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

by C. P. Mandara

  'You want some of that, kitten? You wanna get your rocks off with me?' he purrs. No. Yes. Oh fuck, what is happening here? It's wrong and I shouldn't want it, but I do. I want it so badly I could almost cry.

  'Please,' I whisper. I can't say anything else. Gabriel's kiss has rendered me virtually speechless.

  'Good. Now I'm going to get you showered, and dressed, and then we're going to find a hotel. You're going to let me take care of you and feed you. Do you understand?' I look up at him in a daze. There is no way I'm going to be able to do all of that. I can barely crawl.

  Looking up at those lips and eyes, I almost sob out loud. 'I'm on my knees here, Gabriel. Don't get me wrong, it sounds tempting, but I have no idea how I'm going to put one foot in front of the other. I'm all over the place. You should get out while you still can.' I look pointedly towards the door. Mal could come back at any moment. Why is he risking his life for me? The man's an idiot.

  Gabriel smiles. 'Good job I don't need you to put one foot in front of the other, then,' he says, pushing his arms underneath me before he hauls me up over his shoulder. I grunt and swallow my gasp of pain. My body is so bruised and battered the smallest amount of pressure on my skin is agony, but I like that kind of thing. I'd like it a whole lot more if I had the energy to enjoy it, though.

  The next hour goes by in a pain-induced fog of tormenting heat and white-hot passion. Gabriel is using my body against me. He knows exactly how to manipulate me into doing what he wants, and I don't have the strength to resist him. The man is full of contradictions, too. In the shower he washes me infinitely slowly, with such care and tenderness I wonder if I might cry. When it looks like I'm about to pass out he slams me into the wall, his teeth biting into my bottom lip with a vice-like grip, the other hand cupping my sex while his fingers pump into me. There is no thinking when I'm held like that - none at all. Whatever reserves of energy my body has left, they are beckoned forward by his touch.

  'Stay with me, Harper. This will be all over soon. I've got a car coming for us. Stay with me.'

  The bastard keeps me in limbo with his talented lips and hands, as he finishes washing and drying me. Somehow he then finds me some clothes, although they're way too big for me. I don't protest when he puts them on me, but I want to. Thankfully the hum of pain is all around me now, its insistent throb bleating all the way through my body, from the top of my head all the way down to the tips of my toes. Whoever pulls those strings owns me, and Gabriel knows it.

  When we make it outside, maybe ten minutes later, there is already a car waiting for us.

  'How did you manage this?' I ask, as I slide into the comforting leather seat of the taxi that is idling on the roadside.

  Gabriel shrugs his shoulders. 'I snatched a dead guy's phone.' He pulls out a black iPhone from his back pocket and waves it at me. 'He won't be needing it any more.' Barking some instructions out at the taxi driver, I can feel the car move as it pulls away from the curb. Gabriel then looks back at me, and I take the opportunity to pass out cold. Again.

  Chapter Twenty - Brandt

  'Why did you save my ass?' That question has been bugging me. I still can't figure out why Helena would murder someone, putting her own life and freedom at risk, in order to get me out of that mess. The woman must be all sorts of crazy to do something that stupid.

  'Well, you were never going to do it, were you?' She rolls her eyes at me, which are currently lined with masses of black kohl, making her look like a throwback from the Addams family.

  'That didn't mean you had to step in.' Sitting down heavily on the bed in our ridiculously expensive hotel, I tug my jeans on angrily. 'If you get caught you'll go away for a very long time. Let me be the first to tell you prison isn't half as much fun as it sounds. Why would you get yourself involved in this?'

  She throws a pillow at me. 'I'm getting involved in this because you're my husband now, and I don't want to have to sort out your funeral the day after I've got married. It's going to look weird.' She drags her attention away from the episode of Gangs of London she's watching and reaches for me. She's naked of course, her tits spilling all over the pristine white sheets, but I do my best not to look. This annoys her no end, but that's too bad.

  'This isn't your problem. Don't you ever do something like that for me again. Do you hear? If you end up in jail I will never forgive myself.' I mean it. Even though I'm not Helena's best friend, there's no way I want to see her go to jail. She just killed a girl, though. Oh God, I can't wrap my head around this.

