Danny

 

 

The next time I wake, I smile and snuggle into the warmth of my mattress, the foggy cobwebs of sleep still clinging as I shift and give a moan while I stretch my stiff legs.

God, I probably missed my alarm again, from the way light peeks through my eyelids. I should get up and get ready for that damn test and call Dad. Definitely call Daddy, since I haven’t heard from him in two weeks.

That’s weird because the man usually calls me every second day and demands updates about every detail of my life. The only thing he shies away from is my menstrual cycle, which is why I usually keep him very updated about my flow. Just for laughs.

Stretching again, I rub my face into the pillow with a smile, only to freeze when the soft cotton I expect slides over my face in a way that is unfamiliar.

Silk. I feel silk, or something close to it, and pop my eyes open immediately. The minute my eyes open to take in a huge room decorated lavishly in dark browns and blues, it all comes rushing back.

Oh God.

I’m staring around the room to take in details as it floors me anew. Me. Lori. Kidnapped. Those Wylder assholes talking as if we’re just supposed to accept being sex objects to mobsters.

I take in the room itself, as my internal dialogue rages, and note the extravagance of the place. The color scheme is masculine, with the brown and blue, but the rest of it is just fabulous.

A big four-poster bed draped in gauzy netting to ward off mosquitos. Polished wood floors with expensive rugs scattered around. A fireplace that I suspect is only for show, since it’s hot enough to boil lobster despite the air-conditioning, and a sitting area that looks comfortable and faces the television over the mantle.

It’s all just…wow, I think as I push my legs over the side of the bed and stand slowly, steadying myself on legs that are a little weak. If I wasn’t so terrified and pissed off at the situation, I would be orgasming over the place, I mutter silently, ruefully.

I love nice bedrooms, and this one is just…

I shake myself, because focusing on the freaking room is not a good idea and all I want to do is case the place and find a way out. I get a minute into my review before the smell hits me and I realize I smell like a dead dog boiling on the tarmac.

Good God.

Snarling because, darn it, I hate being dirty, I stomp into the en suite bathroom and jump into the shower, excusing my lack of priorities by telling myself that if I get killed while escaping, I owe it to myself to go in a respectable, clean manner.

I wash my hair once, rinse, and repeat before slicking on conditioner and letting it sit. The sponge I soap up isn’t new, but I can’t bring myself to be scrupulous about it, because the moment it touches my body, I moan at the delight of being clean.

I smell sandalwood and something citrusy as I wash, realizing too late that I know this smell and don’t want it anywhere near me. Dammit.

“I think I am in love with your ass.”

I shriek, in the process of washing between my legs, and almost fall when my foot slips out, before righting myself. Bear Wylder is lounging against the sink, hands in the pockets of his grey slacks, his pose indolent as he watches me through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Get out.”

I’m half-contorted as I strive to keep my body hidden, and I see his lips twist at the action. Okay, so I get that I shouldn’t be modest after what he’s seen and I should just pretend no shame, but the man is…agh!

How can I look at Bear Wylder, the man who sees me as his sex slave, an object, and feel…things? I mean…

I cannot be attracted to a man like him, even if his hair is like melted chocolate and his eyes are two dark blue diamonds and—

Stop that!

“Can’t, I need to shower. Wanna share?” he drawls, taking a step closer while I back up, shaking my head frantically.

He starts pulling at his clothes, removing his watch and shoes, dropping it all as he stalks closer.

He doesn’t stop, and I thank my stars the conditioner has washed out as he walks in. I jump out, grabbing a towel on the way and grit my teeth at his laughter.

“I take that as a no? That’s okay, Danny baby, You’re right. Our first time together should be in a bed where I can make you scream, not screwing like animals in the shower. We can save that for later.”

Fear hits me, along with outrage, and I run from the steamy bathroom, my hand grabbing at the bedroom door. I know it’s locked before I even touch it, but panic has engulfed me, and I’m almost panting as I twist and pull, tears and sobs of frustration making everything blur in front of me.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out and run before that man, that monster, touches me and does things to me that would be…

What if he hurts me? What if that seemingly soft and gentle tone is nothing but a ruse? And Jesus, I can’t forget that he’s a freaking criminal, a man who thinks he owns me.

I don’t even know him! I can’t sleep with some guy I don’t know, but then…what if he won’t take no for an answer? My mind rails, making me go crazy before I abandon the door and rush for the windows.

