by Sybil Bartel
“I will break them when the board drops.”
Or they’d cut through his ankles worse. “You’ll die.”
“I am not going to die.”
“It’ll strangle you.” Then he’d die. And I’d never know what it was like for him to touch me.
“It will not strangle me. Do not forget to tip your chair and push yourself back.”
I was already shaking my head. “I’m not doing this. I don’t want to see you hanged. I can’t do this. Please,” I begged. “Don’t make me.”
“I have never lied to you.”
I didn’t know if that was true or not but it felt like it was. “You’re not invincible, Neil.” I used his name because everybody deserved to have their name spoken before they died but it felt foreign on my tongue.
“I know my limitations.”
“You’re chained to the rafters and bleeding.” How the hell did he think this was going to end if I kicked that stool?
His nostrils flared but his voice didn’t change. “The window is closing.”
“Someone’ll find us.” He must have people looking for him. “You just need to hang on until—”
“KICK THE STOOL.”
His command was so forceful and so loud and took me so off guard that my foot kicked out.
The stool scrapped across the floor with heart-sickening speed. The board dropped and the concrete blocks fell straight then smashed into each other. The zip ties around his ankles snapped and the rope around his neck tightened to a noose.
His inhuman roar filled the dank warehouse.
“Neil,” I screamed.
His hands gripped the chains and his biceps bulged. Veins popped, muscles rippled and he pulled himself up vertically a whole foot. Thick rope cut into his neck and his face went red as fuck as the concrete blocks hung from each end of the rope wrapped around his neck.
He grunted one word. “Drop.”
I threw my weight as much as the tape would allow. My chair fell, my cheek slapped the concrete, and sharp pain stabbed my back. I used my free leg to shove against the floor as hard as I could and Viking moved.
With the force of a hurricane, he swung his legs back then forward and up. The strength of his thick thigh muscles propelled two concrete blocks in a wide arc that barely missed my chair.
One chunk of cement slammed into the rafter, barely missing his head, then toppled over. Following the trajectory of the first block, the second one made the same arc but at the last moment, it dropped a foot. I watched in horror as it angled straight for Viking’s face. At the last possible second before impact, as if he knew what was coming, Viking pulled himself up higher and his shoulder took the brunt of the blow before the block glanced off the side of his head. The sickening thud on impact made me recoil but Viking didn’t even flinch.
His body inverted like an acrobat’s and his feet caught either side of the rafter. He swung up and over the beam and his body landed with a heavy thump on the rafter. The rope still taut around his neck, his hands still tangled in the chains, he jerked his arms to free himself but his purchase slipped and his legs fell off the rafter.
I shrieked.
A concrete block hanging from either side of the rafter tightened the rope around his neck as his legs dangled in midair.
“Get up, get up, get up!”
Grunting, his eyes bulging, his elbows desperately gripping the beam, he swung one leg and missed the rafter by two feet.
“Higher!” I yelled.
The air being choked out of his lungs, he kicked up again.
One foot caught. With sheer muscle power, he pulled himself up and was stomach down on the rafter again.
He didn’t pause.
His bound hands gripped one of the ropes attached to a concrete block and inch by lightning-fast inch, he pulled the block onto the rafter. The second the first block wasn’t hanging from his neck, he gripped the other rope, sat up, and used his hands and his feet to pull the other block onto the rafter. Once he had both blocks on the beam, he leaned over and used his still-bound hands to extract the rope from his neck.
The second it was free, he sucked in a wet sounding breath as blood dripped down his face.
“Neil!”
He didn’t even look at me. Yanking and twisting his hands, he untangled his bruised wrists from three revolutions of chain. Heavy metal links clinked as they fell off his wrists and hit the rafter. Then he pushed the concrete blocks off the beam and fell back to his stomach as the crash of concrete hitting concrete echoed through the warehouse.
His huge hands gripped the sides of the rafter, he swung his legs over and with the grace of a warrior, Viking dropped to the ground and landed on his feet.
Relief flooded my veins and I breathed out. “Oh my God, you did it.”
Covered in blood, his muscles streaked with dirt and sweat, Viking turned and his eyes met mine. With barely contained fury, he ground out three words. “Never doubt me.”
TWO POWERFUL STRIDES AND VIKING was on me. With quick, efficient movements, he righted my chair.
My head swam with the sudden change in latitude and a squeak of surprise escaped my lips. He was right, I never should’ve doubted him. He was unstoppable. And I wondered how I could forget a man so unwaveringly heroic, but the thought disappeared as he picked up what was left of one of the concrete blocks and slammed it to the ground.
I flinched at the loud crunch and opened my stupid mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t doubting you. I was scared. That rope was thick and…” Fuck.
Tension radiating off him in waves, a fine sheen of sweat covering his muscles, he picked up one of the newly broken pieces and came at me.
If I wasn’t taped to the damn chair, I would’ve scrambled backwards.
Anger furrowing his brow, red rope burns circling his neck, blood oozing down his face, he dropped to squat in front of me.
“You’re um… you’re bleeding.” And scary. And shit, he was a beast of a man.
Without a word, he used the jagged piece of concrete to quickly cut through the tape on my right leg.
