Bad

by LP Lovell

  "What land? There are a million lakes in fucking Mexico!"

  "Estrallado Largo."

  "What the fuck does he want with a meteor site? Ai, ai, ai. He's fucking loco. I swear to god, when I get out from under him, I'm going to shove his pale dick up his asshole."

  "I don't know. I didn't get a chance to ask him what his master plan to take over the world is. Fuck! Just do it."

  "You find a way out."

  "Gabe," I sigh. "I'm not sure I'll make it out of this one.” There’s a pause. “You should have just let him kill me, Gabriel. You've shown him a weakness, and now he'll push the advantage. Papa taught you better."

  "I'm not letting the Russian fuck kill you, Camilla."

  I'd tell Ronan a thousand times that I would sacrifice Gabriel for my cartel. It's what our father taught us to do, to never negotiate and show weakness. The truth is, sometimes sentiment is all we have. I love Gabriel. He’s the only person I have left, and I know all too well that this world can be very lonely.

  "I have to go," I whisper. "I love you." I never say it, but I don't know when or if I'll ever get the chance again. I don’t wait for a response; I just hang up. The old man stares at me for a second and I stand up, smiling at him in thanks. I've done what I needed to do, now I just have to wait for Ronan's men to find me, which shouldn't take long. I climb back inside the battered Jaguar and head for Moscow. Might as well make a day of it.

  Chapter 20

  Ronan

  “Living Dead Girl” – Rob Zombie

  I step off the plane, parting ways with Donovan as I head toward the waiting car. Igor stands next to the open door with a solemn look on his face.

  "She got out," he says as I bend to slide into the car.

  "I'm sorry?"

  The door slams shut and the car pulls off. "Camilla got out."

  "You say that as though she's nothing but a stray dog." I groan. "How difficult is it to keep one woman locked in a room? How many men did she kill this time?" It shouldn't excite me, to think of the anger swirling in her eyes as she goes on a killing rampage, but it does.

  "One, and she stole a car."

  "Of course she did."

  "We have the GPS coordinates. She's in Moscow."

  "And... why is no one after her?" I just had the most spiritual moment of my life with that nuclear weapon only to have it tainted by a level of incompetency I cannot understand.

  He shifts in the seat. "We thought it would be best if you handled her."

  I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up the GPS. The little red dot blips right outside The Kremlin. Of course, she's not hiding. She knows better.

  Half an hour later, the car pulls into a crowded parking lot. Through the window I can see my Jaguar. The hood is smashed, sides dented, and a lovely array of bullet holes decorate the back. Now that makes me angry.

  Before the driver has a chance to climb out, I throw open the door and step into the frigid wind. Igor opens his door, and I hold up a finger, halting him. "Stay here, Igor," I say as I pull my coat together and head down the snow laced sidewalk. I round the corner, stepping between a group of women, and there Camilla stands at the gate of the Kremlin, dressed in a fur coat with her back to the street. She did this just to defy me. To get a rise. My jaw tics, and I close my eyes. She craves my anger, so she shall not have it. "Have you had enough sightseeing and murder for the day?" I ask, stepping up behind her.

  She glances over her shoulder, and a sheet of dark hair falls over one side of her face. "It was one guy. I just wanted to see Moscow. I don't appreciate being locked up like a rebelling child."

  I study her face. The flicker of fearlessness that dances within her eyes gives me a rise I rather enjoy, but this defiance... It gives me much more than a rise, and I need to snuff this out immediately. I grab her firmly by the elbow, and walk, pulling her behind me as I head toward the car. Igor is waiting with the door open, and I shove Camilla inside. I climb in followed by Igor, and as the car pulls away she points through the window, smiling.

  "Sorry about your Jaguar," she says. "It was a nice car."

  I pull a cigar from my jacket and light it, staring at her as the smoke streams in front of my face.

  She holds up her hands. "Just take it out of Gabe's cut of...whatever."

