Her Billionaire Bosses: A Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  I hear a zipper and the sound of him digging through the bag. I chance a look, afraid he’s getting a weapon or worse. I hold my breath as I see him reach in and pull something out. Much to my relief, he only pulls out a camera. The guy, who’s still facing away from me, stands back up and searches the room. It’s mostly empty, save for a few rotting pieces of furniture. A rickety table on the far end of the room catches his eye, and he drags it over to where I’m tied.

  I have no idea what he has planned for me, but I’m pretty sure he’s not preparing for a Skype call. I have to get out of here, or at the very least, get my hands free, so I have a fighting chance. I try pulling on the rope again, but I just don’t have the upper body strength.

  I must have made a noise because he spins around. “Good. You’re awake,” he says, and a crooked smile spreads across his face.

  A chill runs down my spine as I recognize him. He was the guy taking pictures outside of the penthouse. That was three weeks ago. He’s been planning this for a long time.

  “Please,” I beg. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not even who you think I am. Let me go, and I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” he says and shoves a filthy rag in my mouth. “Your precious Asher already begged for your life.” That unhinged smile creeps across his face again. “You should have heard the desperation in his voice. I’m going to enjoy this.” He checked the camera and frowned. “I need more light. Don’t go anywhere.”

  He laughs and races back up the stairs.

  Once he’s gone, I spit out the cloth and take a deep breath. I can’t wait another second. I’m not sure what he’s planning, but I’m not sticking around to find out. My only hope is to get free.

  I twist my arms and manage to catch my foot on the bottom step. The wood bows as I yank, but stays put. I strain against the ropes, but I need more leverage. My shoulder is cocked at an unnatural angle as I try to tuck my legs under my body to turn. The muscles in my arm burn from the strain, but I’ll dislocate my shoulder before giving up.

  I can’t be tied up when that crazy man gets back. I just can’t.

  Finally, my legs slide across the loose dirt, and I’m able to plant both my feet against the wall behind me. Heavy footsteps tread across the floor above me. The floorboards moan and shower me with fine dirt, and I know my time's up.

  I push as if my life depends on it—and I’m certain it does. The ropes tighten around my wrist, cutting painfully into my skin, but I keep up the pressure until one of the spindles snaps. My right hand snaps back, causing me to lose my foothold, and I scramble to reposition myself. I need to get the other hand free.

  “What’s going on down there,” the guy yells.

  I hear him quickly stomp across the floor and I abandon my plan to free the other hand. Instead, I grab the splintered piece of wood and quickly turn back around. The broken spindle is tucked behind my back, and I’m prepared to use it as a weapon as soon as he gets close enough. But in order to do that, I reach up and pretend to still be tied.

  “What the hell are you doing,” he says thudding down the stairs.

  He leans in, likely to check my ropes. He’s wary and looking for any problems. I know if he keeps looking, he’ll know my hand is free. So I kick out, trying to distract him. “Let me go, you asshole. Let me go.”

  “Keep still,” he says, trying to get close again.

  “Help!” I yell. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Shut up,” he screams and backhands me across the jaw.

  Bright white stars cloud my vision, but I don’t stop my assault. I kick at his body and writhe on the floor, but don’t let go of my handhold. I need him to think I’m still tied up for now.

  I manage to kick him in the shin hard, and he stumbles. Cursing, he scurries away from me. “Fucking bitch,” he mutters.

  Turning his back on me, he starts setting up the work light he brought with him. After he adjusts the light to shine down on me, he checks the camera again.

  “You know, I was just going to kill you,” he says looking through the viewfinder. “I was going to make it fast. I’m gentleman after all, and my beef is with the guys.” He looks over the camera, and I catch something manic in his expression. These are not the eyes of someone in control. “But you, dear, are no lady. You’re a fucking whore and don’t deserve mercy.”

