Dollars (Dollar #2)

by Pepper Winters

  “Goddammit, you frustrate me.” Glowering as if he’d expected better from me—as if he could snap his fingers and have me sing for him and kiss him and be cured by him—he dragged a hand through his hair and stormed off.

  ONE WORD.

  Fuck.

  Two words.

  Motherfucking Christ.

  Three words.

  I’m fucking screwed.

  THE DUST EDDIES left by his shoes captured my attention.

  He left.

  He stormed away without Selix to watch me, guards to corral me, or leashes to hold me.

  The chemistry between us snapped away—partly buried by the brutal history I couldn’t shake but mainly due to the freedom that suddenly opened up all around me.

  I’m alone.

  My heart looked up with binoculars.

  I could run.

  My lungs shed its sticky fear, demanding oxygen, feeding my legs in preparation of a sprint.

  I could vanish.

  I could hide.

  I should run in the opposite direction.

  My eyes locked on Elder as he continued to stalk away. He didn’t look back. Did he want me to run? Was this a test? If I did run, would he chase me? And if he did chase me, how far would I get thanks to my battered body and ill health?

  But that wasn’t the point.

  The point was to attempt to flee—to create a scene, to hopefully get the police involved.

  To let people know I’m still alive and ready to go home.

  Beneath the scintillating idea of running, guilt slowly bubbled.

  Guilt at leaving without a thank you or explanation that it wasn’t him I ran from but the captivity he wanted to keep me in. Regret at leaving whatever connection had budded between us.

  He freed you from agony. He killed Tony and broke Alrik into pieces ready for you to deliver the finishing bullet.

  I bounced on the balls of my feet.

  So what?

  Yes, he’d helped me. Yes, I would always be grateful. But he’d done it for his own gain, not mine. When Tony had bashed in the door with a baseball bat and Alrik pressed a gun to my temple, he’d almost let them kill me.

  He’d contemplated it far longer than someone who didn’t have darkness in their soul would.

  Strangers milled around me, their soft conversation threading with my thoughts in a wash of deliberation.

  Go.

  You might not get another chance.

  But then Elder turned.

  His elegant body twisted to face me, his eyes latching onto mine down the street. Enough metres separated us that I could still run. I’d get a decent head start.

  Go…

  The command whispered with authority, surging down my leg.

  Elder froze as my left foot moved backward, deciding it wanted to gamble on running, that it wanted freedom.

  His lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t move, but he knew. He knew I was moments away from bolting. Instead of moving to face me fully, to prepare to chase, he merely rolled his shoulders and dug one hand into his jeans pocket.

  The other, he brought up, rubbed his mouth, then splayed it open; encapsulating the busy market around us, the steaming sunshine, and the wide-open world I could disappear into.

  He gave me his approval.

  And then he waited to see what I would do.

  My body swayed backward, taking pressure off my right foot to join my left in retreat. However, as the sandal disengaged from the hot concrete, I stumbled forward instead.

  Despite every instinct yanking me down the street and into the cobblestone alley to a sanctuary I didn’t know, I found myself walking to the beast I was beginning to understand.

  Step after step, I waged war on my decision. Step after step, Elder’s face tightened as his arm fell to his side, patiently waiting.

  It took a year and a day or perhaps only a second, but I reached his side, and my mind quietened all thoughts of running as he smiled. “Why didn’t you?”

  I don’t know.

  I dropped my head to our grimey feet.

  His hand came up, then paused. His shadow on the pavement resembled the bat I’d so often been struck with; I couldn’t stop my body from cowering. My mind knew the chances of abuse were slimmer every moment I spent in Elder’s company. But my muscles didn’t speak the language of my heart and only saw a slayer ready to maim.

  He hesitated with his hand outstretched between us.

  Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to look up. The second my eyes met his, his hand connected with my chin, keeping my head high and at his mercy.

  His jaw worked as he sorted through the words he wanted to spend. “I don’t know why you didn’t run. But I’ll tell you now, you made the right choice.” Stepping closer, his nostrils flared as my lips parted.

  The attraction and almost kiss of before sprang feverish and unrequited. His fingers tightened on my jaw. “I wanted to see what you would do. If you’d run, you wouldn’t have gone far. Do you believe me?” His eyes searched mine. “I lied this morning when I said I wouldn’t chase after you. I’d chase until you gave up. I can’t let you go yet, Pim. But today has been about choices for you, and you needed to make that for yourself. Run or come to me, the outcome would’ve been the same.”

  He bowed his head, his mouth tickling my ear. “You would’ve been back on the Phantom whether you liked it or not. Don’t torture yourself wondering what could’ve happened if you had run. This is what would’ve happened because there is no other choice for us.”

  Letting me go, he growled. “The moment we met, our choices were stolen from us. Yours because I’ve decided to control your fate. And mine because you’ve decided to deny me what I want.” He bared his teeth. “One of these days, I’ll know who you are. You will answer my every question, and you will let me inside your mind. It’s an inevitability, not a choice, Pim. You might as well get used to that.”

  I sucked in a breath as he let me go.

