We walked down the hallway and Onyx stopped at the last door, opening it wide. “This is where you’re staying. Go in. I have business.”
My arms wrapped around my body as I felt a cold shiver. Slowly, I made my way into the room. Correction, I made my way into another white room. There was a television on the wall that was white and I’d never seen anything like it in stores. The enormous bed—white. Bedding—white. Walls—white. Sitting area—white with white furniture. How could this place not have any color? Any life? Even scarier, what did it say about the man I was spending the next couple of weeks with?
Without another word, the door shut behind me and I heard a resounding tell-tale click. Turning quickly, the deadbolt stared back at me teasingly, mocking me. He locked me in from the outside. There was no getting out. There was no escape.
I truly was a prisoner.
5
Onyx
Exit package delivered. The text message from Dane lit up my phone while I stepped into my office.
Confirmed. I texted back, sitting down at my desk.
I never doubted that the job wouldn’t get done. Dane Anderson was the single person who knew my every demon from before either of us could understand what having skeletons in your closet meant. He was my keeper, brother’s keeper if one had to label it. If I was to call someone family, it would be him, no doubt. And his job, no one did it better, ever.
Turning on the computer monitor, I checked my email. The dossier on Torryn Lane McAllister sat on the screen. I read it when we took on the Lanier’s as clients. It was full of information that had my attention from the beginning. The Lanier’s made their mistakes, and it gave me just the advantage I needed on my little captive.
Today, as we sat in Malcom’s home, I received the update concerning her job. It was a regular for all of our clients—even repeat ones. We stayed on top of knowing everything about them and every close associate they have. Torryn was no different. Even looking at it a second time nothing remarkably new stood out to the world.
The twenty-six-year-old woman with auburn hair and hazel eyes had a college education and a shit ton of bad luck. “Well, Collateral, your luck isn’t changing anytime soon,” I muttered to myself.
The detailed information included her social security number, high school and college GPA’s, her jobs, her tax returns, every address she’d ever had, the death of her beloved mother, and even how many men she fucked in her life. I had the world at my fingertips, and I used it to get what I wanted. Today, I wanted information on Collateral. I had it and nothing about it was memorable while the woman inside my house certainly was. What the paper left out were the luscious curves filling out her tits and ass, because my eyes didn’t miss a single inch of her. She’d be fun to play with and look at until I bore of her.
Swiping the screen on my phone, I called Paxton. He picked up on the second ring. “Crazy-ass-motherfucker!”
“Hello to you too, cocksucker.”
“Garrett told me you’d be calling. I got her landlord’s name, address, and, of course, we all have the Lanier information. How you wanna play this, Onyx?”
Leaning back in the chair, I thought things through quickly because the balls were already set in motion as soon as we left the sister’s house. How did I want to handle Torryn McAllister? My instincts had taken me this far in life, no need to abandon them now.
“Wipe her out. I want not a single soul to miss her, but her pain-in-my-ass sister.”
He laughed. I didn’t. I was serious. I wanted no one to give a second thought to the woman who barged into my life. No one at any of her jobs, friends … anyone who had ever come in contact with her; Torryn would vanish.
“Consider it done,” Paxton replied, and it went without saying.
Paxton was family. Garrett was family. Dane was family. I didn’t trust anyone more than the three of them and they still didn’t get one hundred percent of me. They never would either. No one could possess all of me, it wasn’t in my makeup. I didn’t think it ever was.
“Garrett mentioned you took her to The Manor.”
I growled at Garrett’s loose lips. The Manor was my home, my personal space. “Garrett has a pussy, not balls for sharing my shit. I’ll kick his ass for it when I see him again.”
“I won’t deliver that message,” Paxton stated before changing the subject. “Common Street house is full. And last run showed everyone is stocked with inventory. Contracts are locked in for each resident.”