I stared at his unbelievably defined abs and the V that disappeared into his jeans. Thick, ropey veins snaked across his muscles and the whisper of spicy musk I’d smelled earlier roared up and hit me full force as he yanked the tape off my legs.
The memory was instant.
I was in the passenger seat of a car and my shoes were off. Viking had his shirt sleeves rolled up and he was driving while Conner slept in a car seat in the back.
Viking stood and moved behind me.
I sat in shock as he cut through the tape at my back. The pressure around my chest released and my hands were free. I flexed my tingling fingers and my shoulders screamed as I rolled them forward but I hardly noticed. I was desperately replaying that one single memory and grasping for more.
Viking removed the last of the tape and rose to his full height. “Can you stand?” There wasn’t a hint of the anger that was in his tone a minute ago.
My gaze traveled up his chest and met his ice-cold stare.
He held his hand out.
My fingers pins and needles, I fisted my hands. How did I fall into this man’s orbit?
His eyes cut to my hands and a frown descended. “Lean forward,” he demanded.
My heart racing, my mind spinning, I did as he said.
He lifted my shirt to my shoulder blades and I sucked in a surprised breath.
“The bullet did not penetrate.” He gently dropped my shirt and just like he’d promised, his fingers wrapped around my arm and he touched me.
Heat rippled across my flesh, awareness shot through my veins, and my stomach fluttered with nerves. Everything, absolutely everything was eclipsed by his single touch. My body knew this man. “Neil,” I whispered.
“Stand.” Pulling me up, stepping in front of me, his every movement was controlled and precise. “Look up.” He didn’t wait for his command to be followed. He tipped my chin then his huge fingers brush
ed the hair from my forehead as his intense gaze focused on where my headache was centered.
This close to him, I saw every detail of his face. His angular jaw was covered in two days’ worth of growth. His full lips stretched tight as he concentrated. Fine lines creased his forehead and his eyes were rimmed in a darker blue. Despite the slit of raw, bleeding skin just under his right eye, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.
His thumb on my jaw, his fingers on my cheek, he grasped my face and tilted my head. Then his eyes cut to mine and my breath caught.
My heart raced, my legs trembled and I wanted something I hadn’t wanted since before I’d had Conner. “I’m fine.” My voice shook.
“We need to move.”
This close, his voice so quiet and deep, I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay just like this until I could breathe again. But something told me I would never get used to this Viking. So I nodded.
He released me so quickly and unexpectedly that I almost stumbled. Stepping into boots I hadn’t seen that were thrown on the floor behind me, he then picked up a shirt that was next to them. Blotting his face, he threw the shirt back down and shifted his focus to the chair I was in. Grabbing the back and tipping it to one leg, he raised his foot then brought his boot down with a swift precision that told me he’d done this exact move before. The chair broke in two pieces and he picked one up and crushed it against his thigh. Like something out of a movie, he came away with a two-foot-long section of wood. Hefting it like a club, he wrapped his hand around my upper arm and led me to the door.
Placing me right up against the wall on the side of the door where it swung open, he took a second to focus on me. “If anyone comes through the door, swing.” He put the club in my hand.
Panic set in. “You’re not leaving me here.” My arms were so jacked up from being taped for who knew how long that I couldn’t swing the club with any effectiveness even if I’d wanted to.
“You will be fine,” he said calmly. “I will be back quickly.”
I was already shaking my head. “But they have guns.” I’d seen them. All of the guys in the vests had them. “You can’t go out there unarmed.” I tried to shove the club back at him. It wasn’t a gun but it was all we had.
“I am always armed. Two minutes. Count.”
Oh God. “Wait.”
But he’d already pulled the door open and silently slipped past its darkness.
Anxiety gripped my chest and I started to count. One… two…
Shit, shit, shit.
Three… four…
What if he didn’t come back? What if they killed him? What if they tied him up again and my only chance to escape was while they were busy trussing him up?
Fuck this. I stepped out of the door.
It was darker than the warehouse we’d been in. I didn’t know what I was expecting but a long, barely lit hallway wasn’t it. I glanced left then right and saw Viking just as he disappeared around the corner at the far end.
My fear of not making it out of here greater than my fear of what was around that corner had me tiptoeing after him. I wanted to see my son. I knew I was taking a risk but if I stayed in that room and one of the vests came back and saw me alone, I was dead. And I was not going to die in a fucking warehouse without putting up a fight.
I came up on the corner and stopped. My pulse racing, I dared a peek around the wall. Another warehouse space, three times the size of the space we’d been in, spread out before me. Ambient light from a glassed-in office at the far end cast long shadows across the warehouse but perfectly illuminated the two guys in their cuts, sitting with their backs to us watching a small TV.
And Viking was aiming right for them.
Not sticking to the shadows, not skirting the perimeter, I could feel his silent fury across fifteen yards of hard concrete as he strode toward that office with deadly intent.
Before I could move to the shadows, Viking was on them. His huge hands grasped the head of the asshole who’d hit him and jerked. The snap of his neck carried across the warehouse as fear crawled up my spine and stole my breath.
