Vicious

My sweet Kitty is asleep on my couch, curled up beneath the blanket with a sweet expression on her face.

That was hot, if not informative.

I figured she’d put up a fight. I didn’t think I’d have her chained up and orgasming on my thigh within hours of meeting her, but I reckon I can roll with that. Everyone has their price, their trigger, the thing they’ll work for. For most people it’s money. For this girl, it’s pleasure - or perhaps pain. Maybe both. I haven’t quite figured her out yet.

Things are going well though. While she sleeps, I pour myself a couple of fingers of my best whiskey and get some work done. There are a lot of moving parts in my operation and I have to know what each one of them is doing. The cogs have to keep turning at all cost.

My phone lights up with a new message more or less just as I glance at it.

S: YOU GOT A MOMENT?

Shoot

S: I GOT THE STUFF.

I take a swig of my drink before texting back.

I’m at the place on Scorpio Drive. Bring it by.

It’s probably a risk doing business with Kitty here, but if she’s going to be part of my operation, I’m going to have to trust her with a lot more than this. Plus, she’s unconscious, sleeping like a baby. She looks so fucking sweet with her mouth slightly open, drooling on my couch just a little.

My guess is she’s probably just recharging for another round of resisting me. I don’t expect her agreement to work for me to last very long. Once she gets a taste of what that really means, she’s going to want to run.

About ten minutes later, the elevator opens. I put my finger to my lips and gesture at the couch as Slick slips in. It’s unnecessary really, Slick has never been one for making a lot of noise. It’s his job to be perfectly quiet.

“Who is that?” He mouths the question as I draw him to the other side of the open room. I don’t want to leave her on her own, just in case she isn’t really asleep. This girl needs a close eye kept on her.

“With any luck, the new courier.”

“Oh, you picked her up? Cool. I have the schematics.”

Slick isn’t overly interested in, or even curious as to why the new courier is passed out on the couch. Even if he was, he knows better than to ask questions. He is a consummate professional, a long term associate and probably one of the closest people to me in the world.

We spread the documents he brought with him on a table and start going over them.

“There’s a lot of security,” Slick says. “But it’s outdated.”

“So we could get in without much trouble.”

He shrugs. “Well, outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. There’s a lot of manpower. We’d need a distraction.”

“Not a problem. Our old friend Dynamite has been bored lately.” Dynamite is one of the men who works for me. At least, when I have something that needs his specific skill set.

“A distraction that doesn’t destroy a city block,” Slick smirks. “Something refined and mundane. Like, I don’t know. A sewer leak or similar.”

“That could work,” I nod. “Let’s go over the target again.”

He pulls out a photo. And there she is. A twelfth century painting of a woman wearing nothing but a smile and a long skirt. She’s cradling a lamb under one arm. Allegedly it’s a portrait of Mary Magdalene, reimagined by someone or other. The details of the artist are not important. The fact that the painting is worth an estimated forty million dollars is. It’s owned by a man who should have known better than to cross me. Not an enemy per se, more like a client who didn’t pay his bills.

Kitty thinks I’m a murderer, but that’s hardly true. A man like me has to have a reputation, or he’ll spend every minute of every day looking over his shoulder. There’s rarely any money in killing people. There’s plenty of it in taking them for everything they’re worth.

A vibration at my side heralds a new message. My phone lights up again. This time it’s not a message from a friend. This time it’s an SOS code.

THE BAKER IS IN THE OVEN.

Not the worst kind of emergency, but it needs my attention. Unfortunately, so does Kitty.

“Can you watch her? I’m going to deal with this.”

“Sure,” Slick shrugs. “She a flight risk?”

“Let’s say yes.”

He nods. “No worries. See you when you get back.”

Kitty

I wake up, not realizing that I had fallen asleep.

“Well, hello.”

The voice that greets me doesn’t have an English accent. It has a New York twang, a heavy one similar to mine.

