"Let's go get our little detective."
6
Laila
My head lolled, firing synapses to my brain that suggested something was wrong. I wasn't lying in my bed. Gravity pushed on my body vertically, and instead of soft mattress, my back pressed against cold concrete. Still, I couldn't fully gain consciousness. My mind fogged and eyes refused to open. The only sound that registered was dripping. Infrequent drips against a hard surface echoing through the room. It seemed close, as if the water connected with a surface right beside my ear, and with a slight twitch of my thigh, the cool liquid kissed skin.
The revelation came with a strength great enough to clear some of the fog: I wasn't wearing pants. With great effort, I forced my eyes to open. Pain immediately shot through my skull at the fluorescent lights illuminating the room, and I rolled my head to the side away from them. The source of the dripping came from a pipe. One that my left hand was cuffed to.
I pulled at the cuff, but my movements were pathetic. The sluggishness of my mind could only be matched by my muscles that seemed to hold concrete. I diverted my energy to moving my head around instead, taking in my condition and the room. I didn't appear to be harmed. No blood or sources of pain registered. My head throbbed, but I suspected it was due to whatever drugs I'd been given.
The needle.
My uncuffed hand reached to my neck as the memory came back, and tears stung my eyes. I'd been in my apartment alone watching a movie on HBO. Or at least I'd thought I'd been alone. I'd gasped as the hand came from behind, covering my mouth as a sharp pain pierced my neck. The last thing I'd remembered was eyeing the needle before my world had fuzzed completely.
Now I sat in this creepy concrete space on a broken-tiled floor with fluorescent lights above me. Years of training in law enforcement and occupying the same space as the worst kind of criminals could never have prepared me for this. Sheer trepidation crawled over every inch of my skin as I sat in that puddle of water, the mildewy smell inhaled with each breath. This time, in this place, I was the one in handcuffs.
"Help," I croaked, still not able to work up to a scream. "Please, help me."
As if someone had been waiting for me to speak the words, a beeping sounded, and the ominous metal door to the room opened shortly after. I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was to see the impeccably dressed man with his slicked back hair and fern-green eyes piercing me the moment they reached mine.
I hugged my knees to my chest with my free arm, closing in on myself so tightly, as if to disappear. My instincts told me to beg for my life, but I forced my mouth to stay closed. They always seemed to get off on the begging.
Jake strolled up to me, each of his steps eliciting an echo that caused me to flinch. I couldn't even be certain about his reasoning for taking me. If it was from the rejection at the bar the other night, or if he did indeed know I was the detective on his case? I counted on the former.
"Jake, what's going on?" I squeaked as if I were simply a woman who'd rejected him. I forced my gaze to meet his and cringed at the smile on his handsome face. It was the same smile that'd gotten to me the other night. The same one that'd infected my thoughts each day since. Now I wanted to hide from it. Crawl deep into a hole where it could no longer reach me, because now I knew what that smile meant.
He laughed before shaking his head and sitting down on the tiles beside me, so close the expensive material of his suit caressed my skin. I sought to move away as if the material might burn, but my mind froze me in place.
"It's in your best interest to stop playing games with me, detective." He paused, allowing the word to consume the air around us until I felt as if I were suffocating. "I think you know exactly why you're here."
The tears I fought to hold in erupted from my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat. I turned to him, meeting his warm stare. "Listen, Jake, whatever it is you think you need to do, you don't. I don't even know anything about you. You can just let me go and—"
"Shh," he cooed, placing a finger over my trembling lips. He sighed and caressed a strand of hair in front of my face as if he were admiring it before letting it drop. "Laila, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?"
I nodded a few more times than necessary.
"I'm not going to let you go. Period. You should know that as well as I know you wouldn't simply keep this little incident to yourself if I were to set you free. So that's done. We don't need to waste anymore breath on it."
My face contorted, and I ducked into my knees, shaking as bits of my hope chipped away with Jake's words. His hand smoothed over the cotton material of my T-shirt pressed against my back, rubbing as if to console me. "Don't touch me," I snapped, jerking away from his touch and meeting his gaze to glare.
His warm features morphed before my eyes, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing, making him appear to be an all new person. A person I had yet to see. I yelped as the hand that had caressed me moments ago fisted into my hair and yanked me so that my ear pressed against his lips.
"Would you like to be my enemy, Laila? Would you like to be beaten and degraded until I get what I want? Because currently that's the plan, and it suits me just fine." He loosened his hold on my hair, but I didn't dare move. The venom in his words stole the breath from my lungs and my ability to control my own actions. I shook violently in his grasp, even as the hand capable of destroying me massaged my scalp and his other hand reached out to caress my cheek. He turned my face to meet his, and the terrifying features were gone.
"But it doesn't have to be that way. We can be friends instead. No one would hurt you, including myself. All you'd have to do is answer a few questions for me. That's it. Then you get to go take a warm shower and sleep in a soft bed."
Every logical part of my brain knew he lied. That it would never be that easy. Yet, I found myself nodding anyway, fear of the violent part of him I'd yet to fully see far outweighing any logical part of me.
"I need to know what information you have and who is giving it to you."