I expect one of those porches that I see in the movies, the ones that wrap around and extend to the top story, but instead, my heart plummets when I look out only to realize that we’re not on the first floor but the uppermost floor, the roof I hadn’t looked at curving down in a triangular lean.

We’re high, high up enough that I could die jumping, so high I feel my stomach lurch at the thought of getting down from here. The sight of greenery and gardens, the ground so far away, has me lurching and swaying, the panic attack hitting me hard enough to send me to my knees.

I’ve never felt this before, but I’ve heard about them, and man oh man, I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack. It’s painful and disorienting, and I can’t breathe.

It’s so bad I get light-headed and almost face-plant into the floorboards before big hands wrap around me and drag me into a hard, muscular chest.

“Breathe! Breathe, Danny.”

I know it’s Wylder shaking me and yelling at me as I go limp in his arms, the urge to pass out so great it comes as a shock when I land on the bed and his mouth shoves over mine, pumping hot coffee-scented breath into my lungs.

The force makes me choke and sputter, but I manage to exhale and suck in a lungful of oxygen, stunned by the taste of his mouth. Wylder just pulls away, laying my fears to rest when he springs from the bed and pulls on shorts before ripping the towel from my body, pushing on a clean robe, and pulling me up.

I come out of it with him drying my hair, and blush at the weakness I just showed. Daddy would be mortified and embarrassed by my behavior, the skills he taught me all lost beneath the flight response I could no longer suppress.

“It’s natural. I get that you’re scared, and I understand why you freaked out, but you have to chill out, woman. You are not leaving this room until you accept that you’re here to stay. Just make this shit easier on us all and let it sink in that you are never going home again.”

He finishes drying my hair and goes to grab a comb, my eyes going straight to the way his shorts pull tight across an ass that is drool-worthy. If I didn’t want to stab him in the throat with an ice pick, I would so totally check him out.

The thought makes me grin, and I watch him watch me suspiciously as he slowly stalks my way.

“You have no right to keep me here. Let me go.”

“No.”

“My dad will protect me. If you let me go, I give you my word I won’t tell a soul about you. You haven’t hurt me, so if I go, I would consider you a good guy and only implicate those men who took me,” I promise, apologizing to Jesus for the blatant lie.

Wylder snorts, and I stiffen when he starts to comb my hair slowly, gently detangling the mass of golden, copper strands.

“Your father can’t protect you from these people, Danny, and you know it. They’d just kill him first and then come after you, and trust me, you’d be lucky if they take you out and walk away. If not, you’re looking at years in a brothel being raped and beaten by men every day. You’ll pray to die.”

Chills skate down my spine at those words, and I try to control the shivers that hit me. I want to cry anew. How can I not when I know his words to be true?

I may not know much about these kinds of people, but I am not stupid, and I get that they’ll take me out to cover their tracks. And Daddy? My father is a badass Navy guy with moves like you wouldn’t believe for a guy in his early fifties, but he is not superman, and he will die.

I can’t even contemplate a world without my dad in it, and I know that I would never do anything to put him in danger.

But does that mean that I just hang around here all day for the rest of my life and just pretend to make the best of the situation? I can’t! I am not a sex slave, and I won’t just submit to this guy, no matter how good-looking he is or how nice he’s pretending to be.

He’s a criminal! I know I keep saying it, but it’s true, and I need to remind myself of that every time he smiles at me.

Another shiver hits my spine, and I stiffen when he’s done with my hair, moving back and out of reach, very aware of the fact that I am naked beneath the robe.

“You can’t keep me here forever, Mr. Wylder, and I won’t ever stop trying to go home,” I say evenly, breathing as evenly as I can when he rises, only the bed separating us.

He’s so big. He must be close to Daddy’s height or taller, I think, and that height is so intimidating, along with the washboard abs and those big arms I can’t help looking at.

He’s got tattoos on both arms, one a roaring bear that makes me roll my eyes—but, man, is it beautiful—and a weird symbol I can’t make out that looks like a shield with weird writing on it.

His back has only one, across his shoulder blades, a word that looks to be something like ‘akicita.’ I have no idea what it means, but it looks beautiful, done in this weird lettering and surrounded by feathers.

“Danny, I know you won’t believe this, and I totally understand your issues with this situation, but none of that will change any of it. You have to stay here, no matter how you feel about me or anything that has happened. Ask yourself, babe, what it would feel like to see your father dead, knowing that you could have stopped it from happening by listening to me.”

“That’s not fair!”

