by Sam Crescent
Good. The fewer people looking for her, the better. He pressed her shoulder down to get her to sit on the chair, then squatted down and patted her hips, feeling for pockets. “You have any weapons on you?”
“No.”
His cell phone rang, so he stood back up and walked away from her.
“You get the job done?” asked Boss.
“I always get the job done.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I have another contract for you. Interested?”
Killing was all he knew. From the planning stage, surveillance, to pulling the trigger, it was all a rush. Something dark resided in him, for as long as he could remember, and it seemed his job as a mercenary was the only thing that kept it sated.
“Sure, why not?”
“Excellent. Now that Viper’s retired, I’m short a good man. You can go far with Killer of Kings, Bain.”
Bain wasn’t worried about the next paycheck or maintaining a lavish lifestyle. His life was no frills. He also had so much fucking cash that he was already set for life. He did his job because he had to.
“Help me!”
He whirled around. The little bitch had some nerve. Bain glared at her, his jaw twitching with his rising anger.
“Who was that?” asked Boss.
“Don’t worry about her. You’re not the only one I work for,” he said, dismissively. “Text me the details. I’ll be busy for a while.” He put his phone in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest. There were so many wicked things he could do to Scarlett to make her pay for her disobedience. He’d doled out every kind of torture in his day, most learned from personal experience. Right now, all he cared about was ensuring she kept quiet while he was away on his next hit. With his luck, someone would come to his front door and hear her screaming.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Scarlett.”
She stared at him, her big green eyes roaming over his body. He looked down at himself. Over the years he’d gotten so much fucking ink that there wasn’t much skin left untouched. It was a necessity, his way of covering up the past, an attempt to change himself into something new. It was never enough, the scars and memories continuing to haunt him.
“What do you think I should do to you for that little stunt?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Of course you did. You’re trying to save yourself, but what you don’t realize is there’s no escape. Nobody knows where you are, and by the sounds of it, nobody gives a shit.”
“You’re never letting me leave?”
“There you go, now you’re catching on. But until I can trust you, I’m sure you understand why I have to use this.” He pulled out a black gag from his back pocket, waving it in front of her, and then motioned her to walk up the stairs. There was no way he could stand coming down into the shitty basement to check on her every few hours. The dank space was worse than he remembered, so he’d keep her within arm’s length for now.
When they got to the top of the stairs, she made a break for it.
Chapter Two
Scarlett tried to run, but he caught her around the arm and hauled her back against him. She fought hard. Fighting him was useless, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to get away from this monster, to survive. Her life was miserable, but she didn’t want to die. There was so much she hadn’t achieved yet, and so much to live for.
Even her dismal love life was worth fighting for, wasn’t it?
“Will you fucking stop!”
“Leave me alone.”
“I told you to stay fucking silent, and you wouldn’t listen, so now you’re going to be quiet.”
By the time the gag was over her mouth, her back was pressed against him, and during their little fight, he had somehow grabbed her breast, using it as something to hold onto. She didn’t know exactly what happened next as she just froze up.
He had paused behind her, and all she heard was the sound of their breathing.
“Right,” he said. “That’s better. All silent right now, which is exactly how I like you.” He released her breast, and dumped her into a chair. Any chance of escaping was lost as he tied her to that, too, a rope firmly around her waist.
Once she was secured to the chair, he clapped his hands once, and she watched as he went to his fridge, and started to make himself some food.
“Killing makes me hungry. What about you?”
She stared at him, unable to answer.
“Just so you know, my name is Bain,” he said, and she watched as he grabbed two slices of bread, slathering one slice with peanut butter and the other with some kind of cream cheese. What a disgusting combination.
Tears filled her eyes as he lifted up one gun, and did some weird back and forth game with it. He knew his guns, and soon he was going to kill her.
Slapping the two slices of bread together, he rounded the counter to stand in front of her. She didn’t mean to but ended up staring down at his crotch. Why was she staring at this man’s dick? This was completely insane, and she didn’t need this right now. The story she was going to tell had already gone up in smoke. Her life was ruined, and no one was going to hire her. She had reached her limit.
Bain cupped her chin and tilted her head back. “Why are you crying?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t about to fight the damn band across her mouth to tell this brute exactly what was wrong with her. Once he found out that she had lied, and someone knew exactly where she was, Lisa was going to die. Damn it. All she’d wanted to do was keep her job and to show she wasn’t just some researcher, but an actual reporter. She had lost count of the number of times her ideas had been taken by other women.
Every time she saw her story on the news she knew it had been given to someone else just because she wasn’t young enough, or pretty enough, or slim enough. The media was a fickle place, and you either fit into a certain image or you worked out of sight at a shitty desk. She had been struggling for a long time.
She knew what it took to make a living, and she knew how to do her damn job.
He grabbed the gag that was in her mouth and pulled it off. “I was speaking to you.”
