by James, Gemma
But I needed his kiss. No matter what came next, I wanted the taste of him with me, on my tongue, branded in my memory. Maybe I could survive if I had that to hold on to.
He expelled a breath an instant before he pressed his mouth to mine. Parting my lips, he thrust his tongue inside and dueled me into surrender. One hand fisted my hair, yanking my head back, allowing him a deeper possession of my mouth. We both moaned, a sorrowful sound of desperation laced with need, maybe even hope.
Except hope was a sword that would slice us into pieces if we let it.
The frantic slide of his tongue speared through me with a delirious ache, and I whimpered. Everything fell away; the scars on my body, the coffin-like space that held us prisoner, the loss of his memory—it all vanished in the fray of our need for each other. Eventually, we severed the connection but hovered inches apart, our choppy breaths blending with the sound of the road beneath us.
Then the car slowed and the brake lights cast his face in eerie red. My pulse, already galloping from his kiss, took off in a sprint. “I love you, Rafe.”
“Don’t you dare say goodbye to me yet.” His brows furrowed, and I couldn’t resist running my thumb over one.
The car turned and we swayed with the motion. I held my breath, only letting it out after the vehicle regained speed. We clutched each other, awaiting the inevitable confrontation that would come when the tires stopped spinning. Time was lost to the lull of the road, distorted in every brake and turn. The wheels slowed to a crawl on rough ground, bouncing over potholes and ridges.
We lurched, hitting a particularly bad spot, and I cried out his name then pressed my lips to his again, wishing I could freeze this moment. I could live my life in this trunk with him, our bodies entwined, mouths fused, and find peace.
But that was impossible. We rolled to a stop and the rumble of the engine fell silent. Blackness and fear coiled around us as our fate hung on a thread. Heavy steps rounded the side of the car, and someone jingled a set of keys.
“I want you to run, Alex. When I tell you to go, don’t even hesitate.”
With a nod, I swallowed and managed to squeak my agreement, but deep down, I knew.
I’d die before leaving him to face this alone.
2. WELCOME TO MY WORLD
Rafe
Whatever they’d given me still blazed in my veins, stealing control of my body and fucking with my ability to protect her. The situation pressed on me like a thick slab of steel. My head felt woozy from whatever concoction they’d pumped into me, and my limbs were as useless as the tentacles of a jellyfish. I knew the odds weren’t in our favor. We were about to face off a group of men intending to…fuck, I didn’t know what they wanted, but I doubted they’d taken us to shoot the breeze.
The explosion on my father’s island was a continuous echo in my ears, but thinking about the flames that ate away at my childhood memories, turning them to ash, would get us nowhere. I couldn’t control what had happened. I could only control now, this moment and the next to come, and I’d be damned if I let Alex suffer without putting up the fight from hell.
The trunk popped open, and Alex clung to me with desperate hands, her face buried in my shoulder as she breathed, “Oh God,” against my skin. Her terror raged through me, her tiny frame shaking in my arms.
Yet I knew she was stronger than me.
She had to be, to have survived so much and still have a heartbeat. I cursed God, fate, the universe—even the ball of dirt gravity glued us to—for dropping her into another horrifying situation. Had she not been through enough?
“Promise me,” I whispered again, the plea lost in her hair, though I knew she heard because she held on tighter.
And that’s when I knew. She wasn’t going to run.
Because she was strong. Stubborn. Loyal.
Because she loved me.
The lid of the trunk creaked and cool air hit my back an instant before the barrel of what I assumed was a gun pressed into my spine.
“Get out slow and no one will get hurt.”
The guy at the other end of the weapon backed off, and someone snorted, barely covering their muttered, “yet.”
Reluctantly, I freed Alex from the cage of my arms and turned in the confined space. Trees obscured the moon, and shadows hid the men’s features, though their hatred poisoned the atmosphere and spiraled around me like a tangible entity. Only one held a gun, and he had it locked on me with relentless force.
Had I miscalculated the number of men on the island?
“Don’t have all night, Mason. Get out.”
I grasped the edge of the opening and hefted myself up, biceps flexing under the strain, and crawled from the trunk. One foot then the other touched the ground, and rough earth gouged the soles of my feet. A chilly breeze whispered through the trees. Even July brought cold nights with it.
“Hands up.”
Raising my arms, I took stock of the situation. Three men, one gun, and the isolation blared its silence, save for the tumultuous chirp of crickets. I glanced at the sky, expecting to see the same galaxy of stars visible from the island, but the sky was faded, as if the glare from the city had snuffed out the brightness.