  19

  Leo

  The walk helps clear my mind. I return to the penthouse with a renewed sense of purpose. I’m not mad anymore. I realize that neither one of them have had stellar examples of loving relationships.

  And everything with Rose has moved so fast, we all need to take a step back; myself especially. I’ve been pushing so hard to get Asher to recognize his feelings, I never considered the damage I might have been doing in the process. We’ve fought before, but never like this. Even so, I’m sure we can move forward.

  This is like a business negotiation. In order for all parties to get what they want, there’s going to be a lot of compromise and negotiation. We really haven’t talked at all about what we want or need out of this relationship. After we find Rose, we’re all going to sit down and talk about the future. It’s what we should have done in the first place.

  I walk into the living room to find Asher staring out the window again. I take the fact that he’s dressed and freshly showered as a good sign.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, crossing the room. “I know you didn’t want this to happen. I’ve been too hard on you. It’s just I’ve never felt this way about a woman, and I might be slightly biased. Rose is—”

  “Someone took her,” Asher says, turning around.

  The stricken look on his face hits me, and I stop in my tracks. “Took her? Are you sure? What about the note she left saying she was going out of town?”

  “I’m sure. I just got a call from her cell. This guy…” Asher’s face cracks with emotion. A cold chill runs down my spine. “He says he wants to make us pay.”

  “We’ll pay him whatever he wants,” I say without hesitation.

  “He doesn’t want our money.”

  “Then what the fuck does he want?”

  Asher smacks the window with the palm of his hand and growls. “I don’t fucking know what he wants. He just said that we needed to pay and he was going to take Rose away from us.”

  “What exactly did he say?” Sour bile rises in my throat. Please let me be wrong.

  “He said we took everything he loves away, and now he’s going to take everything away from us.”

  “Fuck. I didn’t think he was dangerous.” I let out a breath and crumple into a chair, fighting the urge to throw up. This was all because of some fucking business deal.

  “Do you who took her? Where he has her?”

  “Larry Reid,” I say my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.

  Fucking Larry Reid. I should have seen this coming. The guy was obsessed and just wouldn’t take a hint.

  “Who the fuck is that? Why would he take Rose?” Asher grabs my shoulder and shakes. “Leo! We have to get her away from this guy. You didn’t hear his voice.”

  Asher’s panic pulls me back to the moment. I shake my head and tell him about the letters and threats. “It was never anything specific. They were just vague threats. ‘I’ll make you pay.’ ‘You’ll be sorry.’ I never thought he was actually dangerous. He was the CEO of a midsize import business for Christ’s sake.”

  “How can you be sure it’s him?” Asher asks.

  “In the last letter he sent, he wrote ‘you took everything I ever loved away from me, and now I’m going to take everything away from you.’ Roger filed for a restraining order, and we also filed a harassment suit.” My head is pounding. That man was a threat, and I led the woman I love straight to him. “What if the lawsuit pushed him over the edge?” I ask. “What if this is my fault?”

  “It’s not your fault,” Asher says and pulls out his cell. He dials a number and puts it on speaker.

  “I’m still w
orking on it,” Red says.

  “I know who has her,” Asher says. “A man named Larry Reid.”

  “We bought his family’s company last year,” I say. “It was a hostile buyout, and he’s still holding a grudge.”

  “Hold tight. I saw a file with that name.” The sound of computer keys fills the dead air as Red works his magic. “Okay, Larry Reid. Looks like he declared bankruptcy right after the buyout.” More typing. “Oh, wow. His mother died shortly after that. And then his wife left him. Fuck, this guy had a bad run of luck. Looks like the ex-wife moved back to Virginia. She was awarded full custody of their two kids. He’s only allowed supervised visitation. The court records show a history of violent behavior and drinking.”

  Urgency gnaws at my nerves. Violent behavior. Why the fuck didn’t Roger find out about this?

  “Where is he now?” I press.

  “That’s just it. A few months ago, he fell off the map. No credit card charges. No cell in his name. Nothing.”