  My blood pressure steadily ticks up notch by notch. She doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut, and there's a fine line between entertainment and annoyance. Part of me wishes for nothing more than to teach her what true fear means, for me to go back to my roots and soak my hands in blood; then part of me wants to fuck her while I choke her, taking her to the very brink of death while I'm buried deep inside her. How this all plays out in the end will be a surprise to us both, that I'm certain of.

  I glance at Igor. "She says I treat her like a rebellious child," I say, smirking as I look at Camilla. "She doesn't appreciate how kind I've been with providing her with such lavish accommodations, so maybe she'll appreciate if I treat her like the hostage she truly is." I stroke my finger over her cheek. "I will miss looking at your pretty face though."

  She knows she's in trouble, yet she holds her head high. She does wear that arrogance like a crown. Oh, what fun she’ll have in the cold basement with all those other poor souls. I'd be lying if the thought of her suffering didn't utterly delight me. I'm sick, possibly even horrible, but what good man would ever be in my position? I'd take power over morals any day.

  ______

  It's been two days since Camilla was taken into the old bomb shelter underneath this house. Two days of quiet. I sit with my brandy and cigar in hand, watching the news. So it seems the Gobi Desert was bombed by one of China's enemies a few days ago. How terribly awful. What is this world coming to? I find myself smiling.

  My attention is drawn away from the carnage when the door to the living room creaks open. Igor steps into the room, his cheeks flushed, and a phone pressed to his ear. "Kill them," he says before hanging up.

  "What's happened now?" I ask, taking a sip of brandy.

  "The last shipment of Devil's Dust was stolen."

  My teeth grind together, tension building in my neck. "Did you track it? Where is it?"

  "At one of Estrada's safe houses."

  I laugh. Of course it is. Funny that only two days after his sister escaped, a shipment of presumably useless powder goes missing and ends up at her stupid brother's house. Anger heats my blood, coiling around me as I stare through Igor. "Did you have someone detain him?"

  "Yes, boss."

  I swallow hard before pushing to my feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of my shirt. "I'm going down to pay her a visit.” I’m barely able to restrain my voice. Her complete disregard for her own life thrills me to no end. Camilla is the very definition of reckless. She has no control, and that is like an aphrodisiac to me, because when there is no fear, no concern for one's self, the possibilities of what I could do to her are infinitely endless.

  Chapter 21

  Camilla

  “Bad Habits” – The Kooks

  Emergency lights flicker overhead before they completely black out. One by one, they hum back to life, lighting up all the way to the end of the basement. This is more of a bomb shelter I suppose, filled with beds and at least twenty people. I sit with my back against the cold wall and my legs stretched out on a rickety cot that’s bolted to the floor, watching each of them. Wondering what they did to land on Ronan Cole's shit list.

  I bet they didn't trash his car, kill his men, and escape.

  A shiver works through me and I gather the scratchy, wool blanket around me. It irritates my skin, but I still smile, because I got a reaction. Ronan handled it the only way he could—by removing me from his presence. I only hope that Gabriel manages to find something, because honestly, I don't know how much longer I can go toe to toe with that man before I snap. I want to kill him, I want to hurt him, I want to end everything that he is and has, but... That raw authority he commands so effortlessly— it's like a magnet to so
meone like me. He may well be the only man to truly challenge me, and that's a one in a million shot. I watch the way he owns everyone, and I crave his ownership every bit as much as I loathe it. I'm not a woman who believes in love or even lust, but wild animal magnetism... that is Ronan Cole. There's nothing rational or fucking sensible about it, just pure, unadulterated primal need. I want to conquer the alpha male. Simple.

  The click of the bolt sliding away from the door catches my attention. The hinges creak as the door slowly opens. Light spills through the doorway, silhouetting the suited form of the devil himself. Ronan snaps his fingers and two men walk into the room, approaching me and grabbing both my arms. I’m forced to my feet, and they walk me to the door, stopping right in front of Ronan. He stares down at me, those cold and completely unforgiving blue eyes locking with mine.

  "Ronan." I tilt my head to the side and flick my tangled hair over my shoulder.

