by Hype, Jenn
Releasing my hand harshly, he put his focus back on the road as I rubbed the skin around my wrist.
"So who were those men back there?"
My head jerked to the side. He wasn't looking at me, but if he had been, he'd see me giving him my that's-a-fucking-joke-right face.
"I have no fucking clue! All I know is that I was out, trying to let off a little steam, when I got this weird-ass call from my mom, then some dude tried to slip me a roofie. Next thing I know, I've been unknowingly been cast a part in some sort of re-enactment of a cheesy action movie plot. Only instead of actors, I'm surrounded deranged LARP-ers who don't realize you're supposed to use fake guns."
Grant glanced over at me, one eyebrow raised.
"What? Don't look at me like I'm the one who's nuts. I seriously cannot think of any reason why this crazy crap is happening. That explanation makes as much sense as any."
He made no attempt to add to the conversation, nor did he act like he believed me that I didn't know anything. Reaching for the door handle, I tugged, barely able to maintain my grip when it tried to swing all the way open.
"What the fuck is your problem?! We're going sixty miles an hour!" I tugged the door shut again but kept my fingers wrapped around the handle, making it clear I would be more than happy to throw it right back open if he didn't start talking. Taking his exasperated sigh as a sign of concession, I placed my hands in my lap and smiled sweetly at him.
"First of all, I'm not kidnapping you. You think I would willingly hold someone as fucking annoying as you captive? No. My moral obligations demand I save all damsels in distress. Second of all, I'm getting us somewhere safe, that's all you need to know. And once we get there, I will be the one asking questions, not you. Third of all, I'm not convinced you don't know anything. So if you're holding something back, it would be better for you to just own up to it now."
"Damsel in distress? Wow. Just...wow. You're an arrogant prick. I'm the one who saved your life, asshole. If I would have known what a colossal douchebag you are I would have just let him shoot you."
Chapter Five
All Tied Up
Brooke
"You know, you don't need to manhandle me. I'm fully capable of walking without you getting handsy with me."
Giving my arm another yank, I failed again to extricate myself from Grant's hold. The more I yanked, the more it hurt, so eventually I gave up.
The entire car ride was spent with me warring with myself over what to do once he finally stopped the car. Make a run for it? Shoot him? Rip his pants off and tickle his pickle? By the time we reached our mystery destination, I'd decided to go with option number four - follow along and see what happens. Even if I did manage to get away from him, where the hell was I gonna go? My car was back at that house that'd been blown to pieces.
Whether or not Grant was someone I could trust was still to be determined, but either way, he had helped me escape. If he wanted me dead, then saving me seemed counter productive. Plus, with my trip to that godforsaken house having turned up zero new clues for me, Grant was my only lead. Going along with - or in the very least pretending to go along with - him was the only way to get anything out of him.
What did I know so far?
Grant made me want to consider my aversion to pretty boys after seeing how well he wore a tux.
Grant had access to the security camera footage via his phone, which meant he either owned the house, had found a way to hack into the camera system or was close with the owner.
Grant knew the front closet was bullet proof and how to access hidden weapons inside of the walls, further proving he had intimate knowledge of the house.
Whoever did own the house was seriously badass with their safe room and hidden guns.
The assholes shooting up the house wanted either myself or Grant dead, and didn't care who they took out in the process, meaning even if Grant was my enemy, he was the enemy of my enemy which made him an ally. And also gave me a headache.
Grant had "backup" that came without him calling for it.
To summarize: I had no freaking clue what was going on.
"Talk." Grant barked after tossing me down onto a wooden chair. The room held a desk, but nothing was on it, including a computer. There was a couch along one of the walls, a desk chair and the one I was sitting on. So overall, pretty basic and mostly empty.
"Ask nicely." Crossing my legs and leaning back into the chair, I smiled, biting back a laugh when he tried - and failed - to hide his frustration. I knew time was ticking and I needed to help my mom, but I still had no idea if I could trust the jerk barking orders at me. Until then, he was going to have to work for any information I gave him.
