Beautiful Tyrant (Enemies to Lovers - Dark Romance Book 3)

by C. P. Mandara

  'Poor baby,' she coos. 'If it's any consolation, I'd still sleep with you even with the black eye I am almost certain to give you.'

  This time I do smile. Squeezing her tiny bicep, I say, 'I'm not convinced your right hook is up to much, but you can try, sweetness. You can try.'

  Chapter Eighteen - Harper

  Gabriel and I know it's crunch time. If we don't get out of here soon Brandt will go down for yet another crime he hasn't committed, and he'll be lucky if he's not claiming his pension by the time he comes out. If he comes out. I can't let that happen. This is all my fault. How can I have been so stupid?

  When I planted that gun and those drugs on him five years ago I knew bad things would happen, but I never expected them to be this bad. I thought his parents would bail him out with the best legal eagle money could buy, which would result in nothing more than a firm slap from the judge, followed by six months of community service. That was what I had been told when I asked one of the college lecturers for some friendly advice. He said that leniency would probably be given as he was a first offender and provided he showed remorse his sentence wouldn't be too onerous. How wrong was that guy? The judge in question virtually threw the book at him, and I see no reason to believe that this time will be any different. Brandt's parents haven't spoken to him since he's been released, so any help from them is out of the question. There is a chance Helena's parents might bail him out, but I don't want to risk another disaster. It seems like Mal has it in for Brandt, and if he knows the judge, then anything can happen. I'm not the naive girl I was five years ago. I've seen too much since then. We need to stop this before it blows up in our faces. Once it's exploded, there will be no going back. If I screw up Brandt's life any more than I have already, I will go crazy. There are no two ways about it.

  'What's he likely to give you?' Gabriel is looking at me with those dark-as-fuck eyes, and all I can think about is sex. For the last couple of day's he's been horribly tormented by the shit Mal's had him do to me, but for the most part I've enjoyed it, if you can call being in a constant state of arousal enjoyable. There is a definite possibility I could fall in love with the man, but I won't let myself. It would be too dangerous. I've been around men like Gabriel all my life, and it never ends well. If I get through this alive and want a chance at happiness, I need something in-between. Someone who can hurt me but knows when to stop. Gabriel is not that man, even though the thought makes me want to weep. What is wrong with me, anyway? My hormones have gone into hyper-drive just lately. The Gabriel and Brandt mix is enough to push any sane woman into meltdown.

  'Probably Zyprexia or Seroquel, though I don't know for sure. The man has access to just about any pharmaceutical under the sun. He's also been known to mix them.' I don't really care what he gives me. I just want Gabriel to stop him from ruining Brandt's life. If he can slip him some of what he's giving me, we're in with a chance.

  'Can you handle that? You've barely eaten for days.' There is concern floating in his eyes, and it's ridiculously touching. A week ago the man couldn't stand me, and now look where we are. He's seen what I've had to go through at Mal's hands, and I don't think even he realised how sick and twisted the jerk is. He does now.

  'I'm used to going hungry. This is no biggie, trust me.' It is a biggie, but he doesn't have to know that. It'll only make him feel bad, and I hate seeing the tough guy brought low.

  The last time I took this stuff was years ago, and on a full stomach. It was pretty damn scary then, and I can't think it will be any better now.

  Gabriel gives me a funny look. 'Why is it I think you're lying to me, little lady?' Hey, this guy is good. He can spot a lie from a mile away. Now it's time for deflection.

  'We're never getting out of this alive, are we? Even if you kill Mal and all the guards, we'll be dead before the week is out. He had friends everywhere. What are we thinking?' All his men know my face. I've been around too long. There's a chance Gabriel may manage to get out of here, but he won't if I tag along with him. 'You have to leave me behind,' I repeat. 'There's no way you'll escape if I come with you. Taking me will be like painting a target on your back.' I mean it. There is no future that has me in it. He has to realise that.

  'We discussed this earlier; I have a plan,' Gabriel says. 'Just concentrate on not getting yourself killed and I'll do the rest, okay?' I can't argue with him again because Mal strolls back in.