  His jaw clenches and a muscle ticks before he turns and walks away. The men shove through the doorway, the door slamming shut behind me with a heavy groan. I’m led up the stairwell and into a hall. Squinting against the bright lights, I watch Ronan disappear down a corridor. Finally, after twists and turns, I'm shoved into a room after him.

  The men leave, closing the doors, and silence descends like an ominous mist. The furnishings in the room are sparse: a few leather couches and a pool table at the far end. I stand by the door as Ronan walks over to the open fire that's roaring away. He watches it for a moment, tension building like a pending volcanic eruption. He clasps his hands behind his back and crosses the room, taking a seat on one of the leather chairs. There’s a chess board laid out on the small table beside him, and he plucks a piece off the board and studies it. His silence causes my stomach to twist nervously.

  "Why do you not value your life?" he asks without looking at me. I can hear the strain in his voice.

  "I wouldn't say that I don’t value it." I move over to the fire and stare at the flames as they lick over the logs. "Simply that some things are more important." I glance over my shoulder at him.

  "So," he places the chess piece back on the board and smooths his hand down the front of his shirt, "what you are saying, is you wish for me to kill you then?" He smiles.

  I shrug one shoulder and take a breath. His face appears calm, but it’s in that eerie calmness that his anger is palpable. I can only hazard a guess that Gabe did what I asked. After all, Ronan doesn't get angry. It's beneath him. It would take something momentous to rile him like this. "No. But make no mistake, I would rather die than roll over and play the helpless bitch."

  "Oh,” a sick laugh rumbles from his chest, “you haven't played the helpless bitch since you've been here. But, I will say," he pushes to his feet, "you have played the role of the stupid bitch very well." He stalks toward me, trailing his fingers along the wall beside the fireplace with his eyes locked on mine. "Haven't you?" he says, and my heart goes into a sprint.

  "That's a matter of opinion," I say, watching him carefully.

  He laughs again as he reaches for something, and before I can even register what he's doing, I feel warm metal across my throat. He pins me to the wall, the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes. His jaw twitches and the pressure over my throat increases as he leans in toward me. I struggle for breath, grabbing at the metal fire poker he has rammed against my throat, gagging and choking as he pushes me up the wall until my feet are lifted from the floor.

  "Is it a matter of opinion, Camilla? Because I would think having your brother take a shipment of mine would be nothing but stupidity. You've had enough time around me to know better, surely?"

  My vision blurs and my eyes water. I claw at him; at anything I can reach. My pulse pounds like an unwanted warning alarm in my ears.

  A sadistic grin spreads over his lips before he leans next to my ear. "I thought you weren't afraid of death, little kitty," he laughs before snatching the rod away, dropping me to a heap on the floor.

  I cough and rub at my bruised throat. "There are better ways to go." I cough again, sucking in several deep breaths. "I can't be held responsible for what Gabriel does."

  "You killed my men, ruined one of my cars.” He stares down at me. “And then you obviously contact your brother. This had very little to do with Gabriel." He bends over, grabbing the hair by my scalp and lifting me to my feet. "But it does now..." He drags me to a chair and shoves me down just as the door opens. Igor steps in with an open laptop and places it on the pool table, spinning it around to face me.

  There, on the screen, is Gabriel. Both his eyes have swollen shut, and his face is covered in blood. A man punches him with a knuckle duster. Gabe's head snaps to the side, and he spits blood before laughing. "Hey, sis," he smirks.

  "You look like shit," I say.

  "Eh, fucking Russian putas." A guy punches him in the gut. Gabe bends down where I can’t see him, choking. I'm pretty sure he's throwing up. They keep beating him, and I force myself not to react even though the sight of my brother hurt pulls at something deep inside me. I clench my jaw. This is the life we chose. I have to suck it up.

  Ronan stands behind me, his finger slowly tracing over my bruised neck. He leans down by my ear. "I do so love the way bruises look on your tanned skin," he whispers. "So pretty, little kitty." Goosebumps prickle over my body as his warm breath skates over my throat.