  “Fucking hell, Red! This isn’t helping,” Asher yells. “I need an address. A name. Something. If this guy touches Rose, I swear—”

  “We’ll find her,” I say, trying to reassure myself as much as Asher. “Anything you have will help.”

  “I might have something,” Red says. “There’s a house in his mother’s name. Looks like it’s an old family property. No one’s lived there since his grandmother passed away fifteen years ago, but someone's been paying the utilities bills. I’ll get one of my teams to check it out.”

  “What’s the address?” Asher demands.

  “Asher, that’s not a good idea. Let me handle this,” Red says. “You have no idea what you’ll be walking into. I can have someone out there in about an hour.”

  “Give me the fucking address.”

  Red sighs and rattles off an address down by the docks. “Listen. I’m sending someone now. We can meet you. Don’t do anything—”

  Asher hangs up the phone and heads to the door.

  “Asher, stop,” I yell after him.

  He spins and stares me down. “I’m not waiting for Red’s guys. That guy is going to kill her.”

  “You’re not going alone. Let me get my guns,” I say. Intellectually, I know we should wait, but like Asher, I’m not willing to chance it.

  I hurry to the safe, pulling out two handguns and load them. I hand one to Asher who nods and slips it into his waistband. I’m not a violent man and despite Asher’s childhood—or maybe because of it—neither is he, but I’m positive we’d both kill without hesitation to protect Rose.

  We take the elevator down to the garage in silence and jump into the Jag. What should have been a twenty-minute drive only takes me twelve. I broke every traffic law known to man, determined to get to Rose.

  I just hope we make it in time.

  20

  Rose

  I’m running out of time and options.

  My captor finishes adjusting the light and is now recording a rambling, deranged manifesto.

  “My name is Larry Reid. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I promise, after today, you’ll never forget my name. By the time you see this video, your girlfriend will be dead.”

  He goes on to explain why he feels like Leo and Asher need to pay. The man is truly unhinged. He blames them for everything from his mother dying of a heart attack to his wife leaving him. His rage seems to increase with every word spoken, and I know this is it. If I don’t make my move now, I’m going to die alone in this filthy cellar.

  “I realize now that I can’t take away your money, but I can make you suffer,” he says with a menacing glee that grates my nerves. He grabs the camera off the table and shoves it in my face. “I’m going to break your pretty little toy.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” I plead. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not important to them. Please. Just let me go.”

  “That’s good, whore. I want you to beg,” he says, laughing. “I want them to see how much people suffer around them. How much pain they cause.”

  He pulls a knife out of his jacket and presses it under my chin. The sharp edge cuts painfully into my flesh, and warm blood slides down my neck.

  “Larry. Please stop.” I need more time or a distraction. If I go for my makeshift weapon, he’ll cut my throat before I can do anything. I can’t hold back the hot stream of tears that spill down my face. I refuse to die like this. Without any options left, I take a deep breath and try to reason with him. “Don’t do this. They won’t care what you do to me. I’m nobody. I swear.”

  But it’s like trying to bargain with a rabid dog. He doesn’t even hear the words I’m saying or just doesn’t care. Either way, I know deep down that this man is determined to kill me or worse.

  He holds the camera back away from his body to frame us both in the shot like a teen making an Instagram video. The knife slides from my throat down to the neck of my shirt. “What should we do first?” he says, ignoring my pleas. “Filet you’re soft skin? Get right to the point? Or put on a little show?”

  He easily cuts the thin fabric of my shirt right down the middle, exposing my chest to the cold, damp air. The tip of the knife digs into the skin of my left breast. He twists the point until red stains my bra.

  “I could kill you. Fast. It would be so easy.” He presses a little hard, cutting deeper into the skin. But then he pulls back the knife and steps away, putting the camera back on the table. “But that doesn’t really make my point, now does it? As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about my plan. Now that you’re here and I’ve got all the time in the world, I’m going to go a different route.” His eyes trail down my body, licking his lips. “Killing you would be too easy. I think the best revenge would be to use you up and send you back to them. Spoiled rich kids don’t like broken toys.”