“Good,” I muttered, not giving a damn. The houses typically stayed full, and contracts always worked themselves out. Business was on point. We had a system, and it never failed. We set up four houses outside of Lancaster, Pennsylvania: Carol Street house, Common Street house, Corbin Avenue duplex, and Carsen Lane building. Garrett and Paxton kept everything on the up and up as much as necessary to keep any government officials, police, or paper-pushing assholes off our backs in Philadelphia. Paxton’s update was just part of his job. Dane and I oversaw the residents, the merchandise, the clients and their handlers, and, of course, any competition.
“Make her disappear,” I reminded him the purpose of the call before I hung up. No need for goodbye’s or any pleasantries. The four of us weren’t pleasant, so no need to bullshit anyone.
Was I ruining Collateral’s life? Probably. Did I give a shit? Nope.
Her sister brought this shit on. Her and her asshole husband who didn’t understand the rules to the game they were playing. They should have read the fine print—the extra fine print. They’d be surprised what it actually entailed.
I was puppet master holding the strings, the grandmaster of the game. They asked to join my world, and it’s on my terms. Yes, Collateral would be fun. When it all crashed around her, Torryn could ask her big sister why she paid the price. Her answer wouldn’t matter. They could consider me worse than the Devil himself, and it would be true. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it.
A quick switch of my computer screen and the monitors popped up. First, I snuck a peek at my houseguest under the surveillance screen. She hadn’t made herself comfortable like I had imagined. At every turn, her reactions were different than I anticipated. It had been a long day, I thought she would like to rest. There wasn’t a single bed more comfortable and inviting in the entire manor than the one in that room. She paced back and forth in the sitting area of the large space, not even bothering to look around or investigate her surroundings.
She was smart, no doubt trying to wrap her mind around how deep this shit could be. I smirked and relished the way she tugged at her hair, pulling the roots in frustration. Her brows turned in contemplation, and her steps were done with purpose.
Stressed but not giving in—it was a good look on her.
I wouldn’t tell her that.
Ever.
Pressing F-4, I moved to the room in the Corbin Avenue house. The Lanier’s merchandise was there, quietly waiting for them. Nothing appeared amiss. For as long as they had waited before landing in my world, it was quite disappointing to see how impatient they were with this whole process.
Reassurances.
They begged for them.
Nothing was certain in life, not even death.
On that reminder of the shit hand life dealt me, I didn’t wallow—never let a damn thing get me down. As soon as the feelings from the past hit me, I pushed them away, deciding my office was boring when I had company in the manor to occupy my time with. Closing down the computer, I turned off my thoughts about the Lanier’s.
When I crossed the threshold into the bedroom, she looked at me with her wild eyes flaring in a deep green from the hazel they were when we first met. It was intriguing how they changed colors depending on her moods, another piece of information to hold close to the vest that wasn’t in the dossier.
“Okay, Mr. Blake, we need to discuss this.” Torryn rolled her shoulders back, her obvious tell of fear, and swallowed hard, trying to be brave.
I had to admit I liked
the fight in her. It would most certainly be fun to shatter.
“Not sure what exactly you think we need to discuss, but by all means, Collateral, speak.” I took off my suit jacket and tossed it to the chair in the corner. Slowly, I rolled the sleeves of my button-up shirt up, exposing my forearm ink to her.
“You’re far from the typical businessman.” She noted the obvious.
I didn’t reply.
“What kind of business are you in?” she asked, trying to figure me out and honestly thinking I’d answer her questions freely.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I looked her in the eyes. “The kind that makes a fuck load of money.”
She didn’t drop her jaw, impressed by me. Nope, she actually seemed annoyed, like having money was akin to killing someone in cold blood. I knew the feeling of both.
“How did you meet Kennedy and Malcom?” She pressed on.