  Berating me with his black gaze, he added, “In the meantime, let me return the favour. Allow me to show you who I am, so there is no doubt to what I expect.”

  My blood scurried faster. I didn’t know how he planned to show me, but tension glimmered in the air around us, pregnant with promise.

  Squirming bodies of a Chinese tour group suddenly engulfed the busy streets. They descended on the sidewalk in matching baseball hats and named lanyards.

  Elder dodged to the left, forcing me to go to my right to let the two-by-two crowd slip past.

  He never took his eyes off me as if expecting me to run again.

  His voice kept repeating in my head, activating fear and the slightest hint of a threat. It had been a threat but unlike any I’d had before.

  I’d chase until you gave up.

  At the core of that was a promise to never let me go. The primal part of me liked it more than loathed it.

  After tour-group-badge-twenty-two brushed by, Elder stepped toward me as I stepped toward him in perfect synchronicity. We snapped back together as if being far apart was unnatural.

  It made no sense to be so aware of him when only seconds ago I’d been so close to never looking back.

  His lips spread into a smirk as he held up a black wallet with a wad of Yuan currency sticking from the top. “I’ll tell you a few secrets of my own, silent one. I steal because I’m good at it. I steal because I get pleasure from it. You are my possession, and once stolen, I don’t relinquish what is mine—to anyone. And this—” he waggled the wallet— “is how easy I take things that don’t belong to me.”

  My eyes widened as he opened the leather and thumbed nonchalantly through the cash.

  Did he just steal that?

  He didn’t care he was on a street in front of hundreds of people with property that didn’t belong to him. His body language didn’t change. He remained aloof and uncondemnable.

  His thumb and forefinger pinched a colourful bill, rubbing it in a way that made my cheeks flare. Images
of his fingers rubbing my nipple sprang from nowhere; only this time, it didn’t make me want to vomit.

  He glanced up. “A few years ago, I would’ve stolen his money, thrown his identification and credit cards in the gutter, and run. I would’ve taken what was his because I believed I had every right to do what I needed to survive.”

  He moved closer, drawing to his full height. “Just like you think you’re doing everything you have the right to do to survive.” Tapping my nose with the wallet, he whispered, “But sometimes, what you think you have the right to do isn’t the right thing at all. Sometimes, it’s wrong, and others get hurt.”

  I ignored the condescending lesson he preached; my eyes darted from his, desperate to lock onto the man he’d pilfered from. Stealing me was one thing. Stealing someone’s hard earned cash just because he could was entirely another.

  The babble of voices from the tour group wrenched me around.

  Them.

  He stole it from them.

  Elder murmured in my ear. “Third man from the back. It was too easy. A small reach into his back pocket and goodbye holiday funds. What should we buy, Pimlico? Should we blow it on things we don’t deserve or donate it to another who has nothing? I could play Robin Hood, if you’re inclined.”

  How could he take from someone who might’ve saved their entire life for this trip? How could he just remove someone’s property without a flicker of culpability or empathy?

  You’re evil.

  Trying to snatch the wallet from his hand, I glowered.

  Give it back to him.

  He chuckled, holding the cash out of reach. “Frustrating when the other doesn’t do what you want, isn’t it?”

  I pointed at the leather, narrowing my eyes in reproof then pointed at the tour group. I didn’t stop to think I’d broken a very clear rule not to communicate. The audacity of his theft put aside my own issues in order to battle for someone else’s.

  It’s not yours to take.

  “What is ours in this world? Is anything truly ours? You were a belonging for a long time…but you’re a woman. Are you for sale? Was your incarceration unacceptable or merely an inconvenience to you?”

  I had enough of this twisted conversation.

  Shut up and give me that.

  I jumped, stretching as he held the money higher. My spine screamed as whatever shock absorbers I should have had no longer operated for such activities.

  Ignoring the pain, I tried to seize the wallet again, wishing I could scream to the group to halt and check their belongings.

  Is this a worthy enough cause to speak?

  To smear Elder with petty theft? Or could I fix this without giving up everything I had left?

  Elder narrowed his eyes before dropping his arm and pressing the bulging wallet into my hand. “I haven’t stolen in a very long time. Until you, of course.” He licked his bottom lip, his gaze burning with hell. “I’m a taker, Pim, but I’m done stealing from those who don’t deserve it.” His voice darkened. “Go give it back to him.”

  What?

  “Go on. Before it’s too late.” Without another word, he stuck his far too dextrous hands into his pockets and strolled down the road.

  I stood on my own amongst chaos.

  A dilemma slammed into me.

  The same one as before, only this time…I had money.

  I had dollars.

  I had time.

  I had anonymity.

  I could run. Right now.

  I could hide. Straight away.

  The cash turned heavy in my hands offering salvation as well as condemnation. Was it wrong to use someone else’s money if I needed it? Who had the power to justify who deserved it most?

  Taking a step to the curb to cross the road, all thoughts of doing the right thing vanished. All I could think about was disappearing so Elder with his sexual threats and men like Alrik with his fists could never touch me again.

  My heart wrenched tight on an invisible collar, yanking me to a stop.

  You’re better than that.

