That can’t be me. But it was. Staged, maybe, but me nonetheless. I glanced down at my wrists. In the clear light of day, they bore no signs of the cuffs in the picture. And Levi hadn’t tied me while we were at the hotel.
Levi seemed to follow the path my own thoughts had taken. “Don’t worry. I made sure you were asleep for that part.”
His amusement stung, sharp enough to spark a reaction in the fog of disbelief smothering me. “Am I supposed to thank you for that?”
“You should.”
I met his eyes and agreed. I wouldn’t have enjoyed the experience, even as role-play; the look on his face promised that.
He hadn’t enjoyed last night at all, had he? Or at least not the way I’d thought he had. He got off, but that look… I turned away, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face, my tears as I stared down at the computer screen. I’d fallen asleep content, filled with a quiet joy that my first time had been so good. I hadn’t been imagining diamond rings and wedding dates—that was an impossibility for me, even if I did manage to avoid the marriage my father wanted—but I hadn’t felt cheap either, not like I did now. And naive for imagining that last night was anything but cheap sex. I hadn’t even suspected, not for a second.
Was that what made me prey instead of predator, that inability to see, to protect myself from men like Levi and my father? I stared at the red marks on my breasts, glaring in the light of the computer screen. Accusations, every one of them.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I’d believed a man as hot as Levi would want an inexperienced girl like me. What a fool. Funny that the first time I’d taken my fate into my own hands, stepped out of the cage that was my life, I’d ended up here, at the mercy of a…of him. A killer? A lunatic? Definitely a kidnapper.
My fingernails dug into the tender skin of my palms. Maybe all these years my father really had been protecting me, from myself if nothing else. I obviously wasn’t smart enough to be let out on my own.
Except…Levi must have had plenty of practice fooling people. There hadn’t been even a hint of this hard, emotionless man last night, even in the throes of climax. And all my father’s control had gotten me was misery and an arranged marriage with someone I’d never even met.
Levi’s hands came into view, settling on the mouse and keyboard. He pulled up a Gmail account.
“What are you doing?”
A click to open a new e-mail. Panic squeezed my chest.
“Levi?”
My father’s personal and work e-mail addresses appeared in the To line. In the Subject line…my name.
My vision grayed out as he attached photo after photo.
“You can’t send those.”
“Why not?”
“Because—”
He turned his head, the threat in his stare cutting off my words. I closed my eyes, desperate to protect some small part of me from that look, and yet the backs of my eyelids blazed with the images Levi had taken.
Could someone die from humiliation?
“Please…just don’t.”
No response except the clicking of keys. I could not let that e-mail go out. I wouldn’t.
I opened my eyes.
I have your daughter. Be ready. I’m coming for you next, motherfucker.
The cursor settled over the Send button on the e-mail.
“You didn’t ask him for anything.” Didn’t kidnappers make demands, tell their victim’s family what they needed to let them go?
“He doesn’t have anything to give that would stop me, Abby. Ever. He signed his death warrant the minute he decided to come after me.”
“And what about me?”
He shrugged without looking my way. “Maybe we’ll make sure you’re awake for the next session.”
His fingernail paled as he pressed the mouse, and a white-hot blast of panic threw me forward.
Too late. A distinct click echoed in my ears even as my body hit his.
I went a little crazy after that. The fight was a blur, and then my back hit the desk, Levi forcing me down. Pain shot through my hips, my shoulders, the wrists he slammed onto the hard surface, locked in his hard grip.
He wasn’t even breathing heavy. I could barely suck in air as tears streamed from the corners of my eyes to wet my hair.
“Want to move up our timeline a bit?” Levi asked, his face right in front of mine, his stare unavoidable. “There wasn’t time for a second go-round last night before I drugged your water, was there? At least, not for you.”
He’d drugged me? And jerked off while taking those pictures? Or was he talking about something else? My stomach knotted suddenly, the urge to gag surging up my throat. I jerked beneath him, rolled, did everything I could, but there was no escape, not when his full weight settled on me.
