Chapter Three
She’d only had sex with two different men in her life, both assholes, but neither of them looked like Bain. His body resembled a sculpture chiseled out of marble, hard and cut. His cock would give any man penis-envy. She tried not to stare, but he was so brazen and confident and very nice to look at. Her chair was poised right outside the open bathroom door, so she could see everything from his tight ass to the trail of hair leading to that monster cock. His body was a living canvas with tattoos all the way down his arms and torso. She supposed she could look away, but she didn’t want to.
For a killer, it surprised her when he began adding scented bubbles to his bath. Bain’s bathroom had an original claw-foot tub. She’d always liked antiques over modern décor. Once he stepped in, he groaned and sank into the water. He was so big, he barely fit his body into the cramped space.
This house reminded her of her grandmother’s old place with the decorative crown moldings and hot water radiators. Scarlett had spent a lot of time at her grandmother’s home until she died. Those were some of her best childhood memories. And it was a long time ago.
“This is good stuff, Scarlett.”
It was odd how this murderer seemed so personable. He must be a sociopath. He had spoken with Alexei briefly in Russian before casually pulling the trigger—no warning, no emotion. She hoped he didn’t do the same to her without notice. Maybe next time he fed her, she’d die with a sandwich in her mouth and bullet in the head.
“You speak English well,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s my first language.”
“But the Russian. It sounded native.”
He chuckled, rubbing the suds over his strong arm up to his shoulder. “I speak a lot of languages. At least six that I can think of offhand. It’s necessary in my line of work, something we were taught.”
“By those same men who starved you?”
“Exactly, so you can imagine I got the dialects down pat fast.”
She only knew English. Learning new things took time and money, both things she didn’t have in abundance. Now she’d never get a chance to do any of the things on her bucket list. Scarlett wiggled in her seat to test the bonds, but they were secure, even digging into her waist. It would be the perfect time to escape, but she’d have a real opportunity soon enough. When he’d offered her his dirty bathwater, she’d only agreed because it meant he’d have to untie her.
“Do you live here alone?” she asked.
“Just me. That’s how I like it.”
She copied his earlier questions. “No wife? Kids?”
The water sloshed as he shifted positions, but she could still only see his shoulders and the back of his head. “Hell no. Family would be a complication. I hate complications.”
How could anyone not crave a family, stability, the all-American dream? Didn’t everyone want the white picket fence? Even after what she’d been through in relationships, she still dreamed of that elusive happily ever after. Some days that hope, even if unrealistic, was all that kept her going.
Bain must be lonely. He wasn’t young. He was mature and weathered—all man. Her thoughts began to drift into uncomfortable territory. His shoulders were broad and corded with muscle, his intricate tattoos trying to reveal his secrets. What stories would they tell?
What is wrong with me?
He was her enemy, the man who would probably murder her, not her knight in shining armor. She’d always had the worst taste in men. Now that she was old enough to think objectively, Scarlett blamed a lot of her poor decision making on her deadbeat father. Desperate for acceptance, part of her forever tried to gain his approval through the eyes of men,. It was the only reason she could be attracted to Bain, thriving off his compliments and yearning for his affection. She knew it was wrong and twisted, but she couldn’t help herself. Maybe he’d see something special in her, unlike his other victims, unlike Alexei Semenov.
“So you’ll just stay by yourself forever? That sounds lonely.” Scarlett tried to convince herself she was just calming the beast, befriending her captor so he’d have pity on her. But that was a lie. Bain interested her—the reporter, the victim … the woman.
“You’re not married,” he said.
“That’s not by choice. My past relationship didn’t exactly work out according to plan.”
“If you’re so worried about being lonely, why didn’t you make it work?”
Scarlett didn’t want to talk anymore. She felt her body stiffening, closing from the inside out. It was easy to block out the past, but it was always there, eating away at her. Soon there’d be nothing left.
Bain turned around and looked at her. “I thought you wanted to talk?”
“Not anymore.” She refused to look him in the eye.
“Soft spot?”
“Whatever,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s why I like to be alone. People always disappoint. The only person I trust is myself.” He rolled out his shoulders and settled back into the tub. “Now, tell me why you didn’t make it work.”
She narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “I said I’m done talking.”
“Actually, you’re not. We had an agreement, you and I. You know the consequences if you piss me off.”
Tears stung her eyes. He couldn’t make her talk about herself. Then again, if she wanted to live she had to humor him. She could lie, give a good story to appease him, but she was all about the truth. It was why she became a reporter in the first place. She started by helping families being taken advantage of by unethical landlords and women struggling to recoup child support from absentee fathers. She wanted to make the world a better place.
“I told you why I didn’t make it work. My last boyfriend was abusive. I couldn’t live like that,” she said.
“But you wouldn’t be lonely.”
She shook her head. “There are things worse than being lonely.”
He ran his hands over his scalp, the short buzz cut making a scraping sound. “Exactly my point.”
Was he referring to the men who’d abused him? “You said you wanted to tell your story. What’s your reason for living here alone?”
“If you’re talking about a woman, it’s not possible for me.” He rose to his feet, the water rushing down his hard, muscled frame as he stood. This time his back was to her, each muscle hard and defined. He reached for a towel, first drying his face, then wrapping it securely around his lower half. She studied the artwork on his torso as he moved. “I was one of the oldest boys in the compound, and because of my looks, they trained me to seduce women. It’s all a blur now, the fucking, the killing. I really don’t want to remember those days.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You asked why I’m alone.” He walked into his bedroom. Bain twirled her chair around, with her still securely on it, as he left the en-suite. “That’s why. I was forced to be with so many different women for so many fucking years that it numbed me. Emotions, love, everything—it’s all gone. Why would I choose to be with a woman now? I just need to be left alone.”
“People can change, recover from unspeakable horrors. I’ve seen it. I know it’s possible.”
He put on black boxer briefs that hugged his hard ass and strong legs. Scarlett watched him walk about the room from the closet to the dresser. He finally tugged on a pair of navy jogging pants but didn’t put on a shirt. She tried not to be too obvious as she snuck in peeks of him. Would he be as hard as he looked? Bain settled on the corner of his king-sized bed, staring at her with such intensity that her words caught in her throat.
“You have no idea the horrors I’ve lived, sweetheart. I promise whatever you’ve been through is a cake walk compared to my shit life.”
“There’s good left in everyone,” she whispered. Scarlett wouldn’t let him drag her down. She’d been fighting depression for too many damn years. She was barely a shell of woman, fragile and empty. She wanted to think positive, to improve herself and move upward—and she firmly believed Bain could do the same.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Those bastards said I was handsome, irresistible to women. That’s why they used me.” Bain stood and approached her, grabbed the edge of her chair and dragged it back to his bed. He sat back down on his mattress, only a breath between them now. “All that’s changed now,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Bain took her wrist and placed her palm on his chest. His skin was so firm and warm, her pussy throbbing from just that one touch. “Feel me. Really feel me.”
She wasn’t sure what point he was making until she began to smooth her fingertips over his chest, his shoulders, and then his face. With a gentle caress, she traced all the ridges of old scars she hadn’t really noticed until now. He was covered in them. To say she was shocked would be an understatement.
“Not so handsome anymore, eh? I try to hide this shit with ink, but it’s not the physical scars that bother me the most. They’ve fucked up my head so bad that killing’s the only thing that keeps me sane.”
She swallowed hard. “I think you’re perfect.” The words slipped from her lips before she really thought better. It wasn’t a lie. Bain was the roughest, scariest man she’d ever seen, but also irresistible and hardcore in a way that made her body light up for the first time in her life.
Her hand was still on his cheek, his rough stubble tickling her fingers. She noticed the thick scars under his eye, and she was tempted to kiss it better.
Whatever she thought they’d shared—a moment, a breakthrough—was gone when he bolted to his feet as if her touch scorched him.
He paced back and forth, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a two-minute mile. What had she said to upset him? Had she pegged him wrong? Was he ready to kill? Maybe he was about to prove her wrong once again, just as Jerry and Michael had. She didn’t want to believe it, but maybe some people were beyond redemption.
