by James, Gemma
Just breathe.
Five in, hold, five out. Repeat.
The door remained shut. I listened for what seemed like forever, but I couldn’t hear anything beyond the erratic pulse thrumming in my ears. I continued my search, sliding drawer after drawer open, sifting through Rafe’s socks and underwear, pants, sweatshirts, and gym clothes—even silky, lacy lingerie in dark and sexy colors. That drawer could be fun. I pulled open the one I had yet to snoop through and my breath stalled.
Rafe had plans for me, all right.
A treasure trove of whips and paddles, dildos, clothespins, and other items I couldn’t even name lived in that drawer. He even had a standard set of handcuffs in there. I grasped the cool metal, digging beneath other perverted paraphernalia, and that’s when I discovered my purse buried at the bottom. I freed it along with the cuffs amongst a ton of clatter, and my feet carried me across the tiny space with quiet, swift steps. I dropped the stuff on the mattress and dug through my purse, hoping I’d find my gun until I remembered that I’d dropped it in my foyer after finding Rafe in my house.
But he had a gun. I knew he did. He’d even mentioned it to Jax. Considering Rafe would want quick access in the event of an emergency, I figured he kept it close by when he was most vulnerable—while he was sleeping. I rifled through the built-in nightstand next to the bed, but unless I wanted to beat someone to death with a sci-fi novel, I was out of luck.
Shit. I slammed the drawer shut in frustration then went still, on hyper-alert for the thump of footsteps coming my way. Surely Jax heard this racket? Each second I stood in this room, essentially trapped, seemed to take a minute off my life.
The open space beneath the drawer in the nightstand drew my attention. Acting on a hunch, I ran my hand underneath, palm side up, and my fingers smoothed over the cool handle of a pistol.
Jackpot.
I grabbed my purse and the cuffs, tiptoed toward the door and turned the knob, then stepped in full view of Jax. He looked up, halting mid-bite into a sandwich, and arched a brow at the gun I pointed at him. The sandwich flopped onto his plate.
“If I’d known you were gonna hold me at gunpoint, I wouldn’t have made you lunch,” he said, gesturing toward the untouched plate sitting across from him.
Food was the last thing on my mind. “You’re gonna tell me where he went.” I raised the gun a little higher.
He blinked, and his face relaxed into his normal, non-worried expression. But he should be worried. I might not shoot him in the head, but I was at the end of my rope. Jax was going to give me answers, or he might need a sling for his arm in the near future.
“Start talking.”
He let out a sigh that ruffled his shaggy hair. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”
“You sure about that? Maybe I’ve snapped.” I cocked the gun. “Maybe I’m done being a fucking doormat, Jax. A victim. Now tell me where he went!”
“He went to the barn,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
I scoffed. “Funny, that’s what he said.”
He rose from the bench slowly, keeping his eyes on the gun the whole time. “Hand it over. You’re being irrational.”
Oh hell no. If there was one thing a man needed to learn, it was that he never accuse a woman of being irrational. I stuck the barrel to my head and finally got the reaction I was hoping for.
Jax lurched forward with genuine fear in his eyes. “Alex—”
“How’s this for irrational?”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. I didn’t sign up for this shit.” He gestured toward the weapon. “Put the damn gun down.”
“I’m going after him, whether you like it or not.”
“Why the fuck are you doing this?” he shouted.
“He’s not acting like himself!” This version of Rafe was more unstable than usual because he was bottling up his demons, and I was terrified of what he’d do when he finally exploded. I tossed the metal handcuffs I’d taken from Rafe’s kink drawer onto the table. “Cuff yourself to that pole,” I said, indicating the metal rod that separated the sitting area from the galley.
He picked up the cuffs and dangled them by a finger. “C’mon. Be reasonable. You and I both know you aren’t going to fire that gun.”
“Do you really wanna find out?”
