CHAPTER SIX

AVERY

MY HEAD HANGS FORWARD, my chin resting on my chest. My hands are tied behind my back while I sit on a cold and unforgiving metal chair. My breathing is even, and my heart is beating steady. I show no sign of consciousness. I show no sign of fear. This is who I am. This is how my body operates. I’m never in a situation I didn’t see coming. I knew they’d come for me. Exactly how I wanted them to.

They had to hit me over the head and knock my ass out before they took me from the back alley at my hotel here in New York. And brought me to the same abandoned warehouse where I brought that fucker Dennis last night. But I’ve been awake most of the transfer—biding my time.

“Wake him up.” The familiar voice rings out in the room.

A hand digs into my hair, and my head is yanked back. Then I’m slapped. My eyes spring open as I look at the man who orchestrated this horrible plan, ignoring the sting on my face. My body still just as relaxed as before. I’ve been conditioned to take pain and not show it.

He knows this!

“Nice of you to join us, Avery.” The man standing in front of me smiles excitedly as if he just got his prize. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.” He removes his hands from the pockets of his slacks and spreads them out wide. “Here I am.”

I say nothing.

Two men stand on either side of me. I know them well—Jasper and Kin. The one to my left still holding my head by my hair out of disrespect for me.

He dies first.

“Have nothing to say?” he muses with a chuckle. “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

I very carefully reach into the back of my slacks and open the secret pocket where the tiny pocket knife is located. I’m prepared—always ten steps ahead. I planned this down to the second. He’s so predictable.

Slowly, I work the knife through the rope that binds my wrists. If his men were smart, they would have used handcuffs. I would have gotten out of those too, but still. Just more proof that he’s an idiot.

The ropes break free, but I keep my hands in place, holding the rough material so it doesn’t fall to the concrete floor and give my freedom away.

I continue to stare at him.

He continues to smirk at me.

“You must have something to say. Beg for your life. Ask for a quick death.”

Still, I say nothing.

He runs his mouth too much. I can’t wait to see him begging for mercy for what he’s made me about to do. I won’t show it. I never do.

“You made quite an impression on Dennis last night. I must say, I’m surprised you didn’t just go ahead and remove his thumb.” He shakes his head as if disappointed in me. “Not like it’s gonna do him any good.” I don’t miss the fact that he hasn’t mentioned me talking to his sister. I know she told him I was here in town because that’s why he’s here now. She told on me just as I wanted her to. I stood there watching her lie on her bathroom floor for a couple of minutes before I let her know I was there. Too lost in the moment of watching her touch herself.

“Well, as fun as this chat has been, I must be going.” He rocks back on his heels. The smile on his face widens, and his dark brown eyes light up with pleasure. “It’s just business, Avery. You understand that, right?” He looks at the men who flank me and nods. “Make sure to grab the goods after you’re finished with him.” Then he turns around and walks toward the two steel doors, whistling.

I smile.

Bringing my arms out from behind me, I jam my knife into Jasper’s neck. I yank the gun out of his waistband before he hits the floor and shoot Kin in the head. They both fall to the ground dead. Just as I had planned.

I look up to see Preston has turned to face me, and that smirk’s no longer on his face. It’s now drained of color. He raises his hands in surrender. “Avery …” I shoot him in the leg.

He drops to the concrete floor, blood instantly pooling around him. I shot his thigh right above his knee, avoiding his femur. I don’t want the guy to die, but I do want him to suffer.

The double steel doors open, and two of my men walk in. I had them stay back and follow when I was taken, so they were waiting outside for their cue, which was my gunfire. Their shoulders back and heads held high, dressed in their expensive Armani suits. They look like they’re dressed to impress, not beat and enslave.

They both walk to Preston and pick him up under his arms. He whimpers when they place him in the metal chair I had previously occupied. They then grab the dead guys and place them against the wall on top of one another before they return to stand by him.

“You’re right.” I finally break my silence. “I was looking for you. And I must admit, you were hard to find.” I’ve been trying to locate him ever since I got that phone call weeks ago. The bastard is actually good at hiding, but he’s also predictable.

“I messed up,” he admits, dropping his head.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Please don’t kill me.” The sound of his begging makes me smile.

“That would be too easy for you.”

He tries to get up off the chair, but my men place a hand on his shoulders to keep him sitting. He looks at both of them with a terrified expression. “How did you …?”

“You think you outsmarted me?” I laugh. “I allowed you to take me. I couldn’t find you, but I knew you’d come right to me. And now, here we are.”

He lets out a moan of pain. “You baited me?”

I don’t answer because I refuse to waste my breath on stupid questions.

“What are you gonna do with me now?” he asks, hanging his head. Not sure if it’s in defeat or due to blood loss. The warehouse smells of copper, and a steady drip falls from the chair to the concrete floor.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to make it right. But in the meantime, I’m gonna keep something to make sure you get the job done this time.”

“Anything. You know I’m good for it.” He lies easily, forgetting that I know him well. He’s already thinking of ways to fuck me.

He’s not gonna like what I plan on taking. “Presleigh.”

His head snaps up, and he looks at me, his eyes wide and face drained of color. That right there was the look I wanted to see. It makes letting this man take me worth it.

“No … you … can’t …”

“Phone,” I demand, lifting my free hand to my men.

