“Have Thomas see you in. I’ll be there in a moment.” Yuri planted himself in the doorway.
Whatever Charles’ reply was, Freya couldn’t hear it.
She shifted her weight and let the decanter fall to her side.
Her hands were cold. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was hard to breathe.
Yuri turned from the door, leveling a flat stare at her.
She stumbled back, glancing around, as if another door might appear.
“That was a mistake.” Yuri prowled toward her.
Freya sidestepped, trying to keep the sofas between then, but her feet weren’t working and Yuri was too fast. He gripped her by the arm. She dropped the decanter, liquid splashing her leg and onto him.
“That was very stupid. Understand me?” Yuri shook her. “Damn it.”
He turned away, letting her go.
“He—I...”
“You’re playing with your life, Freya. You’ve teased him now. He’s excited. He gets violent when he’s excited. I tried to tell you, say yes, do what you’re told. It would have been easier that way.”
“How can you...sell people? How do you live with yourself?”
Yuri paused and glanced over his shoulder at her.
“You assume I haven’t been where you’re at.” He smoothed a hand down his chest. “I have a theory that the only people who truly understand the dark desires of others are those who have fed them.”
Freya opened and closed her mouth.
Did he...?
“You’re a smart woman, Freya, so let me give you some advice. You have to learn. Adapt. And persevere. Charles is a man of certain...tastes. I’ve kept him fed, so to speak, but people like him...they make mistakes. They get caught. All you have to do is bide your time. That’s all. A person can endure anything for a couple of years.”
“Does that help you sleep better?” She couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around this. Any of it.
“No. Money does, though.” Yuri smiled, but it was all teeth and show.
He turned and strode toward the door, likely to go handle Charles.
Freya stumbled into the bedroom, hands shaking.
She needed to get out of here. Had to. Things were going so very wrong. She would not last another encounter with Charles.
She braced her hands on the dresser.
The phone was right there.
She wanted to call Jaxon so very badly. Needed to hear his voice.
The doors whisked open again.
Freya flinched away from the dresser and turned to face the bedroom door.
A familiar face peered around the corner.
“Liv.” Freya hiccupped the woman’s name.
Liv rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Freya’s shoulders. She sobbed into the other woman’s shirt, a flood of emotions sweeping over her.
“He’s going to kill me...”
11.
Charles Baker turned his rental car into the drive of the AirBnB condo he was renting for the week. He jabbed at the remote gate control and willed the thing to open faster.
In his experience, gates didn’t stop people like him. They only made the end results sweeter. More rewarding.
He did like to work for his thrills. But they weren’t satisfying him anymore.
This thing with Yuri was supposed to fix that, but that woman wasn’t doing what she was supposed to. She wasn’t bending to his will.
Charles needed time with her. He could break her. She would learn to love him. Or he’d kill her.
He blew out a breath and eased the car into the parking lot.
More than the thrill, he needed control.
He hadn’t always been this way. No, he’d never been normal, but he hadn’t been this.
Charles parked in the garage and turned off the engine.
The silence echoed what was inside of him.
Nothing.
He leaned his head back and stared up at the top of the car.
Doctors couldn’t fix him. He’d visited dozens, trying to connect the wires, but he must have been born without some crucial, human programming.
The killing had started off simple enough.
His mother had a...had it been a cat or a dog? Some small furry thing. It had hated him. Bit him all the time as a kid, and one day he’d just had enough. He’d snapped and killed it.
He’d been all of eight or nine. Maybe ten.
That day, he realized he’d never truly felt before. The rush of adrenaline. The heady power of it. He’d been on top of the world. At least until his mother found him. But he’d learned how to feel that day, and he’d been chasing that ever since.
Janelle. She was supposed to help fix him. Keep him in line. If only she’d say yes. He knew that, given her intelligence and breeding, they could work.
Charles was slipping. Could feel it like damp fingers on tile. It was only a matter of time until he got caught. Unless he changed.
This was supposed to be about him changing.
The door from the garage to the house opened.
A figure stood there, a bit of lighter darkness among the inky black. He simply stood there, watching Charles.
Who was this?
Charles opened his door and stood.
“Charles Baker?” the figure asked.
“Who are you?”
“It’s Donny.”
“Waiting for me in the dark? Yuri send you?” Why would Yuri’s assistant be here?
“Not quite. I’ve got something to pitch to you. A business proposition.” Donny stepped back into the house.
Charles was intrigued. He wouldn’t touch whatever deal Yuri or Donny brought him, but it was curious that he’d just been with Yuri, and the man hadn’t mentioned anything.
Charles followed Donny into the house.
A few lights were on now, illuminating the contemporary white-on-white aesthetic that Charles found soothing. Donny stood to one side, more in shadow than out of it. Still, nothing could disguise the ugly purple bruises on his face.
“Yuri and I have parted ways,” Donny said.
“I can see that.” Charles went to the freezer and pulled out the vodka. “What is it you would like to discuss?”
