Not that I wanted to go through this either, but Levi wasn’t giving me a choice. He dropped the duffel and started stripping me almost in the same breath. Fighting him did nothing—he had me naked in seconds, my clothes from last night littering the floor around us in shreds, my chilled skin breaking out in goose bumps as he pulled me closer to the shower and reached to turn on the water.
“No. No!”
I struggled, yelled, tried to kick and scream, but nothing affected him, it seemed. He adjusted the water and shoved me into the shower as efficiently as if I was a passive doll in his hands—and I began to get the picture he’d painted all along. I could fight him, but I was only hurting myself. There really was no control in this situation. The only saving grace was that he hadn’t hurt me on purpose, no matter how angry he got. Every injury had been an accident or my own fault.
Don’t hurt the innocent, Eli had said. Maybe he’d been telling the truth? God, please let him be telling the truth.
I finally did the only thing I knew to do. I turned as far away from him as I could and huddled into the corner of the shower, back to Levi, one arm crossed over my breasts—a futile attempt to protect myself. Levi kept his grip on me for a minute, maybe to test my compliance, and then he let go. My second arm joined the first.
It was pointless, I knew, to try to hide. He’d seen every inch of me last night, places I’d never even seen. He knew my body more intimately than I did, but I couldn’t deny the instinct, no matter how ridiculous. I pushed into the walls as if they could absorb me. The only thing I could control was my voice, and I kept silent, denying him the reaction he probably wanted, denying him at least one small part of me.
A metallic scraping sound startled me, but I didn’t look. Told myself it didn’t matter. Until hot water hit my head and poured down over my trembling body.
Only then did the tears come.
“Please…don’t…” I couldn’t let him take care of me, couldn’t let those lines blur while I was vulnerable. They were all I had to protect myself.
But Levi didn’t speak—and he didn’t stop. The water blasted my aching head and muscles, easing knots, calming me against my will. It stayed in place until my shuddering stopped; then came warms hands and soap in my hair. Levi massaged my head, building up suds and lowering my resistance even more. He took his time rinsing, then conditioning. The scent of vanilla and flowers filled my nose, soothing me even more—a scent I’d always loved, which was why I used this same soap every day. Yet even that realization couldn’t startle me out of the web he was weaving, using my body and my senses against me as if they were ropes and chains, hands and bars caging me in. When he started to soap my skin, I didn’t even protest.
He was playing my body like a violin, and I knew with sudden clarity that this, above anything else he could do to me, was what could destroy me.
His fingers moved gently over my aching arms, down to my wrists, into the hollows between each individual finger. My palms tingled as he washed them, and then he placed them on the shower wall in front of me before moving back up to my neck and shoulders, my back. My underarms didn’t escape his notice. Neither did my breasts—he palmed them from behind just like he had last night in front of the mirror, taking their weight, rolling my nipples, tapping the too-sensitive tips until my breath sped up against my will. He smoothed his soapy way down my stomach, dipped lower. A strangled protest left my throat.
“Shh…”
His hands were so big they covered both rear cheeks easily, squeezing and rubbing, gentling me to his touch. But when one pushed between my legs, it felt too big, too overwhelming, forcing my legs apart to accommodate his size. Slick, blunt fingers traced my nether lips, circled my clit, and I realized I was leaning into the wall, my butt pushed toward him, panting with arousal. He’d introduced me to the pleasures of sex just last night, and lesson or not, my body couldn’t seem to ignore them now—I wanted release, if for no other reason than to return to a mindless state where everything I’d seen and heard and endured in the past few hours disappeared.
When Levi slid a thick finger inside me, I knew I’d get what I wanted.
“You’re wet, Abby,” he whispered huskily. I could feel the soaked clothes still on his body where he brushed against me. Did that mean he wouldn’t take me? Did I seriously want him to? A finger was safe; a penis? No.
I shook my head silently—at him or me, I wasn’t certain.