For a second, I have the amnesia of the freshly woken. The couch is comfortable and the place is nice and - oh shit, it all comes back. Vicious kidnapping me, the river, this place... shackles.

I push up from the couch and sit on my knees, rubbing my hand over my face.

“Sleep good?”

My head turns in the direction of the voice, and my hand stops over my mouth.

Blue eyes run over me. Through me. I am caught in the gaze of an predator. Tall, with a dancer’s body. Pale eyes like ice.

This man isn’t Vicious. But it could be his Nordic brother. It’s not that they look alike. They’re not physically similar at all, but there’s a sameness about them. Something in their eyes. And they are both handsome enough to turn heads wherever they go. These aren’t men who can slip in anywhere and not be noticed - maybe at a male model convention, but I don’t imagine either one of them has much business in that sort of place.

This man has longish hair that risks falling into his eyes. He’s a little younger than Vicious. Maybe thirty or so.

“Where’s Vicious?”

“He’s out. You must be the new courier.”

“Uh no, I’m not.”

“Oh?” His brows lift in surprise.

“I’m Vicious’ new captive, pending release.”

He gets up and leaves the room without a word. I hold my breath. Last time a man did that in this apartment, he came back with a whip. When this guy returns, it’s just with a sweater. He tosses it to me, his eyes dipping down to where my body is exposed under my torn shirt.

“Thanks,” I say, trying not to blush as I pull it on. It’s pale blue Cashmere, and it feels amazing against my skin.

“So,” he smirks. “You think resisting is a good idea.”

“I know it is. Fuck that guy.” I’m feeling particularly brave without Vicious here, and I have some pride to reclaim. A lot of it, actually. I’ve woken to a world of shame, one where I threw myself at a criminal.

Blond’s smile grows wider. He has one of those grins that lights up his face, a broad, easy smile which makes me feel much better about everything even though nothing has changed.

“Brave girl,” he notes. “Though, I’d like to see you say that to his face.”

“Yeah, I bet you would. You’re a bad influence.”

“I’m Slick,” he says, extending his hand across the space between us.

“Kitty,” I return the introduction. His grip is firm and warm.

He’s not dressed like he’s just come from a board meeting, not like Vicious who seems to think every day is a day to wear formal attire. Slick is wearing a tight t-shirt which does a lot to showcase the hours he must spend in the gym.

“So I’m going to head out,” I say, awkwardly. Vicious isn’t here and soon I won’t be either.

Slick watches me as I get up and head toward the elevator. I try to act natural, as if this is all normal, as if there’s no reason for him to even think about stopping me.

Just as I press the button for the elevator, one long arm reaches over me and Slick’s body blocks the doors.

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” He smiles down at me, calm and charming.

I find myself smirking back at him. “Well, I mean, I had to try.”

“Sure you did,” he agrees, pointing back to the couch. “Go sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

I find myself doing as he says, not because I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me, but because he has a relaxed, easy way about him that makes complying feel less like falling into a void of total undoing.

He goes to the kitchen and bangs around for a bit. I’m expecting coffee or tea or something, but he comes back with a beer. It’s exactly what I need.

“How did you know?”

“You look like a beer girl,” he says, settling into an armchair nearby. His every move is smooth, but I notice that he’s stationed himself between me and the elevator doors. I am still every bit the prisoner I was when Vicious was here.

“So you work for him?” I ask the question after taking refreshing swig of the beer. Outside, the day is starting to turn golden as the sun fades toward the horizon. It has been a long day. From brunch with Blaze, to bodies with Vicious, to beer with Slick. And what came in between, that shameful, entirely out of character orgasm Vicious dragged out of me.

“With,” Slick says. “Not for.”

“So you’re assistant regional manager,” I quip. “Not assistant to the regional manager.”

He smirks, catching the reference. “It’s not quite that formal.”

I take another sip of my beer. I’m starting to feel a little warmer and a little better, even though I’m still captive.

“I’m not going to work for him,” I say, conversationally.

