Bait: A dark erotic thriller (Hunter & Prey Book 2)

by Barker, Kira

  The monster that—like nothing else—lit the suddenly short fuse to my libido, instantly drenching my underwear. My pulse beat a mile a minute as his gaze raked over me, not even the light “whoosh” of the elevator doors closing a distraction.

  And now my worst nightmare was coming true—I was locked in with him, with no chance of escape. Everything in me screamed for me to press into the corner farthest away from him, to hug myself and close my eyes, to wait for it all to be over. Yet at the same time I felt anger born of panic roar to life, making me want to launch myself at him, even though I knew that without a weapon I wouldn’t stand a chance. At least I’d go down fighting.

  The cabin started its descent, and as if the slight shift in motion cleared my mind, sense came seeping back in. At least twenty people had seen us both board the elevator. No doubt, the entire foyer downstairs would be full of more waiting for their ride upstairs. I had no doubts that even the elevator cabins were monitored. There was no way he could kill me and get away with it—so, technically, being locked in here with him was as safe as I’d get.

  That realization painted a smirk on my face, and seeing his answering frown brought steel back into my spine.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, not quite a grunt, but his voice held that commanding edge that always came with his disapproval.

  Rather than answer directly, I just held his gaze. “Looks like we’re both going down.”

  From the corner of my eye I could see the floor numbers counting down—rapidly, but by far not fast enough. Following my focus, a feral smile appeared on his face, and as soon as his hand slammed down on the stop button, the elevator ground to a sudden halt, jarring my nerves more than my bones.

  “Not so fast,” he said, clearly echoing my thoughts.

  Before I could clamp down on the impulse, I swallowed convulsively. It got increasingly harder to force my mind to think. What to do? What to—

  Alison. She and that inane plan of hers. Why wait when I had the perfect opportunity right in front of me?

  Darren tensed when I took a step toward him, but of course he didn’t retreat. I wasn’t sure he could have, even if he’d wanted to. That thought made me smile, even if it was more forced than I preferred. Reaching for him, I pushed one hand against his shirt, feeling the strong, hard muscles underneath. Oh, I wasn’t the only one rigid with tension. Inadvertently, my eyes skipped to the scar at the side of his neck, and following an impulse, I leaned closer still until I could press my lips against it. Everything in me should have screamed to get away from him, but instead I inhaled deeply, relishing that scent that was purely him.

  Then I reached for his belt and started to unbuckle it, barely pausing before I pulled down the zipper of his fly and reached inside, finding his cock hard and warm, and so achingly familiar that it took actual restraint on my part to not bend over on the spot and beg him to fuck me.

  “What do you think you are doing?” he grated out, his voice low—but with his face turned into my hair, sound didn’t need to carry very far.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” I teased, loving how throaty my voice got. Choked, too, but it would have been impossible to keep the undercurrent of lust out of it—and there was no reason in the world to try. Pulling back, he looked me straight in the eyes, that same murderous intensity still shining brightly.

  “You never were good at playing games,” he offered, a wry twist coming to his lips. That grated, and deserved a hint of nail as I continued to pump him.

  “Who’s playing games?” I chuffed, letting my smile widen. “Do you really think I’d just string you along and leave you hanging? You know me better than that, Darren. Once a whore, always a whore.” Leaning close, I licked along the shell of his ear before I whispered into it, “Or have you forgotten that part already? Does she do that? Tease you? She’s so young. So inexperienced. Of course she can’t live up to your expectations. That’s why you go to a professional.”

  With one fluid motion, I sank down onto my knees, thankful that the hem of my dress rode up so it wouldn’t get dirty. My eyes caught his and I continued to hold his gaze as I freed his cock, then slid it into my mouth—all the way in. He remained rigid, impassive, but I could feel his dick harden further as it eased into the back of my throat.

  Was he afraid that I would bite? I was tempted, sure, but I wasn’t that stupid. This was not about retaliation—this was all seduction. So I did what I’d done a million times—and gave him the perfect blow job. I fully expected him to take control, but he didn’t—he just continued to watch me, drinking in every inch of me.

