Greg stomped into the kitchen and tossed the plates into the sink. China cracked with a loud splinter, but he didn’t care. Marching back toward me, he hoisted me to my feet with biting fingers around my elbow. “You want to fight, Elle? Fucking fine, we’ll fight.” Dragging me into the living room, he pointed at the hallway. “Choose, right now. Bed or couch.”

I squinted, doing my best to ignore the pain throbbing in my head. “What?”

“Bed or couch.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

He pressed his nose against mine. “I’m going to fuck you. Would you prefer over the couch like a whore or in the bed like my fiancée?”

Everything went black and cold.

So, so cold.

I squirmed in his hold; stepping backward the cuff around my ankle jingled and I stepped on the chain looped behind me for the thirty-seventh time, hurting yet another piece of me. “Greg, stop. I don’t want either.”

“Too fucking bad. You need to learn your place. You’re no longer my boss or the CEO, Elle.” His voice lowered to a hiss. “I am.”

Grabbing a handful of my hair, he threw me onto the plaid couch. The scratchy material stuck to my gold negligée like Velcro as I scooted sideways, trying to reach the other end and climb off.

He grabbed the chain around my ankle, hoisting me back.

The satin rose up my hips, exposing between my legs.

His eyes latched on greedily before I slammed a hand over myself with as much decency as I could muster. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m going to do more than that.”

“I’ll scream.”

He smirked. “No one to hear you.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

My fury turned caustic, burning me up inside. I shook so hard my teeth chattered.

He leered over me, keeping his hold on the chain, giving me nowhere to go. Bending down, he grabbed me by the throat, pinning my body against the couch.

My legs stayed tight and crossed, hand wedged low.

“Kiss me. Show me that you can be nice, and I’ll be gentle our first time.”

I spat in his face.

Wrong move.

Seriously wrong move.

But it was the only move I had because I couldn’t kiss him. I could never give anything of me willingly because the hate I had would transfer into hatred for myself.

Time slowed down.

His hand came up, rubbing at the bead of saliva I’d put there. Never looking away from me, he wiped his hand on his jeans, shaking his head. “You’ll pay for that.”

His face turned nasty, his fingers grabbing my elbows and plucking me from the couch as if I weighed nothing.

“No!” I pummeled his chest as he hauled me against him, marching me backward until my legs pressed against the couch end.

“Yes.” Spinning me around, he pressed me over the rolled armrest, running his hands down my spine to my ass.

“Get ready to be nice to me, Elle. ‘Cause I’m sure as shit not going to be nice to you.”

Chapter Twelve

Penn

THIS CABIN HAD lake views, not forest.

This cabin had a Dodge, not a Porsche.

This cabin held Elle, not empty.

This place ricocheted with a scream, not silence.

Fuck!

I cursed that I’d left my Merc at the top of the driveway again, hoping for the element of surprise. I’d taken my time sneaking through the bushes and shadows, staying out of sight.

The occasional smell of cooking had carried on the breeze the closer I got.

The electrical tingle of being close to Elle revved me the nearer I sneaked.

But that was before the scream.

Forgetting stealth, I bolted forward from gloomy undergrowth to gleaming daylight. All instincts told me to barrel through the front door and tear Greg fucking apart.

But the sensible part of me—the part that’d kept me alive for decades on the streets—whispered patience.

What if he had a knife to her throat?

What if he had a gun ready to kill me?

I had to know where they were, what they were doing—then I could win.

Ducking, I snuck around the perimeter of the house. My ears strained for another scream, but nothing came. Ice water washed my spine. No scream could be good, could be bad.

I couldn’t see inside the dim interior with the bright sunshine beating on my head.

I ran through the small garden with baby saplings swaying in the breeze and approached the side of the house where a bathroom window cracked to allow shower steam to dissipate.

No movement down the back of the cabin.

Pressing against the siding, I made my way back to the front where the living room and kitchen would be.

I kept my height beneath the window frames, listening for any hint of what room Elle was a prisoner in.

The sound of chains dragging on hardwood screeched in my ears from a cracked window.

He’s chained her up?

That motherfucker.

He’d pay for this. Over and over, he’d pay.

He had his motherfucking hands on her.

Soon, I’d have mine on him.

Sounds of raised voices filtered through the afternoon, garbled and cut short as something thumped and then couch legs squeaked over floorboards.

I couldn’t stop myself.

I stood upright, keeping my body low but my eyes above the trim. Peering through the glass, my heart fucking stopped.

Greg had Elle pinned over the edge of the couch. Chains on her wrists and ankle. A gold nightdress shoved over her hips, exposing her nakedness below.