Mason digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. I dial and then place it on speakerphone before setting it on the metal table next to me. The same one where I cut off Dennis’s fingers just last night. His blood still covers it, now dried.

“Kayn.” The male’s voice answers. He does all my dirty work for me. I pay him more than enough to follow orders, and he never asks questions.

“What’s the status?”

“About to breach,” he informs me.

I smile. “Perfect timing.” It’s a little past four a.m., so she should be home from the bar by now. And they’ve already been instructed that if a man is there, to kill him and get rid of the body.

Preston stares up at me. “Wait, Avery. She’ll hate you …”

She already does. And the feeling is mutual. “I don’t care.”

When he realizes I’m telling the truth, he continues to beg. “Avery, please …”

“Too late to beg.” I made up my mind weeks ago. And once I make a decision, I never go back on it. Plus, I want her. Fuck, how I want her.

“Stand by,” Kayn says quietly.

We stand in silence, listening to the phone. There’s the sound of a door creaking open, then nothing but silence.

After a few minutes, you hear a muffled shot, and then Kayn says, “Living room clear.” I know that wasn’t for my benefit. He’s speaking through his earpiece to the five other men I have there.

“Hope he wasn’t important to you,” I say to Preston, knowing that Kayn just killed one of his guys.

“Avery!” He growls. “You can’t do this …”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap.

He did this to her!

He closes his eyes as if he can’t believe this is happening.

A loud feminine scream comes through the speakers, and I smile at the sound of her voice. Then glass shatters. “Get off …” she calls out, but the rest is muffled by a hand over her mouth.

“Fuck.” One of my guys moans.

“Fucking bitch,” another says, followed by the sound of her being slapped.

My smile widens at Preston while he listens in horror.

“Hold her down,” another demands.

“Trying …”

She screams again, and then you hear commotion as things get knocked over. More glass shatters.

“She ran out the back door,” another one calls out.

Hope blooms in Preston’s eyes that she may get free. I continue to smile, knowing they’ll get her. That’s what I pay them for. Plus, my men like to hunt.

We can hear him running after her, and her faint cries in the distance, but he’s gaining on her. He’s six-foot-four, so those long legs will get her in no time. I know they’re running behind her house. I could have taken her last night after I made love to her one last time, but I wanted to play mind games with her. I had slapped her earlier and then told her I was gonna take her body. But I wanted her to give it willingly. I wanted to see just how far she would let me go. When I showed up back at her place, she was even drunker than when I left her, but there was no denying it. She may hate me, but she wanted me between her legs. But that’ll never happen again. Not like that—soft and sweet. It’ll be hard and dominating. I’ll remind her why she hated me in the first place.

“Please, Avery …” Preston pulls me back to the moment. This is why I waited. He never really treated her like he cared, but put in a situation he can’t control, I knew it would affect him.

A few gunshots go off, and Preston gasps before he narrows his eyes on me. “If you kill her …”

“I want her alive,” I say simply. And my men know that. They did it as a warning.

His jaw tightens, and he looks away from me. Once I get her, she’ll wish they would have killed her.

“Found her,” a man shouts, and then she screams as we hear them hit the ground. “Drug her,” he orders, barely out of breath.

I run my men like dogs, so they attack like wolves.

“No.” We hear her panicked voice. “Don’t …” Her voice trails off, and then there’s silence.

I walk forward, closing the distance between Preston and me.

“You son of a bitch,” he says through gritted teeth.

“This is your fault. You chose to fuck up! Now you must pay the price.”

“She’s innocent,” he growls.

“The innocent are the first sacrificed in war.”

He hangs his head and shakes it, knowing I won’t give her back. “How long?” he finally asks.

Now we’re getting somewhere. “You have four weeks to kill him.” The longer I have her, the more he’ll sweat. I snap my fingers, and the men drop the black duffle bag by his feet.

“No one can kill him!” he growls through gritted teeth.

“You better find a way, Preston,” I say. I’m setting him up. He has to know that. I plan on finding Damon and killing him myself. But this will keep Preston busy and out of my way. And who knows, maybe he’ll get himself killed along the way.

“When I finish the job, you’ll let her go?” he asks roughly.

I almost laugh. “No. You complete the job in four weeks, and I’ll kill her.” He doesn’t even flinch. “If you haven’t fulfilled your duty by the end of the four weeks, I’ll keep her.” Whatever he chooses to do, she will spend the rest of her days under my control.

“Fucking bastard.” He sneers. “You loved her once.”

I ignore that statement. “What’s it gonna be, Preston? Her blood is already on your hands.” He tries to stand on his one good leg from the chair, but my men grab his shoulders and shove him back down to his ass. “Now it’s up to you how she spends what time she has left.”

“Sir?” Kayn’s voice comes through the phone. “The package is secure.”

Piece of cake. “Four weeks, Preston.” I then turn my back on him, pick up my phone, turn it off speakerphone, and place it to my ear, walking out into the early morning night. “No one touches her but me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

_______________

I sit in my study back in Vancouver with a glass of scotch on my desk. My younger brother lounges in the chair across from me. The crackling of the wood in the fireplace fills the room. Doesn’t matter what time of year it is, I always have it burning. “You sure you wanna do this?” Tristan asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s already done.”