****
He’d fucked up. Bain knew he shouldn’t have brought the witness home with him. He should have just killed her off site and dumped the body. It didn’t matter if she disappeared, as long as it didn’t lead back to him. All his efforts had been for the benefit of Killer of Kings—he refused to look like an unprofessional. Bain wasn’t sure why Boss’s opinion mattered so much. It shouldn’t.
Now this girl was pushing his buttons, testing him, making him feel things he shouldn’t. Boss had made it clear she had to die. He expected Bain to follow through and clean up the potential shit storm that could develop from taking a hostage. But he wasn’t ready to follow that order. In fact, he didn’t like orders at all. It’s the main reason he worked for himself all these years, taking solo contracts, but never committing to anything long term. He couldn’t stand being smothered, having any human lord over him.
“Your turn,” he said. Bain needed to move onto something new. He desperately needed a distraction from his traitorous thoughts. And his fucking migraine was growing in intensity, messing with his head.
“For what?”
“The bath,” he said. “You wanted to go after me, right? The longer you wait the colder the water gets.”
She frowned. “Fine.”
He squatted down next to her chair and began to undo the tight knots. She rested her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. No more touching. “Okay, you have ten minutes.” He dropped the ropes to the ground.
When his phone started ringing downstairs in the kitchen, he ignored it. He knew it was information on his next hit, even though he’d asked for a text, but Boss would have to wait.
“You can go get that,” she said, standing up. “I’d rather undress in private anyway.”
“Yeah, not going to happen. I wasn’t born yesterday.” He sat down on her chair, his legs splayed as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Get undressed. I already told you I’d see you naked.”
“Well, I’m shy.”
Bain wasn’t going to lie, he was disappointed. He’d been looking forward to getting an eyeful of Scarlett’s lush curves. His cock was already firm just thinking of them. But he wasn’t going to force her to strip if she refused. “Then you’ll go without bathing,” he said.
With his mood soured, he ordered her out of his room and down the staircase as he followed right behind her. Once in the kitchen, he pointed to her chair as he grabbed his cell off the table.
“Do you still want me to interview you?” she asked.
“Story time’s over.” He’d been a fool to entertain Scarlett. She’d be his fucking undoing if he continued to play her games.
He called Boss back. “You have the information?”
“You deal with the problem?”
Bain growled, grinding his teeth together rather than speaking.
“Is that a yes?” Boss asked.
“I don’t repeat myself. I said it would be handled.”
There was a brief silence.
“I’ll text you the address and details. This mark needs to take a dive off one of the balconies at lunch hour tomorrow. We need a street full of witnesses for his suicide. Can you handle that?”
“Wire the payment,” said Bain. “I’ll call you when it’s complete.”
He turned off the phone before Boss could add any smartass comment about doing things right or not fucking up again. A lecture was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. Bain took a cleansing breath and set his phone back down.
The chair was empty.
Are you fucking kidding me? The little reporter moved fast. Too bad her escape attempt was in vain. His house was more secure than Fort Knox, so there was no getting out without his security code. He checked around the main floor, not finding her. The house wasn’t huge, so there were only so many places she could hide. It was fucking late, and he needed to get some sleep in preparation for his hit tomorrow. He’d have to be up early and plan out his strategy since he’d been given less than twenty-four hours prep time.
He ran back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. His bedroom still had the fragrant scent of the bath water. She was nowhere to be found, which meant she could only be one other place—the basement. He hated going down there.
After reaching the door leading to the lower level, he flicked on the light for the lone bulb. It hardly cast any light, creating eerie shadows against the walls. He took the steps slowly, cautiously. Scarlett was feisty, so he didn’t trust her not to blindside him with a pipe or crowbar. There was a lot of old shit stored in the basement when he’d bought the house, but he couldn’t bring himself to clear it out.
“I know you’re down here, sweetheart. I’m really not in the mood, so make it easier for yourself and stop playing games.”
No response.
“If I have to climb these stairs without you, I’ll lock the fucking door and let you starve to death. It won’t be fast, and it won’t be pleasant. Is that what you want?”