I swallowed before nodding. My breathing was harsh, and I had to take several shaky inhales before words could form. "I'll tell you everything I know," I said, pausing to take another deep breath. "But I won't give you names."
Jake's eyebrows raised, and he sat up straighter against the wall. "Names? As in plural?"
Oh shit. He didn't know we had more than one informant.
My brain searched for something to say to correct the mistake, but I'd taken too long. "That's not what I meant," I squeaked out.
"Everything, Laila. You tell me everything, and I'll help you. But as soon as we walk out that door, there's nothing I can do. I'm your best friend right now, whether you know it or not. So start with the moles. All of them."
The authority in his tone made me feel an inch tall, and I cowered into myself. I'd never give him what he asked. I was already dead, regardless of the lies he told me. Anyone I gave up would be as good as dead also. And not all were bad men. Many had been forced or coerced into working for the monster before me.
"Last chance, Laila."
I stared into the green of his irises with both determination and fear. "No."
His eyes closed, and a long breath blew over his lips, tickling my skin and sending a mint smell filtering into my runny nose. When his eyes opened they were hard and merciless. "Okay then."
He dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the cuff, dragging me to my feet after my wrist was free. The grip on my arm was unforgiving, as if he knew I'd attempt to pull away. I didn't disappoint, jerking my arm back as he forced me along with him to the door.
"Wait, what are you going to do?"
No answer. Jake banged against the door a couple times, and it opened after making that same beeping sound as it had before. My fight or flight instincts kicked in the moment I spotted the hallway, and I kicked and tugged and scratched at Jake, but he never let up. Instead, he twisted my arm, sending searing pain running through me, and forcing me to turn. He
pushed my face into the hallway wall and pressed his hard-on into my back.
My mouth opened in a gasp as Jake shifted, ensuring the bulge was unmistakable to me.
"You want to play rough, Laila? Because I don't mind at all." He thrust against me. "In fact I quite like it. Can you tell?"
I froze against the wall and my breaths came in rapid succession. I felt as if I were a mouse being held by its tail, in complete panic mode while all my efforts were useless. My fate rested in the hands of a man who got off on seeing me scared, fighting, and in pain.
"Please," I whispered, even with the utter absence of his humanity.
He pressed his lips to my ear. Each of his exhales sent a chill cascading down my spine. "Answer me first," he said, the huskiness in his voice obvious. "Do you want to play rough?"
"No," I whispered.
Jake pulled back, brushing my hair over my shoulder and turning me to face him. "See that man?" he asked pointing to a nicely dressed person standing like a statue in front of the door to the room we’d just left.
I nodded, returning my stare back to Jake.
"He's a guard. There are many more inside, and even more than that surrounding the property. There are surveillance cameras monitoring every inch of the estate, as well as motion detectors that track the outskirts. Every person on the security team is informed of your presence, so if you think you have a shot, go ahead." Jake gestured toward one end of the hall, but my eyes never left his. It was just a cruel game to steal any hopes I'd had of escaping. But I'd already known about his ways of guarding the property, so in a fit of bravery I decided to play back.
"I'm well aware of how you secure the manor, Jake. I know more about you than you think."
He took a step toward me, but I held my ground. My shoulders squared as he towered over me, only a few inches away. He bent down until he was able to once again whisper in my ear. "If you don't stop calling me by my name, I'm going to cut your tongue out and keep it as a souvenir. It's sir or Mr. Cryson. You don't fucking know me, detective."
His words stole my breath, leaving me standing there with my heart beating rapidly while my muscles wouldn’t budge.
He straightened and shifted his attention to the guard. "Help me bring her downstairs."
Jake spun and walked away. Two hands grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind me and pushing me forward. It was probably a necessity that the guard helped. I'm not sure I could've moved on my own accord because as we traipsed through another password-protected metal door I realized I wasn't the mouse being held by its tail. I was already in the trap.
Jake
The smell of Laila's panic filled the air as we made our way down the concrete steps, and I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. I ached to turn and watch her. To see the rapid expansion of her chest as she took in the raspy breaths that sounded behind me. It took all my self-control, but I kept my eyes forward, thankful for the ecstasy my other two senses provided. I was a bastard for enjoying this as much as I did, but unlike my younger brother, I felt no need for guilt. I basked in my own depravity.
As we made it to the door at the bottom of the stairs, I gave in and glanced behind me. I'd be damned if I missed this part. Laila stood in her oversized T-shirt that brushed against her thighs. White panties hid underneath, and as my cock pressed against my slacks at the sinful image in my head, I wondered if there was a better way to go about this. I'd never tortured a woman before. Not out of the kindness of my heart, but still. There were other things I'd prefer to do to the body I currently drooled over. Too bad it wasn't all up to me.
The metal door creaked open as I pushed on the handle. I held it as the guard urged Laila inside, my gaze never leaving her. Her focus roamed everywhere except on me, however, as she took in what one might consider a dungeon. Every piece of equipment capable of inflicting pain littered the walls, shelves, and cabinet drawers of the place. She swallowed as her wide, doe eyes shifted to meet Dravin's, who stood impatiently next to the agreed-upon equipment.