That invading finger pulled back, then slid smoothly inside once more. “Yes, you are. Feel how easy it is to get inside you?” Another retreat, and then a second finger joined in. The pressure sent me up on my toes, my head falling back as a groan escaped me. “You’re so tight, but you take me anyway. You let me in, and your body welcomes me with slick heat.”
“No.” But I didn’t try to escape the rhythmic invasion of his fingers.
“Yes.”
Yes.
I couldn’t admit it aloud though. The admission was in the widening of my stance, the pressing back of my hips, the moans and cries that escaped me as he thrust those hard fingers into my needy body. I chased the pleasure like a drug addict desperate for a fix, because that’s exactly what I needed: oblivion; anything to make me feel good, and this did. It felt good, wrong or not.
When he shifted his hand so a knuckle bumped my clit on every thrust, a high whine rose from my throat in unison with my rising climax. Everything finally, finally fell away—it was just my core, those fingers, and the tidal wave of pleasure rising, rising, rising.
Until at last the fear and hurt and hunger coalesced into a hard crest that washed me clean.
Chapter Nine
He left me alone in the shower, as if now that he’d proven his point, he had no further use for me. I’d have believed it if I hadn’t felt his erection against the small of my back, hadn’t heard his moan of frustration mingle with my cries of release—cries I’d give anything to take back now that sanity had returned. But that was no more possible than fairy tales coming true, so I simply closed my eyes and let the water soothe me until it began to cool. Only then did I step out and dry my hypersensitive skin.
The contents of the duffel bag brought me fully out of my fog. I’d noticed the shampoo, the soap, the familiar scent registering in a vague way. Too vague against the demands of my body. The clothes, though…
They were mine. Or, at least, they looked like mine. Tags still graced each item, even the underwear, but there was no doubt about it, no denying it: Levi had been watching me, and even more, he’d been inside my house, in my private spaces.
How had he managed that?
My hands shook as I selected panties, bra, jeans, and a button-down shirt that would cover more than the tees in the bag. I’d never been so grateful for the protection of clothing in my life, as if each piece bandaged a gaping hole inside me until the scattered pieces finally came into some semblance of a whole, however temporary. Finger combing was the best I could do for my hair without a brush, but the moisturizer I used every day sat at the bottom of the bag, a reminder of just how deep Levi had delved into my life. I shuddered as I lathered it on.
After dumping my clothes from last night into the tiny trash can beside the sink, I took a pair of socks with me into the bedroom. No sign of Levi. How long would he let me lick my wounds? Would he touch me again then? Did I want him to?
I knew better than to hope we’d hear something from my father this soon. He would decide which approach was most advantageous for him first. At least, I was pretty sure that was what he would do. I wasn’t a love child any more than the marriage he’d arranged for me had anything to do with love. He and my mother, a Hollywood starlet who’d died when I was a toddler, had formed an alliance more than a marriage, according to the rumors. She’d needed the money my father possessed, and the prestige of being his wife. He had needed an heir, preferably one with my mother’s good looks. That I’d been both female and too short and curvy to be a classic beauty were major disappointments, but
even then, Derrick Roslyn’s daughter had a purpose. The same purpose as his short-lived marriage: to enhance his status.
Despite the tiny part of me that prayed he cared enough to come get me, to give in to Levi so his daughter could return home, I wasn’t holding out hope for it happening. The reality of the past twenty-one years had taught me that.
My feet had barely lost their chill in the soft confines of their socks when raised voices in the living area caught my attention. Voices, plural. Someone else was here.
Dad?
I scrambled for the door. It wasn’t my father waiting in the living room, though. Amber eyes turned quickly to narrow on me as I slid to a stop just outside the bedroom. Late twenties, tall, powerful build, intimidating. He had to be Levi’s brother, Eli. Aside from the eyes and dark blond hair, he was practically Levi’s twin, just like in the photo.
Levi raked my body with detached coldness. “Eli, meet Abby.”