He sighs, but I ignore it, hoping he’ll drop the subject. He doesn’t. “Let’s not forget that it’s Presleigh. One, you guys were in love. Two, now you guys hate one another. And three, any bitch being here day and night would be a problem. There’s a reason we sleep with nothing but whores.” He takes a drink of his scotch.

“You fuck whores.” I don’t pay for sex.

He ignores me just as easily and continues. “You’ve never lived with a woman before, and now you’re moving her in here with you like she’s your fucking wife.”

“Slave,” I correct him.

He rolls his eyes, not believing me. “Come on, Avery. You can’t fool me.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Not like I really care.

“Break her neck and throw her into the Mediterranean Sea. Let the sharks swallow what’s left of Preston’s family.” He takes another drink. “She’s gonna do nothing but cause problems.”

“I can handle her.”

He snorts.

That’s the difference between me and my brother. He prefers the easy way, and I don’t. “Plus, that means what I told Preston was an empty threat.”

He shrugs. And tosses back his drink. “So?”

“So? What’s the point of making a threat if you don’t follow through with it?”

We are ruthless. Soulless. We make those who fuck us, pay—with their lives. Our father taught us that respect should be earned, and we have done things to make sure we get that.

He looks up at me with no emotion in his blue eyes. “She’s gonna die regardless. If not by you, then Damon will …”

I lift my hand to stop him, and he obeys.

“I can do it for you,” he offers when I don’t say anything.

My eyes narrow on him. “Don’t fucking touch her.” She’s mine. She always has been and always will be. That’s why I chose to take her when I did. Damon doesn’t deserve her. I do!

He rolls his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you. I’ve seen you kill without blinking. And if you don’t plan on bluffing …” He spreads his hands out wide. “Then you have to kill her.”

“I will. When I’m finished with her,” I say through gritted teeth. That could be years down the road.

I haven’t been able to get that look on her face out of my head. The way her glassy eyes looked at mine and how her soft hands gripped my shoulders. It was as if I had been dead for the past eleven years and she brought me back to life.

It’s fucking pathetic!

I take a drink of my scotch.

It proved that, after all this time, she still wanted me. And I plan on giving her what she wants. I’m going to fuck her until she’s a crawling, sobbing mess. But this time will be different. I’m calling the shots.

Her brother actually did me a favor by fucking up.

The door opens, and my butler walks in with his hands behind his back and dressed in a black three-piece suit, thankfully ending this conversation. “They’ve arrived, sir.”

“Thank you, Marvin.” I nod and abandon my study, Tristan following behind me.

We both come to stand in the foyer of my home when the double doors open and in walks Kayn. He has that usual look of hatred on his face, and he’s carrying an unconscious Presleigh in his arms.

Her head bobs, then it flops back, exposing her thin and elegant neck. Having my hand wrapped around it made me hard. I loved that she didn’t even try to fight me that night in the bathroom of the club. That seems so long ago now. Her right arm dangles to the side and long legs hang over the other as he carries her limp body.

“She’s a handful,” he announces.

My brother grunts as if to say I told you so.

“How so?” I question, wanting details. It’s been almost ten hours since I heard him take her from her home in New York. I haven’t spoken to him, knowing they were traveling on my private jet.

“She woke up on the plane and stabbed Darrell in the arm with a fork.”

At the mention of Darrell, he walks in behind him. Shirtless with a white bandage wrapped around his upper arm, he has dried blood running down to his wrist.

“How did she get a fork?” I ask, smiling. She’s got bigger balls than her brother. But she always has. That’s why I fell in love with her in the first place. She’s also afraid to fly. That’s another reason they needed to drug her. I knew she’d freak out in the air.

“I was eating, and she grabbed it from me,” Darrell explains. “I didn’t think she’d wake up. I gave her enough to keep her out for the entire flight. Or so I thought.”

I arch a brow. Maybe I need to kill him since he fucked up and let a woman get the better of him and can’t do a simple job.

Kayn comes to a stop in front of us. Some of her brown hair covers her face, and my brother pushes it away to reveal her to us. It’s void of any makeup; her full lips are slightly parted, and there’s a handprint across her right cheek and a bruise on her shoulder. Her bottom lip has a cut on it. I told Kayn that no one touches her, but I meant sexually. I knew my men would do whatever was necessary to get her—even if that meant smacking her around.

She wears a white tank top that has ridden up, exposing her flat stomach and a black jeweled belly piercing. With a pair of white cotton shorts. That’s what she must have worn to bed.

“Now I understand why you want to play with her,” my brother says as if he could forget how beautiful she is.

I never did.

Kayn goes to step around us, but I hold out my arms. He hands her off without protest.

Her frail body sags in my arms, but she doesn’t make a sound. “How much did you give her the second time?” I ask because it should be wearing off soon.

Darrell smiles. “I gave her a double dose. She should be out until later tonight,” he says, proud of himself.

I give them my back and begin climbing the winding staircase to her new room.

PRESLEIGH

I wake to a pounding headache and dry mouth. I dig my face into a soft pillow and moan in agony. My entire body is sore. I lick my cracked lips and hiss in a breath when I feel a pain in my neck. It’s stiff.

Sitting up, I brush my wild hair out of my face and open my eyes. I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness. A lamp is on a table to my left but dimmed. My head falls forward, and I place my hands over it.

What did I do?

My cheek throbs, and I pull my hands away to see cuts on them and my wrists. I flinch when I touch my face.

