by LP Lovell
Taking a quick sip of my water, I ask, “What did you do today?”
As predicted, he launches into a detailed account of a triple bypass he scrubbed in on earlier. I don’t know whether it’s kind of sad or that our main topic of conversation is work.
I’m helping clear up when the doorbell chimes. He frowns and leaves to go answer it. I carry on, loading the plates into the dishwasher. When I’m done, I take a bottle of water from the fridge. Euan’s still not back. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I poke my head around the kitchen door, into the hallway.
Standing in the hall is the biggest man I’ve ever seen. He’s quite smartly dressed in a buttoned shirt and suit trousers, but despite his smart dress, there’s something about him that makes me instantly wary of him. His entire demeanor is dominating and aggressive. His arms are folded across his massive chest, and he smirks condescendingly at Euan, who is talking in a hushed voice. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he looks frantic.
Something is wrong.
I slip back into the kitchen and find my bag on the worktop. I dig around until my fingers close around a small metal can of pepper spray. When I first came to America, my sister made me carry it. She said that in a country where everyone has a gun, I at least needed something. I’ve never even thought about using it, I’ve never felt threatened, but suddenly, I do. Holding the spray behind my back, I peer into the hallway again. The big guy has stepped closer to Euan now, their faces are only inches apart. The guy’s voice is a low growl, which Euan visibly cringes away from. I slip the can into my back pocket and make my way towards them.
“I don’t have it!” Euan pleads. His six-foot frame looks positively dwarfed by the monster in front of him.
“I’m sure I can find something around here you can sell,” the guy sneers, his eyes flicking up, then down the hallway. Straight at me.
I stop breathing the instant those flat eyes meet mine. A menacing smile pulls at his lips. “Well, well. What do we have here?” he lilts.
“Ria, go back in the kitchen.” Euan’s voice is shaky.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“No one,” he snaps a little too quickly. The big guy smiles wider.
I can’t help myself. “He doesn’t look like ‘no one.’ He certainly doesn’t look like a friend.” I grind my teeth. Nothing pisses me off more than being treated like an idiot.
The stranger narrows his eyes as a muscle in his jaw starts to tick. I reach for my back pocket, my fingers brushing the pepper spray.
He turns away from me abruptly. “What’s it going to be, Jones? The money, or your legs?” he growls.
“What is he talking about, Euan?”
His eyes flash to mine, a small frown line appearing between his eyebrows before he turns back to Mr. Happy.
“Look.” He hesitates and glances over at me, then back to the ogre. ”Can you give me a minute?” Euan nervously rubs the back of his neck.
The behemoth man seems annoyed, and huffs. “You have one minute, and then shit starts to get ugly.”
“Original,” I mumble.
Euan strides toward me, taking my arm and leading me back into the kitchen.
“You need to go, Ria.” He’s uneasy, almost guilty sounding.
“Just like that?” I cock one eyebrow at him. “You expect me to just walk out of here without a care for the bloody unit of a man that is clearly threatening you?” I snap.
“Look, just leave, Ria. I’ll call you later.” There’s an edge to his voice that I’ve never heard before. Euan has always been unfailingly sweet and polite. Now, though, he’s agitated and twitchy and bordering on rude.
I cross my arms over my chest. “No. You tell me what’s going on right now.”
“Your boyfriend owes me money, princess.” The man slinks in the doorway.
“And you are?”
“Rich.”
“How much money?” I ask slowly.
“Ria, please just—” Euan starts.
“Twenty grand,” Rich cuts him off.
I almost fall over. “Twenty grand?!” I shriek.
He nods. “What the hell? No wonder you have the Hulk after you,” I moan.
Rich smirks.
“Look, it’s just a misunderstanding,” Euan says defensively.
Rich looks almost bored now. “Nope, no misunderstanding. You pay twenty grand today, or I’m going to break your legs.” He inspects his nails and continues, “Followed by every bone in your body, and ending with a bullet in your skull,” he says with cold nonchalance.
My stomach tightens and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I really want to say he must be joking, but his entire demeanor tells me he’s absolutely serious.