"Alright, listen. My patience is down to one last thread, and your smart ass attitude is about to make it snap. So, unless you want to do this the hard way," he said as he crouched before me and crowded my personal space, "then you need to start explaining why you were at that house."
Okay, I'll admit, my resolve weakened just a little. His hair, which had been gelled into a neat pompadour style was now tussled, making him look freshly fucked. He'd loosened his tie and undone the top two buttons of his dress shirt in the car during the drive. This close, I could see a light smattering of hair on his chest, giving him a ruggedness I wouldn't have anticipated from first impressions. That ruggedness combined with the light smell of fresh sweat and a hint of cologne had me squeezing my thighs together to try and abate the unwelcome pulsing between my legs.
Allowing the sudden surge of lust to take over would only give him the upper hand, so I tamped it back down, focusing on the reason I was there to begin with.
"Unless you give me a reason to trust you, I won't be telling you anything. If that property belongs to you, then you're more than welcome to file trespassing charges if you'd like. But if you want me to give you anything, then you have to be willing to reciprocate." Uncrossing my legs, I inched forward in the chair, not missing the hitch in his breath when I put my mouth up against his ear. "And for the record, I like it hard."
My heart picked up its pace as several seconds passed by with neither of us moving, my lips lightly touching the shell of his ear. His body relaxed just a fraction into mine before he jerked away and emitted a low, predatory growl from his throat. A surge of satisfaction tore through me when he used my chair to push himself up, frustration etched in the lines of his face.
Whatever advantage I'd had went out the window when he tore his jacket off and tossed it onto the brown leather. With a harsh tug, his tie came undone and joined his jacket. It wasn't until he started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his muscular forearms that he turned back to face me. Not that I had any plans of looking at his face when he was still exposing new inches of sinewy muscles to me with each twist of his fingers.
If I hadn't already been sitting, then the heat in his eyes when I finally managed to tear mine from his arms and look at him again would have knocked me on my ass. His face gave nothing away, but those eyes... it was all too easy to imagine their dark depths staring down at me while he moved over me, his length pistoning in and out of my core until we both cried out in pleasure.
Grant smirked and gave me a knowing look, and maybe if I'd been trying to hide my arousal I would have been embarrassed, but I couldn't very well pretend to feel nothing now that I'd been busted, could I? So instead of squirming under his stare, I winked.
"Like what you see?" His question should have sounded cocky, but there was no arrogance behind his words. Just a promise. That if I liked what I saw, I would love what he made me feel. Holy shit, did I want him to prove himself. Right here. Right now.
The primal urge to be taken by a man and brought to pleasure by his body alone had never been this strong. Not until Grant looked at me with hungry eyes that had me forcing my ass to stay seated so I didn't do something stupid like rip all my clothes off.
Since I was pretty sure he expected a denial or embarrassment, I opted to go with straight hones
ty instead.
"Of course I like what I see. I'd like it if I could see more though."
With confident ease, Grant grabbed one of the wooden chairs on the other side of the table and flipped it to face mine before easing into it, his knees bumping mine. Bracing himself on his legs, he leaned down to put us at eye level.
"Enough games, Brooke. Time to start talking. I don't make empty threats, and I have no problem using more...forceful ways of getting information from you if that's what it's going to take. You can pull all the innuendo from that as you please, but I can promise you it won't be pleasure you'll be getting from me. Now, my mother raised me to be a gentleman, but unless you cooperate, I'll be forced to view you as the enemy. I'm not in the habit of using my size and skill to my advantage when it comes to women-"
Having had enough of his sexist bullshit, I held up my hand and cut him off before he said something that ended with him taking a punch to his nuts.