  Bile rises in the back of my throat as I realize what he’s suggesting. I try to scramble away as he approaches, but my left arm is still tied. He yanks at the waistband of my pants, peeling them off, leaving me in just my underwear and ripped shirt. I kick, my foot connecting with the fleshy part of his middle. But it doesn’t deter him. He just laughs and unbuckles his belt.

  “Please. Don’t. You sick fuck. Stay away from me.” I search frantically for the broken spindle; prepared to fight for my life, but Larry is on top of me in seconds. His grubby hands pull at my flesh. I kick out again, bucking underneath him.

  “Hold still, bitch.” He palms my head and smashes it into the wall, causing my vision to go gray around the edges.

  A crashing sound from upstairs draws his attention. This is my last chance. When he looks up, I scramble for the broken spindle on the ground. My fingers finally find the splintered wood behind me.

  I only have one shot. My mind goes blank with an odd sense of calm clarity. I draw back, and I plunge the wooden spike into his neck with as much force as I can manage.

  Time slows, and it’s like I’m watching the scene from outside of my body. Larry’s eyes go impossibly wide, and he lets out a roar. He rears back on his haunches, both his hands reaching for the spindle sticking out of his neck. The knife clatters to the ground. The thudding sounds from above grow louder; almost like footsteps. Larry pulls out the wood and blood sprays from his wound, covering everything with thick, red liquid.

  “You bitch,” he chokes as a meaty hand encircles my neck. His slick blood is covering both of us now, and his fingers keep slipping as he tries to grab hold. “You stupid, fucking bitch!” Blood and spittle spray me as he yells. He keeps squeezing until I can’t take a breath.

  There’s yelling from above. I strain to look, hoping beyond hope that someone is here to rescue me, but I can’t see anything. White spots cloud my vision, and the sound seems farther away. Larry collapses, crushing me beneath his weight. What little air I have in my lungs is pushed out by the force of his body hitting mine.

  Above, I swear I hear my name. I try to call out, but I can’t take a breath. I can’t get enough air in my lungs. Th
e gray edges close in. The last thing I hear before the world goes black is Asher’s voice.

  21

  Asher

  The address Red gave us was in a rundown neighborhood near the docks. The house is a sprawling Victorian mansion on a private drive. The mansion was probably stunning in its day, a pillar of the community, but it’s seen better days. It’s obviously been years since someone actually lived in the house. The white paint is peeling, and a few windows are cracked and broken. There is faded graffiti on the second story, and the yard is an overgrown jungle of weeds and tall grass.

  Leo turns off the headlights and pulls up the drive, stopping a few yards away. We get out and walk the rest of the way, hoping to maintain some element of surprise. There is a beat up white sedan parked behind the house and light coming from a window. Someone is here. I just hope this is where Rose is being held.

  “Let’s go in the side door,” Leo pointed. “Once inside, we should split up to cover more room. I’ll search the upstairs. You check the main floor.”

  I nod. “If I find that bastard first, I’m putting a bullet in him.”

  “We need to find Rose first. After that.” Leo shrugs and checks his gun. “The asshole deserves whatever he gets.”

  Of course, the side door is swollen shut with disuse. I have to use more force than I wanted. Once free, the door crashes open with a loud bang.

  “He probably heard that. We should hurry.”

  Leo runs ahead to the stairs and takes them two at time. I head for the front of the house. The air is stale and thick with dust. A quick scan of the front rooms turns up nothing. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here for a very long time. As I go from one room to the next, I start to panic. What if we were wrong? What if she’s not here?

  A muffled scream from somewhere in the back stops me in my tracks. I strain to listen and hear a faint male voice. I can’t make out the words, but they sound angry.