Burn for You

by Jillian Leeson

  “Hey!” I take a step forward, but Michael raises his knife, pointing its sharp tip down at her heart, and I stop dead in my tracks.

  “Yeah, that’s what she is—a whore. After his trip to America, my dad was never the same again. All because of her.” His knife swivels around to point at the side of her throat. “And now she has to pay.”

  Red-hot anger burning in my veins, I shake my finger at him. “Don’t you think she’s already suffered enough? He raped her, for God’s sake.”

  “Did she tell you that?” Smirking, he shakes his head. “No, she seduced him. She fucked him.”

  “How old was she, what—fourteen? A young girl like that?” I scoff. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

  “That’s exactly what happened. You’ve always been a real little slut, haven’t you? You don’t have to pretend any longer. Just admit how much you enjoyed it.” His hand pinches her breast before it thrusts between her legs. Elle’s eyes flash, and she spits in his face.

  “Ah!”

  His hand flies to his eye, wipes it, and lifts it before letting it fly against her cheek.

  “No!” I hurtle forward, but he yells, “Stay where you are! Or I swear I cut her throat.”

  His knuckle turns white from his tight grip around the knife’s handle while Elle lies motionless beneath him, her lips firmly pinched together.

  Taking a step back, I raise my hands. “Okay, okay, just don’t hurt her.”

  “No, I’m not going to hurt her.” As he looks down on Elle, an evil smirk forms around his twisted mouth. “You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you? Especially now your boyfriend is watching.”

  Elle stares up to the ceiling. “Do with me whatever you like,” she says in a robotic voice I don’t recognize. “I don’t care.”

  Michael straightens up, casting a triumphant look at me. “See? I told you she wants it.”

  “Don’t. You. Dare.” Fury boiling my insides, I can hardly get the words out of my mouth. I’ll kill him if he touches her.

  Ignoring the deadly mental arrows I’m firing, he lowers his hand to his fly. “I can do whatever I want. And right now, I want to fuck her.” He undoes his button. “And I want you to see it.”

  It takes every cell in me not to charge at him, but I manage—just—by taking a deep breath. “Take me, do whatever you want with me, but don’t touch her.”

  “Ryder, it’s okay. Let him.” Elle continues her robot act. “I’m sure he is a lousy lay. With a dick as tiny as his father’s.”

  Instantly, Michael’s knife is around her neck. “Shut up, you bitch!”

  “Let go!” I start to rush forward, but just as fast as he’s grabbed her, he takes his hand away. Tipping back his head, he lets out a malicious laugh.

  Shit. I have to make sure Elle won’t piss him off even further, otherwise this lunatic will explode and cut her throat on impulse. Clenching my jaw, I will myself to remain calm.

  “Elle, listen to me. Remember what you promised me just after CJ’s funeral?”

  Without looking at me, she gives a small nod. I hope this time she’ll keep to her vow that she’d trust me, even when the going gets tough.

  “And remember what you told me about your uncle?” Another nod. “So, does he know yet?”

  With a tilt of his head, Michael blinks a few times. “Know what?”

  Hoping and praying Elle plays along, I smile. “You haven’t told him what your uncle said to you? About him?” I point at Michael, who leans forward and in the process, drops the knife to his side.

  “No, I haven’t,” she whispers.

  With widened eyes, Michael’s gaze leaps between Elle and me, and back. “What the hell is this about? What did he say?”

  “Elle, maybe it’s time you told him the truth. Doesn’t he deserve to know? After all, he’s dead now. It’s over. There’s nothing he can do.”

  Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. But I can tell her mind is running two hundred miles an hour.

  “What? Tell me!” Michael’s face turns Ferrari red.

  My hand on my hip, I gaze at Elle, who still has her eyes shut, in the hope that she’s come up with something. “Come on, he can’t live his life not knowing. That’s unfair to him.”

  He gets up on his feet, his outstretched hand wielding the knife. “Tell me now or I swear, I’ll kill you. For real this time.”