I knew that weight. I knew the breath that brushed my cheek, my hair, the wet trails on my skin, and then his mouth was at my ear, tracing the sensitive edge, my trembling jaw, the pounding beat of my pulse in my throat. Wet heat stroked my skin. I quivered, eyes squeezed tight against a reality I could do nothing to escape.
Some small part of me didn’t want to.
Levi knew too. His grip bit into my wrists. “I think you might like being tied up,” he whispered against my skin. “Maybe those pictures weren’t a lie after all.”
Chapter Seven
I shut down then. It was a survival mechanism I used with my father, presenting the perfect emotionless doll to please him, to escape the pain and frustration I couldn’t seem to avoid. A small protection in this world gone mad.
Levi seemed to sense the withdrawal. His growl—of frustration or anger; I wasn’t sure which—signaled my victory, but it wouldn’t last long.
It did win me a reprieve, however. Levi spun away, left me lying there on the desk, alone and aching. I stayed still through his retreat, only moving when I heard heavy footsteps coming my way.
He carried a duffel bag. Where it came from, I had no idea. Levi dropped it at my feet, his intimidating expression denying my instinct to pick it up, open it, see what he’d brought me.
More rope? Sex toys? I shuddered, half in fear and half… I wasn’t ready to admit that half. The crazy half.
“I’ll get us some breakfast. Clean up while I’m gone.”
He was leaving? Yes!
I obviously didn’t hide that well enough, because Levi smirked. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and that I’d never succeed.
Everything in me ached to somehow, in some way, prove him wrong.
Without another word he stalked toward the door. A pause while his broad back blocked whatever he was doing at the key pad, and then he was outside, the click of the latch loud as it locked firmly in place. I tried it anyway, to no avail.
The duffel beckoned, and I investigated. Soap and shampoo and clean clothes—nothing I could use as a weapon. I left the bag where it lay. If the bastard didn’t want to look at me dirty, he could lock me in the bedroom. This might be the only chance I got to escape. I had to do it fast. Just imagining him catching me in the act, going against his commands made my mouth dry up and my heart race. He didn’t need rope to restrain me; his mere presence was paralyzing. Too bad he hadn’t had that effect on me last night too, or I wouldn’t be in this mess. Levi was the consummate actor. I had to remember that, protect myself no matter what happened. Of course, if the Levi that just left was the real Levi, I’d have no trouble remembering.
That wasn’t what you were thinking when his hands were on your body.
I flipped off my conscience, then set about exploring. There wasn’t a lot to search. The warehouse was mostly empty, as if Levi hadn’t wanted to clutter up the openness. Or maybe like he didn’t spend much time here.
Or maybe he captive-proofed the place before you arrived.
That too.
This main room was open, sections divided by furniture defining each space—living room, kitchen, office. Not a lot of necessities—the living area held a couch and TV on a stand,
a remote, and a rug. I could smash the TV, use the broken shards or the cord, maybe?
Right. Who was I kidding? I knew absolutely nothing about defending myself. That’s what bodyguards were for, according to my dad. Still, I couldn’t give up hope. The kitchen seemed the most likely place to find a weapon, but a search found no silverware, plastic dishes, definitely no knives. Pretty much no food either. I hoped takeout was a possibility, because cooking here would be a challenge.
Only if you don’t get out.
And I couldn’t count on my father to rescue me—not that Levi had offered him that option. No ransom demand, no if this, then that. Dad wouldn’t want that anyway. Hard as it was to imagine my father hiring an assassin, I had no illusions when it came to Derrick Roslyn’s mercenary outlook. Having your daughter kidnapped could play well on the public’s sympathies, and he would do anything to advance his political career, including selling his daughter to the candidate with the highest pedigree. I shuddered, memories of his anger last night playing through my head.