“No?” His golden brow rises again, and that ready smile makes another appearance.

“Nope.”

“You don’t like money?”

“I don’t like him.”

It’s not entirely true. It’s not that I don’t like Vicious, it’s that he scares the shit out of me. The sooner I get out of this place, the better.

“Well, I don’t blame you. After what happened to the last courier…”

“What happened to the last courier?

“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “You’re not going to work for Vicious anyway. You’re going to be the first person to ever successfully turn him down.”

I let out a nervous little laugh. “Yeah, I am.” I take another sip of beer and side eye him. “You should help me get out of here.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to be here. Because I was kidnapped, and beaten. I’m innocent, and I need your help.” I give him a wide eyed look with a little girl pout. I am hoping that my disguise will do what it needs to do: make me look like a damsel in distress and activate whatever kind of inherent masculine capacity for pity he might have

His eyes gleam. “Uh huh. Now I see why he had the whip out. You’re just full of reasons for him to use it, aren’t you, little girl.”

Slick’s voice takes on a deeper, more resonant tone and his entire demeanor shifts without him moving at all. It’s his energy that has changed. I’m no longer looking at his casual, easy going facade. I’m seeing the side of him I first detected when I looked at him the first time. He’s cold underneath it all. Ruthless. Just like Vicious.

I sink back into the couch, pull the blanket over my lap and drink my beer. I really need to get out of here. If I spend too much time with them, I might get… I don’t know, addicted or something.

Another uncomfortable truth is starting to make itself apparent. I like these people. I don’t want to, but I do. There’s something very raw and immediate and alive about a criminal, someone who has decided that they don’t care about the comfortable rules which make the rest of the world feel safe. The consequences of what they do range from imprisonment to terrible death. They don’t care, because it’s the freedom that matters. Vicious wasn’t afraid to kidnap me, and this man, Slick, isn’t afraid to keep me. Their refusal to follow the rules of society frees me as well.

Maybe this is what Blaze has been seeing all along.

My job takes me to the fringes of this world, but I was never really part of it. Until now. Now I am sitting in one of Vicious’ homes, held captive by his friend, waiting for his return, wearing the marks of his displeasure on my body.

“I think you liked the pain,” Slick says, interrupting my silence with a sly smile.

“What?”

“When he whipped you, I think you liked it.”

“I think it’s none of your fucking business,” I snap back, my face beginning to heat with embarrassment. I don’t want to talk about what happened between Vicious and me, or what it means. I don’t know how this man seems to know either. Has Vicious been gossiping about me? Is this some kind of underworld locker room?

“Easy, tiger,” he chuckles. “No shame in liking being disciplined. You look like you need it.”

Okay, this conversation is getting worse by the moment.

“You’re a criminal. What do you care about discipline?” I try to discourage him, but it doesn’t work.

“It’s even more important when you’re outside the law. Have to establish order somehow, keep the little devils in line…” he leans forward. “And you’re quite the little devil, aren’t you…”

My heart starts to pound. My hips begin to squirm. My body is reacting to him, and I can’t help it. Oh god. Not again.

“Cut it out, Slick. She’s not yours to toy with.”

I didn’t ever think I’d be glad to hear those overly refined tones, but right now Vicious’ return saves me from death by blushing. Slick has gotten under my skin.

Vicious strides in. I look up, almost feeling guilty for being so affected. His sleeves are down again, buttoned. Those powerful arms are hidden beneath the white fabric. He looks at me, those green eyes searching my face. God, both these men make me feel like I am under a microscope..

“Possessive already?” Slick laughs. “Wow.”

Vicious shoots a look at him, then back at me. “It’s getting late,” he says. “You should go to bed.”

“It’s like six o’clock in the evening. And I should go home, not to bed.”

“Enough,” he snaps. “I am not going to argue this with you, Kitty. I’ve made my decision. You will work for me, and that’s the end of it. Any more argument and I’ll let Slick make an example of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ll take off my belt and see how that pretty skin colors up,” Slick smiles at me.

