My piercing cries for help obliterated the air, but Rafe lay unresponsive on the ground, his crumpled body unmoving no matter how much I begged him to wake up. The two brothers of the group had me by the arms, their fingers banding around my biceps in bruising grips. They dragged me away from him, and I dug my toes into the ground.
“Rafe!”
“Screaming isn’t gonna do anything. In case you hadn’t noticed, there isn’t a whole lot around these parts.”
My gaze shifted through the darkness. Trees surrounded us in all directions, some tall and skinny, some with trunks wider than these two men put together. Ferns and other brush interspersed the isolated landscape. They pushed me further away from Rafe, from the road we’d come in on that was little more than a wide trail.
The guy Rafe had punched started down a steep path between two massive tree trunks covered in moss, while his brother—Vinnie, they’d called him—took up the end of our trek into the middle of nowhere, the barrel of his gun pressed to my spine. The quiet babble of a creek teased from somewhere nearby. Most would equate that sound with ambience, but I found it unsettling, a reminder of suffocation and terror.
“Where are we going?” I asked, hating how my voice wobbled. “Why are you doing this?”
“So many questions,” Vinnie’s brother said as we reached the bottom of the incline.
I skidded to a stop, letting out a squeaky cry as they pulled me toward a creek. “Please, no!”
“The fuck? It’s just a little water. What? You scared of getting your pretty toes wet?”
Oh God. I swallowed the hysteria about to choke me, determined to cross the creek without having a total meltdown. It was a ridiculous reaction, as the water would barely reach past my ankles. I swallowed hard, preparing myself. They couldn’t find out about my phobia—it would only give them more ammunition against me.
Upon the first contact with the icy stream, my feet ached clear to my bones. I wore nothing but a tank top and panties, and water splashed my calves like pin-pricks as we trekked to the other side. A hill rose on my right, trapping me between the creek and hillside as they propelled me downward, deeper into the woods.
The hike seemed endless. My legs ached for rest, but when we slowed, I wished to keep moving because stopping would mean it was over. I stiffened, expecting a bullet to the head, figuring they’d dragged me out here to kill me and discard my body. A sob bubbled up but caught in my throat. I hadn’t said goodbye to Rafe. We were going to die out here, and I hadn’t even told him goodbye. There was so much I hadn’t said to him, and now I’d never get the chance.
“Wh-why are you doing this?” I asked again, the words laced with high-pitched terror. If they planned to kill me, I wanted to know why.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Vinnie complained to his brother, completely ignoring my question. “It’s fuckin’ cold out here.”
“Chill out. I’m looking for the latch.”
From the corner of my eye, I spied Vinnie’s tall frame, bordering on lanky. His brother was the opposite. He intimidated with huge muscles and arms sleeved in tats. He pushed ferns and moss aside to reveal a door in the side of the hill.
What the hell? Who had an entrance in the middle of a forest?
Vinnie pushed me against the steel door, face first, and wrenched my arms behind me as Muscle Guy entered a code into the keypad near the handle. A beep sounded and the door opened. They shoved me inside and down a short flight of stairs made of stone. We halted under an arch, at the mouth of a hallway. I shook, teeth clinking together as chills wracked my half-naked body. A long row of lights illuminated a tunnel that seemed to go on indefinitely.
What is this place? I didn’t dare voice the question. They flanked my sides and pulled me down the passage, my feet dragging and stirring up dust. Mustiness flared in my nostrils, making breathing difficult. It reminded me of Rafe’s wine cellar, except these walls were made of deteriorating stone and brick.
We moved deeper into the tunnel and eventually passed several doors, all shut to prying eyes, though chilling noises filtered through some of them. Moans. Screeching cries. Masculine voices that iced my blood. The unmistakable thwack-thwack of instruments on flesh, not unlike the sound of Rafe’s paddle on my ass weeks ago.
My limbs trembled, threatening to give out completely. “Wh-where are you taking me?”
“For a little chit-chat with the boss.”
“Who? What does he want with me? Where’s Rafe?”
“Bitch has a lot of questions, huh?” Muscle Guy let out a harsh laugh. He flanked my right, baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, his eyes hidden behind dark shades, and dug the gun into my side. “Be quiet and keep moving.”
That was the last any of us spoke.
But something about Muscle Guy—with his black and orange Beavers hat and intense stare I sensed behind the dark glasses—licked at a memory, and it came back with such startling clarity, I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. He’d been on that busy street the day Zach called me from outside the restaurant. Even my brother had noticed him noticing me.
The shock still hadn’t abated by the time we neared the end of the tunnel to face the last door. My feet ached from the long walk, and I shuffled them nervously.
“I’ll take her in,” Vinnie said, his fingers biting into my arm. “Wait out here.”
“Yep.” Muscle Guy slid the gun into his waistband and leaned against the wall, crossing his beefy arms.
Vinnie reached for the knob, and I squeezed my hands into fists. Whatever waited behind that door couldn’t be worse than what I’d already been through. He shoved me into a room that was vastly different from the tunnel. The stone floor chilled the soles of my feet, but it was smooth and free of dirt. So were the neat brick walls that housed shelves of antiques. Another set of shelves held rope and other restraint devices, filming equipment, DVDs, and whips and paddles. My gaze veered to the fine art displayed on the walls. I’d bet a safe hid behind one of the paintings.
I forced my attention on the rest of the room. A large area rug covered the center where an oversized oak desk sat next to an odd piece of furniture that looked like a tall ottoman, though it had a restraint system and four wooden legs.
The air thickened with a musky vibe that could only be described as sexually deviant, especially considering the row of black and white photos hanging on the wall behind the desk. They were large, the size of posters, and all of them featured the same blonde in various poses of humiliation. I swallowed past the lump of dread in my throat, fixated on the signs of distress and fear on her stunning face. The grimace of pain, the open-mouthed cries that resembled screams of agony rather than ecstasy.