“No,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “But it is true, and I won’t lie about it. Your mom is long gone, and you don’t have any siblings, but what about that old aunt of yours down in Dakota and your cousin, Tammy? Do you want them all to be taken out because you want freedom? Because that will happen. Noni’s organization doesn’t fuck around. Even if they take you out, and that’s not likely because they can still make a buck off your body, they will kill your family as a lesson to any who think to cross them. Then they will come after me, and whatever you think of me, I have family too. I got four brothers, Mom, Dad, an aunt and uncle, and cousins. I would kill you myself before I let you endanger my family.”

He says it quietly, regretfully, but I see the complete truth in his eyes and feel ice unfurl in my chest. This man may not want to kill me, if I can believe him, but he will. He’ll do it in a heartbeat and keep going without a backward glance.

I don’t want to die, and more importantly, I don’t want my family to suffer or be killed because of me.

This isn’t my fault. I acknowledge that and rail at the unfairness of the choice he’s trying to force me to make, but it’s one I will have to think about before I do anything hasty, because if there is even a chance that he’s right, I’d rather die than put my loved ones at risk.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” I manage after a long pause and the indignity of having him peruse my body in the flimsy robe.

That gets a grin from him.

“Oh, come now, Danny. We’re going to spend years together, sweetheart. Be fair,” he chides, his voice filled with amusement when he glances down, and my own eyes follow to see his sex pushing lewdly at the fabric of his shorts.

“No!”

But Lord, the man is really nicely built, and my mind, never mind my body, won’t let me deny it. Bear Wylder is big, not as massive as that Marco or Wolf guy, whatever he likes to be called, but big. And muscular like freaking Vin Diesel and just…

You know what blows about this situation? He’s exactly the kind of man I’d be attracted to in different circumstances, and how gross is that!

His eyes go hard at the yelled refusal, and I find myself shrinking back at the coldness I see there. I don’t want to shrink. I want to fight and punch and scratch to relieve the fear I can’t shake loose.

I want to attack him and do what Daddy told me to do. Run!

But then what?

“You need to be very careful about this, Danny girl, and listen. I’ll tolerate your nasty attitude in this room, but you will never talk to me that way in company, or things will go very badly for you. I’m a patient guy, and I can wait for you, but I am also not some pansy-ass who accepts disrespect.”

The warning shakes me to the core because for just a second I forgot that he can hurt me, do anything he wants to me, and I have no way to fight him.

I don’t know Wylder, I don’t know what he’s capable of or how he will react to my temper. What I do know scares me because he seems not at all fazed by the fact that I am here against my will, and even less bothered by the whole sexual element of my role in his life.

For all I know, he’s a freak who enjoys beating women before violating them. Lori’s words pop into my head as I stare back at those cold blue eyes, and I feel tears threaten again when it hits home just how true those words could be.

I could end up being taken by a monster, and all I’d have to cling to is survival. If I would even want that afterward would be anyone’s guess, but for right now, I will do whatever it takes to live and pray that I find a way out of this mess.

“I don’t want to fight you or get hurt, but I don’t know that I can just submit to this without reacting. Think of it from my view, Mr. Wylder. I have been abducted and given to a man as a sexual gift. I was drugged and dragged from my home and left in a room, naked and terrified and starving. It’s been less than a day since I woke to this horror, and you expect that I should just, what, lay down and spread? I don’t know you. I’m afraid and hanging on by a mental thread here.”

My words come out strong, only a little shaky, and I breathe deeply, praying that they haven’t been just a waste of breath. Like I said, I don’t know him, and appealing to some decency he may not have is likely a waste of time, but I have to at least try because right now the thought of him touching me makes my skin crawl, no matter how hot he is or how softly he is capable of smiling at me.

That smile comes out though, and I steel myself against melting, wanting to believe that I just lucked out and got a decent captor.

Don’t go Stockholm on me!

I yell it at myself as I keep my eyes on him, taking in the shift of his powerful thighs and the way he seems to glow in the light streaming in through the window.

“Okay, I get that. So, what, you want to date? Because, babe, I gotta tell ya, I don’t do that shit. The last time I dated a girl, I was thirteen and wet as a limp dog. I don’t do that romance shit.”

The lightly drawled words make my eye twitch, and for a split second, I forget that he could be a mass-murdering psycho and glare at him in offended disdain.

“So what! You think I should just screw you and be all like ‘hey, boy, that was great, thanks for not killing me today’?” I yell. “I am not a hooker. The least you could do is like buy me dinner or something just to make this feel less like a Jack the Ripper sexcapade.”