I look around and realize I’m in an unfamiliar bedroom. Bright white walls with five big bay windows to my right. Blood red drapes are open, showing me the night. The floor is a dark hardwood with a big area rug to match the drapes and comforter. The bed is a white four-post sleigh bed. A white leather couch sits in front of the windows. A chair sits over in the corner, and in front of me, there’s a fireplace. It’s the exact opposite of my black and gray décor. Not to mention, this bedroom is the size of half my house.

Where am I?

Did I drink too much last night? I remember going out with Alex and then Preston showing up and dragging me out. He had taken me home. I opened a bottle of Fireball the moment I got inside my house. I don’t remember passing out, but I do remember waking up at one point …

 

A strange sound wakes me up. I open my eyes and see my bedroom door still shut. I lie back down, knowing it’s Max, my brother’s idiot friend. Maybe Preston is back.

“Living room clear.”

I open my eyes again and blink. Is someone else in my house? No. I dreamed it. The alcohol is making me hear things. I close my eyes, and seconds later, I hear my bedroom door open.

I scream as a man walks into my room. He rushes my bed and grabs me, but I shove him off. He hits my nightstand and knocks over my lamp, shattering the bulb. “Get off …” I scream, but a hand slaps over my mouth. I bite down on it as hard as I can.

“Fuck.” The guy who had hit the nightstand moans from the floor. “Fucking bitch,” the guy who I bit growls, and then he slaps me across the face.

Two hands grab my shoulders, pushing me onto the bed. “Hold her down,” another demands.

“Trying …”

I scream, kicking one in the face, and then I jump up and run toward the back sliding glass door. Glass shatters behind me, but I don’t stop.

“She ran out the back door,” I hear one say.

I run barefoot through my backyard toward the trees. I can climb one and hide until they give up.

My heart races, and I trip, scraping my knees on tree branches. The world tilts from my drunken state, and I cuss myself. Gunfire goes off, and it has me looking backward, causing me to trip once again. I cry out, standing just as one of them leaps for me, taking me to the ground.

“Drug her,” he orders

“No …” I scream. I’ll never make it if they do. “Don’t …” I get out just as I feel a prick in my neck. And everything goes black.

 

I throw the covers off me when I feel bile rise. I stumble to one of the doors in the bedroom and fling it open. Thankfully, it’s the bathroom. It bangs, hitting the interior wall. I run toward the toilet and fall to my knees just in time to spill all my contents into it.

No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

I hug the toilet as more memories flood my foggy thoughts.

 

Where am I? I can hear the roaring of what sounds like engines and feel vibrations. Am I on a plane? No, I can’t be. I don’t fly.

My body jerks, and my eyes spring open. The first thing I see is a row of empty seats facing me. My chest starts to tighten. My head snaps to the right, and there’s a window. All I see is a red blinking light out on a wing. My breath comes quicker.

I’m on a plane.

My palms start to sweat, and my stomach knots.

I’m on a fucking plane.

I don’t fly. Preston knows that. All of my friends know I have aerophobia—a fear of flying.

I undo my seatbelt with shaky hands and stand. I see the back of three male heads about five rows ahead of me. I run toward them, not knowing what I plan on doing but needing to get off this plane.

“Shit!” one says when I near.

The other two turn to face me right as I approach. One stands and grabs my right wrist. I go to open my mouth, but he yanks me down to the floor.

I scream and try to push myself up when the third stands. A plate falls to the floor along with a fork. I grab the fork with my free hand. When a guy bends down to pull me up, I lift the utensil and jam it into the nearest piece of flesh I can find.

I’m screaming, thrashing around on my stomach, when someone grabs my hair and slams my head into the floor. Then everything goes black.

 

I continue to hug the toilet, retching all the alcohol I had last night along with whatever they gave me. My vision is still a little foggy, my body still drowsy. It not only knocked me out but also left me with a pounding headache. Or that could very much well be the hangover.

I hear the sound of shoes clapping on the hardwood in the adjoining bedroom before they enter the bathroom. I stay on my knees with my head down, refusing to look up.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see a pair of shiny black shoes stop beside me. Whoever he is, he doesn’t say anything and just stands there looking down at me as I continue to vomit so much I start to dry heave.

“Go away,” I order roughly, knowing it’s my brother. He said he’d be back for me. He probably realized I wasn’t going anywhere with him after he dropped me off at home. He’s such a fucking ass.

He continues to stand there, being the dick of a brother he is. I sit back on my heels. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and place my pounding head in my hands.

“Get up.” He finally speaks.

I look up to see a pair of baby blue eyes, and I blink, thinking he’ll go away like magic, but he doesn’t. Avery stands above me. I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. “Is this some kind of a joke?” I ask, looking behind him for my brother. They have to be playing some very shitty trick on me. “Preston?” I call out, and my voice squeaks.

He doesn’t answer or laugh. He’s dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and black slacks with his hands in the pockets. A skinny black tie around his neck. He looks good and dangerous.

His dark blue eyes stare down at me. He doesn’t look annoyed or happy. Just indifferent.

“I said go away,” I snap, narrowing my eyes on him. “I don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing, Avery.” I suck in a long breath and scream out. “Preston …?”

His hand shoots out, and he grabs me by my hair and drags me up off the floor, cutting me off.