“What does he owe the money for?” I ask. Rich turns those menacing eyes on me again. His gaze flicks lazily down my body before trailing back up.
He shrugs. “Gambling.”
The air rushes from my lungs. “Gambling,” I whisper. Gambling in a state where gambling is illegal, which means Euan now owes money to some pretty unsavoury people. “Brilliant,” I say acerbically.
My boyfriend is a lowlife with a gambling problem. You think you know someone. I mean, Euan is so put together. He has everything going for him...
“Look, I can get the money. Just give me three days,” Euan begs, ignoring me now.
Rich shakes his head, his lips twitching. “Now or nothing, frat boy. Your choice.”
“I promise, I can get it to you in three days.” His tone sounds like a whiny child.
“Enough,” Rich snaps.
“Take her!” Euan grabs me by the shoulders and shoves me toward the scary man. “Take Ria as security. I’ll bring you the money.”
“What?!” I shout. “Are you fucking insane?!”
Rich smiles, but it’s like a shark smiling at me. There’s nothing comforting about the gesture.
“Dirty mouth for a little rich girl,” he says. “I like it.”
I stumble backwards. “I’m not going anywhere with you. His debts are his problems.”
What the hell has Euan gotten me into? I should have left him here to his fate. Stupid me for giving a damn about him when he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s willing to hand me over to this brute, all over a gambling debt. I look Rich over again: the broad shoulders, those cold eyes, the close-shaved hair, the light scar on his cheek. All of this coupled with the new information that he’s not exactly an upstanding, law-abiding citizen makes me want to run as far away from him as possible.
“This is his debt. Hell, at this point, break his legs. I don’t care,” I growl as my temper kicks in, but all Rich does is laugh.
Euan wraps his fingers around my wrist, but I yank away sharply. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I can get the money, baby. He’ll kill me if you don’t go!”
I laugh humorlessly. “Go fuck yourself, Euan.”
Rich snickers like an amused child who’s just found a new toy. “I’ll take her, and that BMW you have parked outside.”
Euan opens his mouth to argue, but quickly snaps it shut again, handing over the keys to his much-loved car. Apparently he’s more attached to that than he is to me.
Rich grabs me by the shoulders, taking both my arms and crossing them snuggly behind my back with a strength I didn’t know someone could even possess.
“Three days” are Rich’s parting words before he hauls me toward the door.
By some miracle I manage to wiggle one arm free from his hold and grab the pepper spray from my back pocket. I hold the trigger down, and I aim straight for his eyes. He’s a foot taller than me and I don’t get a good shot, but it’s better than nothing. He shouts out and his grip on my arm loosens, but not enough. I’m just about to swing my leg back and go for gold between his legs when I feel cold metal against the side of my neck.
I freeze.
Rich pushes the barrel of a gun into my neck, the cold metal biting against my skin. My pulse thumps wildly in my chest as a c
old sweat breaks out over my skin. Guns terrify me. Maybe it’s because of the number of gunshot victims I’ve dealt with, the amount of people I’ve watched die with just the pull of a trigger. Whatever the reason, it’s a rational and very real fear.
“Walk,” he snarls whilst rubbing at his eyes.
He moves behind me, now pressing the barrel of the gun into my back.
I open the door and step out into the cold evening air. He rams the gun into me again, making me stagger forward a few steps.
Pointing towards Euan’s black BMW, he orders, “Get in and drive.”
I nod and wait for him to move away before making a break for it. My heart pounds like a train as I cover the short distance back to the apartment building. If I can just…
A hand slams down on my shoulder, and I fall to my knees.
“Help!” I scream. Someone will hear me, surely.
I’m hauled to my feet, and then he brings the back of his hand down across my face. I sway from the force of the blow, and blood fills my mouth. Tears prickle my eyes as pain explodes across my jaw.
“Get in the fucking car!” he shouts.
I move silently and slide into the driver’s seat, while Rich moves around the front of the car. His eyes drill into me the entire time.