  He has a bottle of pills in his hand. I have no idea what they are because I can't read the label from here, but they're nothing pleasant, that's for certain. He'll chuck them in some whisky and force me to drink it. It gets into the bloodstream quicker that way, or so I'm told.

  'You wanna know what I'm going to do to you, after you've taken these?' Mal asks me.

  I shake my head. I don't want to know. If he keeps quiet there's a chance I won't remember either, which would be ace.

  'Don't be such a spoilsport, darlin',' he says, pouring a glass of whisky. He then shakes out three pills from the plastic bottle and pulls them apart one by one, letting the powder sink into the drink. I try my best not to watch. I'm not sure how much he should be dosing me with, but that looks like too much. With any luck I might OD on the stuff. Gabriel doesn't look happy either. I can see his jaw tightening.

  'Isn't that too much? She'll be out of it if you overload her system.' This is new. Gabriel doesn't usually say a word around Mal. He's worried.

  Mal ignores him. He's completely focused on me. 'I think it's about time I got my tube of glue out, don't you, sweetheart? You've seen me work often enough. If you can't play nicely, why shouldn't you suffer a little? If I cut off a couple of fingers and toes, and stick them somewhere else, maybe you'll be a little more amenable next time I ask you to perform. What say you, sweetheart?' My eyes bulge. I hadn't expected him to start this so soon, but to be fair I have been asking for it, in a roundabout kind of way. Oh shit. This is really happening.

  'Well, I was wondering when we'd get down to that, darling,' I purr, with my eyes flashing like a Siren's. Watching him swirl the amber liquid around in the glass, to dissolve all the white powder, my legs go to jelly beneath me. Toughen up, girlie. I'm not going to cower in the corner. If he wants a piece of me he can take it, but I'm going down fighting.

  It helps that Gabriel is already moving silently behind us. He knows Mal's attention is elsewhere. This is the perfect time to strike, but he needs to act fast. As Mal holds the glass to my lips I tip my head back and drink. There's no point fighting him on this point. If I defy him he'll only pinch my nose until I'm gasping for breath and then shove the contents of the glass down my throat, or even worse, find something he can inject. I'll take my meds like a good little girl, but everything after that is up for discussion. I'm not sure what I can do with my wrists and arms handcuffed to the bed, but I'm willing to explore all possibilities.

  Swigging the whisky down with a grimace, I check on Gabriel from the corner of my eye. He's already opened the bottle of pills Mal's left on the table, and he's emptying as many as he can into the opened bottle of Jack. There's a good chance he'll kill Mal if he necks a glass of that stuff, but perhaps that is his plan. I'm not against the idea, but I was hoping for something a lot less quick and far more painful. Maybe I'm joining the dark side in my old age.

  When Mal pulls a knife out of his pocket I recoil instantly. It's a military-style hunting knife, and it looks evil. The blade has been freshly sharpened judging by the edge I can see, and for kicks and giggles there's a serrated part to the knife at the rear. I'm about to be cut into ribbons. I've seen him use these too many times before. While I always knew this day would come, now it's here I'm trying really hard not to freak out. I know he wants me to lose it, and that's why I'm not going to.

  'Can you feel it yet?' He's not talking about the knife on my body because it's nowhere near me. he wants to know if the drugs have kicked in. He needs me a little unbalanced and unhinged before he begins. The dance is more fun that way.

  'Nope. You got t
o give it a couple of minutes,' I say, slowly and carefully. I'm lying, but I'll use any delaying tactic I can to avoid that knife for as long as possible. In reality I'm beginning to feel a little lightheaded and woozy, and I'm pretty sure my heartrate has rocketed, though that might have something to do with the knife.

  Mal flips it in his hand, catching it expertly by the handle. 'I think you're lying,' he says, bringing the knife down to my stomach, where my flesh is already bruised and abraded from his previous games. My body does its best to sink into the mattress, trying to get as far away from that blade as possible, but it follows me with the greatest of ease.

  'Well since you know what I'm feeling, why bother to ask?' Gabriel will swear at me for backchatting, but I'm doing him a favour. While Mal's attention is on me I'm giving him a chance to reseal the pill bottle and reposition himself to where he was before Mal's attention was diverted. Besides, the damage is done. This is happening whether I like it or not. My fingers are crossed that Mal has a glass of that doctored whisky sooner rather than later. I don't particularly want any of my fingers or toes cut off, if I can help it.