  Elle turns her head to the side and gazes straight into my eyes. In them I detect a certain glint—an idea? “Yeah, I guess you’re right. He should know.”

  Michael spins around and bends his face down to only inches from hers. “Tell me right now, bitch.”

  Elle’s gaze fixes itself firmly on him, unblinking. “I don’t know how much you know about your father—if he had a good relationship with your mother. But he told me he wasn’t happy. And apparently, your mother wasn’t either. Because he found out that she—she—”

  “What?” His body is stiff, tense.

  “She was unfaithful to him.”

  He jerks away, fiercely shaking his head. “No! Not my mom. That’s impossible.”

  “He told me she was. She had an affair with your father’s best friend. And you,” she points at him, “were the result of it.”

  “You. Are. Lying!” Michael lifts his hand as if to strike her, but before he does, she starts talking fast. “Think about it. Why else would he leave me his money? It’s because I’m his niece. I’m related to him, by blood. But you—you’re not. You’re not his son.”

  “You lying whore!” Shaking her by her shoulders, he drops the knife on the mattress next to him.

  Not for a moment taking her gaze off him, Elle signals to me with her hand, and I immediately grab my chance. In one big leap, I pounce on his back. My arm squeezes around his fleshy, sweaty neck, and he drops the knife on the bed. Yet he is stronger than he looks, for when I try to pull him down to the ground, he twists his fat torso to and fro, and hurls me off. I hit the floor, and Michael instantly takes the opportunity to grab Elle by the neck and drag her off the bed. Arms and legs flailing, she puts up a struggle, but his hold on her is too strong. In a blink, they are gone—he has yanked her into the walk-in closet and locked the door behind him.

  “Open up!” I pound, pound, pound on the door.

  Should I break it down? But they’re stuck in the closet. The police should be here soon—they’ll take care of the situation. I bang on it once more and place my ear against the door.

  Silence.

  A knot forms in my stomach. Something is not quite right. How can it be so quiet in there?

  A flash of insight hits me right between the eyes. This is not the only door to the walk-in—there is another one at the far end. Where the hell does it lead to?

  Speeding out of the bedroom, I frantically search for the door. Judging from the suite’s layout, it has to be around the kitchen, but all I see is the door that leads to the laundry room. I open it anyway and find in a hidden corner a door I’ve never noticed before. It’s ajar, and I check to confirm what I already know—they’re gone.

  Damn. I have to get to the front door.

  But before I get there, Ying comes barging into the suite with a posse of uniformed cops.

  I grab her arm. “Did you see him? He’s taken Elle.”

  Frowning, she shakes her head. “No, I haven’t. But don’t worry, we’ve got it under control. The police is all over the hotel. He won’t get away.”

  Despite her confident tone, Ying’s words do not reassure me. Confusion clouding my thoughts, I look anxiously around me. It feels like I’m missing something important.

  My gaze falls on the front door, and I point at it. “You just arrived, right? Then why didn’t you run into him? From the the walk-in closet he went into the laundry room, then into the kitchen. You must have seen him go out the front door.” I look up at the ceiling for an instant. “Unless there’s, there’s—”

  “Another way out.” Ying strides into the suite, and I keep pace alongsid
e her, determined to find his hidden escape. I expect us to have considerable trouble finding it, but to my surprise we spot it right away when we reach the kitchen. It is in the corner, behind a deep cabinet. Of course—the butler’s entrance. I vaguely remember the hotel staff mentioning this when we first checked in.

  Ying opens the door, and we find ourselves in the empty hallway.

  I lift my shoulders. “What now?”

  Her hands on her hips, she scans the hallway. “Not the elevator. That’s how we got here.” She points at a green, lit ‘Exit’ sign—the fire escape. “There.”

  A frisson of hope blossoms in my chest, but when we enter the stairwell, there is no sign of Michael.

  “He must have gone down one or two floors, then taken the elevator. But he won’t get far. I’ve got the whole ground floor covered, so no one gets out of here. Especially not when they’re holding someone hostage.” Giving me a reassuring tap on the shoulder, Ying pulls out her cell and makes a call.