“Why should I answer your questions? You’re nothing but a murderer.”
She tensed up expecting him to hurt her, but he only tilted his head to the side, and then sat down, eating his sandwich.
“You’re not someone I would picture as a reporter.”
Scarlett said nothing, trying to deal with whatever insult he was cooking up.
“You’re beautiful,” he said and that had her looking at him. No one had ever called her beautiful before. At thirty-six years old, she was past being beautiful, and sometimes a boyfriend had told her she was pretty or that she was okay. Yeah, the total sum of her compliments was being told that she was okay. She could live with that though. Staring at this man, this killer, as he told her that she was beautiful seemed so absurd. “What were you doing at Alexei Semenov’s house?”
“I told you already. I’m a researcher, I mean … reporter.”
Bain stared at her, taking another bite of his sandwich as he watched her. “Why him?”
She licked her lips and glanced past his shoulder. The tears that she had been keeping at bay for so long finally came to and dropped down her cheeks. “They’re making cutbacks at work. I’m not getting any younger, and we know that Alexei Semenov is a criminal. I wanted to interview him. No one would dare book an interview with him. Not only did I do that, but I actually got a sit down with him. I got the chance of a lifetime.”
“You know he would have never allowed a bad word said about him.”
“Why did you have to kill him?” she asked.
“Simple. He had a hit out on his head, and I’m known for taking care of that.”
“Ugh, you should just kill me now. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get another job.”
He chuckled. “You’re funny.”
“Great. Now I’m entertaining a psycho. This day
couldn’t get any worse.”
“What’s funny is you thinking you can get away. I’ve got news for you, princess. You’re not leaving this place alive, so you can either give me a reason to keep you around and alive, or you’re going to be dead very soon.”
She was terrified. The calm way he gave her a death sentence—no one should be able to do that, and yet he seemed so calm, so deadly, and it was all wrong.
“You’re really going to kill me?”
“Yeah, probably. It depends who else I’m going to have to kill. I’ve got a feeling you’re a smart woman, Scarlett. Something tells me that you’re not stupid enough to go to a known criminal’s house without saying something to someone.”
She kept her thoughts to herself, praying that Lisa just forgot about her. She had thought she was being clever, and only now she saw the error of what she had done. Now she was regretting everything.
Bain finished his sandwich and stood up. “Do you like peanut butter?”
“What?”
“Peanut butter? Do you like it? That’s all you’re getting.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat,” she said.
He glared at her. “Do you want some fucking food or not?”
“Yes, I like peanut butter.” Much to her shame, her stomach started to growl, and Bain smirked.
“I remember that feeling all too well,” he said.
“What feeling?” She couldn’t help but snap out the question. After everything that she had been through today, she was really struggling to keep up with what was going on.
Her life had gone from panic to fear, to possible death.
She’d gladly worry about keeping a job than worry about being alive by tomorrow.
“Starvation. It’s a feeling I know very well.”
“You’ve starved?” she asked. The man didn’t look undernourished in the least.
“It was part of being disciplined. I wasn’t allowed food until I had earned that right.” He put the sandwiches on paper towels. She gasped as he pulled out a knife and cut the rope holding her hands together. “Eat.” He pocketed the knife and sat opposite her. She was still trapped to the chair with no way of escaping. He simply watched her as he ate, and she wondered what he was thinking.
She took the sandwich and had a bite. “You were starved? Was this in the army?”
He scoffed. “No. I wasn’t trained by no army. I was trained by a bunch of sadistic bastards when I was a kid. Everything had to be earned, and no matter how much we were desperate for food or water, we had to learn to go without. It was a hard life.”
Scarlett stared at him, unable to believe that something like that could happen. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Let’s be real, Scarlett, you’re going to die. I’m just waiting to see if there’s someone else I have to end. Now we can make your final hours pleasant, or bad. It’s entirely up to you.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. It had been an awful life now that she thought about it. Boyfriends had been cruel, downright hurtful, and abusive. On top of that, she had parents that didn’t love her and a job that stole her ideas. Yeah, she could see an end coming, and it was strange that she actually looked forward to it.
No!
She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live.
Everything that she had been through in the past thirty-six years were starting to get to her, and she couldn’t stand it.
Taking another bite of her sandwich, she refused to give in and give up. She was a lot stronger than this and would fight this feeling that was consuming her.
“Now would you look at that,” Bain said, smirking. “There’s a fighter inside you after all. I was starting to wonder where your backbone had gone.”
“Fuck off.” She glared at him, prepared to fight him.
“I’m not going anywhere, babe, and right now, you’re turning me the fuck on.”
She hadn’t expected that, especially as he grabbed his dick, which was easily seen pressed against his pants.
This was insane. She didn’t want to notice his large length. The thing was, Bain didn’t even reach out to touch her. He released his cock, and then continued to eat his sandwich as if nothing was going on. She watched him, somewhat surprised.
