The Bandit

by B. B. Reid

  While she was gone, I admired the opulence a second time. Everything was grander in the light of day. I was almost sure the entry was larger than my entire apartment. I used to think my humble home was the stuff of dreams, a castle in its own right, but then the fairy tale ended, and I was left in rags.

  It was obvious that Angel hadn’t suffered from the loss of his father. Why Angel would go through so much trouble because of a stolen watch? He even let me go…

  I’ll see you soon.

  He warned me.

  He told me this would come, and I chose not to believe him. I chose to live in the past and ignore the man he was today. I couldn’t give him the watch back since I sold it and now I didn’t even have the money. Would he consider other options for restitution?

  Goose bumps spread over my skin.

  Angel had been terrifyingly crafty for his age. How much worse could he do as a man?

  The possibilities were enough to give me nightmares. The watch I’d stolen was just one of many. I was surprised he even noticed it was gone. Despite all he had, he chose to use an innocent child— my child—as his pawn. It was beyond cruel. And it will kill him.

  Angel Knight was undoubtedly a dead man and this nightmare wouldn’t end until I saw that he truly was.

  “Mian.”

  Every part of me froze.

  The voice that arrested me was deep and commanding and did as designed.

  It stole my obedience.

  I turned and was slut struck by the sight of his large body dominating the open space.

  He seemed taller. He was definitely bigger, and…

  Oh god…

  Sexier than he was three years ago.

  His hair was shorter and looked much fuller now. The low trimmed beard framing the bottom of his face was new and promised a nice tickle to whatever lucky girl’s thighs he stuck his face between.

  “You made it on time. I’m impressed. I was beginning to think maybe sending your son to you one piece at a time would do the trick.”

  His sick threat freed me from the brief lapse in sanity his face and body had caused. The only part of me that mattered broke at the thought of my son being hurt.

  “Where is he?” I was forced to speak through clenched teeth.

  “In due time.”

  “I want him now, or I swear to God—”

  “Be careful what promises you make.”

  “I will find a way to kill you,” I finished anyway.

  “No, you won’t.” His confidence was nauseating. “Because if you fail, you die and you’re afraid to die.”

  “I’m not afraid to die,” I lied.

  “Maybe not. But you’re afraid of what will happen to your son if you die. Your mother is dead. Your father is locked up. Your only known family wants nothing to do with you….” He paused, waiting for me to react. After my aunt and uncle had refused to help me for the sake of my son, they became nothing to me just as I had always been to them. “I think you’ll cooperate,” he finished when I didn’t react.

  “I hate you.” The declaration seemed childish in the face of evil. Angel had been guarded when we were kids, but this was more. Something had cut out his heart and locked away his soul just to take over his body.

  “As opposed to what? Loving me?”

  The thought of loving someone as cold and cruel as he was made me wish I’d puke on his expensive shoes, so I chose not to respond.

  We both knew the truth. It first happened when I was twelve. He’d been eighteen at the time. It was impossible for either of us not to see. Since then it was promised that he’d do whatever it took to push me away and make sure it stayed buried.

  But it never did.

  Our years together had been ritualized. Some days, he’d treat me as if I were an infestation he couldn’t get rid of. He would barely muster the kindness to extend a hello or at the very least respond to one. He’d go out of his way to avoid me even though we both knew it would never do any good. Other days, when tip-toeing around each other hurt too much, he’d let me in. This was usually during the summers when we were stuck alone together all day for two months. He’d teach me how much fun trouble could be. Sometimes, I even pretended to like those movies filled with testosterone and bullets so he’d let me be alone with him in a dark room.

  And then it always happened.

  I’d get too close, and he’d pull away.

  “You could make this all go away.” The cold calculation in his tone scared away our memories.

  “How?”

  “Give me back my property.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  His jaw tightened. “And why is that?”

  I was tempted to gulp like some cheesy cartoon. “Because I sold it.”

  * * *

  His fingers pinched my skin as he dragged me deeper inside. I wrestled to get away, but it did no good as he manhandled me upstairs. He didn’t stop until we were in front of his father’s office. Flinging open the door, he pulled me inside an empty room and used his free hand to slam the door shut. But even trapped, his hand clutching my arm failed to let go.

  “Explain.”

  “I think I was pretty clear.”

  His hand tightened, causing me to wince. I could tell by the muscles working his jaw that he was grinding his teeth. “Who was the buyer?”

  “So you can steal his family and threaten him, too? No chance.”

  Surprisingly, he let me go and stalked across the room. When he rounded the desk, he planted himself behind it and glared. “I’m just going to jump right in and remind you that I have your son and now I have you,” he boasted. “I’m willing to use your son to get what belongs to me. How hard I push depends on you. If you want to continue this game, know that I don’t intend to play fair.”

  I pretended to think it over first. “Nice speech, but you forget I know you and I’m not afraid of you.”

  He tipped his lips, smiling lazy, and said, “You still thinking that?”

  “It’s not something I doubt.”

