”

  Jess licked lips that had gone bone-dry. “You can make a choice right now. You can walk out of this room. Just turn and walk away. I-I won’t tell the cops about you. We can forget this whole thing ever happened.”

  His laughter broke through her words. Heavy, mocking laughter. “Blake Landon wouldn’t forget, and the bastard sure as hell wouldn’t forgive.” His eyes locked with hers. “And when I take what he values most, he sure as shit won’t be forgiving me anytime soon.”

  “I’m not what he values—”

  “Not you. The Night’s Heart.”

  She just stared at him. Utterly and completely lost.

  “I know how Landon got his fortune. He fuckin’ stole it, so now, it’s my turn to take from him.”

  Jess stared up at him, but she also kept working—slyly and slowly—to slip her wrists out of those ropes. The rope around her left wrist felt loose. She sure hoped that wasn’t just wishful thinking on her part. Be loose. Be. Loose.

  “The Heart wasn’t at his suite in the Landon Hotel. The bastard has hidden it, but when he comes tonight, I’ll make him tell me where it is.” He lifted the knife a few inches, pointing it at her. “He can tell me, or he can die.”

  “W-what’s the Heart?” She didn’t want to know. She didn’t—

  “The Night’s Heart!” he shouted.

  Her left wrist slid from the ropes.

  “And it’s the biggest damn diamond you can imagine. Big enough to buy Landon a new life. Big enough to give me back the life I should’ve had.”

  The fingers of her left hand began to fumble with the rope that kept her right hand imprisoned. If she could just get it free, then she could have a fighting chance.

  “You’re the distraction…like I said…” His hand lifted. The hand not holding the knife. His fingers brushed over her cheek. “You went into the wrong bar. But I can see why you caught Blake’s eye.”

  She wanted his hand off her.

  But he didn’t stop touching her. Instead, he slid his hand down, carefully skirting the wound on her neck—the wound he’d made—and then pausing at her collar bone.

  No, no, no. Jess did not like the way he was looking at her.

  The rope slipped away from her right hand.

  This was it. Do or die—literally.

  Jess raised her chin. “Get your hand off me.”

  He leaned toward her. The knife lowered. “Honey, why don’t you just—”

  Glass shattered. The window near the front door seemed to splinter into a thousand pieces and something—someone—flew through that window even as someone else rammed into the door and sent the wood flying open.

  Jess shot to her feet. She rammed her knee into her attacker’s groin as hard as she could, then she leapt past him—and ran straight to Blake.

  Because Blake was the man who’d knocked open the motel room door. And the other guy—the guy who’d hurtled through the window—that was…Carson. Blake’s security guy from the Imperial.

  Blake’s arms were open, and running into them seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

  Her body slammed into his. Collided with a hard impact that knocked the breath from her, but Jess didn’t care.

  “Drop your weapon!” Carson shouted.

  Jess tried to turn back and look at her kidnapper, but Blake’s hold was too strong. He held her close against his chest, and Jess could feel the frantic racing of his heart against her.

  No, maybe that wild thunder was her own heartbeat. She couldn’t tell, not for certain.

  She heard a clatter behind her.

  Blake pulled back, just enough to stare down at her. “Are you hurt—” Blake began, but then his gaze dropped to her throat. “He fucking cut you.”

  “I’m okay,” she tried to tell him. “Blake, really, I’m—”

  Too late. Blake shoved her behind him. Then he pushed Carson out of his way. Blake lunged at the man who’d kidnapped Jess. They met in a tangle of limbs. Fists flew. Fury boiled in the room.

  “Blake!” she screamed. The kidnapper’s discarded knife was on the ground.

  And Blake—Blake was beating the hell out of the bastard.

  She hadn’t expected the hotel magnate to fight that way. To fight hard and dirty and lethally.

  The kidnapper’s nose crunched. Blood flew. He tried to swing at Blake, but he missed. Blake drove his fist into the guy’s ribs. “You never should have touched her.” Another brutal punch connected. Another. “Never.”

  Jess stared at him, horrified. Everything was surreal. This…Blake…She lifted her hands and saw the blood on her wrists. When she’d worked so desperately to free herself from the ropes, she’d sliced her wrists. Made them bloody and raw.

  Jess started to sway because this couldn’t be happening.