  The knife moves to a spot just under my breast. I hiss in trepidation. Mal, on the other hand, looks like we've just had a Hallmark moment. His face is in raptures. He loves to sit and look at the destruction he wreaks upon others. I think it makes him feel powerful. It's either that or he has mental health problems. Actually, it's probably a mixture of both.

  'Tell me you love me, Harper. Tell me you love me, and I'll stop all this nonsense.' His grey eyes are burning like smoking charcoal, and they try their best to scorch a path through me. I've got news for him. His X-ray vision isn't up to much.

  Sighing, I say, 'We're not playing that game again, are we?' My head may feel a little fuzzy but I'm not stupid. Alex and I played the cat and mouse game too. As soon as he got what he wanted he lost interest. He didn't want to finish me though. But this time the game has new stakes. There's no real point in giving Mal what he wants either, because as soon as I do I'll be dead. Wait a minute... this might actually work in my favour.

  'Tell me,' he repeats, the knife scratching a delicate path down my midriff, 'tell me what I want to hear.' He grabs my jaw in his hand and shakes me. Alex and Mal both became frustrated with me for the same reason. They knew I'd never love them, not the way I love Brandt. That's why he was such a sore point between them. I'd happily lay my life down for Brandt, and they both knew it.

  'Tell you what; I'll tell you what you want to hear if you release Gabriel and promise me a quick death. A bullet to the brain is all I ask. You give me that, you get your words.' Shit, I've begun slurring. This does not look good. How much shit has he given me?

  Mal is quick to respond. 'There's no way you're spoiling all my fun like that, 'Arper. No way in hell. Besides, you'll give me what I want soon enough. If not now, perhaps after I've cut a finger or two off you might be more friendly.'

  'I doubt it,' I say, and I mean it. I'm also counting on Gabriel getting me out of here before I bleed to death.

  In the background I can hear a glass of whisky being poured. It looks like my saviour is taking matters into his own hands. Good for him. Let's get this show on the road.

  My body is wrapped in soreness, blood, bruises, pain... and heat. There is so much heat inside me I feel like I'm burning up. I'd love to say it was the effects of the drug, but I'm not so sure. I'm a bizarre creature like that. Mind you, the drugs are helping. Mal is counting on them to wear down my defences, and he may be right. Give them another half hour to work their way into my system, and I may tell him anything he wants to hear. I haven't in the past, but I haven't been this weak before either. I'm on my last legs, and we both know it.

  'Have a glass, Mal.' Gabriel sets down the whisky beside him, and I do my best not to look at it. I keep my eyes firmly on the monster in front of me. Mal makes no acknowledgement of Gabriel's offer; just continues his intimidation play by letting the knife score a path along my flesh. I'd like to tell you it hurts, that I struggled and writhed like a wildcat trying to get out of my restraints, but I'd be a liar. I watch the knife with delicious anticipation and wonder where it will go next. It doesn't matter that I hate the man in front of me with everything that's holy because I'm now under his spell, and he knows it.

  'Tell me, Harper. Tell me what I want to know.'

  'Since when has it ever been that easy? Aren't you supposed to be chopping off some fingers or toes?' I hear Gabriel's intake of breath behind me, but he doesn't know how this works. I do. I need to get him mad. Then he might take a swig of that drink Gabriel's just left him. We're a little desperate here. Something has got to give.

  'Haven't the last couple of days taught you anything?' Mal roars. Score one for me. The beast is not happy. It seems he thought I'd just roll over and die. Well, guess what? He's gonna have to work for it. Now it's time to push my point home.

  'The last few days have taught me that Brandt is fucking marvellous in bed, and that you're still the same sicko you always were. Do you need me to elaborate?' I pucker my lips for a kiss, just to show him the kind of crazy he's dealing with. Yeah, some of it's the drugs which are beginning to do all kinds of funny things to my system, but most of it is me. I should have done this a long, long time ago. Why has it taken me so long to grow a pair of balls? I have no idea, but I've decided they look good on me.