My scalp stings, and I hiss in a breath at his roughness. “What the hell …?” I try to fight him off, but he’s too strong. He shoves my back against the cool wall, and my head hits it with a thud. My eyes fall closed as the room starts to spin all over again, making my nausea return.

“Look at me,” he demands as his hand wraps around my throat, holding me in place.

I open my heavy eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. His hand tightens on my neck, and it takes my air away.

His blue eyes narrow on me, and he leans in, placing his face in front of mine. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.”

Gripping his wrist, I try to get his hand off my throat, but it’s no use. My lips part, trying to suck in a breath, but nothing comes. My back presses into the cold wall, and I release his wrist and place them on his black button-down. I try to push him away, but he just steps closer, his body pressing into mine. Dots form in my vision, and tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall or show any kind of weakness.

Not this time.

Not for this man!

“Do you understand?” he demands.

My mouth opens to answer, but nothing comes out. The dots double, and I can feel my heartbeat in my face, making my already sore cheek throb.

“Answer me!”

“Y-yeesss,” I manage to choke out.

He releases my neck and steps away from me. I crumple to the floor once again like a sack of bricks. My already bruised knees sting from the force of meeting the cold tile. Coughing and holding my neck, I take a deep breath, and it burns. The tears still threaten to fall, but I hold them back.

My headache intensifies, and I feel the rush of blood pounding loudly in my ears.

“Get up.”

I look up at him, and he glares down at me, daring me to defy him again. His hands are back in his pockets, and his muscular legs wide. He looks relaxed, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s waiting for me to disobey again. He wants to slam me back up against the wall, and this time, I have a feeling he won’t let go until I pass out.

Deciding I’m better conscious than knocked out, I slowly rise on my shaky legs. His eyes stay on mine.

“Where the fuck am I, Avery?” I ask, and my voice is scratchy. I’m surprised I was even able to get a word out. “And why did you bring me here?” It doesn’t make any sense. Eleven years and all of a sudden here I am.

He ignores my questions. “Your clothes are in the closet.” He looks me up and down, pulling his lip back in disgust, adding, “You look like shit and need food. Get dressed and meet me downstairs for dinner.” Without waiting for me to argue, he walks out.

I make my way over to the sink on shaky legs and look at myself in the mirror. I have a bruise on my cheek, a cut on my lip, and bruises dot my shoulders and arms. I know they’re not from him. They are from the five men who I tried to fight last night. No matter what I did, they were ready for it.

I turn the sink on and splash my face with cold water and then rinse my mouth out. I see a toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the countertop, and I snatch them, needing to get the taste of vomit and lingering Fireball out of my mouth.

Once done with that, I yank the towel off the railing and dry my face, careful of the bruises.

I look at myself once again. My tank top is covered in dirt from being shoved down to the ground last night, and it hurts to swallow.

Avery can kiss my ass!

I refuse to bend to his demands. I haven’t seen him in years, and then all of a sudden, I see him three times in one month. What is his game?

Why does he even care? I left a world that would end up killing us both. Now he’s dragged me back into hell.

I pat myself down and realize I don’t have any pockets for my phone. Walking into the bedroom, I yank the comforter back to see if it’s on the bed. When I don’t see anything, I fall to the floor and yank up the bed skirt. There’s nothing under the bed. “Where is it?” I growl to myself. I search all over the bedroom for my phone and my purse but come up empty-handed. I go over to the other door and yank it open, finding a walk-in closet. I ignore the rows of hanging clothes and go to the black safe that sits on the floor in the back. It’s about three feet tall and two feet wide with a keypad. I rub my hands over my face and sigh. My mind is too foggy. My body too tired to think clearly. “Think.” What numbers would he use to unlock a safe? I try his birthday. Nothing. I try his father’s. Mother’s. Both of his brother’s. Letting out a long breath, I try mine. I laugh when it denies me too. Of course, he wouldn’t use mine. I mean nothing to him.

Sitting back on my heels, I run a hand through my tangled hair. Fuck! Now what?

I stand and turn around to leave the closet but stop in my tracks when I spot the stuffed bunny sitting on the top shelf to the right. Its black eyes staring at me, freezing me to my core.

 

“Happy seventh birthday, Presleigh,” my best friend, Avery, says.

“Thank you,” I say as I take the little box from him.

“Open it,” he says excitedly.

I look up at my mommy. She told me I couldn’t open any of my presents until my party later. “Go ahead,” she urges.

I pull back the pink wrapping paper and toss it to the floor to reveal a white box. I tear it open as well to see a stuffed bunny inside. “She’s so pretty,” I tell him, smiling down at her. She’s white with big, floppy ears and a little pink nose. I squeeze her to my chest and beam. “Thank you, Avery.”

My mom picks up the trash and walks away, and I catch him staring at me with a smile on his face. “What?” I ask.

He takes a step toward me and flicks one of my pigtails. “Your hair reminds me of the bunny’s floppy ears.” He laughs. “I’m gonna call you Bunny.”

 

My heart pounds in my chest at that memory. It’s like a ghost that haunts me. He kept it after all these years? Why? To shove it in my face? To make me remember that he was once my friend, then lover turned enemy?

I practically run out of the closet and slam it shut. He’s not gonna play this game with me. Not now. Not ever.