The office area was the last to be searched. Basic desktop setup, again with the cords… I squeezed out a sigh. Not even drawers to hide pens. I’d seen that in a movie once. The antihero had killed an attacker with an uncapped pen. My stomach churned, imagining doing the same to Levi, but I couldn’t fool myself; it might come to that.
Unfortunately, no pen. What else?
I went into the bedroom.
An empty vista greeted me under the bed, free even of dust bunnies, so I tried the dresser. The top drawer held boxer briefs—why couldn’t he be an old-fashioned, less attractive tighty-whities guy?—socks, and plastic zip ties. Like those weren’t suspicious at all. Second drawer: T-shirts. Black and white. Levi obviously wasn’t a fan of variety, except when it came to his ink. Those had surged with almost painful color beneath my hands last night.
I shook the memory away and moved to the third drawer. Fatigues. No shorts, sweatpants, nothing comfortable. I guess assassins didn’t curl up on the couch in comfy clothes and watch a movie. He probably never got the flu either.
The last drawer wouldn’t open. A surge of excitement hit me, almost painful after a half hour of worry and hopelessness. But how to get it open? This wasn’t some discount-store particleboard dresser; it was solid wood, and the lock would be strong—Levi had been meticulous so far, and that wouldn’t change now. Maybe the third drawer…
But no matter how much I pulled and jiggled, I couldn’t get the pants drawer to come out. Some kind of catch in the runner refused to release it at its full extension. I tried lifting and even yanking, pounding the base of the drawer with my fists, but…nothing.
And there was no more time to waste. Levi had gone to get food; he could be back any moment. I swallowed my sigh of defeat and began moving each neat pile of clothing from the floor back to the drawer. If I couldn’t find a weapon—and if I wanted a chance to try again later—it was better that Levi never know I’d looked.
The last stack was farther away than the others. I reached, wavered, only to knock the fatigues out of their tidy pile. With a curse I gathered the stack back into its original neat column, but when I lifted the pants into my arms to transfer to the drawer, a small frame fell from the folds of the bottom pair.
It was one of those old-fashioned frames, the metal kind that weighed a few ounces despite only being big enough for a wallet-sized photo. Three boys stared out at me, young ones with stair-stacked heights, sitting on white-painted steps situated before a gray studio backdrop. The oldest child looked like Levi around the eyes and had his black hair. The other two were dark blond, resembling him in every other way so closely they could’ve been twins if not for the hair and heights. His brother, Eli? Did Levi have two brothers? Where was the third?
I refused to care. Levi didn’t give a shit about me; that much was obvious. Why should I care about him and his family? He wasn’t the small boy in that picture anymore.
I weighed the frame in my hand a moment longer. It was old enough that the front was glass, not plastic like most frames now. I turned the picture over and removed the backing, the photo, and finally the glass, replacing everything else and carefully tucking the frame back where it had been hidden. The pants went into the drawer, but I couldn’t stop glancing at that glass lying on the rug. A weapon. A way to protect myself. Now I just had to use it.
By the time I heard the lock click on the door Levi had left through, I was ready. A shard of the glass I’d found, one end wrapped with a thigh-high, was clutched in my fist. I’d hidden the other in the water tank of the toilet, praying Levi wouldn’t look there if I failed the first time. Of course, if I failed, there might not be a second time, but I had to try. I couldn’t trust that my father would get me out of this; it was up to me, just like always. So I huddled behind the door, barely breathing, and waited as the doorknob turned and the door opened.
The scuffed sound of Levi’s boot on the concrete sounded like a gunshot in the quiet. I tightened the muscles in my belly, forcing myself to be still, to wait. To think like the predator instead of the prey.
Levi stepped into the room, allowing the door to slide closed behind him. I grabbed it before the latch could connect.
He must’ve heard me moving, caught something from the corner of his eye, maybe, because I didn’t make it around the door and out. A solid arm blocked my path, effectively clotheslining me before I’d even gone three steps. Choking, sputtering, I raised the glass shard.