  'Did you want me to take over for a bit, Mal?' Gabriel pulls a chair around for Mal and holds his hand out for the knife. It's a bold move on his part, but not unwarranted because Mal normally likes to watch while Gabriel does his bidding. Tonight, however, is not one of those nights. This evening two is company, and three's a crowd.

  'Fuck off.' Slamming his arm into Gabriel's chest, Mal pushes him backwards, telling him in no uncertain terms that his presence is not required. Gabriel is not going to be able to save me this evening. My knight-in-shining-armour will just have to take a backseat for a change and enjoy the view. He'll need to do his part soon enough.

  Mal eyes the bedside table and for a moment I think he's going to take a slug of the drink. I find myself holding my breath for a second, but then he picks up his cell phone and examines it quickly, before setting it back down again. He's obviously due an important call. I wonder what's gone wrong now. Will this mean we have another victim next door to us this evening? I could do without all the crying and screaming, if I'm honest. It's hard enough as it is to get any sleep in my state.

  'Am I interrupting something important, darling?' I slur lazily. At this stage I'm not sure whether I'm the brave one or whether it's the drugs talking. Judging by the rapid blinking of my left eye and the pins and needles that are beginning to work their way through my entire body, something is definitely afoot inside me. My thoughts are getting jumbled up inside my head, and it's an effort to push words through my mouth.

  Mal shakes his head and gives me the eyeball. 'Since when are you in a rush to have your fingers cut off?' The evil smile that has haunted most of my nightmares these past few years starts to dance in front of my face. Oh God. He has no idea how much I hate that face. If I could snap his head clean from his neck right now I'd do it, and I'd smile.

  Leaning over me, he releases one of my hands from the restraints. Oh shit. If possible my heart speeds up a little faster. My body is getting ready to implode, if my pulse rate is anything to go by. What the hell has he given me?

  'Such pretty 'ands, 'Arper. You sure you want me to mutilate 'em?' Rubbing his fingers up and down the length of mine, he looks at me intently. I try to speak, try to push words past my lips, but my tongue feels like it's glued to the roof of my mouth. Speaking of mouths, it feels as if someone has lit a fire inside mine and then blown it out, leaving nothing but cinders and ashes in its wake. I am so thirsty I think I could cry.

  'Can't...' I whisper. It's all I can get out, and that's a monumental effort in itself.

  Mal laughs. 'Such a shame, baby. What a pity you can't do this one little thing that wo
uld stop me from massacring this pretty little hand. Still, it's your call.' Picking up his knife, he begins to circle the index finger on my right hand with the blade. The really important one that you use to write with, eat with and point with, amongst a hundred other things. Why couldn't the bastard start with my little finger?

  'Should I sever it quick, sweetheart, or do you want me to draw it out? I know how much you like pain, and I have a feeling this is going to blow your mind.'

  Hah. That's where he's wrong. My mind has already been blown. Now if I could just find that spare fuse I have lying around...

  'Got nothing to say to me, 'Arper?' Mal shakes my head until the damn thing rattles. I have a feeling I passed out on him, but I can't be sure. Maybe he's already cut my finger off. Maybe that's why I fainted.

  'Mng. Nng.' I'd like to say I know what that means, but I have no idea. My brain cells are mush and my vision is all blurry. Jesus. I feel awful. A quick glance down to my hand reveals that every finger is still intact for the time being, but there's a ring of blood around it from where he's been toying with me. I suspect it's not going to be in one piece for much longer. When is the bastard going to neck his fucking whisky?

  'Want a drink before I chop it off?' Shit. Mal can see that my eyes have landed on the whisky glass. The drugs have made me slow and stupid. My head sways sluggishly from side to side as I try my best to say no. If I drink that whisky I'm a gonner. 'Painslut forever, huh? Why would you want to dilute that little bite of ecstasy? What a girl.'

  By now the drugs inside me are taking off, big style. My head is a swirling void of lights, colours, and the odd flying elephant. Mal's face is changing shape regularly, morphing into Gabriel's and then Brandt's, before changing back again. I have no idea what's real and what's not. It's probably a good thing.