I exit my room and come to a long hallway. My options are to turn left or right. In front of me is a wrought-iron railing, so I walk over to it and look down into the foyer of his house. I’m not surprised to see that it’s just as big and expensive looking as the houses we grew up in. I make my way over to the winding staircase to my left, keeping my right hand on the rail for support. The stairs are steep, and my legs still shake. My bare feet hit the white tile floor of the foyer, and I look around. Soft crème walls and high ceilings. No pictures. No art. Bare. Just like my house.

Slowly, I explore the large living room over to the adjoining room.

I walk into the dining room, and he looks up at me from his place at the head of the large mahogany table. It could easily fit twelve guests. His jaw tightens and his eyes narrow when he sees I didn’t change. Then a slow smile spreads across his face, and it looks more intimidating than his scowl. He lets out a deep laugh, and I hate how it makes butterflies form in my stomach. This is bad. Really bad.

“Something funny?” I snap.

He places his elbow on the table and runs his fingers along his lips. His blue eyes slowly look me up and down. And I wish I would have changed into something that covered more of my skin. “Just admiring how much you like being punished.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Punished?” My mouth goes dry, and I immediately rub my tender neck.

He nods once and then drops his eyes to his phone. “Every time you disobey me, I’ll punish you.”

I tighten my jaw. “Fuck you.”

“That makes two punishments. Wanna make it three?” he asks, not looking back up at me.

I decide to shut my mouth and plop down on the seat to his left. I take a look around to see a floor-to-ceiling window behind him and nothing but woods beyond it ...

“Stop.”

My eyes go to his, and he must have been watching me. He sits back in his chair. “Let’s get the ground rules out of the way. One, you’re mine.” My eyes narrow. “Two, I’ll do with you what I want, whenever I want.”

“You will not …”

“Three, you disobey, I’ll punish you. And four, don’t even think about running.”

So he was watching me.

“I placed a tracker in your left arm when you arrived,” he says calmly as if we’re discussing the weather and not my imprisonment.

“You what?” My hands instantly go to my arm and feel around for a lump. I find one a couple of inches up from my wrist.

“It has an alarm on it. If you run, it will alert me.” He finally lifts his eyes to look at mine. “I will find you. And you will not like what I do to you.”

I swallow at the threat in his voice.

“Why am I here, Avery?” I ask, tears threatening my eyes again. I’m his prisoner. He’s gonna make me his own personal slave. He’ll beat me if I defy him. Well, I refuse to do whatever he says just because he thinks he’s God. He can beat me all he wants. I can take a punch or even a kick. Him slapping my face felt more like foreplay than abuse.

I can tell he’s trying to decide if he should answer my previous question or not. Finally, he speaks. “Your brother …”

“I’m here because of Preston?” I snap.

“You are collateral.”

I hang my head. What the hell has my brother gotten me into? What could he possibly be doing working with Avery?

Foggy thoughts of a phone call with Preston the other night comes to mind.

 

“Presleigh! You don’t understand what he is capable of. How dangerous he is,” he urges.

“I do.”

“Get your ass off this phone and on the jet. Now, Presleigh. If you don’t, he will make a move.” He growls. “And it’ll be too late.”

 

Guess this is his move. To kidnap me for something my brother has done. My chest tightens as my pussy gets wet.

I’m so fucked!

“Let me call him.” The words rush out of my split lips.

“No.”

“Avery,” I snap. “I wanna talk to Preston.” I’m gonna rip him a new one. “Where is my phone?”

He shakes his head. “You are not allowed to use any electronic devices.”

“You’re joking?” I ask as my mouth drops.

I hang my head when he says nothing. My family was just as twisted as Avery’s, but Avery and I always said we would never become them. Guess he changed his mind. My brother, on the other hand, was always in trouble. He was like both my father and my mother. I swore for a long time I was adopted. “How much?”

I look up at him, and he stares at me with an expressionless look. Eleven years ago, I could tell you what he was feeling anytime I looked at him. I guess over the years, he has learned to hide them. I’m sure his father taught him that, or he just no longer feels at all. “How much?” I demand when he ignores me.

“It’s not about money.”

“Bullshit!” I snap, slamming my palm on the table. If my brother is involved, then it’s about money. I’ve had to help bail his ass out several times over the years.

He says nothing. I hate the silence more than anything.

I fist my hand down on the table. “Then what is it about?” I snap.

“You don’t need to know,” he says simply.

“This is my life!” I shout, feeling my chest tighten. “And I don’t want to spend it with you.” I can’t. I’ll die. I won’t be able to survive this again. I got lucky before, but he’ll make sure the job is done this time. And I refuse to die for Avery. He turned his back on me once, and that was enough.

“That is not your decision to make.” His voice is calm. I’m anything but.

“One million.” I offer desperately to pay him off. Maybe he’ll let me go. Money always talked with him and his family.

He can’t hide the surprise in his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll pay you to let me go.”

“You don’t have a million.”

He has no clue what I have. “I’ll pay two mill—”

He shakes his head, interrupting me. “No.”

I grind my teeth and fist my hands on the table. “It’s a simple solution,” I say although I have no idea what the problem really is.

“And I said no.” He narrows his eyes on me, daring me to argue.

I do. “Why not?”

Instead of answering me, he looks back down at his phone, dismissing me.

Fuck no!

I’m not the same innocent, naïve girl he once dated. I’m a grown ass woman who doesn’t take shit. Especially whatever game he’s trying to play with me.