  'Relax. The gun's untraceable and there were no cameras anywhere near the area. I checked. No one is pinning anything on me. I'm smarter than I look.' Helena licks her ruby-red lips and pouts. 'Brandt, we've been married two days and we still haven't consummated the marriage. Give a girl a break. Let yourself go. I'm pretty sure I can make you feel much better if you'll just give me a chance.' Her lithe, tanned arms reach out to grab my shoulders, and she pulls me towards her. She's tried this approach before. It didn't work then, and it's not likely to work now.

  'Fuck off, Helena. I'm not in the mood. I need to get to Mal. Tell him the job's done. I won't be able to think straight until I have.' We went to his warehouse yesterday, but it was deserted. To make matters worse, there were dead bodies strewn all over the floor. My heart was in my mouth as I walked around the place, and I kept seeing Harper and Gabriel's face on each body we passed. Thankfully they weren't there, but it didn't make me feel any better. What has the bastard done with them? Where the hell is he keeping them? I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Kind of. Now where the fuck are my friends?

  Helena rolls over in the bed, taking half the sheets with her as she snuggles up close to me. 'Can't you just call him? I know his number if you don't have it.' This isn't helpful. No, I can't just call him. He has both of my friends trussed up and is probably cutting them to pieces as we speak. It's not going to be a social visit. I'm not going to mention this to Helena, though. She's not Harper's biggest fan, and she's going to think even less of Gabriel the ex-con. Actually, they have a few things in common now. Maybe they'll hit it off. Then again, maybe not.

  'No, I can't just call him. I need to find him.' There's a raw urgency in my voice that even she can't miss. My nerves are strung out like tensile steel rods. The type that hold up massive bridges that span miles of water. That's the kind of pressure I'm under right now. I feel like I'm going to break at any moment.

  'You can't trust that fucker as far as you can throw him. It looks like he's already double-crossed you. If I were you I'd walk away.' Her fingers tiptoe up my leg before they try their best to dive under my shirt, but I stop them before they get the chance.

  'I am well aware of that, but I still need to find him.' Returning her hand to her she pouts at me, but she doesn't back off.

  'Tell you what, Brandt. You get these sheets tangled with me, and I'll show you another of his hideouts. Maybe he's there. He has a few boltholes dotted around. He's probably licking his wounds after this mess, trying to figure out who crossed him.' She slips a leg out of the duvet and rubs it up and down my back. This is the last straw.

  'This isn't a fucking joke,' I hiss, my body already on top of hers with my hand circling her neck. I squeeze cruelly, letting her know I am deadly serious, and I don't stop until her eyes bulge and she starts struggling beneath me. I then relax my hold a little, knowing I have her rapt attention.

  Leaning close I bend down until all she can see is me. My face is now entirely blocking her vision of everything else, and my eyes are fucking scary. Gabriel taught me this look, and it hasn't failed me yet. Now is the time to spell out who calls the shots around these parts.

  'This was a forced marriage, and it has consequences you can't even begin to comprehend. The last thing on my mind right now is sex, Helena. If you have any idea where Mal is, you need to tell me. Now.' My eyes flare. I'm not kidding. If she messes me around I'm about to go supernova.

  'You're no fun. You know that, right?' She moves to get up
, and I let her. I can't bear the sight of her anyway. If she pisses me off much more she's liable to get it in the neck, and there's been enough killing around these parts. 'Give me twenty minutes to get dressed, and then we'll be on our way. That work for you?' She tries to act as if the last five minutes haven't happened. I get a cheery wave and a wink as her ass sashays into our walk-in wardrobe, without a hint of animosity in sight. I just tried to kill her, for fuck's sake. What is wrong with the woman? Mind you, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If she's going to take me to some of Mal's hiding spots, I'm prepared to play nice for the time being. Not as nice as she wants me to play, but I'll make an effort. Jesus. I'm fucking married. When did life get so damn hard?

  Helena takes forever to get ready. Apparently it is impossible to leave the hotel without applying mascara, especially when you're consorting with one of London's biggest criminal minds.