  I shake my head. Michael is not stupid—he won’t simply walk out of the main lobby. I’m sure he’s found another way to escape, taking Elle with him.

  The air around me suddenly feels hot and stifling, making it impossible to breathe. I need fresh air.

  Without thinking, I rush up the flight of stairs, two steps at a time, and push open the door at the top. Outside on the rooftop, I bend over, my hands on my knees, shakily drawing air into my lungs.

  A question keeps running through my mind. What will I do if I lose Elle? I hardly dare to admit the truth to myself: that my life is worth nothing without her.

  Lifting my head, I start turning back to the door. I have to get back, help the police find Michael—find Elle. But just as I do, I spot movement from the corner of my eye. A person is sprinting toward me.

  I blink, and blink again. Is this a dream?

  But it is real—it’s Elle on the far side of the roof. I break into a run to meet her, and when I do, she comes flying into my arms.

  Forcefully, I crush her against me. “Okay?”

  She nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief. A mixture of emotions floods my senses, and I grip her even more tightly, never wanting to let her go.

  A loud noise comes whirring from above, and we both look up. A helicopter is diving down toward the rooftop. And the moment the landing skids touch the asphalt, a figure appears from behind a chimney.

  No! It’s Michael—the asshole is going to get away. I can’t let that happen.

  Dragging Elle with me, I sprint toward the chopper. I try not to let the strong gust of wind slow us down, but it is too late. The helicopter lifts off the ground, with Michael standing in its opened cabin door, smirking down at me.

  And within seconds, the helicopter is but a dot in the cloudy sky.

  Elle

  This is the first time we’ve been alone since this morning—an eternity ago.

  The interrogation room Ying has taken us into is austere, with bare walls and a single barred window that looks out on a gray apartment block. The metal table in front of us feels cool as I rest my head in the crook of my outstretched arm.

  “You okay?” Ryder traces his finger over my throat. “Look at what that asshole has done to you.”

  “It’s just a few scratches. Nothing to worry about.”

  Smiling, he tucks some wayward strands of hair behind my ear. “I’m proud of you, you know. It was brilliant, what you came up with, about him not being his father’s son. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “God, I’m glad it’s over.”

  “So am I.”

  I stare up to the striplight in the ceiling. I wonder if it’s really over. And I’m not even thinking of Michael. Will Ryder and I be able to get over this? Will I ever be able to forget that video?

  A painful silence hangs between us, but in my mind a voice can’t stop talking—Michael telling me that Ryder did sleep with that girl, that he betrayed me.

  Cupping my chin in the crook of his finger, Ryder angles my face toward his. “What is it? Was it—what he did, did it bring up bad memories?”

  I nod. “It all came back to me. It was—horrible.”

  “I still can’t believe he did this. All those years, he must have been thinking about it. He really wanted to make you suffer.”

  “Well, he sure succeeded.”

  I avert my gaze. Thinking back, what Michael tried to do to me was sickening, but I’d be able to deal with it. I know how to shut myself off during sex; I learned how to do that after Michael’s father—uncle Han—raped me. But the thought that Ryder lied to me, that’s what really kills me.

  His fingertips lightly stroke my cheek. “Hey, what’s up? Something else is bothering you.”

  Still unable to look him in the eye, I swallow. I have to be honest with him. That’s the only way we’ll ever work this out.

  “Michael told me you lied to me about the video.”

  “Oh no, not again.” Letting out a sigh, he drops his head into his hands. “Don’t tell me you believed him.”

  I lower my gaze, studying the scratches on the metal tabletop. “I don’t get it myself, why it’s still bothering me. I mean, I believe you, I really do, but I don’t know. Every little thing triggers something in me—doubts. It’s almost like I’m looking for proof you’ve been lying to me. I don’t know why I’m doing it, it’s just—I can’t help it. And I’m sorry. It’s unfair to you.”