He let out a few colorful words before grudgingly complying. After he’d trapped the pole between his arms with his hands shackled on the other side, I edged past him and ignored the icy glare he sent my way.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing. Rafe is gonna make you pay for this, and when he does, I’ll be there watching.”
Stowing the gun in my purse, I took off toward the stairs and grabbed an oversized hoodie I assumed belonged to Rafe on the way, pushing my arms through the sleeves as I climbed the steps. Reality hit me with paralyzing force the instant the wind hit my face, putrid with the scent of fish and fresh saltwater.
Months had passed since I’d tested my ability to overcome my phobia. It wasn’t like riding a bike or catching up with an old friend—things a person could pick up months or even years later as if no time had passed. The longer I spent away from facing my worst fear, the harder it was to overcome when the need arose.
And I needed not to freeze now. Sickness boiled in my stomach, and I wanted to slap Rafe silly for taking off, for doing God knows what without telling me what the hell was going on. I earned each step toward the side of the boat through deep breaths, plenty of chanting, and even a few blind stumbles as I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t remember alighting from the boat, but the trek down the dock brought on a panic attack. I sank to the damp wooden planks, my palms sliding in the moisture from the drizzle of Pacific Northwest rain, and willed myself into a state of tunnel vision. Nothing else existed except that field, just mere feet away.
Jumping to my feet, I sprinted across the slick surface and skidded into the muddy grass. Shit, I didn’t have time for this. Rafe had at least twenty minutes on me. Probably longer. Pushing to my feet again, I searched the area, eyes scanning the field for the barn. Through the fog, I made out a brown structure that rose higher than most outbuildings, so I assumed I’d find him there. Doing what, I didn’t know.
Those cuffs should hold Jax for a while, but it didn’t matter. I still had the gun tucked away in my purse, and I’d threaten to shoot anyone that tried stopping me. My tiny frame swam in the hoodie, but the larger size only aided in hiding my face. A lazy gust of wind teased the hood, and I tugged it low over my forehead. Picking up my pace, I headed toward the barn, and the building grew bigger as I approached.
A door in the front stood ajar. I tiptoed toward it, my back stiffening as male voices filled the air. I recognized Rafe’s instantly, but a second voice, tone deep and even, wasn’t familiar at all. Then I heard my brother speak, and a chill rivaling the temperature crawled down my spine.
“I don’t have a problem with these terms at all.”
A scuffle sounded, and when I risked peeking through the crack in the door, I saw two men holding Rafe back from Zach. He swung his fists anyway and missed Zach by a few inches. My brother stood between two additional men, but his hands were cuffed behind him so he couldn’t defend himself.
“Of course you don’t have a problem with it,” Rafe said, one lip curving upward in a sneer. “You sick piece of shit. You fucking wrecked her.” He spit on Zach’s sneakers. “I’ll die before I let you get your hands on her again.”
“Hmm,” Zach said, tilting his head, appearing unfazed by the spittle on his shoes. “Yeah, I don’t have a problem with that either.”
“Enough.” A man cut the air with a firm hand, and the way everyone grew silent, I figured he was the guy in charge. “How about we calm down and have a civilized conversation?” He swung his gaze between Rafe and Zach. “I get it. The two of you got issues. But that’s what the cage is for. Work it out there.”
Rafe glowered at him. “I don’t
care who the fuck you are, Shelton. You’re not involving Alex in this.”
“That ain’t for you to decide. We’re playing on my turf, so we’re playing by my rules. You and De Luca junior here will each have a fair shot in the cage. Winner walks away with a hundred grand and the girl, and that’s my final word on this.”
“Like I said,” Zach said, tilting his chin up. “I don’t have a problem with this plan. Better than rotting in that Mexican prison.” He glared at Rafe. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I’ll pass on your regards to Jax. If I had my way, you’d be a fucking corpse. You might rethink your decision to escape after I’m done.”