Eli let loose a string of profanity, half of which I didn’t understand. I did understand his, “What the fuck have you done, Levi?”
Levi’s expression gave nothing away. “What I had to, Elijah.”
It was telling that Eli didn’t budge from his position near the couch—no running to my aid, no checking for injuries or evidence of being tied up. Had he seen the pictures too? A flush of heat hit my cheeks despite the knowledge that they’d been staged.
And Levi drugged you to stage them. Don’t forget that, Abby.
Eli turned away from me, stalking his brother instead. “You didn’t have to do this and we both know it. You should stop playing with that bastard and just kill him. Get it over with.”
Was he talking about Dad?
I’d thought Levi’s eyes were cold before; now the arctic chill seemed to invade my bones. I’d never seen a man so stone-cold angry.
“I’m not playing, Eli. You know that better than anyone. I want Roslyn to suffer before he dies.”
“You’re starting a war is what you’re doing. Having her here is just your opening salvo.”
Levi moved behind the kitchen island. I could see the bags from earlier sitting there, beside plates, on the counter. My stomach growled.
“He started the war when he set his sights on me, and you know it,” Levi said, calmly placing food on the plates. “When he missed me and hurt Remi, he guaranteed that I’d finish it.”
My father was the reason Remi was in the hospital. No wonder Levi had launched a counterattack. I could almost understand if I wasn’t the fraying rope connecting the two.
“Tell me you haven’t hurt her.”
Levi didn’t answer, turning instead to put one of the plates in the microwave. Was that a yes or no? Maybe he thought drugging a woman so she didn’t have to endure being tied up and photographed naked was mercy. Maybe holding me against my will wasn’t harm if I wasn’t in handcuffs. My father might even agree with him. So why did it feel like Levi had ripped me apart and barely left me with enough pieces to put myself back together?
Because he ripped your control away when you’d only just dared to find it.
Eli rushed his brother. “Tell me, Levi.”
Levi shrugged. “Ask her.”
Eli stalked toward me then. I found myself backing up until my shoulders hit the wall—Eli might be younger and arguing for my safety, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. I stood, trembling, as he pushed up my sleeves, tipped my head from side to side, ran his hands over me. Those amber eyes seemed to see everything: the darkened spots on my arms from Levi’s grip, the redness from Levi’s stubble around my mouth and neck, the way I cringed at his touch. The swelling on my cheekbone and temple got the most attention. I couldn’t read his expression, but the way his gaze narrowed on Levi, I figured the message was not happy but reserving judgment.
Great.
I held my breath until he returned to his brother, now carrying two plates toward the table. The rich sent of chicken and biscuits wafted across the room. The growling of my stomach resumed as if given permission.
“If you want to eat, Abby, I suggest you get your sweet little ass over here.”
The sweet little ass made me cringe once more, a reminder of what I’d allowed him to do in the shower, the memory of his big hands cupping me, kneading me. My steps were slow as I approached the table. “How do I know it’s safe?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Eli’s affront would almost be cute if it weren’t for the whole your-brother-is-a-hit-man thing. I mean, really? “You dead puts us in a helluva sitch.”
Levi shot his brother a sharp look, one that transferred to me as he picked up a chicken biscuit and took a huge bite. The biscuit went back on the plate, and Levi exchanged it for the second dish. That biscuit got a bite taken out of it too. “There, happy?”
I sat a couple of seats away without answering. When I gripped the rim of the plate closest to me to slide it over, Levi arrested the motion with two fingers. An arched brow told me exactly what he wanted.
Bastard. “How can I be happy? I’ve been kidnapped, drugged, photographed naked—”
“What?”
I ignored Eli. “And taken advantage of. I’m hungry. My head hurts—”
“Whose fault is that?” Levi asked.
I noticed he didn’t deny any of the other charges. “Partly yours.” He had dropped me, after all. I paused, struggling with words I didn’t want to speak. “No, I’m not happy—I’m pissed off and frustrated and scared shitless—but I do appreciate that you aren’t starving me. I think.” I raised my own brow.
