by Renard, Loki
“And if I say no to this business offer of yours, you’re going to kill me?”
“If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t be having this tedious, bloody conversation with you,” he snaps. His eyes flash with irritation and he drops the cigarette, mostly unsmoked. It lies there on the floor smoldering a moment before he crushes it with the toe of his shoe. I feel fear spear through me again, but this time it doesn’t make me silent. This time it spurs me to action. He has a good point. He wouldn’t be talking to me if he wanted to kill me. I learned a long time ago that strength respects strength. It’s time to push back.
“Then untie me and let me go,” I snap, gathering all my courage. “And, just a hint… if you want people to accept job offers from you, try not to kidnap them first. It sort of sours the deal.”
He gives me a cold glare and for a long moment, I am sure I just made a huge mistake. This room has concrete floors and what look like wipe down walls. This is pretty much a kill room. He could make a very big mess of me here and never be caught.
“You’re scared.” It’s a statement.
“Well, yeah,” I shrug as much as I can while being bound.
“You’re scared, but you’re still saying no to me. And that means you’re brave.” The smile returns to his eyes. I get the impression that he’s amused by me, though I don’t know why. There’s nothing funny about this. He’s toying with me, that’s what he’s doing. He’s testing me.
“Killing is an unfortunate side effect of my business, but it’s not the main part of it. I’m sure it’s the part which generates the most gossip, but you shouldn’t listen to gossip, Kitty. I have a great deal of business I need to conduct, and I need your skill set.”
“There are other couriers. I can put you on to one who dreams of working with you.”
“I don’t want anyone else. I want you.” There’s a charming intensity to his English tones, and for a split second it’s almost as if he has romantic intent. The moment passes quickly as I come to my senses. This is a man who makes women’s brains melt. He’s the incarnation of bad choices. He is 100% Mr. Wrong. I can’t give in to him, and I certainly can’t indulge any kind of feminine fantasy.
“Untie me then.”
“Do you agree?”
“I don’t, but if you keep me tied up, I can guarantee the answer will stay no.”
A smile crosses his handsome face. “You’re a smart one, Kitty. I like that. It’s going to get you into trouble. It’s going to get you hurt. But it’s also why I want you.”
Again he says he wants me, and I am drawn into that fleeting fantasy world where this dangerous, powerful, enigmatic man desires me in some way other than just as another worker bee in his operation. I have to make an effort to clear that nonsense from my mind. I know how men like this function. There are always more women than men around them. They collect female flesh like trophies. Blaze would gladly be one of Vicious’ women. She’d be screaming yes right now. But for me, the answer has to be no.
2
Vicious
I don’t usually have this much trouble recruiting new employees. At least, I’m fairly certain I don’t. This isn’t something I usually handle personally. I have generals I trust to pick their people. But this position is a special one. I have an opening for a personal courier. A lot of men in my line of work treat couriers as disposable, hardly paying any attention whatsoever to who handles the most important aspect of their work: their deliveries. But I need a messenger I can trust with anything. I need someone adept at their job, someone smart enough to avoid the wrong kind of trouble, and ballsy enough to handle the right kind. In this case, I’ve chosen all those things as well as someone who has literally no option but to work for me, because her silly little life is in danger.
She’s not perfect. She’s young, she’s relatively inexperienced and she needs training. But I always knew I wasn’t going to pick someone up off the street perfectly formed for the task. I’m going to have to mold someone. I’m going to have to instill loyalty and most importantly: obedience.
This girl is a better candidate than she seems. She’s strong minded and she’s smart. She’s young enough to learn what she needs to, and pretty enough for that process to be fun. I know she doesn’t want to work for me, and that is already only adding to my enjoyment.
For now, there’s no rush. I stand and take stock of her.
She’s beautiful. She tries to hide it by wearing that incredibly generic makeup which obscures her features. The lipstick is garish. The mascara is too thick in the center and stops short of the outer lashes. The liner is too heavy. She’s made a mask for herself, one I can’t help but admire.
This little kitty already knows how to hide in plain sight. That’s a talent that is hard to teach. Most people spend their lives desperately trying to be whatever they think counts as ‘themselves’. When they put on a disguise, they end up being parodies of their hopes, their fears. But I don’t get anything from this girl. She’s turned herself into a trope, and that makes her almost unreadable.
Bound to a chair, she’s vulnerable. I know she doesn’t like those bonds, but they’re more than a convenient way to restrain her. They’re a test. I want to see how she handles the stress of confinement.
Right now, she’s handling it perfectly. She’s scared, but still sassy. As much pressure as I put on her, she comes right back with resistance.
I don’t think she’s a natural blonde. I’m guessing she’s a brunette. Most blondes are. Surveillance images show her natural eyes are a hazel gray blue green, a mixture of colors which suits her. Right now, they’re plastic blue. Colored contacts make her look like a doll.