“What is this place?” I whispered, my throat too tight to manage anything else.
Vinnie shoved me into a chair facing the desk and stood nearby, his gun pressed to my head. From the corner of my eye, I saw him dig out a cell and punch in a number.
“The package is here, boss.”
And that was that. Five little words, and I was merely a possession. Not long after, a door to the left opened, and a man I thought I’d never see again stepped into this crazy room that didn’t make any sense.
Or maybe it made perfect sense and I just didn’t want to admit it.
I raised my eyes, opened my mouth to say something, but could hardly form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. This must be a crazy dream.
Lucas Perrone didn’t smile, didn’t seem smug. In fact, he seemed bored, and that expression struck me hard in the chest because he’d often worn that look while we dated. Even the night he’d asked me to marry him, he’d lacked excitement. I’d always assumed it was because my dad had set us up. Now, gaping at him in utter shock, everything I thought I’d known about Lucas was a lie, nothing more than dust on the ground.
He gestured to the guy standing sentinel at my back. “Leave us. She won’t be a problem.”
The pressure of the weapon disappeared from my skull, and I sensed Lucas’ henchman moving away. I let out a breath at the absence of his gun. A few seconds later, the door clicked shut. But reality crashed in, and I wrestled beyond my state of shock to say something.
“Did my dad put you up to this?” My heart thundering behind my breastbone, I drew in a deep breath through my nose, determined not to give in to a full-blown panic attack.
Five in, hold, five out.
The twitch of his mouth interrupted the repeat part of my breathing ritual. He rubbed his chin, thumb whisking over the patch of hair sprinkled with gray, and folded into the leather seat on the other side of the desk. “Why would your father have you and Mason kidnapped?” Raising a brow, he ran a palm across the gleaming brown surface that matched the color of his eyes.
I glanced around the room, but my focus strayed to those unsettling photos displayed behind him. “If he didn’t do this, then why am I here? Why did you take us?”
“The two of you took something from me.”
“I-I don’t understand. I barely know you. The only reason I know you at all is because of my dad, and Rafe…” I glanced at my lap, only then realizing how I twisted my fingers in a display of unease. “He’s been in prison for the last eight years.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not following.”
His brow furrowed, the one with the scar severing the perfect arch. “There was a time when I wanted you.” He rose and slowly rounded the desk. I kept my attention forward, but in my periphery I spied the strong build of his thighs at my side, hidden underneath the perfect fit of his slacks. He grasped my hair and tilted my head back until I returned his gaze.
“Rafe Mason is going to pay for what he did. You will too, for your part in this, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting you still.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said through gritted teeth. My mind raced in trying to decipher what Rafe and I could have done to earn his thirst for vengeance, but none of this made any sense. Unless my dad was involved somehow…that’s the only thing that clicked.
“What would you be willing to do to save Mason’s life?”
“What?” I jerked back, fighting against his hold.
“You heard me. What would you”—he let my hair slide through his fingers, and his hand descended to my lap—“be willing to do to save the man you love?” There was nothing to bar his access—just a flimsy scrap of underwear I’d worn to bed, thinking I was safe in Rafe’s room. Lucas parted my thighs and swiped my panties to the side, then he plunged a finger between my folds. I bit my lip hard.
“You never let me touch you like this when we were dating.” He bent and pressed his face to my temple, inhaling sharply. “I’ll spare his life if you let me fuck you.”
“Let him go.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I’ll do anything…” My gaze strayed to the photos of the woman, and I wondered who she was. How could I have spent so much time with him and never sense the darkness beneath the expensive suits and charming demeanor? When it came to noticing the depraved fibers in people, I was broken, my evil detector in pieces, probably rotting in the same place as my innocence.
“I’ll be your…your…slave. Let him go and keep me.”
His mouth lowered to my ear. “You’re perfect, Alex. Young, pliable, and best of all, trained to take a man’s cock like a pro.” He added more fingers and jammed them deep inside, stretching my opening with an uncomfortable burn. It was all I could do not to tense upon the crude intrusion. “But you’re under the misguided impression that you have a choice in the matter, that you have the ability to negotiate with me. You,” he said, his breath blasting my ear with moist heat, “are powerless here.”
He unbuttoned his slacks and lowered the zipper. “We’ll start slow, but I need a token of your respect. Show me why I should consider your wants in this situation. Show me why I shouldn’t kill Mason.”
I leaned toward him, each second bringing my mouth closer to the hard-on straining behind his boxer briefs, and reached for the band of cotton, pulling it down…down a little more. I glanced up and wished I could smack the gleam of triumph from his expression. He was toying with me, thinking he’d already won.
And he had. I’d do anything for Rafe.
“If I give you a blowjob, you’ll let him go?”
“Wrap that slutty mouth around my cock, and I might let him live.”
A few weeks ago, I would have succumbed, would have bent under his threats. But I knew better now, could better judge when someone was using my fears against me.
When someone was lying to me.
Giving in wouldn’t save Rafe.
His cock sprang free, and he thrust his hips forward until the tip brushed my cheek. “That’s right,” he said, hissing in a breath. “You know what to do with that mouth, don’t you, honey. Give me a reason not to let my guys break you.”
Saliva collected on my tongue. I opened my mouth, as if I were about to slide my lips over his shaft. Instead, I spit on the tip. “Go fuck yourself.”
I expected anger, even a blow to the face. What I didn’t expect was a resigned grin. “You’re not ready yet, but you will be.” He jerked me up by the hair and marched me to the door where his men undoubtedly waited on the other side. Flinging it open, he pushed me into their strong hands. “You know what to do, guys.”