“If you’re thinking I’m going to rape you, you’re wrong. I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re just going to kill me?”
“Exactly, nothing wrong with that. I’m being honest.” He shrugged. “If you entertain me I may keep you around a little longer.”
Her blood went cold. She had to have hope that she’d get through this.
Maybe, if she got out of here alive, he’d be a better story than Alexei Semenov.
****
Bain had fucked up in a big way. He knew that, and so far Boss didn’t know that, and he didn’t know why he cared. Actually, scrap that, he did know why he cared. Viper had been the one to actually give a good report on him. Killing was what he was known for, and Viper had his back. They had both been in that shithole they had called home as a child. Bain didn’t even know how else to describe it.
Staring at the sexy little reporter, he knew her mind was working. If she couldn’t have Alexei Semenov, then why not him, the hitman? His story would totally fuck people’s heads up, and he was used to that shit.
Right now, he didn’t want to kill her. Not just because of the fact he could guarantee there was someone out there that knew about her but also because he liked looking at her. The monster inside him seemed to calm. He’d seen the alarm in her eyes when he grabbed his dick, and even though he was hard, he wasn’t going to force himself on her. He had a great deal of control. Nothing made him do shit that he didn’t want to do. His dick was his own and had been since he killed the people who made him do shit he didn’t want to do.
She finished the sandwich, and he went to make another. Killing always worked up an appetite inside him, and he didn’t trust anyone to make his food, so sandwiches were the only way to go. The kitchen was fully furnished with all the updated equipment, but he hadn’t taken the time to figure out how to cook. He was able to heat up noodles, and that was as far as he was willing to go. Fruit, chocolate, candy, and sandwiches were what he lived on for the most part.
“Have you always killed people for a living?”
There was his little reporter shining through. He smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, I have. It’s something I’ve been trained to do from a young age.”
Her face paled. “How young?”
“Young enough to forget the parents that maybe loved me or not. I don’t know. I was taken from the street where I lived. I have a vague memory actually. I was around ten, I’m not sure. I don’t even have a clue how old I am.” He shrugged. “I’ve been fine with that. I just made my age up, and that’s what I go by.”
Her long, brown hair had come out of the bun that it had been held in. He watched as she ran her fingers through the long length. The glossy color looked smooth as silk. Her green eyes never once left him as she watched. He handed her another sandwich. Talking to her was kind of fun, even if totally out of character for him. Bain already knew that Boss was probably going through every single inch of Alexei Semenov place to see who had screamed “help me”. His life was going to get fucked up fast, but first, he just enjoyed talking to her.
Bain was a cold, hard killer who had taken out countless men and women over the years, and before that, children. He cut those memories off though because he couldn’t handle looking back that far. His life began the moment he was free and when he’d killed all those people that had trapped him.
“I can see you’ve got a lot of questions, and for some strange and bizarre reason, I actually want to talk to you. I know, it’s a shock, but I’m going to keep you alive long enough to tell my story. You better hope by the time that I’m finished that I like you enough.”
She was biting into her sandwich, her gaze not wavering, and then his cell phone buzzed. He continued to
eat, watching her.
“Can I bargain with you?” she asked.
“Depends what you want to bargain with?” He glanced down at her curves and knew without a doubt that she would be a perfect fit against him. The problem with that was he’d never take a woman’s body as a bargaining chip. He’d been forced to do that in the past, listen to women scream as he did what needed to be done to survive.
Over the past twenty plus years since his escape, he’d trawled the streets at night for something to do. Many times he’d passed a random alley to hear a woman beg for a guy to stop. Bain made them stop. There were some men he killed on the spot, especially if they reminded him of someone from his past.
“I want to hear what you’ve got to say. I can see that you really want to tell me. I’ve got nothing else to offer you.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve got a body there that is pure heaven, but you know what, let’s talk about talking. I like that. I think there is someone I’d love to tell my story to, and you’re just the person.”
She licked her lips, and he saw that he’d unnerved her. Good. He didn’t want her to think that for a second this was going to be a piece of cake. It wasn’t. His life story wasn’t easy, and no one would want to hear this.
It was strange because he also wanted to know about her. “Are you sure you don’t have a husband?” he asked.
“I’m very sure. I haven’t been in a serious relationship for a long time.”
“How come?” he asked.
“Wow, you’re a nosy person.”
He shrugged. “We’re passing the time here, babe. You tell me shit, I tell you shit.”
She took another bite of her sandwich. “My last boyfriend decided that a woman’s place was in the kitchen and cleaning his home, and if something was out of place, he’d make me learn by using his fists.”
Bain didn’t like hearing that and watched as she stared past his shoulder, not really looking at him.
“It was a difficult time, and finally, something happened and it was the last straw.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know you enough to tell you my life story.”