"That's enough of that. Before you spew any more chauvinistic bullshit at me, let me clarify something for you." Spreading my legs and dropping my elbows to my knees to mimic his pose, I made it clear that he wasn't going to intimidate me. "You either follow through on your threats, or shut the hell up, because you're seriously starting to get on my nerves."
Faster than should be humanly possible, Grant flew out of his seat, sending it flying backwards. Next thing I knew, I was feeling a tug on my wrists, followed by something hard and sharp digging into my skin.
"Try and stand up and I'll do the same to your feet," Grant threatened from behind me, close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my neck.
Every survival instinct in me roared to life, my options warring with each other as I internally debated what to do next. Having my hands bound wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but the speed at which he bound them definitely made this situation a hell of a lot more complicated for me. A physical confrontation even with my hands free would be ridiculous for me to even consider. So as much as I loathed to just stay in the seat as he'd just demanded, I didn't really have much of a choice.
While I very seriously doubted he would use any extreme torture methods on me, I couldn't be positive. I mean, he'd just zip tied my freaking arms behind my back. The part of me that had been leaning towards trusting him - since he had saved my life and all - was now trying to figure out how to get the hell away from him. I had to be smart about it, though. If I did something stupid like make a run for it, I'd just wind up in worse shape than I already was.
Well, he had size and strength on his side, but he also had a dick, which meant I had an even more powerful advantage over him. I might have just accused him of being chauvinistic, but desperate times...
"As kinky as this is," I whispered, letting my head relax and fall backwards until it rested on his shoulder, "I really do my best work when I'm able to use my hands."
I'm not sure what exactly I'd expected him to do next, but it definitely hadn't been to fist my hair in his hand and yank hard enough to send tiny stabs of pain straight from my scalp, down past the fluttering in my stomach, not stopping until those pricks of pleasurable pain reached my core. Being dominated by a man was something I only allowed in the bedroom. Sitting there helpless, my neck vulnerable and exposed, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over my body was practically foreplay for me.
A quiet, unbidden moan escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I prayed he would assume it came from pain not desire. His lips skimmed over my pulse so lightly I almost thought I'd imagined it, but immediately after his teeth clamped down in that same spot, hard enough for me to cry out. When his tongue darted out to soothe the pain, I had to bite down on my lip to keep from moaning again.
Suddenly his mouth was gone, and he released his grip on my hair with enough force to send my head flying forward. Judging by the cocky grin he wore as he rounded the chair to face me again, he knew exactly the kind of effect he was having on me. Whatever he had set out to accomplish with that little stunt was about to backfire on his arrogant ass, because all he'd done is convince me he couldn't be trusted. Whatever information the shithead wanted out of me, he was never going to get.
"You know, BDSM isn't something I'm very knowledgable about, but I'm pretty sure both parties have to be willing participants, otherwise it's just assault. So if you don't mind, either ask nicely next time, or keep your fucking mouth and hands off of me. Kay?" I shot him a sweet smile, laughing when his smugness morphed into a scowl.
I thought I'd regained the upper hand. Wrong. Without one word, he strode out of the room and left me there. Bound. Alone.
And thoroughly pissed off.
Chapter Six
The Dream Team
Grant
"The girl in there?" Trent jutted his chin and looked over my shoulder as I pulled the door closed behind me.
"That is no girl," I growled, pretending not to hear him chuckle. "That is a damn nuisance."
I needed to find out what happened back at the house once we left, but it would have to wait a few minutes. Before I could do anything, I had to get my shit together. Trying to deny that something about Brooke was throwing me off my game was pointless, and I wasn't in the habit of lying to myself.
Locking myself in the bathroom felt a hell of a lot like hiding, but fuck if I cared. Splashing my face with water, I braced my hands on the cool laminate of the counter and surveyed the man staring back at me in the mirror.
At one point in time I'd been blinded by naive arrogance, assumed that my training would be enough to not only keep me alive, but allow me to kick some ass. That young, foolish boy had been torn apart limb by limb, piece by piece, until all that remained was an empty shell. A shell that had quickly been filled with rage and bitterness, the cruel reality of the world leaving no room for anything other than harsh truths and pain.