Once he’s seated next to me, he resumes pointing the gun in my direction. “Get on I-65.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Just do as you’re fucking told, bitch,” he snaps. “Go the speed limit. Use your fucking blinker, and if we get pulled over you better keep your mouth shut. I’m not above killing a cop.”
We drive for several hours, and at the Georgia state line he orders me to pull over into an abandoned car park. I do as he says. He’s stopped pointing the gun in my face now, but he still has it. I’m not all that keen on provoking him.
“Pull up behind the SUV,” he says.
I pull up behind the only car in the car park and cut the engine. There’s a tense silence as I wait with baited breath for him to make his next move. He takes the gun out again and orders, “Get out.”
I open the door and slide out until my feet touch the tarmac.
“Come here,” he says, wiggling his finger as he opens the boot of the SUV.
I approach cautiously. One glance in the back of this car has me paralyzed with fear. There’s rope, a couple of shovels, and some tarpaulin. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me. The thought runs through my mind over and over. He pulls a length of rope from the back and moves toward me. I don’t think, I just react. I swing my leg back until my knee meets his groin. He manages to dodge at the last minute, and although I make contact, it doesn’t quite have the impact I would have liked. I turn to run, but he grasps a fistful of my hair. I scream, as my scalp feels like it’s on fire.
Something hits me in the side of the head, and then everything goes black.
When I come to, I’m lying on my side and my head is pounding like a jackhammer. The hum beneath me tells me I’m in a car. I try to sit up, but my hands are bound behind my back. There’s also a gag in my mouth, but, on the bright side, I’m not dead. Yet. I lose track of time, but eventually the car rolls to a stop and the engine cuts off.
The boot opens and Rich grabs my arm, pulling me out. He pushes me forward and shoves my bound wrists. My shoulders scream in protest, but I say nothing.
He walks me to the front door of what looks like a normal house. It’s not too big, not too small, but I notice that there are no other houses near it. He marches me up the steps to the front door and knocks three times, and then the door opens. The guy standing on the other side is almost as wide as he is tall. His eyes trace over me, landing on my face and focusing on the gag. His brow furrows, and his eyes dart from me back up to Rich. “The fuck?”
“Kid wouldn’t pay. Threw her to me as collateral,” Rich chuckles.
I watch a slow, sick smirk crawl over the man’s face, but he continues to block the doorway. “Collateral, huh? See how the boss feels about that. He does love women, so…” He moves away from the door.
There’s something about the way he’s smiling that makes me think I’m missing out on some private joke.
Rich drags me into the house. There’s a haze of cigarette smoke that seems to linger in the air. The house is dark, with dim lighting everywhere. I hear the murmur of several men talking, then the rumble of their laughter coming from somewhere inside the house. He pushes me down a narrow hallway. All I can hear is my pulse hammering in my ears and my quickening breath. There’s a dark wooden door at the end of this long hallway. That’s where he’s taking me. I panic. What if this boss guy is worse than Rich here? What if he plans to kill me? Or rape me? This is not happening! I will not be a victim, a statistic. In a last-ditch attempt to escape, I throw my weight back against Rich, knocking him off balance and into the wall behind us.
“Goddamn it!” he growls as I make a break for it.
I stumble down the hallway toward the door. I know I’m going the wrong way, but it’s away from Rich.
He storms after me. I hesitate at the end of the hall, unsure of which way to go. I run toward the only open area there is, but I’m not fast enough because he grabs my wrist, twisting it as he spins me around. Screaming in pain, I stomp on his foot and kick him in the shin.
“If you try to kick me one more time I’ll yank that pretty hair right outta your skull, sweet cheeks. Got it?” he shouts, his cigarette breath blowing over my face. He drags me back to the door and opens it, shoving me down the steps.
When we get to the bottom, I try to yank my arm from his grasp, and he rams me up against the wall, winding my arms behind my back.
“Stop fighting me!”
I groan and he twists harder, straining both of my bound wrists and my already aching shoulders.