My baser instincts whisper to me. That word: doll. I could use her like one. Wrap her up in rope and spread her thighs and… I draw my attention back to the moment. Can’t allow myself to be distracted by her physical charms, though they’re really not what is piquing my interest. There is something about this young woman. Something that reaches out and grabs me. I see strength in her eyes, but I also see pain, hidden all the way in the back, out of reach of most people. I want to reach in and pull it out, look at it and see what it is made of. It sings to me, that hidden angst.
Kitty
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. I don’t like how deep his gaze seems to go. I definitely don’t like how he seems to be stripping away my outer layers, discovering my secrets without a word.
“I really mean it,” I repeat. “I’m not interested in working for you.”
“That’s a lie,” he says. “A naughty one at that. You’re very interested, Kitty. I can tell. You’re simply afraid.”
“You’re a mind reader, huh?”
He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach those emerald eyes. “In my line of work, it’s best to be able to read people. You’re upset at the way you’ve been taken. You’re afraid of what it will mean to become mine, but…”
“Become yours?” I snort. “I thought this was a job interview.”
“Oh, you’ll be mine, Kitty,” he smirks.
He’s an asshole. He knows what these words do to a woman. He’s making it sound like this is way more of a personal offer than it really is. I bet he makes women fall for him all the time. I bet they beg him for the chance to work for him.
“No. I’m not into this. Untie me, let me go, and let’s pretend this never happened.”
“You’re not in charge here, Kitty.” His face darkens. His brows draw down. He does not like my refusal and he seems to be struggling to avoid showing the depth of his displeasure. He doesn’t want me to see his brutal side, at least, not yet.
I lapse into silence. He can keep me here, I guess, but my answer isn’t going to change. I have enough work. I don’t need to take this underworld boogeyman on as a client.
“Looks like I have my work cut out for me with you, Kitty.”
He stalks toward me and crouches down in front of me. Up close, he is even more impressive. I swallow and try to ke
ep my composure, but I know he can see the effect he has on me. My heart beats faster, my breaths are more shallow. There is a tingling low in my belly, a response to his sheer masculinity.
There are not many men in the world like Vicious. He has English elegance mixed with American brutality. He reaches out and puts his hand on my knee. I feel the heat of his body through my leggings. It feels sinful. When he speaks again, it’s in a casual drawl.
“When I was a boy, we got a new kitten. Little ginger and black thing. Speckled all over. Its mother had been wild and it wasn’t entirely tame. We were told we had to keep it inside until it settled down and realized we were where its food was going to come from. I think you’re not all that different.”
“Cute story, but I’m not a kitten. I can get my own food. And you’re delusional if you think I’m going to let you hold me captive.”
He smiles, but it’s not a pleasant one. “You don’t know enough to refuse me, Kitty. You’re an innocent in many ways.”
“I’m really not.”
“Oh but you are. You think having run a few packages for low level drug lords makes you worldly? It doesn’t. You and your friends are in more danger than you think. Whether you realize it or not, I did you a favor today by kidnapping you. And I’m doing you even more of a favor by keeping you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve drawn the attention of all the wrong people,” he smirks. “I’m just one of them.”
I don’t believe him, but I can’t ignore the fact that I am indeed captive, and that means he does know about me. Which means others could too. Which also means someone has been talking. I’m angry. Angry at Vicious for keeping me here. Angry at myself for being vulnerable enough to be caught. This is exactly what is not supposed to happen to me.
“So what’s the plan? Leave me tied to a chair until I agree to work for you?”
“Oh I think I can come up with more inventive ways to get your cooperation,” Vicious smiles darkly.
“Torture me? Beat me?” I don’t know why I’m giving him suggestions.
“Beating you is appealing, especially given your attitude,” he says, rising to his full height. “But I think we can avoid the torture for now. First, a little road trip is in order.”
He walks behind the chair. I feel his presence, strong and somehow calming even though this is a terrible situation. The bonds at my ankles loosen first, and then the ones at my wrists. I spring out of the chair as soon as I can and put distance between myself and Vicious.
He stands there, the ties in his hands, watching my every move. I get the feeling I am being thoroughly examined. He doesn’t know me, but he wants to. I have to avoid feeling flattered. I have to shut down all the stupid female instincts which are already making me want to agree to do whatever he wants. Resistance might be futile, but it is important.
“Come with me,” he says. “And don’t think about running, or that beating will be closer than you think.”
I shoot a dark look at him. I don’t appreciate the threats of violence. He looks back at me, his expression calm and certain. He means it. Goddamn.
Vicious turns on his heel and walks toward the door. He seems to simply expect me to follow him, and I do. I could make a break for it, but I’m smart enough to know there’s no point running. He could chase me down no trouble at all and then things might get really nasty.
Yes, I’m afraid of him. Any smart girl would be. Mouthing off is one thing, but outright defiance is too much to risk. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it already. He is actually trying to get me on his side of my own free will, and that’s interesting.
He didn’t need to kidnap me. He could have just asked me to meet him. I would have come. I still would have said no to the job, though. My refusal comes out of a mixture of fear, self-preservation, and a sense that I would never be up to the sort of work he’d require of me. I don’t play at his level, and I wouldn’t want to.