  'I don't think he'll care if you forget the mascara just this once, babe,' I call, after I've been looking at my watch for the past twenty minutes. As we're probably going on a wild goose chase I fail to see the importance of a full face of make-up, but apparently Helena wouldn't be seen dead without it, which is a distinct possibility if we encounter Mal, so I let her get on with it.

  When the woman is finally ready and we set foot outside our hotel room, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. It's entirely possible my friends are no longer alive, in which case I am probably walking to my death, but I can't leave them there. I know Gabriel would do the same for me, and while he's a lot of things, he's not a coward. If he's stolen my bloody girl while I've been gone, though, I am going to wring his miserable neck.

  Helena looks like she's just stepped out of the cover of Vogue as she walks down the hotel corridor. She's got a Dior bag arranged 'just so' over her shoulder and a pair of oversized sunglasses that make me think we're heading for somewhere exotic, like Tahiti, but somehow I doubt it. Maybe she's just being sensible and trying to disguise her identity. Why didn't I think of that?

  We haven't walked very far when she comes to an abrupt halt. We're still miles away from the elevator, so I nearly knock her over when I topple into her.

  'Helena, what the fuck? Give a guy some warning why don't you?' The woman totters on her four-inch spike heels, but by some miracle manages to remain upright. Thank God. I can't take any more drama.

  My wife doesn't even bother to respond. She turns around, examines the number on the hotel door, and then knocks. I want to scream. Can my life get any more surreal? I doubt it. If this hotel room is one of Mal's hidey-holes I am going to eat my non-existent hat. Is she double-crossing me? The hell if I know. Right now I'm not even sure I care.

  'Helena, what the hell are you doing? We need to get a move on.' I'm pretty sure Mal's not in a hotel room right next to ours. Grabbing her by the scruff of her neck I ignore her shocked gasp of indignation and begin to propel her towards the elevator doors. I have no patience for her antics. We need to get moving.

  'Wait. Just wait,' she chokes. My tight hold around the collar of her sheer white blouse is not doing much for her vocal cords, and I can't say I'm overly concerned. 'Stop,' she hisses again. I ignore her. If she's not careful I'm going to snap.

  I then hear the sound of a door opening and a familiar voice calls out, 'Brando. Thank God. When Helena said you were alive I almost didn't believe her. Get in here.' I almost drop Helena, spinning around to confirm what my ears are hearing. It's Gabriel's voice, but I need to make sure with my own eyes. When I see him I break into a run.

  'Gabe. Thank God. I thought you were a gonner!' Gabriel looks pale and thinner than when I last saw him, but at least he's alive. Wrapping one arm around his neck I pull him into me and give him a solid pat on the back before releasing him. Words cannot express how relieved I am, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm still worried sick about Harper.

  'Do you know where Harper is?' I whisper. My sentence is cut short as a weak groan comes from inside the room. I'm pretty sure I know that voice, and even though I don't dare hope it might be her, I need to see to make sure. Trying to push past Gabe, he stops me in my tracks.

  'She's not in good shape, Brando. You'd better brace yourself.' He then opens the door wide enough, so that I can step inside.

  Harper is lying on the bed, fast asleep, and she looks like a ghost. Her skin is almost translucent, and she's lost even more weight. If Mal has fed her while she's been gone, he hasn't fed her much. When I get my hands on that fucker I am going to tear him limb from limb.

  Grabbing her hand, I sit quietly by her bed in an upholstered armchair. I'm guessing Gabriel's been watching over her while she slept. On the desk by the window there's a glass of water, the remains of what must have been room service, and several packets of tablets.

  My head turns as Helena and Gabe walk back into the room. 'What did he do to her?' I whisper. I don't want to wake her; Gabriel is right, she doesn't look good. She should be in a hospital, probably wired up to all sorts of bleeping machines. If I lose her I will never forgive him, even though this isn't his fault.