Deciding to entertain her a bit more, I leaned into the wall as I stroked my beard, letting her think I was going to give her some useful information. I found my beard to be a nice distraction when I needed it to be. It wasn’t overly long like some hillbilly hunter. I had a barber who I saw weekly to trim and thin it out. People always paid attention to where a person’s hand went. Mine on my beard drew their attention to my face. Without even realizing it her eyes moved to where my hand traced my chin. Under my spell, my control, just how I liked things.
“They sought out an item I supply.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Liar,” she challenged. “They have everything. Malcom makes sure of it.”
A critical mistake on her part. I moved in, she backed up. I stepped closer like a lion challenging his whole fucking pride, she backed up until she was halted by the window. Reaching out, I wrapped my thick, callused hands around her throat firmly, enough to get her undivided attention.
I could feel her pulse ticking in her neck as her eyes went wide with fear, but she wouldn’t shed a tear or let me feel it radiate off her.
Strong.
She was a perfect contender.
“I’m a lot of things, Collateral. A bastard boy, a motherfucker, a ruthless businessman, dominant, fearless, and a man who gives not a single shit about anything other than my word. Call me any fuckin’ name you want, but liar I am not.”
She swallowed hard, her hands coming up to mine as she tried to pry my hand away. “My sister has everything she’s ever wanted.”
Oh the way she believed in her sweet Kennedy, the way that even with my hand around her throat she would still stand behind her was almost inspiring. That’s a family loyalty I could only imagine to ever be real.
As I stood there with her pinned to my window, fear in her eyes, fury in her veins, and the deep seated belief that her sister would keep no secrets from her, I only had a single thought.
Torryn McAllister would definitely be fun to break.
6
Torryn
His grip tightened around my throat, not cutting off my air supply completely but a hard reminder that he could, at any moment, do just that. Fear radiated through my blood stream, and I fought showing him. He seemed to get off on it, and I had no intention of giving him anything that he enjoyed.
It felt like he wanted me to know I was vulnerable. Hello, I had somehow managed to end up a semi-willing captive in his world. A world I didn’t know.
The scariest part was I believed him. Not that I trusted him by any means, but his word—his conviction—was there. There would never be any level of trust with this man. But I had complete faith in what he said about not being a liar, and wasn’t that a kicker.
“Why my sister?” I pressed on, deserving answers. He cut off my ability to communicate with her directly so I would ask him, another part of this twisted game. He wanted control and got it.
Onyx leaned forward, his face coming toward mine and there was nowhere I could go. My back was flush with the window as he leaned to my ear. “She came to me. Not the other way around.” The hot heat of his mouth caressed my skin sending a small tremble down my spine. He needed to move back so I could think. With him that close, there was no thinking only smelling, feeling, and touching his hot skin.
He said nothing, and I willed him to talk. I wanted him to tell me something to fit the pieces together. To know why I was here and not with my sister, who was devastated at my departure. The way she crumbled to the floor still played in my mind.
Pushing off the window and taking a few steps back, Onyx shook his head. “The more you ask—the more you’ll piss me off. And trust me, you don’t want me pissed off, Collateral.”
A growl rumbled through my throat. “That isn’t my name.”
“Already discussed this. Not a man who repeats himself.” Dismissively, he turned to the door and locked it, then started unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“What are you doing?”
Why was he stripping? There was no way in hell I was sleeping with him. He needed to get that off his mind right away. With each button coming undone, the ink on his body was revealed inch by agonizing inch. Angel wings covered his chest spanning from shoulder to shoulder across his defined chest. Both arms and sides of his body were also covered in tattoos. Each one more unique than the other. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him about them, but I refrained, barely. Questioning was in my nature. Being in this situation and keeping my mouth shut was hard.
Never had I seen a man with that many memories plastered all over him. These weren’t tattoos from a poster on a wall or in some book. These were all custom. Not a single one drew my attention more than another, but rather they melted into a story I wanted to read moving fluidly around his arms, torso, and body.
“Showering. Wanna join me?” He stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and began to undo his pants tossing everything onto the floor in a heap, the white carpet now littered with the only color present.