We leave the room and I discover that it’s been walled up out of a small warehouse. A car is waiting outside, a large white SUV. It’s so pedestrian it makes me laugh.
“Need a vehicle that doubles as a drive by assault weapon, and a practical car for dropping the kids off at soccer?” The snark escapes my lips before I can stop it.
He snorts and opens the back seat rear door. “I’m not a family man, Kitty. Get in.”
I get in the back. He shuts the door and leaves me there, then gets in the driver’s seat. This crazy day is about to get even crazier, I can tell. After being tied up and threatened, I’m now being chauffeured around by a master criminal for reasons I’m not privy to.
“Put your seat belt on.”
He snaps the order as if I’m a bratty kid. I bristle, but I do as he says. If anything crazy happens, I don’t want to be rattling around loose in the back of this thing. I choose to sit behind the front passenger seat so I can keep an eye on him. I can only see the side of his face, but that’s enough.
“This doesn’t make sense…”
“What doesn’t?”
“You could hire any courier. You don’t have to go through this much hassle. Like I said, I have a friend who…”
He gives a brief sigh as he turns the key in the ignition. “I want you, Kitty, so I’m taking you.”
Those words send warmth coursing through me, but I know better than to trust whatever this is. We pull out of the industrial park and start heading toward the river. I know this city as a series of zones. There are parts of it where I’m not comfortable. There are parts that make my inner warning systems scream. The river is one of them. Nothing good happens down by the water. Its a dumping ground for all the city’s trash, and more than one of my associates has ended up floating in it, debris just like the old tires, used diapers, and stolen bicycles. The closer we get to the water, the more concerned I become. Fear makes me start asking the same questions I asked before, the ones he already refused to answer.
“You need to tell me what’s going on. You need to tell me why you’ve taken me.”
“I’m trying to…” his lips quirk as if something humorous just struck him. “I’m trying to save you.”
“Save me? From what?”
“No more questions, Kitty. It’s time for me to show, not tell.”
“What are you saving me from?” My voice is getting pitchy and shrill.
“From what you probably damn well deserve, now shut up.”
“Asshole.”
He pulls the car over and turns around, gives me the full benefit of his clear, green gaze.
“Earlier today, several of your associates met an unpleasant and premature end. You were scheduled to be among them. I decided I didn’t want that to be the case.”
“That’s bullshit.”
His eyes narrow at me. “You’re not a good listener, Kitty. You’re going to have to work on that.”
“I heard you, I just don’t believe you.”
He gives a shrug. It doesn’t matter to him if I believe him or not. He starts the car again and we drift down the road. The river gleams at the side of the bank. There are people walking along it in short shorts, walking dogs, gliding on roller skates. It’s a sunny day and they’re blissfully unaware of who is driving down the road next to them.
Sunlight flashes off the ripples, but it is a different hue of lights which get my attention. There are two ambulances up ahead, and at least three cop cars. Tape indicates that there’s an active incident occurring. Vicious is obviously implying that this has something to do with me and the people I work with, but there’s no evidence for that.
I say nothing as Vicious swings round and parks the car on the other side of the road and rolls the window down so I can see what’s going on. It looks like someone has been pulled out of the water. There’s a stretcher being wheeled into an ambulance with a black bodybag on top of it.
“Why are we here?”
I half-whisper the question.
“That,” Vicious says. “Is, or r
ather was, Rollo Hall.”
Rollo is someone I worked for. One of my best clients. A big guy with an easy laugh and a lot of stuff that needed to get around the city. Some months he made up over half my income. And he was a good payer. Never had to chase down what I was owed.
“How do you know that?” My mouth is dry.
“I know that for the same reason I know he caught two nine millimeter bullets to the head.”
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Rollo got in business with the wrong people. He got you into business with the wrong people. And now, every inch of his network is being wiped out. Top down. A complete clean. All his foot soldiers. All his employees. All his independent contractors. The city is running red today, Kitty. And you’re on the list.”
I’m frozen. Sitting in the backseat, staring at the crime scene, wondering if he is telling me the truth and feeling somewhere in my gut that he must be. There would be no point lying to me about this. I would soon find out if Rollo was alive the next time he called me. Usually I’m able to forget about this side of the business. Couriers might participate in crime, but we stay away from the bloody stuff, most of the time, at least.
“Why me? Why am I on the list? I haven’t done anything…”
“Why not you, Kitty?” Vicious rolls the window up and sends the car back into the flow of traffic. “This is why I’m offering you a job. I think you can be better than you are. I think you can improve to the point where you won’t need a knight in a white SUV to rescue you.”
I don’t buy this. There’s something very strange going on. There’s no reason for Vicious to take an interest in me, and he knows far too much to not be involved. That’s assuming that what I just saw is actually what he says it was. For all I know he just drove around until he found the first ambulance and then told me a story.
Sitting back in the seat, I try to think, but Vicious has no interest in letting me have time to think.