Maybe it was just nerves.
Scanning the area and trying to appear like I had no idea the person I was looking for was right at the bar, I tried to act casual. Several people looked up from their pool tables and small groups to see who had just entered. Some smiled and others jerked their chins in hello, before turning back to their conversations.
Corrupt by Depeche Mode played over the speakers, and I flipped my hair to the side, tipping up the flask and taking a small swig, trying not to wince at the burn coating my throat. I caught Miles’ head turned toward me from the corner of my eye.
Holding the flask in one hand and sticking my other hand into the back pocket of my jeans, I walked down the aisle between the bar and the pool tables, forcing myself to smile and my hips to sway. I tried to look flirty, even though my heart was stretching my throat and sweat cooled the back of my neck.
Turning my head, I pretended to be interested in something happening at one of the tables and not watching where I was going.
And then I crashed into his arm, spinning my head back around and feeling the vodka from Will’s flask splash my arm and seeing the blotches on Miles’ shirt.
“Oh, my God!” I gasped, making a big show of wiping him off. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“It’s okay,” he cut in, running a hand down his shirt and then over his blond hair, fixing himself. “What are you drinking there, Pretty Girl?”
He took the opportunity and grabbed my waist with one hand, stealing my flask with the other and taking a drink.
His eyebrows shot up, probably surprised to actually find alcohol and not Kool-Aid in there. The perk about being the quiet girl was not many people really got to know you, which left you the advantage of surprise if you ever decided to switch gears in situations just like this.
I pinched my eyebrows together, trying to look worried and vulnerable.
“Please don’t tell anybody,” I pleaded. “Trevor and I got in an argument, and I just needed to relax.”
Not that he’d tell anyone I was drinking. Everyone drank, but I wanted him to see me as easy prey. Miles and Astrid were aware I knew about the episode on St. Patrick’s Day, even though I couldn’t remember it, but I was hoping he would buy the fact that I was too drunk to care right now.
His lips quirked, and he handed me back the flask. “What did you fight about?”
I dropped my head back, like the alcohol was getting to me as I moaned. “He thinks I belong to him, and I disagree,” I played, bringing my eyes back to him and giving him a “fuck me” look.
I saw the heat grow in his eyes and felt his hands hold my hips possessively.
“Holdin’ out for someone else?” he whispered, getting closer to my mouth.
I licked my lips and hung a lazy arm over his shoulder, my hand dangling behind him. “Maybe,” I taunted, forcing myself to sway in his arms.
“Can’t really blame him, Rika,” he spoke low, yanking my body into his. “I mean, look at you.”
I smiled, forcing down the bile coming up from my stomach.
Stumbling backward, I groaned, acting like I was dizzy. “The room is spinning,” I whimpered. “I think I need to splash some water on my face. Where’s the bathroom?”
He took my hand, leaning in and whispering, “Come on.”
I didn’t bother looking back to see if his girlfriend or friends had seen. I knew they had, and hopefully Astrid would only be a moment behind.
Letting him lead me, we walked through the bar and around the corner to where the bathrooms sat. He pulled me into the men’s room, and I immediately went for the sinks, turning on the water. Thankfully, the room empty.
Leaning my hand on the side of the basin, I got my other one wet and patted my chest and neck, making a show of arching my back and flipping my long hair over the side.
Come on, guys. Get in here.
“Oh, that’s better,” I moaned, continuing to slide my wet hand around the back of my neck and letting it glide down my chest.
And Miles didn’t waste any time. Coming up behind me, his hands gripped my hips as he pressed himself into my ass.
“God, I bet you’re a hot fuck,” he breathed out, bringing up one hand the squeeze my shoulder at the neck while the other reached around to take my breast.
My breath shook and my mouth went dry.
Michael.
I kept going anyway, forcing a small laugh and pushing his hand away. “What are you doing?”
He grabbed for my tits again, growling low in my ear, “You know what you want.” And he reached down, fiddling with the button of my pants.
My pulse pounded in my ears, and I glanced at the door.
You’re not a victim, and I’m not your savior. My eyes burned, and every inch of my skin crawled with fear.
Where were they? What the fuck?
I gritted my teeth and inhaled a deep breath. Breathing out slow and steady, I calmed down.
“You think that’s what I want?” I said, trying to sound less nervous than I was.
My phone was in the car, and my keys were in my sweatshirt. I was naked in here. No weapons, and my only hope was to make it out of the bathroom.
I spun around, leaning my hands at my sides on the sink. And then my hand froze, falling on something small and sharp.
I held it as Miles dived in, kissing my neck and pawing my ass. “I know exactly what you’re begging for,” he replied.
I gripped the metal in my hand, realizing it was the pump for the soap dispenser on the granite top. It had a long, metal spout that was thin and sharp. I tensed my arm, slowly and quietly wiggling it out of its hole until it finally popped off, and I hurriedly hid it behind my back.
“Get off me,” I ordered, done playing.
But then he grabbed my hair, and I cried out as he yanked my head back. “Don’t tease me.”
He slipped his other hand in the top of my tank and squeezed my breast as he smothered my neck with his mouth. “You can cry, though, if you want to. Just get those fucking pants off.”