Levi cursed. He grabbed my arm and twisted me around, sending a sharp stab of pain through my shoulder, and then I was hauled hard against him, my back to his stomach. “What the fuck?”
One arm jammed against my ribs, squeezing every ounce of air from my lungs. His free hand gripped my wrist tight and twisted, forcing my hand to bend backward until I cried out and leaned in that direction, trying desperately to give myself some relief from the pain.
“Now where did you find that, little bird?”
I was disarmed just that quickly. After a too thorough search of my body for any other hidden weapons, Levi picked me up off the floor and carried me into the living area. I kicked and hit, struggling for release—and, okay, maybe going a little bit crazy with panic. This guy could kill me, after all. I no longer had doubts about that.
He didn’t, though. He didn’t even seem bothered; instead he chuckled like I was some child trying to entertain him. Which only made me want to hurt him even more.
When I turned my head and bit down, teeth cutting into the bicep of the arm crushing my ribs, Levi stopped laughing.
Chapter Eight
“Damn it!”
He dropped me. My belly did that funny flip thing it does when a sudden drop comes out of nowhere, and then my head slammed into the coffee table. Pain radiated through my temple and eye socket, staggering me. I vaguely heard some cursing and muttering, and then I was on the floor, blinking and wondering how the hell I’d ended up there.
Levi knelt in front of me, his fingers digging into my upper arm the only thing keeping me upright.
“Don’t do that again,” he barked. “There’s a reason you’re not tied up. Keep attacking and you might not leave me any choice.”
“Asshole.”
Levi grinned. Actually grinned. “Did you call me a name?”
I’d call him another one if I could get my brain to spit one out. Granted, in a hit man’s world, calling people names probably had zero impact, but words were the only weapons I had as I wobbled in his grip.
His hand rose, aimed for my face, and I flinched back.
“Be still.” He probed the bruise I could already feel rising along my cheekbone. “Nothing’s broken. Get up.”
Like I had any choice with him pulling on me. “Do you do anything but bark orders and manhandle women?”
“I also deliver breakfast, but it doesn’t look like you followed orders to clean up.” His gaze dropped to the fast-food bags on the ground near the front door. “Maybe the prisoner
doesn’t deserve to be fed.”
The word prisoner made this all too real. “How do I know it’s not drugged? Maybe that’s your way of keeping me in line; then you wouldn’t need ropes.”
All amusement drained from his face, leaving behind the cold, dead eyes that scared the living daylights out of me. A quick yank up brought me nose to nose with him. “I have plenty of ways, little bird, and you really don’t want to explore them.”
I hauled back and smacked my forehead into Levi’s face.
Ow.
The excruciating pain in my head blocked out everything else until Levi’s fingers clamped onto my jaw. I opened my eyes to face a deadly glare that had me all but cowering. God, I wanted to be strong, but…
“So that’s how you want to play it, then?” Dropping his hand, Levi turned, hauling me across the room by my elbow like I was a naughty child. “This cage is going to get a lot smaller if this keeps up, I promise you that, Abby. But in the meantime”—he stooped to grab the duffel bag on the run—“let me show you exactly how much control you have in this situation.”
My heartbeat went quick and light, fluttering like the little bird he’d called me. I didn’t think that was a good sign since it only made the feeling that I was about to faint stronger. Maybe my brain had taken all the hits it could handle. Or maybe the dread growing in my chest as we barged through the bedroom door had something to do with it. I hadn’t thought Levi would rape me despite the photos—a rapist wouldn’t put me to sleep for those, would he?—but when he forced me into the bathroom…
Jesus, don’t pass out, Abby!
I might not have a choice. Being unaware could even be a good thing, but I needed to know what was happening to my body. Every time I thought about what might have occurred last night while I was unconscious, I wanted to gag. I couldn’t leave it to chance—I had to know.
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