The scratches on the goddamn door…
I tossed in the bed, shifted my ass and closed my eyes. Screams echoed in my head. Children’s screams. Screams I’d heard my entire life. But I’d forced them down, hadn’t I? I’d told myself they were the result of an overactive imagination. They weren’t real, they were never real. Because if they had been…
The home for the sons was far worse…far worse—I clenched my eyes closed—far worse.
Jesus.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Those words echoed in my head. The glimpse of sleep I’d had was now long gone. After what I’d seen tonight, I doubted I’d ever sleep again. I shoved against the thick comforter and pushed upwards, my gaze moving to the faint moonlight that spilled in through the window.
I fucking want you, Vivienne!
My breath caught at the words. Goddamn him. Goddamn him to hell. I kicked the bedding aside and rose as cold instantly wrapped around me. I shivered and reached out, searching. My fingers brushed softness. I grabbed the lavender sweater from the end of the bed and pulled it on.
It was cold tonight…and getting colder.
I moved toward the window and looked out of my cell. Fall was here, snatching away the leaves and bringing a brand new ache inside me. Winter had always been my favorite time of the year. Not that it had ever brought the kind of joy the other kids possessed. Still, you could always dream…
I wrapped my arms around my middle and turned away, glimpsing the empty tray on the desk. But it wasn’t the remnants of my meal that occupied my thoughts, it was the desk. Not this desk…his desk. I gave a soft chuff. London’s words might ring in my head, but if he thought he’d rocked me with his lies and manipulation, then he was wrong.
Unless it’s not a lie.
I shook my head, and slowly went to the door. It was a lie, because that’s all he did. Lie. Manipulate. Control. But he couldn’t control me, not anymore. I knew what kind of bastard he was now. He wouldn’t play me, not ever again.
I tested the handle, found it unlocked, and quietly opened it. My gaze went to the hallway and the sons’ room, and a pang of guilt washed over me. I kicked myself for smashing the damn console now. I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Actually, I was. It was this place, and that…asshole. “I want you, my ass,” I muttered. “Let’s see if I can change that, shall we?”
I tore my gaze away and moved to the stairs. Thoughts of how to make amends were quickly shoved away. No part of the party, slash parties, right? But we’re not a party…the savage bastard’s growl pushed in. I swallowed as a shudder tore through me. Yeah, there was no way I was going near that psycho bastard.
I made my way downstairs and stopped at London’s floor. Darkness beckoned me forward, enticing me to try to invade his space one more damn time. I stared at his door in the dark. My mind shifted to the electronic lock outside his study door. Still, there was a mechanical lock. If there was a lock, then there had to be an override key somewhere.
What better place to hide it than where the bastard slept?
I stepped around the banister and moved to his door. It’d be locked, it had to be. But the moment I bore down, the handle gave way. “Well, well, well.” I shoved it open and stared into that murky gloom.
The scent of him washed over me, making my pulse race and my body come alive. I crossed my arms over my chest once more and stepped in. “Nope,” I whispered. “Not gonna freak out this time.” I moved to the bed, half expecting him to sit up and stare at me.
Jesus…what would happen if he did that?
I’d die. No…I wouldn’t. I licked my lips, staring at the sheets. Unable to help myself, I grabbed the top of the dark gray comforter and pushed it down. Clean sheets, tucked in neatly. Everything about the guy was precise. I yanked and shoved, wrenching his sheets free and tore them back. Then I grabbed his pillow, ready to toss it across the room, and stopped.
The scent of him grew bolder as I pulled it close. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Jesus, he smelled good. He smelled so fucking good. Too good. I opened my eyes, my body warming. “Oh, Jesus.”
In my head, his hand was around my throat, his eyes fixed on the towel I wore. One that parted between my thighs. He wanted to part it more. I knew that. I lowered my head and pressed my face deeper into the pillow. Fuck, I wanted him, too. I wanted him to touch me. I closed my eyes and unleashed a moan, then pulled back. Instead of tossing it across the room like I wanted to, I put it down, then grabbed the sheets and the comforter, trying my best to fix the mess I’d made.
When I was done, I straightened. Even in the gloom, I saw it was still a damn train wreck. I reached over, flicked on the lamp on the nightstand beside his bed, and stared at the destruction. Panic found me as I took in the now crumpled bedding. I leaned over and smoothed it out as best I could, then pulled away.
He’d know.
And he’d be pissed.
But before that happened, I wanted to do as much damage as I could, and there was no better ammunition than information. I glanced at the drawer of his nightstand and tugged it open. Heat flushed in my cheeks as I leaned closer. I was stepping over the line here. Messing up the guy’s bed was one thing, but rifling through his bedside drawers was a whole other thing.