  Oh, Daliah, you never stood a chance.

  The only sound besides my slurping was the groan he offered as he came down my throat, relaxing infinitesimally afterward. The panic inside of me never fully fled, but when I stood back up and discreetly dabbed a last, spilled drop from my lips, I couldn’t help but feel like the power balance between us had shifted. I no longer felt like the deer caught in the headlights, about to be plowed over. Maybe that just made me the stupid, over-confident roadkill—but anything was better than cowering before him, quaking with terror.

  Darren had never been one to dwell on post-coital bliss, and his eyes only narrowed slightly as I engaged the stop button again, making the cabin resume its way down. I allowed myself a small smirk as I plucked my dress into place, glancing down at his flaccid dick.

  “You should probably put that away. We wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now, would we?”

  My timing was perfect—just as I turned around, presenting him my vulnerable back, the cabin came to a halt, and the doors started to open after the annoying “ding” rang out. Everything inside of me screamed to break into a run, but instead I gave him a last, bright smile over my shoulder and strode out into the foyer—where, among the expected mass of business people, Daliah stood, all innocent and sweet in a pastel dress that was utterly ridiculous for this time of year. She already had a smile on her face, clearly in anticipation of Darren, and it was comically funny to see it wane, then die as she recognized me. I’d never considered myself particularly vindictive, but it was easy to beam a bright smile at her—and lick some nonexistent cum off my lips.

  “Daliah,” I said with the smallest nod I could muster as I strode by her. Then I was past and aiming for the door, having to rely on my sense of hearing to guess what was to follow.

  “What are you doing up here? Didn’t I tell you to wait in the car?” Darren’s voice, the note of displeasure both tightening my throat and making my smile just a little more real. Oh, but someone was in trouble.

  Daliah’s reply came with the to-be-expected note of defiance. “You were taking so long so I thought I’d come check on you.” A brief pause followed. “Did you just fuck her?”

  I was so tempted to look back, but forced myself to pretend like I wasn’t listening in.

  Darren’s voice was dripping with that off-hand derision that had torn holes into my defenses like few things before, back when it had been directed at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. Her dress would be a lot more creased if I’d bunched it up.”

  That answer was so typically him that it made me snort under my breath, and it wasn’t a happy sound. Not a lie—and, technically, that was a true statement—but it was so far from the truth that it made me want to go over every single conversation that we’d ever had. Had any of the things I’d thought he was telling me ever been true?

  The basement, that had been the truth. That’s when he’d stopped playing with me. Manipulating me. Telling me something while actually saying something completely different. I hated the sense of betrayal those memories evoked inside of me, but at the same time I also felt smug. Now, it was all honesty between us. At least from his side—I was the one playing games. And calling the shots, it would seem, judging from the high-pitched whiny reply Daliah offered, but I was too far away now to still catch it as I walked through the revolving door, out into the street.

  I couldn’t even put
my finger on it exactly, but somehow, things had changed. Maybe because during our first real encounter in the opera I had been all passive, and only now had gotten the chance to act. Maybe it was the simple fact that three times we had met now since my return, and I was still alive. Maybe it was just giving in to the madness and no longer denying that yes, I still wanted him—and things looked like he was just as interested in me. Only that I had nothing to lose—and he everything.

  Beware, Darren Hunter—you just became the prey.

  Chapter 8

  The number on Alison’s check should have already told me exactly how serious she was, but the fact sank in when, not two hours after I’d left her office, a harassed-sounding woman from the country club called me to confirm that my application had been approved, if I could provide my details to her as soon as possible. From what little other information she relayed, I could tell that she knew exactly who and what I was—and did not personally approve—but clearly, her superiors had overruled her moral objections. I was only too happy to hand over my credentials—and at the mention of my current residence any hint of disgruntlement on her side died a very quick death—and she hung up after assuring me twice that she was updating their system as we were speaking, and I was very welcome to tour the amenities this very afternoon, if I so pleased.