  A guy shoves Gabriel back into his chair, and grabs a handful of his hair, forcing him to look right at the camera. Right at me. Ronan wraps my hair around his wrist and yanks my head to the side. His lips sweep along the side of my neck, and Gabriel growls on the video. I force myself to remain still. I'm not sure whether it's because I want to pull away from Ronan, or lean into him. I don't trust myself with him...especially not in front of my brother. Ronan's hand creeps over my shoulder, across my collarbone, right to the top of my breast, and then he nibbles at my ear.

  "Your pink pussy looked so pretty wrapped around the barrel of my gun the other day." He exhales. "Makes me think I want to fuck you myself."

  I stare back at Gabe for a second, hoping he'll understand what I’m about to do before I turn to face Ronan. Our lips brush, and I drop my gaze to his lips. "You won't fuck me, Russian. It threatens your precious control too much," I say before I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip.

  Laughing, he traces his tongue down my throat. "I could have one of my men fuck you while I watch. While you scream, begging for me to make them stop."

  "Oh, please, Ronan.” I roll my eyes. “No." I place my hand to my chest, and he moves out from behind me.

  "Gabriel," he says just before the man on the screen punches my brother again. "You were being such an obedient servant. I'm going to handle your sister while my men take care of you. Next time, I will slit her throat and let the other cartels handle the man who sold out to, how do you say it?" He taps his finger over his chin, "The fucking Russian?"

  Igor closes the screen, scoops the laptop off the table, and leaves, closing the door behind him. Ronan turns back to me, smiling as he unfastens his cufflinks and meticulously rolls the white sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. "Now, how do I punish the fearless?" he asks, taking a seat behind the chess board. He picks up a pawn, twisting it in his hand before places it on the board. "Rape will do nothing, so that's out of the question..." He moves another chess piece. "Torture?" He shrugs. "Overrated, don't you think?"

  I cross the room and take a seat opposite him. "I find it effective on the weak."

  He cocks a brow before he unfastens the buttons of his shirt. "You're not weak."

  "No." I look up at him through my lashes and smile.

  "Get undressed," he says.

  I stare at him a beat longer. One minute he wants to kill me and now he wants me naked. If it's humiliation he wants then he'll be bitterly disappointed. I stand up and grab the hem of the oversized shirt Igor threw at me when he dumped me in that basement. I'm naked underneath so this is a short strip tease. It drops at my feet and I
lift a brow at him before I sit down and cross my legs. "You know, there are much more exciting ways to get a girl naked."

  A smug smile inches over his lips as his eyes drag over my naked body. "Do you enjoy sex, Camilla?"

  "No.” I flash him an incredulous look. “I'm a fucking virgin."

  "Do you prefer it when a man chokes you from behind as he takes you, when he treats you like a dirty slut?" He grins. "I'd imagine you do."

  "I won't let a man do anything, but if he can take it..." I narrow my eyes and trail my finger slowly up my naked thigh. "Could you take it, Ronan? I'd imagine you could."

  "I take everything I want, Camilla. You should know better." He pushes to his feet and slowly circles behind me, sweeping my hair from my neck. "You should."

  "Maybe I just like to have the point driven home." I shouldn't like this; I should hate everything about him. He just had my brother beaten in front of me, but I love the violence of it all. I love the way he exercises his iron-will without mercy. I love the throbbing in my throat, and I can imagine the pretty bruise already forming there. I like that he's marked me in a singular moment where he lost a grip on that precious control. I love having that power over him, the same way he has this power over me.

  He grabs my hair, fisting it as he jerks my head back so hard my teeth knock against each other. "Is that why you are so defiant? Hmm?" He leans down, skirting his nose along my neck, inhaling and groaning. "Because you like it rough?"

  "Maybe I just like to defy you, to see what you'll do." I turn my face toward him. My scalp screams in protest at the unyielding grip he has on my hair. "Watching you lose control...it would be so beautiful." His breath washes over my face, and I fight back a moan as the intoxicating scent of his cigar-laced clothes wraps around me. I wish he didn't affect me like this, but he does, and I refuse to be a victim to it. He lets go of my hair, and I stand up, rounding the chair and forcing my body against his. "So utterly destructive."