I reached inside, brushed something hard, and pulled it out. Pink. The damn notebook that I’d found in the study downstairs. He had it here, beside his bed…why?
I sat on the edge of the bed, opened it, and rifled through the pages once more. The photos were missing. I scowled. “What the fuck?” And I flicked through the rest of the book.
They were all gone…except…
For one.
Only that one wasn’t taken in the past. No, that was one recent. It was me, lying on the bed dressed in that damn towel, with my hand between my legs. “So you were watching.” A surge of satisfaction moved through me.
I didn’t know why I liked him looking at me like that. Maybe I was heady with the thought of having just a little bit of control here. My focus went to the dull throb under my breast and the tracker he’d had implanted inside me, the control he allowed me.
I pushed the photo into the journal and tucked it back inside the drawer. I wasn’t after information I already knew. The guy wanted to fuck me, that was easy to see. My hand stopped as it slid the book inside. I could use that…like my own weapon.
My pulse spiked, punching against my chest. I tried to push that thought away and knelt down, forcing myself to focus on searching the drawer for the override key instead. But apart from two other journals and a wide velvet box, there was nothing.
I couldn’t stop myself from touching the box again, from entertaining the thought—don’t do it. It’s none of your business. You’re getting far too wrapped up in this—still, I pulled it out, my fingers sliding over the joint before I opened it. The light from the lamp spilled over the fine chain and massive teardrop diamond.
It was stunning.
The most beautiful piece of jewelry I’d ever seen up close like this.
I pulled it closer and touched the jewel and, for a fleeting second, entertained the idea he’d bought it for me. But that was stupid. That was stupid and I wouldn’t wear it anyway. I closed it and it almost hurt to put it back. Anger moved through me, anger at myself and at him as I pushed my hand in deeper, searching the back of the drawer, trying to find something.
But there was nothing. I searched the drawer underneath it, then moved to the nightstand on the other side of the bed. It wasn’t until I went to shove the bottom drawer closed that I felt it…a scrape.
One that was out of place.
I pulled the drawer open and closed it again, this time more slowly. There it was…the scrape as it closed. I glanced over my shoulder to the open bedroom door, then turned back. My pulse was booming as I lifted the drawer, yanking it hard until it popped open, and on the underside was a key taped to the bottom.
I dug my nail underneath and yanked it free. Glue came with it, sticking to my fingers as I stared at the key. But it was what I wanted, it had to be. Why else would a snake like London St. James hide it like that? I moved faster, pushed the drawer back and rose. I switched off the lamp, left the bedroom and the stunning necklace behind, and made my way downstairs to his study.
The red light of the electronic lock blinked. I tried to ignore the fact he was probably watching me. If he wasn’t already, he soon would be. I hurried, pushed the sticky key into the lock, and twisted. The mechanism gave a clunk before I pushed down on the handle and opened the door.
I flicked on the light, ignored the rows of books this time, and headed for the desk. I didn’t care if I had to find a sledgehammer to open the damn thing. I wanted answers to the burning question in my head. What the hell did he want with me?
It was the only question that mattered. The only one that drowned out all the others. If I could figure that out, then maybe I’d be able to bargain for my freedom. Part of me understood how stupid that sounded, and the other part just wanted to survive.
I rounded the desk and started yanking on the drawers. But instead of them being locked, they wrenched open. He hadn’t locked them…he hadn’t locked them?
I glanced toward the door, then back to the thick folders sitting on top of the desk. One yank and I dragged his chair close before I sat down and started unraveling the guy once and for all. I searched folder after folder. But there wasn’t anything new, just a whole lot of shit I didn’t understand.
“More DNA reports,” I muttered, staring at the names listed on the forms.
Names that meant absolutely nothing to me.
“This is bullshit.” I sat back and stared at the mess of pages spread across his desk.
There had to be more. There had to be something.
I straightened, dug underneath the mess, and pulled out another folder labeled Contract.
Contract? Goosebumps raced along my arms as I opened it and picked up the first report. The right to use contract I’d seen before, but this was different. This wasn’t about what he could and couldn’t do to me. This was…how much he’d paid.
“Holy shit.” I stared at the amount listed. A number that was mind blowing. “Three million dollars?”
For a blinding second, surprise filled me, and, if I was honest, a satisfaction as well…
Until I remembered what it was for.
For me.
To possess, use, own.