I cringed, gripping the soap pump and raising my arm to bring it down across his face, but then the door burst opened, and we both shot our heads up, relief flooding me.
But that was short-lived.
Astrid.
My chest caved, and my eyes flared, quickly hiding my weapon behind my back again. She walked through the door and shut it behind her, looking like she wanted some trouble.
“So you think you can fuck my boyfriend, you little slut?” She held my eyes, looking half-amused and half-daring.
I loosed and retightened my fingers around the makeshift weapon in my hand, liquid heat pouring under the skin of my neck and chest.
Jesus, I was scared. Michael.
She walked over, hooking an arm around Miles’ neck and darted out her tongue, flicking his lips. He dived in for a kiss, tightening his hold on me, and I winced, pushing away from him and darting for the door.
But he caught me, throwing me back against the sink. My skin crawled, and I started to breathe hard and fast. No.
I wanted out of here. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom.
Astrid leaned back, speaking to Miles, “You want her?”
He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, jerking me into him like I was his dinner. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, and I let out a small cry, feeling the ridge of his cock rub against me.
“Bend her over and give it to her from behind,” Astrid ordered him. “And be rough. I don’t like her.”
He whipped me around, and I gasped as the room spun and he forced my head down over the counter.
Astrid hopped up on the sink next to me, whispering in my ear, “I like to watch him dick other girls.”
I couldn’t breathe. I tried to inhale, but my chest only shook more and more.
Miles’ reached around to unzip my jeans, and I screamed, my throat going raw as a surge of anger filled my muscles. I lashed out.
Shooting back upright, I pulled both arms back and s
wung them straight across Astrid’s face, slamming her into the mirror to my right.
The left side of her head crashed into the glass, quickly shattering it into dozens of splinters and shards.
I whipped around, hitting Miles in the side of the face, gouging his skin with the spout of the pump and ripping a line right down his cheek.
“Fuck!” he bellowed, shooting a hand to his face and stumbling backward.
“You bitch!” Astrid cried out. “You cut my face!”
I shot up, holding out my weapon in front of me and backing up to the wall as sweat broke out across my body. “Good, you sick fucks!” I raged, fury heating my face.
“Come here!” Miles yelled, and I cried out as he grabbed my arm and damn near ripped it out of the socket as he threw me to floor.
“No!” I shouted.
He came down on me on top of me, and I flailed my arms and legs as he grabbed my hands and restrained me.
“Well, shit, little one,” a voice chirped above me, and I whimpered, seeing Miles stop and look up.
I sucked in short, shallow breaths, my heart thundering in my chest as I followed his hard look up at the door that had just opened.
Will stared down through his white mask, Michael, Kai, and Damon flanking him. “Looks like you fucked them up good without our help,” he stated, glancing at Astrid who had blood pouring down the side of her face by the sink.
They slowly entered the room, filling the space around us and shutting the door behind them. I locked eyes with Michael, seeing his narrow as they fell down to my unbuttoned pants.
“What are you guys doing here?” Miles bit out, getting to his feet. “Get out. This is private.”
No one hesitated.
Michael reared up his fist and slammed it down across Miles’ face, knocking the wind out of him as his body whipped to the side. Damon and Will immediately dived in, taking both of his arms and hauling his body back to the wall, pinning him there.
Kai grabbed me and brought me to my feet, and I darted out, catching Astrid as she tried to run for the door. Fisting her hair, I shoved her into the wall next to her boyfriend and fought to keep the relieved tears at bay.
“Don’t you ever touch me again!” I screamed at her and then stepped over, jutting out and spitting in Miles’ face. “Ever!”
He winced, blood trickling down his cheek from the gash I’d made.
My whole body shook as I backed away, the rush of fear cracking my face and making my heart ache. I dropped my eyes, seeing Miles’ blood on my shirt.
“Go to the car,” Michael commanded, Miles pinned to the wall in front of him. “We’ll be there soon.”
I sniffled, still fisting the soap pump as I snatched my sweatshirt out of Kai’s hand and slipped it back on, covering the blood.
“What are you guys going to do?”
Michael turned from me back to Miles. “Make sure they understand,” he answered.
Present
WE WALKED INTO A LARGE, WHITE HOUSE on the outskirts of the city, all four guys ahead with me trailing behind. They didn’t worry about whether or not I would run off.
I’d gotten in the car, after all.
When I’d made it back to my apartment after the confrontation, I’d seethed for about two minutes, a million fears running through my head. They liked toying around and playing games, and tonight, for some reason, I was the mouse hanging by its tail. Why?
As the minutes on the clock in my apartment ticked away, I couldn’t calm down. They were coming for me, and who knew when they’d stop? I’d never wanted to see them again. Ever.
But it was obvious they were after something. They pushed people. That’s what they did. And they’d keep pushing me until I started holding my ground and quit backing away.
What else you got?
What else did I have? I was taught to be brave from my father. Dip your toe in every ocean and try everything and anything. Learn, explore, take the world on…
And from my mom, I learned self-sufficiency. Of course, she’d taught me by default, but watching her showed me exactly who I didn’t want to be.