  I desperately want to believe Ryder. Nothing he has said or done tells me he is lying. But why does my mind keep on regurgitating what Michael said: “He didn’t have to do it, but he wanted to?”

  “Look at me.” He lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look him in the eye. “I don’t blame you. What happened to you with Michael’s father, changed you. And because of it, you stopped trusting. You stopped trusting men. When this whole twisted shit happened, it made it worse for you.”

  Leaning forward, he places his forehead against mine. “But I want you to know that I love you, more than you’ll ever know. You and only you. I would never, ever let anything jeopardize that. You’ve become part of me. To lose you would be like losing a part of myself. And I won’t be able to function after that. Because you’re an essential part of me.” He takes my hand, places it on his chest, across his heart, and covers it with his. “A part of me that I need—to live.”

  I close my eyes for a few moments. That’s exactly how I feel about him.

  And when I open them again, I nod slowly, and he lets out a breath of relief.

  “Ryder, I love you. So much, you have no idea,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to get hurt again. When you were gone, I was so scared you’d never come back. And then I found out about that video. It almost broke my heart.”

  Looking up to the ceiling, he balls his hands into fists. “God, I want to kill that asshole for doing this to you. I can’t believe I walked right into his trap. But I’m going to make it up to you. Starting from now.”

  His hand reaches out and touches my hair, softly sliding down a strand until it curls around my neck. The contact makes a shiver run down my spine, and I close my eyes. This is such a bad idea. We shouldn’t be doing this—we need to talk, I need to think. But my treacherous body doesn’t agree, his heated touch seducing it to succumb. And when he pulls me toward him, his lips brushing mine, my mind goes blank. He deepens his kiss, and the love and tenderness I feel pouring out of him gives me all the reassurance I’ve sought.

  A rap on the door forces us to break apart. Trying to keep my rapid breathing and thundering heart under control, I clear my throat repeatedly as Ying steps into the room, a dejected look on her face. “Sorry to keep you waiting, guys. I haven’t got very good news, I’m afraid. He managed to escaped. But I’m sure he won’t get far. We’re tracking the helicopter as we speak, and we should be able to intercept it pretty soon.” She places a notebook and what looks like a recording device on the table. “
In the meantime, I’d like to ask you some questions. Is that okay?”

  “Sure.” Ryder’s mouth curves into a polite smile.

  Ying sits down on the seat opposite us. “I’m sorry we have to do it now, but it’s always best when the information is still fresh. Let’s start from the beginning. Elle, did you know the suspect—Michael Han—would be coming to your suite?”

  I clear my throat. “Before he left in the morning, Ryder told me that someone would drop off some documents. But I expected it to be Cecil, not Michael.”

  “So when you opened the door, you were surprised.”

  “Not really. I thought he’d just drop the documents and leave.”

  Ying scribbles in her notebook. “Did you recognize him?”

  “Not at first. I just thought he looked vaguely familiar. But later on I remembered he was there in Hainan. He was one of the two men who tried to take me.”

  With widened eyes, Ying arches her brow. “Why didn’t you report it to the police then?”

  Ryder protectively curves his arm around my shoulders. “It was resolved. Cecil helped; he assured us he would deal with it. At the time, it didn’t seem such a big deal. I had no idea he’d come after her again.”

  I lean forward, causing his arm to fall away. “What do you know about him? Is he really my cousin?”

  I knew that uncle Han had a son, but no one never talked about him. Even when my uncle came to visit us, he nor my mother mentioned him.

  “So far, his story seems to check out. He’s an only child and lives with his mother in Nanjing. After he graduated in IT from a British university, he helped his father in his business. But when he died, Michael took over and shifted the business into a different direction. To the dark side, so to speak. That’s how he formed his connections with drug smugglers, gangs, triads. Like the helicopter. We know it’s not his. He must have borrowed it from one of his friends, probably members of a triad. And that’s also how he arranged your abduction, with the help of an organ trade gang.”

  “He would have left Ryder to die.”

  Ying nods. “Yes. And he’d never been found again.”