  I didn’t take her up on that offer, but instead got on the phone with one of Brigitte’s contacts. From the itinerary that Alison had provided me with, it looked as if Darren still kept his Sunday morning appointment at the country club, which meant that, should she accompany him, Daliah was fair game for me there for a good few hours. I had no intention of emotionally ruining the girl, but if I could manage to get the hyenas to react to her like they had welcomed me way back when, I’d probably get her to run for the hills within a week or two.

  But even if Alison had opened the gates for me, that barely set my stage. There was a lot more planning and plotting required before I could set foot in those hallowed halls, particularly if I wanted to make sure that in getting rid of the girl Darren wouldn’t find even more cause than before to come for me. Not that I could influence that, exactly—if it was still his intention to kill and preserve me for the afterworld, I doubted that I could sway him. But so far I had gotten the sense that I was a refreshing—if somewhat annoying—distraction for him, and on that I could build.

  Brigitte’s contact proved to be a bust—a first, really—but he gave me a few more numbers to try. I should have spent the day doing Brigitte’s books, but instead I talked, bullied, whined, pleaded, and plain-out bribed my way down my newly provided contact list. In the end I got what I wanted, if for a price tag that was ridiculously inflated. Speeding up delivery cost me another leg—or so it felt—but I didn’t care. Next, I called my personal shopper, told her to cancel her other appointments, and when and where to meet me. The remainder of the evening I spent picking out the perfect outfits, down to shoes and accessories. The check Alison had written me by far didn’t cover half of those expenses, but like with my other project, I didn’t mind flashing my Black AmEx time and time again.

  Last but not least, I called Agent Smith and gave her a brief update, but left the bribe out. As much as I didn’t really care whether Alison and her firm would get caught up in this, I didn’t feel the need to actively dish on her involvement if it could be prevented. In their own way, Alison and Ray Moss had both contributed heavily to Darren’s plan to drag me into his basement, but they had also helped me. So, for now, I was happy to give them the benefit of the doubt. And, if nothing else, Alison’s hint that if Darren was beyond saving she would take the consequences sounded like, just maybe, she’d help me if my dear agent wouldn’t come through with her promises. After all, we were business partners now—or as soon as she handed my card over to anyone who booked an appointment later—and that came with certain expectations.

  With everything arranged for tomorrow, I was tempted to spend Saturday in my suite, but restlessness drove me out onto the streets to wander the city aimlessly. More than once I felt like someone was watching me, but no amount of stealthily checking over my shoulder yielded any results. It made me antsy and afraid, to the point where I almost wished for Darren to suddenly pull me into the next dark alleyway and ravish me against the wall, even if that ended with him not just pretend-choking me.

  I idly wondered if I should seek professional help.

  I also wondered if this was akin to the obsession that he’d developed with me.

  I certainly felt like that was true, as early on Sunday morning—after my usual swim and extensive pampering session—I slipped on my outfit of choice and took the elevator down to the parking deck. And there it waited for me, my new baby—a midnight blue Jaguar, ready to purr at my command. I’d wanted one just like Darren’s, but that had proven to be impossible—so I’d opted for a top-of-the-line, snazzy new model instead. Definitely not the car to drive this time of year, but you only live once, right?

  The steady, low rumbling of the engine had a soothing quality on my mind, but calm was a long way from coming as I eased the sleek car through the still familiar streets outside the city center. Here, it didn’t really stand out—and even with the price tag it had come with, it was positively cheap compared to some other behemoths that were rolling out of car ports along the way—although I felt like a perfect creeper when I parked it at the curb a few houses down from Darren’s driveway. As I sat there, the fingers of my left hand idly drumming on the wheel, those of the right convulsing around the supple leather, I couldn’t help but wonder—what would have become of me if I hadn’t started to snoop? Hadn’t gone back to check on Adam? Hadn’t antagonized Darren and threatened to leave him?