That’s what my life was worth to them? Three pathetic million dollars. Anger pushed in, grabbed the flicker of satisfaction around the throat and beat the living shit out of it. It was for me…for fucking—
A slight roar came from somewhere close and the faint rumble of a car’s engine followed.
“Shit.” I stared at the mess in front of me. “Shit!”
I shoved upwards and swept the files together as that guttural howl came again, only this time it was louder. The sons…it had to be. Fuck, they’d kill me if they found me. I slid the folders into the drawer, trying desperately to remember which way they went in. But it didn’t matter. No doubt Mr. Three Million Fucking Dollars would figure out I was crawling through his things soon enough.
I shoved the drawer closed and something dropped from under the top. It was a business card, steel gray with white block letters on the front. Precision Storage, we protect what’s valuable to you. I picked it up and stared at it. We protect what’s val…
“Goddamn it, Colt!”
The deep howl was filled with desperation that made me shove the drawer closed. Colt…the quiet one must be hurt. Carven’s wretched howl blended with those terrifying cries still stuck in my head. I stumbled for the door and flicked off the light, which plunged the study into darkness once more.
I waited for the sound of grunting and moaning to move away, then cracked open the study door and slipped out. They didn’t see me as I stopped at the end of the hallway, peeking out as Carven carried Colt toward the stairs and up, leaving drops of bright red blood in their wake.
Lots of blood…
Jesus. I flinched and jerked my gaze upwards, following them as they disappeared from view, then I stepped forward. The splatter wasn’t just tiny flecks that littered the tiled floor, they were big, round drops, a lot of them.
I flinched at the terrifying cry that rang out. My heart thundered as I took a step without realizing. The guttural groans that followed were sickening. As much as I was scared, I felt for him, and it was that anguish that pulled me up the stairs, following them.
“You need to stop fucking protecting me!” Carven snarled. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you, you stubborn sonofabitch!”
I climbed to the second floor and kept moving.
I forgot all about the contract and the money.
I forgot about everything.
All I heard was the torment in that guttural plea, and that hit me hard. I stepped out on my floor, glanced at my bedroom door, and contemplated hiding. But I’d broken his console…hadn’t I? I’d broken his fucking console and I was a goddamn bitch for doing it.
I owed him.
I owed him to at least try.
My damn knees shook as I made my way to their bedroom. The door was open, and shadows moved in the dull light inside.
“Fuck, this is a mess. We’re gonna have to call the doctor.”
There was no answer, not one I heard anyway.
I stepped inside, staring at Carven’s back as he leaned over his brother sitting on the end of the bed I’d been strapped to. Their heads snapped my way. A savage glare from Carven nailed me to the spot before he barked. “What the fuck do you want?”
But there was the blood…and a lot of it. I stared at the mess that soaked through Colt’s shirt, catching the glint of… “Is that glass?”
He didn’t answer, just glared as he pushed past me heading for the bathroom. It was the wretched agony in his brother’s eyes that pulled me forward. I slowly knelt in front of him, looking at the blood that was soaking through his shirt. Blood that cloyingly clung to my nose. I didn’t see the murderer anymore. I didn’t see my abductor. I saw the son. The one who’d protected his brother with his life, and by what Carven had said, not for the first time.
His skin was washed out, paling in front of me, making his wide topaz-blue eyes even more noticeable than they had been before. Hard shudders gnashed his teeth. Whatever had happened tonight was bad…and I didn’t need an explanation that it was most likely highly illegal and dangerous for all of us. But he was hurt. Right now, that’s all I cared about.
“It’s going to be okay.” I turned from the glass shards embedded in his side to that wide-blue stare. “You hear me? It’s going to be okay.”
“Get the fuck out,” Carven snarled behind me. “We don’t need you sticking your fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.”
He knelt, dropped a small plastic basin on the floor in front of him, unscrewed the lid of a brown bottle, and poured a big splash into the basin. The bitter stench of Betadine rose up to slap me cold for the second time today. I winced, unable to look away from Carven as he set to work, grabbing a set of tweezers and a fistful of cotton swabs before tossing them in the antiseptic, then looked up at his brother. “This is gonna hurt, okay?”
His dark-haired twin just held his stare, giving a slow, careful nod. Then he reached out, grabbed my hand, and clung tight. Carven froze at the contact, glancing from my hand to Colt’s. There was a scowl and a tiny shake of his head. “Colt, no.”
“She stays.” That same deep, husky tone I’d heard outside my door came as he held my hand. “She stays right here. Promise me…”
But it wasn’t his brother he spoke to…it was me.
My heart thudded as I glanced at the gaping gashes in his side, then I met that piercing stare, finally finding purpose. “I promise,” I answered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