  “Your mouth hasn’t changed.”

  “So your pretty pink lips say.”

  His frown deepened. “Come again?”

  Shit.

  I didn’t mean to repeat his words from years ago, but the heated whisper in which he spoke them were engraved in my memory.

  “Nothing. Uh… It’s nothing.”

  His stare grew more intense by the second and then suddenly he was a blank canvas again. “Who was your buyer? Don’t make me ask again.”

  “There’s nothing you can do that will make me give up an innocent man.”

  “Innocent?” His eyes blackened and narrowed as he stood up and planted his fist on the desk. “You think he’s innocent? What do you think he plans to do with it?”

  The door bursting open interrupted my chance to answer. The two heartthrobs from the other night sauntered in.

  Man Bun spotted me first. “Hey, you made it!” His grin was bright and honest as if he believed I accepted an invitation to a dinner party instead of rescuing my son. Under normal circumstances, I would have admired the two dimples residing in his perfect cheeks. His bone structure made me itch to sketch him.

  The broody one acknowledged me with a head nod and a passing glance. His chosen trick of distraction was his open shirt displaying his bare chest. He wore dress pants, thank fuck. I might have had a stroke if they had been missing, too.

  I had literally been handed every woman’s wet dream on a silver platter. I was alone in a room with three of the world’s finest specimen of men, and I wasn’t even enjoying it.

  “Are we all good here?” Broody questioned. He was eyeing me as if I were the one who couldn’t be trusted.

  “We are. Our guest was getting ready to tell me who she sold my property to.”

  “I was not.”

>   “Are you stupid or just ready to die?” The growl that came from Angel’s brooding companion was as real as if he were actually a predator of the jungle. I wasn’t expecting it, so I froze just as an easy prey would. I should have faced him off. Give him the confrontation he so clearly craved. But instead, my gaze shifted to Angel, who passively stood by, fully prepared to let this man bulldoze over me. He clearly had no intention of stepping in if this got ugly.

  Give ‘em hell then.

  Resigned to fight my own battles, I took as many steps necessary until only an inch separated my nose from Broody’s chest. Convincing fearlessness required I tilt my head enough to kill him with just a look.

  Sadly, he didn’t die. He smirked and then amped up his glare to rival my own.

  “It’s true, I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life, but,” I popped my lips for emphasis, “I’m willing to bet nada plus zilch doesn’t equal the same for both of us. So, tell me. How many bullies will it take to screw in your light bulb?”

  He didn’t answer me, but his lips did the same twitchy thing Angel’s did when he was amused but preferred to hide it. “I see we have our work cut out for us,” he answered. His gaze never left mine, but I had a feeling he wasn’t speaking to me . Angel grunted, confirming my suspicion. Seriously, what was up with these men and their aggressive—albeit panty melting—sounds that really meant nothing?

  Broody’s gaze dipped as he rubbed his chin. “I never minded a little hard work, Sprite.”

  My body jerked at his use of the nickname Angel christened me with when we were kids. Well… I was a kid. He was legally a grown man for most of it, which was also why he’d always been so far out of reach…

  I turned to face the culprit.

  I didn’t feel his friend’s hot gaze on my body.

  It did nothing for me.

  Nothing.

  “How much did you tell them about me?”

  “Everything.” I turned his answer over in my head. He definitely didn’t sound apologetic.

  “Don’t you think that was private and unnecessary?” Only he had ever called me that and it was from an easier time that seemed so far away from where we were now.

  “Don’t think of it as gossip, little one.” Man Bun had been content to keep silent, but it appeared he had found his voice. Maybe it got lost in those deep dimples… My gaze shifted to him. His perch against the door was to no doubt keep me from getting to the other side. “Think of it as…” His lips stretched. Those damn dimples deepened. “…therapy.”

  “How would Angel talking about me be therapy for him?’

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Broody teased.

  My shoulders squared, ready to fight again. “Isn’t that why I asked?” He opened his mouth ready to growl some more when Angel stepped in.

  “Enough!”

  Angel rose from his desk and moved close enough to grip my arm. He pulled me away, and when he stepped between us, I stared at his back in disbelief. My view of his friend’s bare chest was now obstructed, but this view was much better. Until he turned and forced me under the full force of Angel’s glare.

  What’s wrong, pumpkin? You seem tense?

  His gaze narrowed as if he read my mind. “Give me a name, and I’ll release your son.”

  For some reason, I looked at Man Bun for reassurance, but he was an expert at giving nothing away. I turned back to Angel whose attention had never left my face.

  “And what about me? We’re a package deal.”

  The bastard smirked. “How else do you think I got you here?”

  “You son of a—”

  “A name, Mian. This deal has an expiration date.”

  The name of the pawnshop owner slipped from my lips. I panicked, and now I had condemned an innocent man. It was too easy. Did that make me a monster, too? I had just signed an innocent man’s death certificate. That guilt tripled when a conniving grin spread his lips.