  “Blake,” she whispered his name.

  Carson had just hauled him off the kidnapper. The man who’d terrified Jess now lay in a bloody heap on the floor.

  “Leave him for the cops, boss,” Carson said, shaking his head. “Just leave him. The guy’s done.”

  Blake’s eyes found Jess. His stare—there was so much rage in his dark green gaze. The kidnapper’s eyes had been cold, but Blake’s burned red hot.

  He took a step toward her.

  Instinctively, Jess backed up.

  “No.” Blake took another step toward her. He kept coming toward her, even when she retreated again. Then his hands—the hands that had attacked the other man so brutally—were reaching for her. “I’d never hurt you.”

  She couldn’t look in his eyes right then. She looked over his shoulder instead. Carson had turned away from the guy on the floor. As she watched, Carson lifted a phone to his ear, and his gun—I hadn’t even noticed the gun!—was now holstered at his side. He started rattling off an address.

  And the man on the floor began to rise.

  “Jess, dammit, look at me,” Blake ordered her, his voice rumbling.

  The kidnapper was smiling.

  Rising.

  And pulling out his own gun. The gun had been tucked under his shirt. Hidden…

  “I swear,” Blake told her as his hands tightened on her arms, “you’re safe with me. I wouldn’t hurt—”

  “Gun!” Jess screamed as she threw herself against Blake. They both hit the floor.

  They rolled and twisted, and Blake covered her with his body.

  Gunfire blasted even as the scream of sirens echoed from outside.

  “Blake,” she whispered, fear tearing through her. Had he been hit?

  His head lifted. He stared down at her. His eyes glittered.

  Then his head turned, just a few inches. Blake didn’t move from her. He kept shielding her body.

  “Is he dead?” Blake’s voice was flat. Hard. So cold. But his eyes blazed.

  Beneath him, Jess shivered.

  “Yes, sir,” Carson responded but his voice was—weak?

  “He shot you. Shit.” Then Blake was gone. Rising away from her and moving swiftly toward Carson.

  Jess sat up, shaking. Her ears still rang from the gunshots. Or was it from the sirens? They sounded so close.

  She blinked and tried to focus on Blake and Carson. Carson was against the right wall. He had his weapon gripped in his hand. He was pointing that weapon, even as blood soaked his left shoulder, pointing the gun at the k
idnapper’s too-still body.

  “I-I didn’t have a choice.” Carson’s voice rasped out. “He was going to shoot you. I yelled—yelled for him to stop. And he turned his weapon on me…”

  She couldn’t remember those last few seconds. Jess had been so busy trying to get Blake out of harm’s way that she hadn’t even glanced over at Carson.

  Blake checked Carson’s wound. “The bullet went straight through. You’re going to be fine—”

  “Police!” A hard voice barked. And the cavalry was there. Finally. Men and women in uniform rushed through the broken door.

  She realized that Blake must have called the cops. That they’d been his back-up. She’d warned him, and he’d taken precautions.

  He was alive. Safe.

  And the kidnapper wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

  It’s over.

  Blake and Carson both turned to face the cops. Carson dropped his weapon.

  “The man on the ground is the kidnapper,” Blake said with a jerk of his head toward the body. “My security chief had to shoot him in order to keep us all alive.”

  A cop stopped in front of Jess. A woman with dark red hair and worried brown eyes. “Are you okay, ma’am? Mr. Landon told us what happened to you…”

  Jess glanced over at him. She found Blake’s hard gaze on her. There was still so much fury in his stare.

  Fury…and fear?

  “Ma’am?” The redhead lightly touched her arm. “Do you need medical attention? There’s blood on your neck and shirt.”

  “I just…I need to go home.” Back to Florida. The excitement of Vegas wasn’t for her. Jess’s gaze held Blake’s as she said once more, “I need to go home.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Come with me,” the officer told her as the woman led Jess away from that little motel room. The parking lot was a swirl of blue lights. Uniformed personnel ran everywhere, seeming to swarm the area.

  There were no other guests at the old motel. He’d been right…there was no one to hear me scream.

  Then the cop was helping Jess into the back of an ambulance. An EMT began examining her neck, her wrists.

  Helpless, Jess looked back over her shoulder.

  Blake stood in the doorway of that motel room. His gaze was on her. Cops were talking to him, questioning him.