He starts howling at my unreasonable shouts, and I blush down to my roots in mortified horror at that nonsense that keeps on coming.

“Shut up! You just shut the hell up. This isn’t funny.”

But God, it is, I think as hilarity tries to bubble up. I just…I just yelled the most ludicrous things at a man who could be a lunatic, a madman for all I know, and what am I doing now?

Trying not to laugh because it is funny. It’s not really appropriate, but God, I want to release my tension and laugh with him if only to believe for one second that none of this is real.

I could pretend that I am standing here with my man, my husband, and that he’s totally into me and not into blood sports with my body. I could tell myself that the softness in his eyes is because he finds my ridiculousness amusing, not that he’s eyeing up my boobs for some nefarious torture—gross!

There are so many things that I could tell myself and possibly believe, but most of all, I want to look at this guy who is physically perfect and larger than life and say that he won’t hurt me.

God, I want that so much because I need to believe it. I’ve never known fear in all my life. My mom died when I was young, and we used to move around a lot before Daddy quit active duty and got admiral rank.

My whole life was about moving around and change. I had very little friends, if I was lucky, because I soon learned that it hurt to make bonds with people I’d never see again come the next year.

My life was lonely and not always great, but I have never feared anything in my life, because no matter what, Daddy has always been there and he never once let me down.

I was not pampered, but I never had to worry about anything harming me, and now, now, that safety net is gone and I could get hurt or die and…

“I won’t hurt you, Danny,” he says softly when all I can do is look at him and fight my tears again. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have done it a hundred times over while you were asleep.”

“You could be one of those weirdos who like screams,” I point out, wanting to trust his logic above my own strange skepticism.

Wylder inclines his head at the statement, acknowledging the truth of the words, but shrugs too.

“I could be, but I’m not, and I guess you just have to trust me when I tell you I’m not.”

I want to! I may not know him or like feel anything but fear right now, but I want…if I’m here forever, I want a life and something that will make me happy and fill my days.

It’s not reasonable, I know, but I’m one of those freakishly odd people who think all long term, and while the short-term goal is to live and keep all my limbs intact and in working order, I also think about what will come next, later down the line.

I wanted a home and children. According to Wylder, this is my home now, and a good one it is, unless it includes blood-stained dungeons. What about the rest? Where’s the love I dreamed about since I was old enough to read romances I shouldn’t be reading?

What about passion and babies and togetherness? I can’t see any of that in my future, and the thought makes my chest tighten and ache.

This isn’t fair. I want all those things, and the chances of having them are zero because what’s the use in dreaming about them when the truth is that I could die tomorrow.

“I can’t trust you.”

I say the words, hoping he doesn’t get bent out of shape. I’ve never lied about how I feel. Daddy taught me that lying would get me hurt worse than making up some story that someone will pick apart.

I could tell him I trust him, but the first time I flinch or can’t do what he wants me to, the first time he tries to touch me, he’ll know. Better just to stick with the truth and hope he doesn’t go mental.

Wylder just smiles, another quirk of his full lips, and gives me a considering look.

“I get that and I respect you. You’re not a pansy-assed female with fear pushing her every motivation. I like that, Danny, so I’ll do you a favor here and not remind you that I want more. I’ll wait and give you a chance to see that I can be a good guy, but it won’t last forever. The Slovaks are gonna be here in a month, and they expect you to be dead or in line. Whatever happens, you need to remember that I am willing to give you a chance here but only so far. The minute you so much as put me or mine in danger, you’re done,” he warns.

Dammit.

“Jesus, do you have to keep saying that shit? I’m never gonna be okay with you if I’m always worried about a machete to the leg or being chopped up and fed to the dogs.”

Another grin replaces his scowl, and I roll my eyes at his sick sense of humor.

“You be careful now, Danny baby. Don’t go giving people an idea they don’t need in their heads. You’re lucky I’m not a maniac or I’d have grabbed on to some of your suggestions.”

Shit. So much for my intelligence.

Wylder stares at me—uncomfortably long—before throwing on a shirt and strolling to the door, whistling under his breath as he unlocks it.

“I’m gonna go get some breakfast or brunch and bring it up. Don’t get any ideas about jumping. I had a guy try that once, and he snapped both his legs so bad the bone punctured through his skin. He was real glad I was killing him then. The pain was outrageous.”

He leaves with those words and his sing-song tone echoing in my ears, eyes wide at the mental image of my legs being shortened by my own body weight.

Not out the windows, then. Definitely not out of the window.