by Olivia Chase
Liam leaned into the car and untied me from the door handle, leaving me handcuffed, then pulled me upright on the seat.
“I am not going to hurt you, Emery,” he said.
I glared at him.
If my look of death fazed him at all, he didn’t show it. Instead, he reached over and cupped my face with his hands, his touch sending that same warmth I’d felt before racing through me.
He gripped the sides of the gag in my mouth.
“If you try to scream, no one will hear you. And I will have to gag you again. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
He searched my face with one long look, his dark eyes on mine, then he reached down and pulled the gag gently out of my mouth.
“I’ve read a lot about you,” I spit. “But nowhere was it mentioned about how you’re a twisted psycho killer.”
Liam sighed. “I told you I’m not going to kill you.”
“Or rape me, torture me, whatever.” I thrust my chin into the air. “I’ve heard about things like this. Rich guys who get off on raping and torturing unsuspecting girls, girls they think no one will miss.”
“I’m going to take your handcuffs off now,” he said, ignoring my insults. He reached behind me to where my hands were still cuffed together. His chest pressed against mine as his hand moved behind me and gripped the metal. “Don’t try to run, Emery,” he whispered against my ear. “If you do, I will catch you.”
My heart thrummed hard in my chest, and that now-familiar ache settled between my legs, which was humiliating. Was I that hard up that I was going to get all turned on by some guy who’d kidnapped me?
Liam held his hand out to me, offering to help me out of the car.
I rolled my eyes even though my legs felt weak, and slid forward on the seat.
When I stood up, I almost lost my balance.
We were in a parking garage, underneath a building, but the garage was small. There were only four or five spaces, all of them filled with shiny, expensive-looking foreign cars.
Liam led me to an elevator in the corner and pushed a button for the third floor.
As the elevator started its ascent, I thought about screaming. But I didn’t want to get gagged again, and I couldn’t hear anything -- no voices or footsteps from other people in the building.
I realized if there was any chance there were other people around, Liam wouldn’t have taken the gag out of my mouth. No, I decided. It was probably best to save my energy for when I had a real opportunity to get free of him.
A few seconds later, we stepped off the elevator into one huge room. It was a living room encircled in glass, with a domed glass ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed for sweeping views of the city. I recognized it immediately from a Time article we’d read about him in class – it was his apartment. The article said he owned the entire building, all three floors.
The whole first floor was his office, and the top floor was where he lived. I couldn’t recall if the article said what was on the second floor.
Probably where he kept and tortured women.
The elevator doors shut behind us.
Liam entered a code on a keypad on the wall, and a computerized voice echoed through the expansive room. “Alarm Disengaged. Welcome home, Mr. Rutherford,” it said smoothly.
Liam undid the buttons on the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt and rolled them up, revealing tanned, muscular forearms. “Would you like a drink?” he asked as he crossed the room to a mahogany bar in the corner.
“No.” Did he think I was stupid?
He’d left me standing there by the elevator, and I turned around and glanced at the closed doors behind me. He was bigger, faster, stronger, but if I got a head start, then maybe…
“It’s locked.”
“What?”
“The elevator. It’s locked. You need a code to open it.” He crossed the room back to me and held out a bottle of water.
“I’m not drinking that.”
He rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to drug you, I could have done it in the van.”
I stared at him, then crossed my arms over my chest in defiance.
He sighed and uncapped the bottle of water, the seal cracking as he opened it. “See? Sealed.”
“It’s probably a fake seal, some kind of new technology that rich serial killers and psychopaths came up with.”
“You have a very smart mouth,” Liam said darkly. He took a sip to prove to me that the water wasn’t tainted.
He held the drink out to me again, and I hesitated. He was right. If he’d wanted to drug me, he could have done it in the van. I took the bottle of water from him and took a sip. The cool liquid soothed my throat, which was raw from the screaming I’d done.
“Good?”
I didn’t answer him, not wanting to admit how amazing it tasted.
Instead, I glanced behind me again at the elevator, wondering if there was some other way out I hadn’t thought about.
“This isn’t what I wanted to be doing today, either, Emery.”
“You mean you didn’t wake up and think it would be fun to kidnap some unsuspecting college girl?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Then why did you?”
He studied me carefully, his dark eyes softening, and my breath caught in my chest. Electricity crackled between us, and I was almost positive I saw lust burning in his eyes, was almost positive he was going to move toward me. His gaze drifted down to my wrists, where I’d been handcuffed, and I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but I thought I saw the lust in his eyes blaze brighter.
My body burned from the inside out.
“Come,” he said and wrapped his hand around mine. He led me to one of the big leather couches in the middle of the room and sat down next to me. “I need you to know that I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You already hurt me.” I showed him my wrists, where the metal of the handcuffs had dug into my skin. He reached out and ran his fingers gently over the faint red marks. I was lying. It didn’t hurt that bad. In fact, the handcuffs hadn’t even broken my skin.