Goddamn. Is every male in Vicious’ circle somehow kinky? Probably. Probably goes in hand with being ruthless, criminal, and carnal. These aren’t men who care about the rules of society, so why would they care about the rules surrounding anything else.

I sit there, clutching my beer like a lifeline, knowing I am going to have to give in to his demand and hating the fact that’s the case. I have no power here, and truth be told, he’s being nice about this. Vicious could have put a gun to my head and told me I was going to work for him. Instead it’s a whip and a belt and a beer. This is probably his idea of being sweet.

Sipping at the bottle, I stay silent. There’s no real reply to what Slick just said. I can’t tell him he won’t beat me, that’s just another form of invitation.

“Bedroom is that way,” Vicious points to a door.

“Okay. Cool.”

His dark brow rises just a fraction and I realize it’s not a suggestion. This motherfucker is sending me to bed.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t let him do this. He’s already pushing me to my limits. But what choice do I have? Vicious doesn’t care what I want. He just wants me to be a good, obedient, little captive.

Putting the beer down on the table, I shrug as if I don’t care, get up and go to the door he pointed out. I can feel two pairs of very male eyes on me as I walk. I try not to hunch my shoulders to make myself as small as I feel right now.

It’s a relief when I open the door and close it behind me. I suck what feels like a hit of fresh air into my lungs. My god. I’m shaking. There’s a tremor in my hands and my knees, an excitement at what is and what could be. They can’t know it, but my body and mind are responding to them in every single way they shouldn’t.

I take a second to look around the room. It’s a bedroom. Pretty bland really. White walls. White linen. It has a temporary sense to it, like a hotel room might, except no effort whatsoever has gone into making it feel homey. There’s no art on the walls. There is a window though.

I cross to it, but I’m not surprised when it doesn’t open. Evil masterminds don’t have windows you can just climb out of. The view isn’t great either.

I fish my phone out of the hidden pocket in my leggings. I’m surprised he let me keep this, as well as the slim case which contains my bank cards and ID. That was kind of a sloppy mistake. I could call for help. I stare at the screen, wondering who to reach out to. Nobody I know is going to cross Vicious, not for me.

A small laugh escapes me as I realize he didn’t need to take my phone. There’s nobody to call. But there is one person who will be interested in the news, and maybe she can help.

So. Uh. You’ll never guess where I am.

B: Where?

Vicious’ apartment. One of them, anyway.

B: Bitch. No way. I thought you didn’t like him?

I don’t. He’s fucking holding me captive. He wants me to work for him.

B: You lucky bitch.

I crack a smile, even though this isn’t funny. All Blaze can think about is how much she’d like to be here.

Lucky? He whipped me when I refused.

B: OMG.

Seriously, Blaze. He has me locked up in a room. This isn’t cool.

B: I’m coming. Where are you?

I can’t get out the window, but I can see the world outside the window.

Scorpio Drive. It’s on the corner. I’m third floor up. Window right at the edge of the building.

I don’t get a response. Now I’m nervous. I don’t really expect her to come and break me out, but I guess that’s what best friends are for. The question is, how? It would be best to get out quietly, but I’m guessing that’s not Blaze’s plan. She’s kind of audacious. Has almost been caught several times because she just can’t help doing things in what she calls ‘style’.

Fifteen minutes later, the fire alarm goes off. Oldie, but a goodie. She must have pulled the alarm below. Perfect.

I look out the window to see if there’s any sign of her or her car. I don’t see either. But I do see something dark gray curling up the side of the building. Smoke.

Fuck. That is Blaze all over. No point setting an alarm off when you can just set a fire.

“Alright,” Vicious says, coming in. “We need to get out of here. Someone in another apartment has burned dinner or similar. We’ve had it for tens of thousands of years, but apparently, fire is a little too advanced for some humans.”

He’s snarky.

He has no idea.

Oh this is fucking awesome.