The second guy was on his feet faster than the first guy slumped and had a gun aimed at Viking’s face. Viking’s left hand grabbed the barrel of the gun and shoved it up as the weapon discharged. The shot echoed through the warehouse as Viking smashed his fist into the guy’s face. Blood spewed from his nose and he crumpled into a heap.
My hands flew to my mouth and I dropped the club. The loud clang traveled through the space and I scrambled back until I hit cold concrete.
Bent over the first guy, Viking froze for half a second, but he didn’t look up.
The wound on my back screamed and my heart threatened to explode. He killed them. Both of them. In seconds. Without a thought. Frantic, I searched for an exit.
“To your left.” Viking’s voice carried across the distance between us like he was a foot in front of me.
I looked left. A door. A single door. I needed to run. Now.
“You will not be safe alone,” he said calmly.
I wasn’t safe with him. He’d just killed two men. In front of me. “They’re dead.”
He pulled a phone and keys out of the jeans pocket of the guy in the chair. “Yes,” was all he said.
“But—”
He held his hand up as he dialed. A second later he spoke. “Trace this call.” He paused for half a minute as he searched the pockets of the dead bloody guy on the floor. “Two bodies. Clean up, office and back room…” He moved to a window across the office and lifted the blinds with his knuckle. “Ja.” He hung up, dropped the phone to the floor and brought the heel of his boot down, smashing it to hell.
Two strides and he was out of the office without so much as a backwards glance. “Let’s go.”
My thoughts fractured. Two dead men, my DNA in that room, kidnapped, shot, Viking… I looked at the smashed phone. My breath short, my skin crawling, I couldn’t even call the cops. I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.
“Now,” Viking commanded before walking out the exit.
My legs shaking, I followed. Night air laced with salt and low tide assaulted my senses. I sucked in a breath. Then another. It was rank and the dark was suffocating and Viking was a killer—a killer who was putting a set of keys on the tire of one bike before straddling a second one and starting it up.
The quiet exploded with the sound of custom pipes as Viking twisted the throttle twice and kicked up the kickstand. “Get on.”
I stared. At his back. At his arms. At the hands that’d touched me. Air struggled to get into my lungs and I looked at the ground under my feet to make sure it was still there.
Boots stepped into my personal space. “Ariella.” Soft, intimate, he spoke my full name like he had a right to.
Pulled by his voice, my gaze traveled up. Boots, thick, strong thighs, narrow hips, abs, more abs than I could count, shoulders wider than a door, I had no room to breathe. “You killed them,” I whispered, barely hearing my own voice over the rumble of the bike.
His hand wrapped around my nape and I flinched. “I will never hurt you.”
“You didn’t hesitate.” And I didn’t try to stop him.
“Hesitation would have cost us our lives.”
He was right, deep down, I knew he was but I was a single mother. “I’m an accessory… my son.” How did I protect him from this?
“Your son is fine. No one is going to question you about tonight.”
How did he know? He couldn’t know that. “But what if they do?”
“Tell the truth.” He dropped his hand and straddled the bike as cold detachment settled around him. “Time to go.”
I reached for the fractured thought that kept coming back. “You call my son ‘the boy,’ but you call me by my name and when you say it, it’s like…” I trailed off as I met his complicated stare.
“Get on the bike, Ariella.” My name left his lips in a gentle caress.
I swung my leg over the
seat and put my arms around his waist. His flesh warm under my grasp, his muscles hard, he revved the engine and we took off.
I WATCHED AN ENDLESS SEA of dilapidated warehouses over Viking’s shoulder as he sped through the silent night. No other cars, no people, he wove through the streets like he knew exactly where we were but I didn’t recognize any of it.
The warehouses gave way to junky strip malls then we were going over a bridge onto the barrier island. I tried to remember everything I could about my life. My son, my apartment, my mother moving to North Carolina to be near her sick sister, Jason, the strip club… my routines filtered through my brain like second nature but none of it felt real.
The huge back under my cheek, the sweat and musk, the tight muscles under my hands… that felt real. Scary real.
Viking’s hand landed on my thigh. “Speak.”
The miles put distance between me and my fear of him. His cryptic command clicked as if we knew each other and could read one another’s thoughts. “I don’t know who I am.” Answering him was as natural as the ocean air rushing my face.
“You will remember.”
Would I? “I should be afraid of you but you feel…” I struggled for the right word but there wasn’t one. “Real.”
“What I am capable of should not be a surprise to you.”
“Because you killed those men?
“I am keeping you safe.” He took a sharp corner.
The huge machine rumbled under my thighs as his strength flexed under my arms. “Why are you doing this?”
“I like your son.”
The admission was so unexpected that it made more sense than anything else he could’ve said. Conner was a currency I understood. He was my everything. “You like kids,” I surmised.
“I like Conner.”
Hearing him say my son’s name felt more significant than the memory of us in his car but I didn’t know why. “He’s my life.”
“I know.”
Ocean breezes filled my head and memories of me and Conner at the beach filtered in. “Is that why you’re protecting me?”
He downshifted. “A boy needs his mother.”
“You answer questions without giving any answers.” Part of me wanted to run the second I got off this motorcycle, but the other part was telling me to trust this man.