“I have some information about Janelle Thorburn. I’ll share it with you, for a price.”
“Name your price.”
“Ten grand.”
“I’m afraid I’m not interested.”
“Hear me out. You stand to make over ten times that much, if you know what I know.”
“Does Yuri know you’re here? I would imagine he wouldn’t like this whole conversation happening without him.”
“I’m a free agent now. Besides, you’ve done side deals with me before.” Donny’s stare was pointed.
Yes, there’d been a time or two when Charles was desperate and Donny had come through for him. But that didn’t beholden Charles to him.
“Drink? Your face looks like you could use it.” Charles pulled two glasses down and poured a bit of vodka in them.
“Yes, please.”
Donny slid into the light.
Charles left the glasses where they were and waited for Donny to come to him.
There were moments when people were less guarded. Easier to surprise.
Donny grabbed the cup and lifted it to his lips.
Charles yanked a knife from the butcher block and shoved Donny up against the fridge. The cup fell to the floor, vodka coating his other pant leg.
He pressed the sharp side of the knife to Donny’s throat.
“Now, how about you tell me what you know, and I’ll decide if it’s worth your life or not, hm?” Charles smiled.
“T-the girl. There’s a trust fund. If she gets married and visits her family in Finland, she gets a couple million dollars. That’s it. I swear. I’ve got documents to prove it. Yuri found her by accident, and he doesn’t know that. I didn’t tell him.”
“And you were—what? Going to use the girl to get the money for your
self, until Yuri figured you out for a traitor? I don’t like traitors.”
Charles jabbed the knife into Donny’s throat, breathing in the other man’s last breath.
Janelle was his. The money would provide them with a more comfortable future to mold her into the woman he needed to keep him human, but it was not a reason to exploit her. Still, money was money.
Jaxon stared at the screens and the patrons trickling out. Last call had passed, but there were always stragglers in every club who just didn’t want the party to end.
Tonight Jaxon wanted to bust their skulls together or throw a chair, whatever it took to clear out the building.
It’d taken every bit of his self-control not to bust into the Queen’s Nest the moment he arrived. He wanted to drag Freya out of here, willing or not. He should have, the instant they were left alone last night. Fuck her sister.
His phone vibrated on the keyboard tray under the desk.
He peered around.
Yuri and Thomas were gone.
The head of the front of house security was locking up tonight. It was up in the air whether the guy would come check on Jaxon or not. It was better to play it safe.
He pulled his phone out.
Shelby’s text was at least good news.
Got in touch with M’s Ex’s assistant. Should know more soon. Z has a lead from the phone. Don’t do anything stupid.
Aunt Liv must have shared the evening’s events around with the others, if Shelby was cautioning him against doing anything stupid. Could they blame him?
This Charles guy was going to regret ever laying a hand on Freya if Jaxon got a hold of him.
Jaxon hoped the information from Donny’s phone proved the key to unlocking Michelle’s location. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure what he’d do about Freya.
One by one, the rest of the staff trickled out. The lights went off. And it was just them.
Jaxon almost wondered if the head of security was going to bother with him when the radio crackled.
“Wilson, you good?”
Jaxon picked up the radio, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, I’m good. Have a nice night.” And don’t come back too soon.
He set the radio on the desk and focused on the bottom monitor, the ones that showed all the entrances and exits. The manager fumbled with the locks before yanking on the now-locked door.
Jaxon slapped the open and hold buttons to the Queen’s Nest. He bolted around the desk, desperate to see her.
“Freya?” He stepped over the threshold and nearly barreled over her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. “Oh, God. Are you okay?”
She curled her arm over his shoulder and buried her face against his chest.
“Are you hurt?” He leaned back, the better to get a look at her.
“No, I’m fine.” She stared at his chest, her gaze haunted.
She might be fine physically, but the things this experience were doing to her mentally and emotionally weren’t. How long could she undergo this treatment before it changed her? She was still the same vibrant, strong woman he’d met in the back room of the club they both worked for, but that light in her eyes was dimming. He’d seen that in guys who stayed in the ring too long. Other promoters who’d started using. It was killing bits of her to be here.
“Freya?” He grasped her by the shoulders. “Let’s leave now.”
“No—Michelle?”
“We are close to getting a lead on where she is. Chances are we’ll know where she is by the morning.” He didn’t even taste the lie. That was how fast it flew out of his mouth.
“I can’t.” Freya took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest.
“We’ll find Michelle.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Being here might kill you. I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
“Just...find Michelle, okay?”
“What if we find her and it’s too late? What then?”
Freya turned from him, lifting her hands to her face.
Shit.
That was a sniffle.
“Freya? Freya, please? I don’t want you to get hurt.” He edged closer until he could wrap an arm around her shoulders, tugging her back against his chest.
“I can’t let anything happen to Michelle.”
“Would she do this for you?” He wasn’t very keen about anything he’d heard of Michelle so far.