Rich drags me in front of him, shoving me through the door at the end of the corridor with such force that I fall forward, my knees crashing into the wooden floor boards. Pain shoots through my joints.
“Ah, fuck,” Rich mumbles behind me.
I grit my teeth as my entire body aches.
“What the fuck?” a deep voice rumbles over a high-pitched moan.
I lift my head slightly and peer through my tangled hair at the source of the sound. There’s a large desk in front of me, and bent over it is a naked, red-haired woman, her chest pressed against the wood. Standing behind her is the biggest bloody guy I’ve ever seen, and he’s pointing a gun at my head. I squeeze my eyes shut as panic threatens to overtake me. At least it will be quick. I wait, and nothing happens. When I open them again, he’s lowering the gun. My eyes fix onto his broad chest, which is bare, the defined muscles straining as he yanks up the fly of his jeans and shoves his gun into the waistband.
I feel a blush creep over my cheeks. I’m not a prude, but equally, I do not want to see two total strangers naked. This is so not what I pictured when Rich was dragging me down that hallway.
“Get out,” the big guy snaps at the girl as he gathers her clothes. She huffs and takes the clothes from him. He smacks her arse. “I’ll finish with you later.” I want to scream at her to fucking help me. I’m bound and gagged and yet she’s glaring at me like I just interrupted her fun. News flash, sweetheart, I’d rather not be here.
“You know, your job really is a pain in the ass,” she remarks.
Am I the only person in this room who finds this hideously uncomfortable?
“Go to work, Crystal, I’d hate to fire my favorite girl for being late anyway.” She shrugs and walks out of the room, completely naked, swaying her hips as she goes. I feel like I just walked into a madhouse.
“The kid couldn’t pay. She’s a deposit,” Rich says casually.
“You took a person”—he points at me—“as collateral?” His voice is a low rumble. The room suddenly feels too small. I can feel his anger like a living thing. My skin breaks out in goose bumps, and I tremble as a very real fear kicks in. “Get out! I’ll deal wi
th you later.” His voice is calm, but not in a good way. More like the calm before a storm.
Wordlessly, he leaves, and the door clicks shut with a heavy finality.
I’m alone with this guy, the boss. This can’t possibly bode well for me. I slowly lift my eyes to find him looking at me. Our eyes lock, and I feel like I’m staring into utter emptiness.
He’s undeniably beautiful, his eyes the oddest shade of green, his face something you would see in the pages of a magazine. His body is bulky and cut, honed for a purpose. His skin is a map of ink work, winding down both arms and across his chest. He’s the kind of guy you would stop in the street just to stare at, but would not want to meet in a dark alley. His beauty is overshadowed by a coldness that seeps from him, an air of danger that seems to cling to him. Everything about him screams dangerous. And I’m now bound and gagged, and locked in a room with him.
I pour the whiskey into a short glass, savoring the way the ice cracks under its heat. She’s damn near panting from what I just did to her. Using the back of my hand, I wipe the mess she left on my face, licking over my lips to enjoy the taste of her. This girl is one of my favorites. She gives me everything I crave: power, control, and fucking killer sex with no strings attached. “Don’t move a muscle. You stay just like I had you.”
Plucking a cube from the drink, I dim the lights and make my way back to her. My dick twitches as I stare at that curved ass bent over my desk. I set the chilled glass on her lower back, and it bows. “Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t tell you to fucking move.”
She giggles and slings her head back; her red hair flies over her bare shoulders and hits my face. “I didn’t ask.” She glances over at me and bites down on her lip.
“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.” I arch a brow, rubbing the ice over her ass and up the indention of her spine as I say, “Move again and I’ll choke you.”
Her nails tap over the desk, scratching across its surface while she fights the urge to wiggle by pushing her ass against me. “Stop torturing me,” she pleads.
“Honey, this isn’t torture. Trust me!” I massage the melted ice into her skin, then fist her hair. “Torture would be not letting you fuck me, and I promise, in about five minutes I’m going to be balls deep in that pretty little pussy of yours.” I tug on her hair, yanking her head back so I can kiss my way down to her shoulder.