  Don’t become the criminal to justify a crime done to you.

  The wallet hissed with slurs, calling me a thief—weak to take and wrong to keep.

  My shoulders slouched.

  No, I couldn’t do it.

  I couldn’t steal from another even if it meant my freedom. And Elder knew that. He’d made me face the truth by giving me yet another choice.

  Choices.

  I hate them!

  This was the fourth in a long day of directing my life rather than having it puppeteered for me. How different would it have been if I never said yes to coming into Morocco? Could I have sun-baked on the deck and people watched as the port went about its daily bustle?

  I could’ve avoided the almost kiss, the conversation with Dina, and the awful awakening that’d been prodded to open its blurry eyes inside me.

  But I’d made those choices, and I had to live with them—just like I had to live with myself with whatever choice I made with the wallet.

  Dammit.

  Pirouetting, I broke into a jog, cursing the way my lungs wheezed and sweat rolled down my spine. I couldn’t call out for the tour group to pause and clambered back the way we’d come, trailing after them.

  Not only had Elder given me the choice to steal or not steal and then the task of chasing after a wronged man with his robbed dollars, but he now forced me to break my silence for the second time in a matter of minutes.

  Not trusting my tongue to form cohesive words, I swallowed hard, gathered my courage, and tapped the third man from the end on his shoulder.

  He turned around, blinking with his camera in his hands ready to capture another picturesque memory of Morocco.

  I held up his wallet.

  Immediately, rage filled his face. His eyes narrowed, his tanned skin pinking with anger. He shouted at me in a language I couldn’t understand. Snatching his money, he waved at his friends, blabbering in animation.

  I held up my hands, saying in unknown sign language that I’d found it in the gutter and returned to him.

  A lie.

  My badly orchestrated articulation didn’t work.

  His friends joined in, pointing fingers, getting louder with their blame. One reached for my shoulder, yelling for the tour leader to bring reinforcements.

  Terror unlocked the preservation gates inside me. I did the only thing I could.

  I turned and bolted.

  I ran, ducking around children and animals, weaving around women with shopping bags and men selling their wares. My knees bleated like massacred livestock; my tongue twinged from bouncing in my mouth.

  But I didn’t stop.

  Part of the tour group gave chase. Their foreign voices angry and whipping my back with memories of being punished. Of blood dripping, of tears falling, of silent screams shredding my throat.

  My past blended with my present, and I didn’t just run from them; I ran from him.

  Alrik.

  My heart yelped, grabbing bellows to force more oxygen into my almost crippled limbs. Stumbling, I never gave up until I skidded to a stop beside Elder.

  He didn’t flinch, merely glanced at me as if I’d been there all along.

  I was safe with him, but the chasing stampede continued. I looked over my shoulder, fear once again ransacking my stomach.

  Elder stopped and spun in place, dragging me behind him with a firm grip.

  The men locked their knees, turning their jog into a standstill. They glanced from me to Elder who stiffened with frost then crossed his arms in predatory invitation.

  For a second, they sized him up, their desire to punish me willing to earn a few bruises in a fight. But as Elder took a heavy step in their direction, they decided it wasn’t worth it and turned around.

  A few pissed off glances sailed over their shoulders, interlaced with angry grumbles.

  As the distance between them and us widened, I gave into the residual pain and hugged myself, breathing hard.
<
br />   Elder interrupted my recovery with a harsh snip. “How does it feel to be punished for doing the right thing?”

  I threw him a withering look.

  He gave me a raised eyebrow.

  I glowered at him the entire way back to the Phantom.

  “SIR? YOU WANTED the car again?”

  I looked up from my email as Selix entered my office.

  After returning to Phantom yesterday, I’d left Pimlico to her own devices. I had too much work to do to spend yet more energy on her.

  I’d forced her to take responsibility for herself and her choices. I wouldn’t say my method of teaching had backfired, but she hadn’t forgiven me for stealing or for making her give it back.

  As we’d boarded the yacht and gone our separate ways, her temper crackled so fierce it lashed my skin long after I’d said goodbye.

  I’d witnessed her wrath hidden beneath servitude at Alrik’s, but this was the first time I’d seen it uncoil and silently rage against my actions. She wanted a fight—her tone of glances and language of harsh sniffs said as much.

  And as much as I’d like to argue with her, to engage in a battle of wills—to prove once and for all she couldn’t fucking win, I couldn’t.

  I had to keep my distance because, fuck me, that almost kiss.

  That moment of sheer insanity in the middle of a dirty street.

  The moment I caught her, I’d grown hard. The closer I’d dragged her, the harder I got. And the longer we played whatever bloody game we played, the more I craved a release.

  She’d decimated the rickety foundation I’d created after losing everything. She had the power to make me lust far more than a master should his slave.

  She’s never been a slave.

  That was true. But now was not the time to admit it.

  She wouldn’t push me so much if she knew how graphic my thoughts had become. How salacious and explicit.

  I’d seen her naked often enough that my fantasies had become far too realistic. I’d done things to her that I could never do thanks to her history carving great scars into her.

  I kept my distance for both our sakes.