Considering the amount of time we’d spent in the trunk, I guessed they’d taken us close to Portland.
“Don’t get any ideas,” the guy with the gun said. He wore a dark hoodie, and his stance was aggressive, as wide as his broad shoulders. “I don’t have to kill you to keep you from running. Your kneecaps will do.” He lowered the weapon to make his point.
I clenched my teeth and stood up straighter, though weakness still lingered in my limbs. My arms trembled from the effort of holding them up. If I could overtake the guy, then Alex might have a shot at getting away.
But could she outrun the other two? And what if there were more? I hadn’t miscalculated. There’d been more than three men on the island, and one of them had worn a baseball cap and sunglasses, but he wasn’t here now.
“Where are the rest of your buddies?” I asked, hoping to get a better idea of how many assholes we were up against.
Approaching headlights beamed from behind me, and Hoodie tilted his head so the light hit him at just the right angle to keep his face hidden in shadow. The car rolled to a stop, and doors creaked open and slammed shut. “Does that answer your question?” he asked.
Not even close.
From the corner of my eye, I spied motion. More weapons cocked, and I didn’t have to look to know they were all aimed in my direction.
“What do you want with us?” I asked Hoodie.
He shook his head, and the hood of his jacket fell back just enough to reveal a face manic with the promise of pain. “Don’t try anything stupid. If you fuck with us, she’s the one taking the heat for it, got it?”
Suddenly, his form swayed in front of me. No, I was the one swaying. The trees behind him morphed in my vision, as if they danced lazily on the other side of a funhouse window.
I blinked several times until my sight cleared. Holy fuck. When would the drugs stop messing with me? Alex couldn’t run. Not with all the guns and muscle surrounding us. I needed time. Time for the drugs to dissipate. Time to come up with a plan that wouldn’t get her hurt, or worse, killed. Then I’d have a chance at taking them on. I didn’t care what happened to me, so long as she got out of this alive.
Hoodie gestured toward her with his gun. “Get out slow like your boyfriend.” She gave no indication of moving, and as he took a step forward, I backed toward the trunk.
“She’s scared. Pointing a gun at her isn’t gonna help.” I cranked my head and glanced at her pale face from over my shoulder. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. I swallowed hard and willed my voice to remain steady. “Get out of the trunk.” Every part of me rebelled at the thought of her crawling from that space and facing these assholes.
As she pushed to her elbows, the other men inched closer. What the fuck did they think we were going to do? Make a run f
or it in the dark with a bunch of assholes on our tails, guns firing? I was fucking useless, pathetically helpless, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I’d let her down. She’d stood in my living room hours ago, gazing out the fucking window because something had bothered her. She’d sensed this coming, and I’d sent her to my bedroom alone, unprotected. I prayed to God they hadn’t done more than just take her from my bed. A small hand slid into mine, bringing me back from the pit of self-flagellation I’d dived into.
“Good,” Hoodie said. “Now that we’re all here, let’s take this underground.”
“Where are you taking us?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know what he meant by “underground.”
“Shut the fuck up and move.” Two men came from the sidelines, guns at the ready, and gestured for us to start walking. The guy I recognized from earlier, with the cap and sunglasses, shoved me forward, and my grasp on Alex’s small fingers slipped. Without thinking, I swung around and slammed my fist into his face. He drew back then lunged for me with a powerful blow that pummeled me to the ground like I was nothing. I struggled to my feet, ignoring the sway of the scenery and the gun he pointed at my head, ready to deliver another punch, consequences be damned.
A cold, hard voice froze me to the spot. “Touch my brother again and I’ll put a bullet in her head.”
A skinny guy who looked to have more prep than hired goon in him held a gun to Alex’s skull. I traded a glance with her, struck in the gut by the firm set of her jaw. She’d been conditioned to silently accept hell, even with the barrel of a gun pressed to her temple, and that pissed me the fuck off. She shouldn’t have to accept this shit as normal, shouldn’t have to harden herself against the next fight.
“Chill out, Vinnie,” Hoodie warned his man. “He’s got no power here.” Even though he’d ordered the guy to stand down, Hoodie’s dark eyes threatened retribution for the punch I’d unleashed on his buddy.
I dropped my arm just as Hoodie nodded to one of his men. Something sharp pricked the back of my neck and the world wavered. I slumped toward the ground, the enclosing wall of trees sliding horizontal, and Alex’s scream echoed through what was left of my sanity.
3. ALEX IN WONDERLAND
Alex
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.