“This is nothing,” he murmured. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
I yanked my hand back from his as if I’d been burned. “I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt me.”
“Oh, it won’t hurt.” His voice was steady and secure, but the ends of his mouth twitched into a sly, sexy smile. He waited a beat, then got up and walked to the bar, poured himself a drink, and returned to the couch. “Do you know why you’ve been brought here, Emery?” he asked.
“No.” I scanned the room, looking for a weapon, something I could pick up and use to smash his face in. There was a metal statue in the corner, some tiny abstract thing made of pewter that looked heavy and probably cost a bajillion dollars. Liam caught me looking at it, and that same little cocky grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, like the thought of me overpowering him was ridiculous.
“Well, are you going to tell me?” I pressed. “Why I’m here?”
“You’re being held as collateral.”
“What kind of collateral?
“Against your father’s debt.” He said it simply, like being held against your father’s debt was a totally normal thing to have done to you in the twenty-first century, and not something that should have only taken place in the 1600s.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Liam was loosening his tie now, working his fingers through the knot before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. I tried not to stare as a tiny bit of his golden chest came into view.
“Yes. How would you even know my father? Last I knew, he didn’t run with your crowd.”
“You know my crowd?”
“Oh, yes, I know exactly who you are,” I said snottily. If he was surprised that I knew who he was, he didn’t show it. When you were as rich and powerful as Liam Rutherford, it probably wasn’t shocking to have someone recognize you.
“There�
�s that smart mouth again,” he growled, the flame of desire returning to his dark eyes.
I shrugged, even though I knew I probably shouldn’t have been antagonizing him. The words he’d said a few moments ago flashed through my brain: I haven’t even gotten started yet.
“Your father snuck his way into a poker game tonight, Emery. A very private poker game. He pretended to be an English businessman named Christopher Porter.”
“And he owes you money.” I took in a deep breath, wondering how much my father was in the hole for now.
“Not me.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re better off not knowing.”
My mouth went dry and I took another sip of my water. I knew what that meant. It meant that whoever my father was indebted to was rich and powerful, and most likely very, very dangerous. “How much does he owe?” I asked.
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
I closed my eyes. This was a whole new level, even for my father. Until now, the worst thing he’d done was take out a line of credit on our house, using it to bet on college basketball games.
When he couldn’t pay, the guy he’d been using as his bookie – a man he worked with at the local shipping yard -- came to our house and sucker punched my dad in the backyard, while my mom screamed at them to stop. I was too young to know what happened after that, if the guy ever got his money or how they got him to stop harassing us.
I opened my eyes, the desperation walking over me. One hundred thousand dollars. There was no way my father would be able to come up with that.
“And if he doesn’t pay you’re going to kill me.”
“No.” Liam set his drink down on the table next to him.
“Then what?”
“If you stay here, with me, for a week, and do a good job, I will pay your father’s debt.”
My stomach flipped and my heart pounded. “What does that mean, if I do a good job?”
“It means following my rules. It means doing everything I say.”
“You mean having sex with you?” The words sounded twisted and filthy, and heat rose on my cheeks.
But Liam wasn’t embarrassed. He shrugged. “I will not force you to do anything you don’t want to.”
“And if I refuse?”
He leaned back and hit me with that cocky, wry smile that was almost becoming familiar. “You won’t refuse, Emery.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged. “I just do.” He was ogling me now, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at my body. I felt my nipples tighten, and I cursed myself for wearing a white shirt. At least I had my jacket on. I pulled it closer around me, but Liam reached over and unzipped it slowly, that cocky, sexy grin never leaving his lips.
I froze, unable to move as he began sliding the jacket off my shoulders, pulling it slowly down my arms, his eyes never leaving mine. I should have been screaming at him to stop, should have been fighting him, struggling, kicking, something. I told myself it was because I needed to save my energy for later, that fighting him now would be a waste. He was bigger than me, stronger than me, and we might not have been in some farmhouse in rural Idaho, but there was no one around – if I screamed, no one would hear me.
But I couldn’t ignore the sound of the blood rushing through my ears and the feeling of wetness in my panties.
I shook my head and tried to gather my thoughts. “If you think I care about my father dying, well, then, you don’t know my father very well.”
“No, but I think I know you.” My jacket was off now and his gaze drifted down to my chest. My breasts were one of the most sensitive parts of my body, always responding whenever I got turned on. Sure enough, my nipples poked out of my shirt now, betraying the fact that even though this situation was completely fucked up, my body was responding to him in the way he wanted it to.
I could feel the dampness in my panties and the way my heart was galloping in my chest.