I reach across the table, snatch his phone out of his hand, and throw it across the formal dining room. It bounces off the tile before skidding to a stop when hitting a wall. “Why the fuck not?” I shout.

He reaches over the table and slaps me across the face so hard that my head snaps to the right. Before I can recover, he’s up and out of his seat with his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, slamming my face down onto the table and making it rattle from the force before I can even take in a breath.

I’m able to hold in the cry that threatens to come up. With his free hand, he yanks the chair out from underneath me, making me stand, bent at the waist on shaky legs.

I suck in a ragged breath that makes my already sore throat and pounding head worse. “Avery …” I whimper as those tears threaten my eyes again. “Please …” I beg, not knowing what the hell is going on and hating myself for letting that word escape. I don’t beg. Not anymore.

“Spread your legs,” he growls, ignoring my plea.

I try to shake my head, but he holds it in place, my already throbbing cheek pressed against the cold surface. When he realizes I’m not going to obey, he yanks my shorts down my hips with his free hand.

“Avery …” I squeal. “What are you …?”

“I told you I was gonna punish you for not obeying,” he says, interrupting me with satisfaction in his voice.

A sob gets lodged in my throat when I feel my shorts hit the floor. “Step out,” he orders. I obey because what other choice do I have? He kicks them away. Then his shoes are spreading my wobbly legs effortlessly. I don’t even try to fight him, though I could if I really wanted to.

I’m so fucking wet for him that it’s pathetic. Even if I do hate him, my body doesn’t understand that.

I jump when I feel his fingers run along my pussy. I hadn’t worn any underwear to bed. “You’re a bastard,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage.

“And you’re a whore.”

His words make me flinch, but they’re true. I can’t argue them. And I hate that he knows me so well after only being back in my life for such little time.

“Tell me, Bunny. Why do you spread your legs for every man?” he asks casually.

I don’t answer.

“Is it because you miss me? Is it because none of them satisfy you like I once did?” he whispers, and I try to push him off me, but I’m unsuccessful.

He slides a finger into me, and I bite my lip, refusing to give him any indication that I like the way it feels to be so intimate with him once again. I know what he plans on doing, and it’s not make love.

“I want you like this one last time, Bunny.”

It wasn’t a dream. He was in my house. And we had had sex. Now it all makes sense.

“I told you that you are mine,” he says, adding a second finger.

I close my eyes tightly. “That means if I tell you to meet me at the fucking door on your knees when I come home, you are naked and waiting, ready to suck my cock. If I tell you to be naked lying in bed with your ass up in the air, that means be ready to get fucked in the ass.” My body trembles as he removes his fingers before pushing them in again. Slowly. Taunting me. “That means if I tell you no, you shut the fuck up. Do you understand?”

He removes his fingers, and I wait for them to enter me again, but instead, I hear the sound of him unclasping his belt.

It’s so loud, it’s deafening in the silent dining room.

Then he hits me with it on my bare ass.

I cry out, fighting against his hand holding my face down while standing up on my tiptoes as it slaps my sensitive skin. The bite feels like a thousand bee stings.

“Fucking answer me!” he roars, hitting me again.

I knew that one was coming, so I managed to swallow the sob that comes up, but I can’t hold back the tears that spill down the side of my face and onto the table. And I hate that I like them. I hate that my pussy is wet.

“Yes,” I croak out.

He slams the belt down on the table beside me, and then his hand is back between my legs. And I close my eyes tightly, embarrassed that I like the way he is treating me. Like a cheap whore. Just as he said I was.

“That’s my good, Bunny,” he whispers when those fingers enter me again, spreading me. “You’re so fucking wet,” he growls.

I rise on my tiptoes, letting out a strangled moan while he roughly works them in and out of me. My heart is pounding, cheek throbbing, and my breath quickening.

“You’re just full of surprises.”

His hand tightens on the back of my neck, and his fingers pick up their pace. The tears continue to slowly fall, but my hips start to move back and forth with his fingers, needing more. The table digs into my hips, bruises already forming, but I don’t care. That feeling that I’ve been missing for so long is building. No matter how many guys I’ve slept with, none of them ever made me come like him.

Fuck!

He removes his fingers quickly, and I whimper in protest. He picks the belt up and lets go of my neck with his other hand. I think he’s gonna spank me again, but instead, he grabs my hands and pulls them behind my back. Quickly, he wraps the leather around my upper arms, pulling them together tightly. Arching my back, I bite my lip to keep from crying out from the pain.

He ties it off and then his free hand goes back to holding the side of my face down against the table. I swallow as wetness pools between my legs. I’m so wet I can feel it running down my inner thigh.

He steps back into me, and I hear his zipper being lowered. I suck in a breath when I feel the head of his cock press against my soaked entrance.

“Tell me to stop, Bunny,” he whispers roughly.

And I know he’s fighting the same internal battle that I am.

I hate him!

He hates me!

But right here, right now, we both want what we’ve been missing for years.

“You have to say the words,” he growls, getting impatient.

No matter how many times he wants to slap me around, he would never cross this line. He would never fuck me unless I allowed it. And I fucking want it.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, pressing my ass into him. “Please, Avery …”

I whimper when he spreads my wet lips open to accommodate his large size, my words trailing off.