And from Michael—as well as Damon, Will, and Kai—I learned to breathe fire. I learned to walk as if the path were carved for me and me alone, and to treat the world as if it should know I was coming.
Did I practice any of it? Of course not. I was a mouse, and that was why I got on my bikini and got in the damn car. I wanted to be different.
I wasn’t tapping out this time.
The drive was quiet, and I spent the whole time focused out the window, happy that they’d turned up the music and killed any possibility of conversation.
After valets took the cars, they led the way into the house, and I followed in my black leather flip-flops, suddenly relaxing at the sight of so many people.
I wouldn’t feel unsafe here.
The architecture of the mansion was modern—lots of windows and glass, as well as sharp edges and white everywhere. There were serval levels with balconies, each jutting out of the house at varying lengths and widths, and as we strolled in, I could tell immediately that this was a Storm party.
Michael’s basketball team.
There was sports paraphernalia sitting around, and serval of the guests, including the ones I’d just arrived with, towered over everyone else.
A moment of alarm hit me when I saw all the guys in suits without ties, but then I calmed down again, seeing the women, some in club wear and others in swim wear like me.
“Jake.” Michael shook hands with a guy a few inches taller than him and then turned to me. “Erika, this is Jake Owen. A teammate. This is his house.”
I offered a half-smile, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, his eyes gentle. “You’re very beautiful.” And then he looked to Michael. “You sure you want the rest of the team to see her before you get a ring on her finger?”
Michael hooded his eyes, shaking his head as he brushed off his friend’s joke.
“I dated his brother, actually,” I told him. “We grew up together.”
“Really?” He straightened, looking at me with more interest. “Well, I’d love to hear some basketball stories from his youth. Michael, as I’m sure you know, isn’t much for sharing.”
I grinned, knowing exactly what he was talking about. But then something caught my eye, and I looked over, seeing Alex. Will was pulling her up the stairs, a grin plastered on his face.
Alex was here? And why was she going off with Will?
I then saw Kai and Damon take their drinks and head out to the patio.
I turned back to Jake, blinking and remembering myself. “I…” I stammered, “I’m afraid there’s not much I could tell you. I didn’t watch his games in school. I’m sorry.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed just a sliver.
Yeah, I’d been to every basketball game he played in high school. No, I couldn’t tell you a single play or what teams they beat. I wasn’t paying attention to that.
Backing away with a small smile, I excused myself and left them alone. I was sure Michael didn’t intend for me to hang on him all night, and I needed some space.
And maybe a drink, too.
I SPENT THE NEXT HALF HOUR or so wandering around the downstairs, acting like I cared about the artwork and the sculptures, before finally hitting the bar for a drink.
Thankfully the guys had left me alone and I hadn’t seen them since we arrived. Taking my rum and Coke outside and feeling the alcohol slowly warm my blood, I noticed all of the people in the enormous pool. No one was swimming, but it was plenty spacious for lounging and enjoying the last bit of balmy summer air.
On the far end of the pool were rock cliffs and a waterfall display, and I cocked my head, peering over to notice what looked like a secret cave behind the falls.
Looking around, I noticed that the guys were still AWOL, so I quickly slid my shirt down my arms and my shorts off. Laying my clothes and sandals on a lawn chair, I grabbed
my drink and slid into the pool.
The water reached my waist, and I fluffed my hair, bringing it over my left shoulder as I hung around the edge of the pool, sipping my drink.
Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back and finally felt the tension leave my face.
Finally.
“Hey,” a voice greeted.
I popped my eyes open and looked up to see Alex, a bottle of Patron and a couple of shot glasses in her hands. She wore a red bikini with several long, thin gold necklaces around her neck and big hoop earrings in her ears.
“You look a little happier than the last time I saw you,” she observed.
I nodded, tipping my glass up to her. “This helps.”
“Psh,” she scoffed, setting down her things and hopping into the pool. “That’s not a drink.”
And she poured two quick glasses of the tequila, taking one for herself and handing me the other.
I fought not to turn up my nose, because hard liquor—not mixed with anything else—was agony for me.
However, I wanted to relax—for once—and I didn’t fear the guys or any advantage they would take if I got buzzed. Between the four of them, they wouldn’t need alcohol to subdue me, so if that’s what they were after, I was as good as dead drunk or sober anyway.
I downed the shot, the liquid scorching my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing again and again as I tried to get rid of the taste my mouth. I didn’t think she’d brought lemons, unfortunately.
God, I was a girl.
Blowing out a breath and getting over the pungent taste, I set the glass down, seeing her refill them.
“So I have to ask,” I started, still forcing down the taste in my mouth. “What’s with the ‘I see lots of men’ line?”
The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk, and she turned around handing me the shot glass, now full again.
“And I know Will took you upstairs before, and it was Michael the other night?” I went on, giving her a playful look.
She shrugged, looking guilty. “I know lots of men. As in, I get paid to know lots of men.”
Paid? She got paid to know men and spend time with them?
And then my eyes widened, realization hitting. “Ohhh. Right.”
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