“You’re not the type of girl who would let something happen to her father, no matter what kind of man he is. You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Emery?” His voice was a low sexy growl, and the ache between my legs intensified.
I slid away from him on the couch, but his presence permeated everything. He was like walking sex, and I could still feel the touch of his hands on my body as he’d removed my jacket.
He didn’t try to come after me, didn’t try to follow me over to the other side of the couch. Instead, he picked up his drink and took another long, slow sip.
His indifference was somehow worse than if he’d chased me. It made it seem he though there was no need to come after me, because I would give him what he wanted no matter what.
I stood up and walked to the windows, staring out across the twinkling lights of the city.
There was a large telescope set up on a platform next to the window, and for some reason, I bent down and looked through it. A blue circle blazed against the lens.
“It’s Venus,” Liam said from the couch.
It was beautiful in its simplicity, just a bright blue dot in the sky, millions of miles away, and yet I could see it so clearly it took my breath away.
I felt Liam’s presence behind me and when I straightened up and turned around, he was standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“Named after the goddess of love and beauty.” He crossed the distance between us and put his arms around me, taking the telescope in his hands. My body stiffened, but then he was tipping up the telescope and leaning past me, turning the dial on the side and fiddling with the knobs.
He pushed it back toward me. “Look,” he commanded.
I looked and when I did, I gasped. It was beautiful. Bright blue and green, so sharp I swore I could almost see the swirling gases.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Its visibility will be highest tomorrow. I’ll show you.”
My hair had fallen over one of my shoulders when I’d bent to look through the viewfinder, and he was so close that his breath tickled my neck as he spoke.
Instinctually, I leaned back into him, my back pressing against his chest. He was made of granite, rock hard and strong. It should have scared me, should have freaked me out that he was so big, so strong, that he was basically holding me captive here.
His hands were still on the telescope, effectively trapping me. I turned around, but he kept his hands on the scope, not letting me out.
If you do a good job, I’ll pay your father’s debt.
His eyes were on me, blazing with heat, the electricity flowing and crackling between us. My nipples poked through my thin t-shirt, more erect than ever, once again betraying the effect he was having on me.
I ducked under his arm and out from under him, took a step back and tried to gather my bearings.
His dark eyes hooded as he looked at me, that same sexy little smirk playing over his lips. “Time for bed for you.”
My body broke into goose bumps. “In your room?” I blurted.
He waited a beat before he answered me, prolonging the torture. “You can have the guest room.”
“Okay.” I let out the breath I’d been holding, relieved. But underneath my relief was a tiny little sliver of disappointment. Images of Liam and me in the same bed together flashed through my mind, his dark hair in my hands, my nails scraping up his back, the way his bare chest would feel against mine, the weight of him flattening my naked breasts against his muscles.
“Your bedroom is downstairs,” he said, and then he held his hand out to me.
I hesitated, then slipped my hand into his.
His palm was warm and comforting, and inexplicably, I felt safe with him.
You’re not safe with him, Emery, I told myself. This is what psychopaths do. They charm you and make you feel like you’re safe with them. But you’re not. And don’t you ever forget that.
Chapter 4
; EMERY
We took the elevator to the second floor, then walked down a short corridor. Liam opened a door at the end of the hall.
He flipped the light on and I gasped. The room was the size of the whole entire floor of my apartment building, and one side of it was all glass, just like the living room upstairs. We were on the second floor, so of course the ceiling wasn’t glass, but it was painted to look like the night sky, in swirling shades of blue and purple and black, the stars so realistic they seemed to twinkle.
The bed was a California king with a slatted headboard, and there were heavy drapes hanging from a rail in front of the window that followed the curved perimeter of the room.
My mouth dropped open at the expanse of everything that was before me.
“I take it this is acceptable?” Liam asked, noticing my reaction.
I shut my mouth. “It’s fine.”
He crossed the room toward the en suite bathroom, turning on the light in there as well. “There are towels in there, toothbrushes, whatever you need.”
“Okay.” Thank you was on my tongue, an automatic reaction, something I would normally say to someone who was letting me stay as a guest in their home. But I wasn’t a guest in Liam’s home. I was a captive.
“I’ll be right back.”
Liam left the room and returned a moment later. In one hand, he held an oversized maroon t-shirt and a pair of navy pajama pants. In the other hand, he held my purse.
“How did you get my purse?” I asked, reaching for it.
He held it away from me. “I took it from you. You must not have noticed.”
I glared at him. “Yeah, I must not have noticed when you were abducting me.”
“Abduction means you’re being held against your will, Emery.”
“Aren’t I?”
“No. You’re free to leave anytime you want.”
“Oh, really? And then what?”
“And then your father will be killed.” His voice was deadpan, with no trace of emotion.
“Which basically amounts to me being held against my will,” I spit and made another grab for my purse. But again he held it out of my reach.