The sound of an empty Mason jar tipping over caught his attention. She was behind the furnace. Bain cracked his knuckles as he stalked closer. When he neared, she darted out the other side and ran for the stairs. As she tried to crawl up on her hands and knees, he caught her around the waist, tugging her back down and trapping her against the wall with his body. Bain held both her wrists down at her sides.
“Let me go!” she screamed. He gave her credit for struggling like a wild woman. It took a bit of effort to secure her thrashing body.
“Maybe if you hadn’t worn a skirt you would have made it up the stairs, but that’s as far as you would have gotten.”
“Get off me!”
“Settle down,” he said. “If you don’t stop I’ll tie you back to the chair and leave you here.” His head was fucking pounding. He released her wrist to rub the back of his neck, and she used the opportunity to pound her little fist against his bare chest.
“That all you got?”
They began to struggle again, and she managed to get up the stairs this time. Why was he even humoring her? He stopped to pick up one of his Glocks from the kitchen, and then caught her in the hallway, grabbing one arm in a firm hold.
“Hit me! I don’t care,” she shouted, her eyes filled with tears.
“How about I put a bullet in your head instead, like I should have when I found you?”
Her struggle suddenly ceased when he aimed the gun at her temple, the power in her arms going limp as if her fire had been doused. “Do it,” she whispered. “Maybe you’ll be doing me a favor.”
Her green eyes were so big and child-like even though she was very much a woman. She intrigued him. It was the way she’d said her last words. Her tone had changed, as if she’d lost her very soul. “You want to die now?”
“I’ve been to hell and back already. I’m well aware there are things worse than death.”
He released his breath. She had secrets of her own, but he’d let her keep them for now. When he didn’t feel like shit, he’d get her to confess it all.
“Well, it’s your lucky day because I can’t kill you yet.” He pointed to the staircase going up, and this time she followed his order. “I have to be sure no one knew you were at Semenov’s place. I can’t have any more loose ends. Since I have a job tomorrow, I’ll be taking you with me. You’ve shown you can’t be trusted.”
“You can’t earn my loyalty by kidnapping me.”
He closed his bedroom door behind them. “Get on the bed,” he said.
“What?”
“The bed. Get on it. It’s past fucking midnight, and I have to be up early.”
She walked backward, not taking her eyes off him. If he’d wanted to, he could have beat the shit out her, raped her, and killed her a dozen different ways. The fact she still had a look of fear in her eyes was starting to piss him off.
The light hurt his head, so as soon as she sat on the bed, he turned off all the lights. Only a faint glow from the moon filtered in through the window. He didn’t have curtains on the second-floor rooms. Bain couldn’t even count the number of nights he’d lie awake on his bed, staring up at the moon, feeling nothing and everything at the same time. He was fucked up, and there was no way to undo the damage. He was waste of breath. When he died, he’d leave nothing behind, not even a legacy or heir … just death.
He tossed his joggers and slipped under the blankets.
She looked stiff and uncomfortable. “You going to sleep in your fancy little suit?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Suit yourself.”
He rolled to his back, draping an arm over his eyes as he let out a low groan. It would be simple to take a couple pills to ease the agony, but he didn’t trust any kind of painkiller. After being drugged, beaten, and starved when he was young, he never wanted to allow anything to alter his mind again.
The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
He listened to Scarlett breathing next to him, her weight shifting slightly when she moved.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re in pain. I can tell. What’s wrong?”
He shook his head to dismiss her. “It’s just a headache. I get them all the time.”
“Really?” She sat up in the bed, wiggling closer until she was on her knees. When her hand touched his face, he flinched. “Shhh,” she cooed, massaging his temples in a rhythmic pattern.
He didn’t stop her.
“My grandmother used to do this to me when I had a headache.” Her hands worked some kind of magic, soothing the ache and making him feel human again. “I guess it’s an old family secret passed down to me. I never tried in on someone else before.”
“Why’re you doing this for me?” he asked. Bain seized her hand and hoisted himself up into a sitting position.
She didn’t answer him. They looked at each other, and that same fucking feeling he had earlier came back. This time he wasn’t as strong. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer. He paused briefly, then kissed her hard on the mouth. What he didn’t expect was the way her lips melted against his with no resistance at all.