Levi released the plate.
Eli cursed, turning to pace away from the table. I watched the two men from under my eyelashes as I ate. Levi watched his brother, his smoky eyes filled with resolve—Eli wouldn’t sway him from the course he’d set.
Eli at least had a sympathetic edge. Maybe he could give me some insight. “What happened to Remi?”
Eli thrust a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired. “He was shot.”
“Not her business,” Levi growled.
All of this affected me; how could it not be my business?
“So what do you plan to do with her, huh?” Eli asked. “Just keep her locked up here until, what, Roslyn calls a cease fire? You know he’s not going to do that. He wants all evidence of that job to disappear, and that includes you.”
“What job?” I asked.
Levi kept his attention on Eli. “I’m sure we can find plenty to occupy ourselves while we wait. After this morning, he knows I mean business.”
Eli planted his hands on the end of the table opposite Levi, leaning forward. “And then what?”
Levi didn’t answer with more than an arched brow. Some communication passed between them that I didn’t understand, couldn’t read, and then Eli pounded a fist into the thick tabletop. “Fucking Christ, Levi!”
His brother ate the last bite of his biscuit, unfazed. Maybe I had finally hit overload on the whole situation, because I barely flinched.
“Remi can’t be moved, you know that.” Eli shoved a hand through his thick blond hair. “What do you want me to do?”
“Stay with him.” Levi stood and picked up his plate. “Roslyn found me last time through a fake buy. Since I’m off the market right now, that won’t happen again. We’ve altered the records as best we can, but we can’t ignore the possibility that he may connect Remi to me through the gunshot wound.”
A faint trill had Eli reaching for his pocket. He pulled out a phone, tapped the screen, and stared. After a moment he gave a halfhearted chuckle. “What was that you said about not starting a war?”
Levi crossed the kitchen. “What about it?”
“Roslyn took your opening salvo and fired back his return shot.” He turned his phone around to face Levi. “He just began a press conference. It seems his daughter has been kidnapped—and they have a suspect. Look familiar?”
Chapter Ten
“I think blurry’s a good look on you, brother.”
<
br /> Of course the image was blurry—my father only hired the best, and I assumed that went for hit men too. Levi would’ve known where the cameras were and how to avoid them.
Too bad I hadn’t known to avoid him.
The surveillance photo showed us in the hall of the club. Even with the grainy quality, it was enough to draw up the memory, to feel the visceral reaction to that moment in my muscles all over again. I’d wanted Levi so much, and the emotion was plain on my face, right there for everyone to see. A stupid girl fascinated with the man looming over her.
I should be used to it, the humiliation. I guess I should be thankful they hadn’t released the nude photos I knew my father had received, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t be, not when everything inside me screamed that the man in that press conference, the man who was supposed to protect and love me, didn’t. He hadn’t reached out to my kidnapper, asked for demands. No, he’d gone straight to the media, a preemptive attack, with me still in the line of fire.
I existed only for two powerful, dangerous men to argue over, apparently. My fingers itched with the urge to strike out—at Levi, the TV, Eli. It didn’t matter what the target was as long as I could be the one to choose it.
“We believe this individual lured Ms. Roslyn out of the establishment and took her to a secondary location,” the man standing to the left of my father at the podium was saying. A suit and tie and the badge dangling from a thin chain around his neck proclaimed him either an investigator or someone from the PR office at the local PD. “Anyone downtown last night, in the area between First Street and Colonnade, might have spotted something. Call the number at the bottom of your screen should you have any information. We are considering the suspect armed and dangerous, however, and ask that anyone with a lead keep their distance. Do not try to interfere with this man under any circumstances.”
The angle of the camera looked over Levi’s shoulder, revealing no more than his jawline and cheekbone. Dark hair, broad shoulders. Pretty generic. I didn’t think they’d be getting any reports of sightings based on it. How many tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered men had been at the Full Moon last night?
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