My humanity remained intact, though. Despite the number of friends I'd lost, or how many times I stood by and watched the life drain out of someone's eyes, nothing would ever strip me of my soul. If nothing else, the darkness I'd witnessed had only further cemented my determination to make sure that the darkness would never fully snuff out the good.
There was no defining moment for me. No specific incident that caused me to flip the switch from playing the part of a good soldier who obeys to a rebel determined to take down the world's evils by using more drastic means. All I knew was at some point the person looking back at me in the mirror had gone from being familiar to practically a stranger.
Anger had become a good friend, rarely ever leaving my side, but it had been years since I'd felt the rage building deep in my gut. It was Jack who pulled me out of the darkness. Gave me purpose. I was the first person he recruited to join him in his vigilante lifestyle. He was someone to be feared and admired, but over the years he'd become more like family to me than a boss.
Life was always hard. My sorry excuse of a father abandoned us when I was ten. Mom had to work two, sometimes three, jobs to keep a roof over our head. That meant I had to step up and be the man of the house, essentially taking over the role of father for my little brother Sean. He was only three years younger than me, but he was a good kid. I knew even at my young age that it was unusual for a ten-year-old to be doing laundry and assuming the responsibility of getting Sean on the bus, cooking his meals for him, giving him baths at night and tucking him into bed. I also knew we didn't have any other options, so I never complained.
When I turned eighteen and enlisted with the Navy, leaving Sean behind was the hardest thing I'd ever done. He was fifteen by then, more than capable of taking care of himself, but we'd never spent a day apart. When he enlisted in the Marines after graduating high school, I'd never been prouder.
And when he died in combat a year later, my world came crumbling around me. I was overseas when I found out, and I flew home immediately to plan the funeral. I was supposed to fly back as soon as it was done, but that didn't end up happening. Turned out my mom had stage four lung cancer. She'
d found out two years prior, but didn't have the insurance to treat it. At that time, it was only stage two.
As angry as I wanted to be at her for not telling me, not letting me help pay for her medical care, I couldn't do that when she was on her deathbed. Instead, I had to stay and care for her in her final days. In the span of three months, I lost the only people I'd ever loved.
When Jack first approached me, I was drowning my sorrows. I thought he was crazy. He knew everything. About Sean, my mom, my time overseas. He probably knew more about life than even I did. How he knew all of that still remained a mystery to me.
Secrets or not, there wasn't much I wouldn't do for the man. That he hadn't returned my calls today was worrying me. The reason I'd been in a tux was because I'd had to attend a gala in his place. We weren't on an active mission, but were working on recon for a potential job, so he had no reason to be out of touch. As a rule, if any of us were going to be MIA for longer than a few hours, we let someone know. Our jobs were dangerous, and it was important we know when someone needed help, even if they couldn't ask for it.
Knowing he was supposed to be at the event, I threw on my tux and went to the fancy hotel, hoping to find him. I didn't. A text to Trent telling him to start tracking Jack's phone and a pep talk to myself later, I stepped up and did the schmoozing Jack was supposed to be doing instead. People were not my forte. Most of my work was done behind the scenes. It took every ounce of patience I had to make it through a few hours of sufferable conversation with pompous assholes who had more money than God.
So Brooke breaking into Wilson and bringing along a team of hired assassins with her came at a really bad time.
"What the hell is he doing in there? Diddling himself?"
"I'm right here."
The rest of the team had arrived while I was in the bathroom, and honestly, Nick's guess as to what I was doing was better than the truth, so I made no effort to correct him. Nick assumed the role of con man, though the people who knew the real Nick probably never would have guessed that. He was crude, sarcastic and an asshole most of the time, but he could win an Oscar for his performances. The man could charm a nun out of her habit. No shitting you - I was there when it happened.