  The answer was probably obvious—exactly the same as had actually happened, just a week later, or maybe a month. Sooner or later, I'd have made a mistake, and then my time would have been up. In retrospect, it was easy to see how he’d manipulated me from the very start, but that didn’t ease the pressed feeling welling up inside my chest. I’d had dreams—big dreams. Stupid dreams. The dreams of a lost girl that thought she had been found. And now all that remained was the ring on my finger, the scars on my skin, and a need that was as deep-seated as it was confusing.

  I wondered what had become of James, the impertinent butler. Was he still around? Was he sneering at Daliah’s every move, like he’d done with me? Or had Darren decided that he was just one more liability for him, one more person who knew too much to be safe? Of all the people who had helped me, he had been my most unlikely ally, but if he’d had a mind to detain me, I would never have made it out of that basement. Starved, weak, and hurt as I’d been, a child could have managed to keep me locked in there.

  My musing was cut short when I saw the gate start to open, my signal to get going. I still waited until the gray car ambled out onto the street before I started the engine, following slowly. They were too far ahead of me to make them out in the car, but from the aggressive swerve into the lane that would lead us to the highway, I knew that Darren was behind the wheel—opting to drive himself rather than use his chauffeur.

  Apparently in some things we still were alike.

  I let myself drop back a little farther as the light morning traffic engulfed us. I wasn’t even sure why I’d thought this stalkerish move was a good idea—I knew where the gray car was headed, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t have found my own way. Yet as I continued to follow, idly switching lanes when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t help but feel my pulse pick up slowly. Sure, the plan was to continue to get under the girl’s skin—but really, what I was looking forward to was to have his eyes devour me again. That intensity, that need… just thinking about it drenched my panties. And made me rue the fact that I only had one can of Mace in my purse, with no backup plan to defend myself.

  As we left the city behind, more and more cars fell back, making my trailing them more obvious. Glaringly obvious, really, when Darren seemed to have enough of obeying th
e law and gunned his engine, sending the sleek car streaking ahead. Now, couldn’t have that, could I?

  My Jaguar’s engine purred as I put more pressure on the accelerator pedal, making the entire car vibrate lightly as it picked up speed. Half a mile, and I was close enough to read the number plate; another mile, and a slight left-leaning curve got him to decelerate enough that—ignoring the obvious risk to life and limb—I managed to close the gap between us completely. Swerving into the lane to his left, I floored it, sending my car rushing ahead. I couldn’t take my eyes off the road to check if he was noticing me, but as soon as I was in the lead, I swerved back into the other lane, right ahead of him. I was sure that would do the trick.

  Rather than slow down, I continued to speed ahead, and, wouldn’t you know it, he kept right up with me. Whether it was simple rivalry not to let a slightly newer car leave him behind, or if he’d actually recognized me, I didn’t know, but the manic grin spreading on my face told me that it didn’t matter.

  Caught in the adrenaline rush, I almost missed my exit, only making it by luck—and sacrificing most of my lead. Yet as soon as my Jaguar hit the country road leading up to our destination, I pushed ahead again, not giving a shit about possible traffic patrols. The road was dry but the cold was leaving it slicker than was good for the break-neck speed I was going—but Darren didn’t let me shake him. In the rear-view mirror I caught a glimpse of Daliah being obviously upset about his behavior, but his eyes remained straight on me, not ready to give quarter.

  My nav system told me that I was running out of road, with only two more miles to go. Darren set to overtake me, but I floored it again, barely managing to remain on the road in the next bend as it was. Suddenly, there was a car right in front of mine, going the other way. Only sheer luck let me wrench the wheel over, sending my car back on the right side of the road. Air whooshed out of me, my mind momentarily frozen, and Darren used that chance to try to pull ahead. Yet the next bend was a right one, and as soon as my tires got traction as the Jaguar shot out onto the following straight, I raced ahead, making it impossible for him to eat those last few inches to force me to a stop—or total both cars. Not that I wasn’t tempted, but with euphoria racing through me, suicide was the farthest thing from my mind.