“Don’t do that out here! Don’t you have your own room?” The ladylike thing would be for me to turn around and look out the window, but his body was a work of art and I found it difficult to tear my eyes away. The tan of his skin, like he worked out in the sun, only added to the way the colors of his tattoos popped off his body. The ridgelines of his abs as they flexed with every movement had me mesmerized, entranced.
He smirked. “And miss all the fun?” The pants fell to the ground leaving him in tight boxer briefs. Before doing anything, he pulled them down. Only then did I quickly turn away. My eyes wanted to look to see his package, but my anger for the situation he put me in won and I didn’t peek.
“Put your clothes on!” My heart rate picked up just about jumping out of my chest.
“May as well turn around and take a good look. My dick will be in you soon enough.”
I scoffed, “Hell no it won’t.” He was so damn arrogant, a complete asshole.
“We’ll see.”
The water began to run in the bathroom and only then did I turn around. There had to be something in the room that I could use to contact my sister. His clothes laid on the floor and instinctually I went to them, going through the pockets. Loose change and a scratched up Zippo lighter were the only items inside. Dammit.
Not even a wallet to rifle through.
What in the hell was I going to do? Knowing the door to enter the room wouldn’t open, I tried it anyway then slammed my hand on it in anger. With every passing moment, I hated him more and more with everything inside of me. He had all the control, the power, and I had nothing but to be at his mercy.
Trapped.
Alone.
Fearful.
This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go. Sure, I’d had a shit hand, but not this bad. Never this bad. I may have not had my sister to go to for advice, but my momma didn’t raise a stupid woman. Somehow, someway, I’d figure out what he had over her, fix it, and get the hell out of here.
The shower turned off, and moments later Onyx came out in nothing but a towel low slung on his hips. I started chanting in
my head I hate him, I hate him over and over. Everything about the man was toned and sharp. In my lifetime, I’d only ever seen a body like his in magazines or on television. He put every single one of my exes to shame, and the very bad part—he knew it. The shrewd look told me.
“May as well get comfortable. You’ll be here for a while,” he said casually going to one of the white dresser drawers and pulling out a pair of black underwear. The towel fell from his body displaying an ass that one could bounce quarters off of and the largest back piece I’d ever seen.
It was a phoenix, but not just any phoenix. This one was coming up from a dusting of ashes while bright red and yellow fire swirled around it. Unbelievably remarkable.
It’s official. Life hated me. Completely and totally hated me. How could I absolutely despise the man in front of me, but be enamored with his body? How could someone so careless and evil be so freaking hot? It wasn’t fair, then again that’s life.
“I want to know what’s going on,” I demanded, hoping it came out strong and determined and my awe was fully covered up.
“Get over it. Either lay your ass down on the bed and rest, or I’ll tie you to it.” His brow quirked as he started to cross the room. “I rather like the tying up option.” My knees hit the bed as I stepped backward, and he reached for my wrists grabbing them tightly.
“No, don’t tie me.” I hated the way my voice broke, but I already felt trapped enough, no need for physical restraints as a reminder of my situation.
A slow smirk tipped the left side of his lip. “Nah, I think for tonight, I’ll tie ya up.” He grabbed me around the waist, and I fought. With everything inside of me, I kicked, scratched, bit and hit him, not one thing slowing him down. I wasn’t a small woman. My body had tons of curves, and it took me a long ass time in my life to be happy with each part. Yet he lifted and carried me effortlessly.
Now I wished the damn things were muscle so I’d have some leverage over him. He wrestled me to the bed and I tried, I swear I did. The click of metal put the fear of Satan in me. He grabbed for the other arm, and there was no use even though I came out fighting. The metal clicked once again, tying me to the bed—to him. The way the restraints didn’t move was astonishing. I strained trying to see the details in the headboard but couldn’t.
PowerHouse_Anti-Hero Game_Power Chain Book One Page 4