"What the hell took so long?" Dravin asked, his question directed at me. He didn't attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice, and anger spread through me for him disrespecting me in front of our captive. It gave the impression that Dravin was the man in charge, and if my aura was colored it would've swirled with red, black, and green.
I chose not to respond, instead turning my attention to the guard. "You can go."
He released Laila's wrists and left. Predictably, Laila's gaze darted after him toward the door, and a smile stretched across my face as I stepped away to let it shut.
"Laila."
Her eyes finally met mine before flicking to Dravin, then back to me. The sound of the door upstairs opening and closing filtered into the room, but she still looked ready to run. I blocked her path, but marveled at how her mind still helplessly searched for an alternative. Her gaze moved to the wall, probably searching for a weapon with which to defend herself, but I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist before she became too tempted. "You don't know the code to the other door. What're you going to do if you did manage to get to those?" I asked nodding to the wall of instruments.
"Please. Please, Jake. Don't let him hurt me," she begged.
All amusement, lust, and softness that might've showed on my face vanished as my eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. The anger that had sizzled now roared, igniting every part of me. Laila pulled back, jerking against the wrist that I held in my grasp. My grip tightened until she winced in pain, and I dragged her over to the adjustable chair that Dravin had already leaned back.
"No no no, please. Please I'm sorry. Please don't do this!" she screamed as Dravin and I fastened her wrists and ankles to the chair with leather straps.
After she was secured, I stepped back, watching as she bucked against the restraints. Her face contorted with each scream. She didn't stop until Dravin's hand circled her throat, and he squeezed until her face turned purple. Her eyes glued to mine as if expecting me to save her from him.
"If the next thing that comes out of your mouth isn't the name of the mole you've been sneaking around with, I fucking promise you'll regret it. You can cry and scream all you want, but it won't do anything for you. We won't stop until you give us a name, understand?"
Dravin released his hold when Laila nodded. She gasped as soon as he removed his hand, and we waited several minutes for her to suck in gulps of air and finish with her coughing fit.
"Well?" Dravin asked.
She looked him in the eyes, and before the words could leave her mouth I knew it'd be a long night. With all the fear that showed in her demeanor, there were equal amounts of resolve. "Go to Hell. Both of you," she said, flicking her gaze toward me.
Dravin glanced at me and nodded before walking over to turn on the hose. I picked up the end and as water sprayed onto the concrete floor, you would've thought it was fire with the way Laila's eyes bugged out of her head.
"Thirsty?" I asked, the streaming water only a few inches from her face.
"W-what are you doing?"
"The drugs in your system dehydrated you, Laila. We need to get some water in you before we start."
"Start what?" she asked, her eyes imploring.
I sighed, considering abandoning the small kindness all together. She wouldn't want to be anywhere near water when we were through, and she really was dehydrated. Dravin came up beside me, his brows furrowed and the question apparent in his expression.
"Go ahead," I said, nodding toward the stream. Suspicion sat heavily on her face, but she leaned over anyway, hesitantly touching her lips to the stream. After the initial taste, she closed her eyes and took large gulps, cringing as it moved down her bruised throat.
"That's enough," Dravin said beside me.
Laila whined as I moved the hose from her face and handed it to Dravin. I stepped behind Laila, grabbing the thick cloth from the metal stand and pulling it taught between my hands. Dravin leaned the chair back farther so that Laila was almost parallel with the floor
. Her eyes glued to the cloth now secured in my grasp and her chest lifted with panicked breaths. She had to have known what was coming, but she didn't speak a word. A tiny bit of respect for the woman filtered in as I knelt and brought the cloth in front of her face.
"Ready?" I asked, glancing at Dravin, who stood staring with dead eyes at Laila.
He nodded, and as the sound of Laila taking a deep breath drifted into my ears, I brought the cloth over her face while Dravin aimed the water at her mouth. She thrashed, and muffled screams erupted through the cloth and water mask. I closed my eyes, pulling tighter and counting to ten before letting up. She choked on her gasps and shook her head.
"What's the name?" Dravin asked as he aimed the cold water toward the drain underneath the chair.
Laila cried as she shook her head. "Please," she said, still gasping for air.
I met Dravin’s eyes before he nodded, and I stretched the cloth over Laila's face again.
7
Laila
Water continued to drip from my hair and nose long after they'd left. I couldn't be sure that tears weren't mixed in as well, but if so, I didn't feel them. Only the water. So much water. It was all I could focus on as I sat in the metal chair staring into my soaked lap, watching as each drop collided with my thigh.
I guess that was one thing Jake had done for me, raised the chair so I wouldn't have to lie in the puddle of water beneath me. I cringed at the mere thought of the man and clenched my eyes shut, trying desperately to keep that part of my mind closed. The numbness faded by the minute, and I wasn't ready yet. I couldn't bear to face the reality of my situation or the cruelty of my captors. I wished to remain lost in my head until they eventually found me useless and killed me, and I didn't care how weak it made me. The numbness was the only thing that saved me. Not my training, not the captor I'd foolishly daydreamed about, and certainly not my strong will. Only the numbness that faded too quickly.
Dethroned (Darker Places Book 3) Page 5