“C’mon now.” Shaking his head, Shelton stepped between Rafe and Zach. “Let’s just call this a settled matter and get on with it, hmm?” He gestured to his men, and they let Rafe go.
Rafe stepped back, cracking the tension from his neck. He was the picture of cooperation, but I knew him too well. He could strike at any moment whether it was smart or not. I forced my feet to stay put. Intruding into this meeting was not smart.
“I’ll give you the day, my man.” Shelton slapped Rafe on the back. “But bring the girl here tonight. I’ll make sure she’s treated well and kept safe,” he said, throwing my brother a pointed look.
“No fucking way,” Rafe shouted. He lurched forward, and the other guys were on him again.
“Look,” Shelton said, holding his arms out at his sides. “It’s one fight, and if this feud between the two of you is any fucking indication, it’s going to be a helluva match. You both want a shot at each other, and you both want the girl. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
I couldn’t listen to anymore. As his words sank in, nausea burned in my throat. I pushed away from the barn and dry-heaved into the brush.
We couldn’t go through this again. We might not be trapped in a tunnel this time, but that man in there, imposing his will onto Rafe and me, left my stomach in knots. That fight loomed like a death sentence, especially considering how they were discussing it in a barn, most likely miles from civilization.
This fight would transcend dangerous. It might even be deadly.
And I was the prize.
10. HOSTILE NEGOTIATIONS
Rafe
“Alex stays with me,” I said, my voice deathly low and brooking no argument. I would take on every fucking asshole in this barn, leave bloody corpses in my wake before I’d hand over Alex.
Shelton’s spine stiffened, and he retreated a negligible inch. Barely noticeable—that sign of concession—but I recognized it for what it was. My rage had festered into an entity, and any fool within a few hundred feet of me could see that. Shelton was no fool.
“Alright,” he said. “The girl stays put, but I want her present at the match. Dress her up in something sexy. The crowd will love it.”
I bit back a growl, my gaze veering to Zach. For an insane moment, I almost expected him to give a shit. This was Alex. His sister.
The girl he liked to fuck.
But he couldn’t give two fucks whether or not she was dragged into this mess, so long as it benefited him. He didn’t wear smug well.
As if Shelton sensed the undercurrent of hostility still zipping back and forth between Zach and me, he instructed his goons to take Zach back to wherever they were keeping the fucker. As the other men herded him from the barn, he ground his teeth at being manhandled.
How do you like it, asshole?
Their exit left Shelton and me alone. I bunched my hands to keep from striking him. “This wasn’t what we talked about last night.”
“Sure it was,” Shelton said in a grating, humoring tone. “You want Zach, and I want a memorable final match worthy of you.”
What he wanted was a blood bath that lined his pockets. “You crossed a line by dragging Alex into it. She’s been through enough.”
“That’s just to get him onboard. Nothing personal. He thinks he’ll win, but I’ve got my money on you.”
“You might be willing to risk Alex, but I’m not.”
Shelton folded his arms over his massive chest. “I’ve got five hundred grand on you in this fight. That’s how little De Luca junior concerns me. I never liked his old man, and junior was never as good as you. He knew it. Everyone knew it.”
Even so, Zach had caught me off guard once already when he’d shown up on the island. Then a group of thugs had added insult to injury. But that was then, I reminded myself. I’d been fresh out of prison, hadn’t trained or fought for a while, and shit had spiraled out of control.
This was now, and for the past six months, I’d dominated inside the cage. I could win this. I knew it in my gut, believed it for one important reason; giving up Alex wasn’t an option.
And taking care of Zach was a necessity.
I tapped my foot for several seconds, mulling it over, trying to determine if Shelton could be trusted. “So when I win this, Alex and I are free to jet on out of here, right?”
“I have no intention of burning bridges, Mason. Not good for business, and you’ve proven to be good for business. It’s been years since I had a guy like you fight, so give me a good one before you up and quit on me.”
A siren blared in my head. What if I was too good for him to let go?