  “Thank you, Mian.” He dismissed me as he turned to face Man Bun, giving me an unobstructed view of Broody , who was already barking orders through his phone. “Z, please show her where she’ll be staying.”

  “Staying? Why would I be staying? We had a deal.” God, I sounded like some cheesy action movie actress but what else was I supposed to say? I had been played.

  “And I’ll honor it after I know this is legit.” I was then forcibly removed from the room. I screamed until we reached my cell. I was expecting a dungeon or at least a basement. I should have known that would have been much too simple for him. Instead of a damp, dark room with concrete floors and blood on the walls, I was led inside a plush bedroom suite that looked far too comfortable for its purpose.

  I spun around and found Man Bun, whose name I now knew was Z, attempting to leave. “Hey!” I shouted. He turned and lifted an eyebrow but offered nothing more. This was the time for me to beg and plead and offer money I didn’t have. “What’s your name?”

  He smiled.

  I tried not to melt.

  “Z.”

  “No.” His confusion was evident in his frown. “Your real name. The name your mother gave you.”

  For the first time since meeting him, he didn’t appear friendly. His face had turned to stone, and his gaze was glacial as he glared across the space separating us. “Zachariah.”

  I nodded because the name fit, and then I did something stupid.

  “Is she dead?”

  “I don’t know where she is.” He turned, stepped on the other side of the portal, and tossed over his shoulder, “And I don’t care.”

  The door slammed shut and shook the frame. I heard the sound of the lock turning before I could even contemplate running. The final click might as well have been the sound of my freedom being discarded.

  I was officially Angel’s prisoner.

  Along with his two friends who I would bet had just as many demons.

  I was outnumbered and outmuscled which meant I would have to use my wits to get out of this unscathed. I slowly took in my surroundings but found nothing that could be used as a weapon. The bedroom had all of the basic furniture—a dresser, nightstand, chair, and an enormously wide bed. There was nothing to indicate that anyone had ever lived here before me. I studied the bed and panic seized my lungs in a tight fist.

  What stopped me wasn’t the missing pillows or sheets to cover the mattress.

  Handcuffs.

  He had freaking handcuffs!

  I charged forward until my knees touched the side of the bed. I inspected the cuffs hanging from the gold painted iron. The design was simple—elegant even—and even though I wasn’t an expert, instinct told me these weren’t from a gag gift collection.

  My attention slid to the footboard and just as I suspected, there hung the same style of cuffs.

  Could I hide them?

  I looked around the room for a potential hiding spot until I discarded the idea entirely. A man as resourceful as Angel would only find more.

  Or worse.

  He’d use something else. Something less gentle.

  Like rope.

  I took a deep breath and released. It wasn’t steady, but I was no longer on the verge of fainting either. Maybe these were left over from a previous lover. Maybe he had only left them to get under my skin.

  Mission accomplished.

  Slowly, I backed away from the bed until my back rested against a wall. Something dug into my hip so I spun and realized it wasn’t a wall but a door. Pushing it open, I discovered the en suite.

  It was small yet still five-star worthy. There was a glass-enclosed shower with stream jets completing a full three sixty. The stone tile complemented the wooden floor, and beside the shower was a garden tub that I ached to take advantage of.

  Reluctantly, I turned away and did my business while promising that one day I’d have s
omething like this to call my own. The design of the faucet was contemporary like the rest of the bath. I didn’t have long to admire the sleek design when the water turned scalding hot. I yanked my hands from under the running water.

  What the hell?

  I turned the fancy knob and shut the water off and reached for a towel only to find there weren’t any available. Seriously? I couldn’t even get a hand towel? I fought an eye roll and realized this must be part of his game. The same as the sheets.

  Angel thought he’d humble me by making me beg for sheets and towels.

  As fucking if.

  If he wanted me on my knees, he had to do better than that.

  I wiped my hands down the front of my jeans and left the fancy bathroom. When I looked up, I found the woman who had let me in earlier, waiting. “Can I help you?”

  “Mr. Knight has requested your presence at dinner tonight.”

  “Has he?” I looked her up and down and noticed she held a black box in her hand. “Could you please tell Mr. Knight that I am requesting he go fuck himself?” I batted my eyelashes sweetly.

  “This evening’s dinner attire has been selected.” Her face never once lost its pinch as she passed me and primly lowered the box on the bed.

  My lips curled. She might as well have been offering me a neatly wrapped infectious disease. I inspected it as much as I could from the other side of the room. Unless we were having dinner in a swimming pool, there was no way anything I’d fit into could be inside. I was small, but not so small that clothing my size would fit inside the box that wasn’t even big enough to fit more than a single shoe.

  “What’s in there?”

  “I told you. This is your dinner attire. You are instructed to wear them and nothing else.”

  Her answer pretty much sealed my fate. There was no way I was wearing what was or wasn’t in that box.

  I was here against my will and didn’t exactly bring my very meager wardrobe to choose from. Wisely, she left before I could interrogate her.