“What?” Freya turned and stared at him. “She’s my sister.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I just... I’m worried about you.”
Just because he got it didn’t mean he liked it. He hated it. The idea of consciously leaving Freya in danger was so wrong.
He’d found her.
He could take her out of here right now, and no one would know until mid-morning. She wouldn’t even have to go willingly. She was—what? A buck fifty, at most? He could tell a man’s weight at a glance, but women were more deceptive about it. Regardless, he was pretty sure he could pick her up and carry her out of here without permission.
Freya would never forgive him, though, especially if something happened to Michelle, but at least she’d be alive. He was almost willing to make that call.
Almost.
The truth was he wanted Freya. To be around her. To be part of her life. To make her smile. He might not deserve someone like her, but it didn’t change the fact that over the last year, getting to know her in little pieces, being around her, she’d begun to matter to him. Sure, she was hot, but she was more than that.
She hadn’t laughed at his dreams. At the idea of him, thirty-one fucking years old and going back to school. Thinking about a PhD. Maybe he hadn’t told her that last bit.
“You’re going to find her, aren’t you? Tell me you are, please?” Freya begged.
“We are. We’re close. We’ve got people working ‘round the clock on this.”
Shelby hadn’t missed a single chance to give him an earful about not telling her what he was doing. He’d never considered that Shelby would feel as much guilt about Freya’s abduction as he did. Maybe more, since the scene with Ogden was about her.
“I heard that you got to meet Aunt Liv today.” Jaxon stroked Freya’s shoulder and down her back.
“She’s your aunt?” Freya peered up at him.
“Oh, no. She insists some of us call her Aunt though.”
“Us?”
“Come over here. Sit.” He led her to the ridiculous pink velvet sofas and waited on her to sit first, then took up a spot next to her. “There’s a group of us who met doing PT at this place. Different times over the last couple of years. Anyway, Aunt Liv treats us like we’re family.”
“She’s nice.” Freya curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder. “Hold me?”
How could he deny a request like that?
“Come here.” He pulled her deeper into his arms, halfway sitting on his lap so that he could cradle her to his chest.
“I’m just scared.” Her voice was slightly muffled by his shirt, but he wouldn’t even have to speak the same language to understand those words.
“I know. I know.” How did he absolve her of her fears? She was in danger. She was playing with her life. Deep down he was terrified he’d lose her, too.
“I just want this to all be over already.”
“Me, too.”
“I’d really like to forget all of this, you know?” She stared up at him, brown eyes so dark he could fall into them.
“Yeah.” Though moments like this he’d want to hold onto.
He bent his head and kissed her forehead. She lifted her chin until their lips brushed.
His response to her was automatic. His head spun a bit. He wanted more. Always more when it came to Freya.
Her hand curled against his chest, fisting his shirt. She tugged him closer and parted her lips, swiping her tongue against the seam of his mouth.
This was dange
rous. For him, at least. Where she was concerned, he lost his head. He did stupid things, like becoming employed by one of the nation’s most-wanted criminals. And yet, when she suckled his lower lip he groaned. He cradled the back of her head with one hand, and circled her waist with his other arm until he could pull her across his lap.
There.
That was better.
Ill-advised, but this way he could use both hands.
He cupped her cheek, taking his time and exploring her mouth. There was an underlying urgency to her kiss, the way she nipped his lip, that he refused to react to.
They had all night. He’d damn well take his time and savor this, though it sure as hell might give him blue balls.
She splayed her hand against his chest, leaning closer still. Her tongue stroked his, inciting all kinds of delicious ideas. She rocked against him, stroking his cock. He groaned and broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to her shoulder.
“Jax?”
“We should probably stop.”
“No.” She stroked her palm along his jaw. “I don’t want to stop.”
She leaned forward, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
“If you want to forget for a minute, I can do that for you.” He placed his hand over hers.
Making her feel something besides despair and fear would be no hardship. Some sentimental, sappy part of himself didn’t want to make love to her, only for her to want to forget this whole time.
What he wouldn’t give to have done this all the right way. Over coffee dates, taking her to lunch or the movies. Anything but this. But that ship had sailed.
“I want you, Jax. I want to feel something good.” She arched her back and shifted against him.
Jaxon clenched his teeth and pulled her more firmly up against him.
Whatever blood was left in his skull went south. Good intentions gone.
He hooked one arm under her legs, the other around her waist. He stood, lifting her with him. But only for a moment.
Jaxon turned and laid Freya on the cushions. She stretched toward him, kissing his cheek and buzzing his lips with her mouth.
“Turn over.” He needed to get that dress off her.
Freya grinned and shifted in place until she laid on her stomach.
There was probably a better word for the color than pale pink. Something fancier, that complimented her skin tone better. Whatever it was, it escaped him.
Bad Boy Prince: A Modern Fairy Tale (Twisted Royals Book 3) Page 14