I expect him to shove his cock into me and take me rough and fast like he did with his fingers. Instead, he surprises me by slowly sliding inside me like he did the other night. And that makes it worse.

New tears come to my eyes at the feel of him, and it takes what little breath I have away.

“Fuck, Bunny.” He breathes pulling his hips back, and I whimper. “I almost forgot how good your cunt feels.”

I never forgot how good you felt.

No amount of alcohol or drugs could erase my mind. Memories. They’re a sickness with no cure. And I’ve been slowly dying ever since I lost him.

I suck in a long breath when he glides forward again, slower than last time. And without thought, I shove my hips back, trying to push against him. My silent plea that I want more.

Need more.

He chuckles, and I close my eyes tightly. The sound making me feel more ashamed than anything he could possibly do to me.

Now he knows that I want him.

I’d rather him think I had a temporary lack of insanity than think I willingly gave it. That after all these years I still want him.

I’m so fucked up.

So I fight.

I use my chest and legs to push myself off the table. I get about three inches before his hand shoves the side of my face back down. I start wiggling my hips back and forth. “Get off me, Avery!” I growl in frustration when I’m unsuccessful.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he releases the side of my face and leans his chest on top of my back, pressing my hips against the edge of the table and placing all his weight on me. Making it hard to breathe, he then slides his hands into my hair, gripping it tightly. He yanks my head off the cool wood, pulling it back, and I hiss in a breath. His hips go faster, fucking me with pure rage. Hard and fast. My eyes close, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes.

He places his lips by my ear. “You want me to take it, Bunny?” he demands roughly.

I don’t answer. I can’t. If I open my mouth, I’ll be done for. My pussy is already wetter from the new position. The domination.

I hate myself!

I hate him!

“Is this what you do with the other men you fuck? Hmm? Let them take you home and then pretend you don’t want it?”

New tears run down my face at his words.

“Make them overpower you to let them feel like they’re in charge?” he growls. His hips slamming into mine rattle the table.

“That’s not the case now, Bunny. I am in fucking charge! Do you understand me?” He pulls back and then slams forward. A sob comes out of my parted lips when he hits that spot, making me wetter. “Fucking say it!” he snaps, his hips continuing their assault.

“You’re … in … charge,” I manage to get out on shaky breaths.

He doesn’t let up on his hold of me or his fucking. He’s ruthless. And before I know it, my lips are open, gasping for a breath, and my eyes are heavy as that sensation starts to build.

“I feel your pussy tightening around my cock,” he taunts.

I whimper. He never was one to talk during sex, and pure jealousy courses through me at the thought of all the other women he has slept with since me.

My arms have gone numb, and my back hurts from him pressing them along with the belt into my skin and muscles. I can feel the bruises that have already formed on my hips from the sharp edge of the table.

But none of it matters. That sensation starts to build more, and I suck in a deep breath as he pulls back and slams into me over and over.

“Tell me you’re about to come, Bunny,” he demands in my ear roughly.

Sweat covers my body, and the buttons on his shirt dig into my back and arms with each thrust. “I’m … almost … there …” My voice trails off when he yanks my head back even farther, making it harder to breathe at this angle. All I can see is the white ceiling above us with the crystal chandelier hanging. My body begins to warm. It starts in my thighs and moves to my stomach. I close my eyes, waiting for it to take over my body completely.

Without warning, he thrusts his hips forward, and I feel his cock pulse inside me as he comes with a grunt in my ear.

He stays that way for a few seconds and then pulls out, letting go of my hair. My face falls onto the table with a heavy thud, and I suck in breath after breath. My body shakes with need.

He didn’t let me come!

I close my eyes, panting as I realize that was his plan all along. That was my punishment.

Fucking bastard!

“Stand up,” he demands from behind me.

I pull myself up off the table with a whimper. My body screaming at the movement. My tangled hair falls around my face, and I’m all but gasping for air. My face wet from tears and sweat.

“Turn around and drop to your knees.”

A shiver runs through me at his voice. It’s no longer rough. Now it holds authority once again. As if what we just did didn’t happen.

I do as he says, mainly because my shaking knees can’t hold me up. Avoiding eye contact, I try to ignore my pussy throbbing with need between my legs. I bow my head, not wanting him to see me like this—desperate for him.

“Look at me, Bunny.”

I hate that tears still run down my cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and look up at him. His blue eyes stare down at me without any emotion, and the tears slip from my eyes as a whimper escapes, unable to hold it back.

He reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb over the handprint on my face as if he fucking cares that anyone slapped me around. “So fucking gorgeous.” He says it like he still cares about me, but he can’t. We can’t go down that road again. He can keep me as his fucking sex slave as long as he wants, but this is all I can be to him. Because the truth is, I don’t have much longer. “Even when you cry.”

Then he pushes my wild hair from my face and steps into me. His semi-hard cock is covered in our arousal and right in front of my face. His black slacks no longer clean. Cum leaks from the tip, and my mouth starts to water, thinking of what he will taste like. I didn’t give him head very often back then, and it never seemed to bother him.

Things have changed.

I try to shift my arms behind my back, the belt digging into my skin to the point I think it’s cut me.

“Open that pretty fucking mouth and clean me off,” he orders, taking his cock in his free hand.

I hate that the need to get off is so strong that I will do whatever he says in order to please him.

Without argument, I lick my lips and open them.