Stop being fucking paranoid, Mason. Not everyone’s out to get you.
But even so, the urge to grab Alex and disappear was strong, yet doing so would solve nothing. Zach would still be out there, and I’d be damned if we had to look over our shoulders for the rest of our lives, wondering when he’d catch up to us. If anyone should live in fear, it was Zach. But he didn’t operate like a normal human being. Fuck, I didn’t operate like a normal human being.
“If you fuck me over—”
“Have I ever done wrong by you?”
Not counting the shit he was pulling now? “No, can’t say you have.” He’d been nothing but good to me. This time, when Shelton stuck his hand out, I pushed past my defenses, logic, common fucking sense, and shook on it. And as I left behind the stench of distrust in that barn, my feet barely out the door, I wanted to turn back. Wanted to change my mind.
Impossible.
If this was the only way to get to Zach without stirring up more trouble, I had to do it. Didn’t mean I had to like it though. I returned to the boat, silently screaming obscenities the whole way. My life was a series of clusterfucks.
Would it ever end?
Not even close. I got the second biggest shock of the day once I stepped aboard and entered the cabin. Jax was handcuffed to the damn pole.
He shrugged, throwing me a helpless look. “She found your gun, man, and she looked pissed enough to use it.”
Fuck.
I stormed past him and flung the bedroom door open. The dresser was a fucking disaster zone fit for a visit from FEMA. She’d left the drawers open with clothes strewn about, and the drawer where I kept my toys and implements hung precariously off its tracks. Alex was nowhere to be found.
I strode across the room and just as I suspected, she’d taken her purse. A quick swipe underneath the nightstand confirmed the stolen gun.
Double fuck.
As I returned to Jax, I pulled out my cellphone and keys. “How long ago did she leave?”
“Thirty minutes, I guess. Fuck, I don’t know. I’ve been a little tied up here.”
“Any idea where she was headed?” I asked, unlocking the cuffs binding him. I pocketed them, figuring they might come in handy.
“She was going after you, dude.”
“But she didn’t know where I was.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I might’ve said something about the barn.”
“Jeez,” I said, shaking my head.
“She was pointing a fucking gun at me. What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said, attempting to contain my aggravation. “Handle the situation? She wasn’t gonna shoot you.”
“You didn’t see her face. She’s not the same scare
d-shitless girl from six months ago.”
“She’s upset with me,” I muttered, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d put her through the wringer—six months ago, last night, even this morning when I’d laid her on the table for breakfast. She had too many questions and no fucking answers.
I dialed her cell and got her voicemail straight away. Either her phone was dead, or she’d shut it off. Or someone had shut it off for her. With a hard swallow, I banished the thought from my mind. Shelton had stowed Zach in shackles somewhere, and he had incentive enough to make sure the fucker stayed there. No one had taken her. Not this time. I refused to believe it, so that meant she’d gone off on her own.
But why?
Rubbing his wrists, Jax leaned against the bench, and I sank onto the sofa across from him.
“Shelton wants me to fight Zach, with Alex as the prize. If she followed me to the barn…” I cursed under my breath. “She might’ve overheard something she shouldn’t have.”
“Or she’s scared out of her mind after pulling a fucking gun on me.” Jax’s face hardened. “She should be scared. You need to get that shit under control pronto.”
He might be right, but I couldn’t drive away the anxiety in my stomach. If she’d overheard us, then she’d seen Zach. Maybe she’d removed herself from the situation so she couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip. Seemed like something she’d do.
But had she taken off because she was worried about my part in this upcoming fight, or because she was afraid for her brother? Did she sense how badly I wanted to rip into him? Maybe she’d caught a whiff of the metaphorical blood on my hands, and the realization that she was in love with a monster had sent her packing—had sent her careening over the cliff, a thread away from another mental meltdown.
“Fuck. I’ve gotta find her.”
11. REBELLIOUS
Alex