He leads me out of the apartment. We take a stairwell, not the elevator. Turns out that is located in what I figured was probably a closet or something. Vicious, Slick and I jog down what seems to be a private staircase. I really hope Blaze has this covered. If she’s waiting anywhere else, this is all going to be for nothing.

“Oh my god it’s you!” Blaze lets out a fangirl squeal as we emerge into the parking garage below the building. She sounds like a groupie, though I have to say the gun in her hand adds a certain gravitas.

Vicious stops, his hand wrapped around my upper arm.

“Sorry,” he says. “No time for autographs today.”

“Eh, hold up,” Blaze says, cocking the gun. “I’m here for the blonde.”

Vicious looks at me. I look back at him, trying to appear innocent. If this goes sideways, he is going to… god, I don’t even know what he’s going to do, but I’m betting it will involve leather and pain.

“We’re in a hurry here,” Vicious says, speaking casually. He barely seems to notice the gun.

“Yeah, that’s my girl though,” she cocks her head. “So imma have you let her go, and you and I can talk work later, big boy.” She gives him a wink.

“Work?”

“She doesn’t want to work with you, but I do.” Blaze gives him a big smile. She’s cute, charming, and most men fall at her feet. Not this one though.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” There’s a slight pout on her lips now, like he just told her she couldn’t have a puppy. “I’m just as good as she is. Haven’t you heard of me?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you Ms. Blaze.”

The smile is back, bigger than ever. It fades pretty quickly when Vicious starts tearing into her.

“I’m not working with you because you’re reckless,” he snaps, lecturing her like a little girl. “You’ve called half the city’s emergency services down on this place, including the police, and now you’re waving a gun around.” He turns his head to Slick. “Deal with her, would you?”

“Sure.”

Slick steps forward. Blaze has a choice to make. She can keep the gun on Vicious and hope to get me, or turn it on the man coming for her. It’s a real testament to her character that she keeps it locked on Vicious. She’s a good friend, but that decision fucks her. Slick steps around her, whips the pistol out of her grasp and yanks her arm behind her back, putting her in a submission hold.

“Let’s take them both,” Vicious says. “I don’t have time to sort this out and I don’t want that one running around causing more trouble.”

Blaze and I are both put into the back of his white SUV. Slick and Vicious sit up front. We sit in the back with the child locks on so we can’t open the doors from the inside.

“Sorry, girl,” she says. The smile on her face says she’s not sorry at all. She’s riding with the man of her dreams up front. I’m the only one who really wants out of here. It occurs to me that this wasn’t a rescue attempt. This was a dramatic attempt at getting a date, but unlike Blaze, I can already tell Vicious isn’t interested.

“Back up location,” Vicious says to Slick. “Search them both when we get there.”

The back up location is a central city high rise with plenty of formal security. It’s the sort of place celebrities live when they’re in town for the weekend, discreet, secure, and high end. Blaze can’t believe her luck. She’s practically giggling as Slick and Vicious pull us out of the car. I’m not so happy. I can see the look in Vicious’ eye. He’s not pleased, and when a man like him is displeased, everyone needs to watch out.

Not a word is said as we’re taken up through a discreetly placed elevator, all the way to floor thirteen.

The suite is much nicer than the apartment Vicious said was going to be mine. I wonder if it is still there, or if it has succumbed to the flames Blaze set. Here, there’s art on the walls, what look like expensive paintings by people who have been dead for a really long time. There’s fancy decor and books and rich carpets and all the trappings of a rich man’s world.

“Nice place,” Blaze pipes up. “I could get used to this!”

“You’re not going to get used to it,” Vicious quips coolly. “Slick, search Ms. Blaze and then send her home.”

“I’m not going,” she insists bravely. “You’ve got my girl and…”

“ENOUGH!” Vicious roars the word and I feel my insides turn to jelly. Even Blaze manages to shut up, though I see the glint in her eye that tells me now she’s pissed.