  'He hurt her - a lot. Sometimes on his own, sometimes he got me to do it for him, but it wasn't pretty, Brandt. She refused to go to the hospital, but she needs to. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her when she wakes up.' Gabe has dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks are sunken. Rage flies through me when I think of him hurting her, but I know this was not his fault. He would never do something like that unless his hand was forced. Gabriel is many things, but he isn't a complete monster. He'd kill her in a heartbeat if he had a mind to, but he wouldn't torture her unnecessarily. It isn't his style.

  'What did he make you do?' My voice is barely a whisper, hiding the fury that resides within me. My teeth grind together as I imagine what she's been through.

  'You don't want to know, Brandt,' he says, just as quietly, but he isn't getting off that easily.

  'Tell me, or I'll kill you right now and I mean it.' I might actually be able to do it for a change, too. The man in front of me looks like he's been through hell. Once he's had a couple of decent meals down him and a good night's sleep, I'm sure he'll be right as rain, but at the moment the poor bastard looks defeated. I'm fairly sure I don't want to know what Mal did to them, but I have to know.

  Gabriel sits down slowly on a couch opposite me, then puts his head in his hands, which I'm fairly certain is not a good sign.

  'I can't,' he whispers. This is a first for him. I've never heard that phrase from his lips.

  'It's that bad?' Now I really don't want to know.

  'It's that bad,' he confirms. 'She needs to be checked over in a hospital. She went into meltdown yesterday when I suggested it, but you need to get her seen to. She won't listen to me, but she'll listen to you.'

  Harper chooses that moment to sigh, and we both look towards her. She's looking up at us, her eyes blinking in the light, and she smiles weakly when she sees me.

  A ball of painful emotion expands in my stomach, and I am so grateful that she's alive I can't even begin to put it into words. I stand there, with my tongue stuck to my throat, willing myself to say something. Harper beats me to it.

  'Brandt,' she whispers. 'Thank God you're okay.'

  'I'm fine,' I whisper, squeezing her hand, 'it's you we're all worried about. You need help. Gabriel tells me you won't go to hospital.'

  She shakes her head and frowns at me. 'This is nothing. I've been in much worse shape than this before. Nothing is broken. I'll heal. I just need food and rest.' She then stretches out on the bed and winces.

  'We'd all feel better if a doctor checked you over, sweetheart. You don't look so good. Will you go, if I come with you?' Rubbing the pad of my thumb over her hand gently, I silently urge her to do as I say. There's no way I'm going to argue with her, but if she says no I'll just wait until she's asleep and take her there myself.

  She shakes her head. 'I don't go to hospitals. Mal can find me there. You have to tell them your name.' If possible,
the lump in my throat gets bigger. Jesus Christ, what has the bastard done to her? She's even too frightened to get medical attention.

  'I'll get a doctor to come and see you, then. The hotel probably has one downstairs. We won't give him your real name. Will that work?' The only perk of being married to Helena is that I still have money. I have done what my parents have asked, which means a generous allowance will still be paid into my bank account on a monthly basis.

  Harper's eyes are tearing up as she stares at me. I don't think I can look at her without breaking down myself, but I do my best to keep it together. If we both dissolve into tears nothing will get done. She suddenly grabs my arm.

  'You need to get out of here,' she whispers. 'Mal is setting you up. Remember the gun I planted in your room, along with the drugs?' I nod. It's a part of my life I'd sooner forget, but I remember all the details of my trial very vividly. 'He still has it. He says he's going to send it to the police in connection with a crime that will get you put away for years.' Her eyes are scared. I look to Gabriel to see if he'll confirm what she's saying, and he nods. I sit there, incensed for a moment, my anger simmering over into an explosive boil. What have I ever done to the bastard? He's put me away for five years, and now he wants to send me away for murder? Then I realise something important.

  'There won't be any fingerprints on that gun. I never touched the damn thing.'

  Gabriel shakes his head at me. 'Makes no difference, man. You could have cleaned them off straight after the crime. If ballistics can connect a bullet from that gun with a crime, it'll be pinned on you.' I already know this. It was a stupid thing to say.

  'Why doesn't he just kill me and have done with it?' I moan, pushing my fingers into my forehead to stop the pounding that's beginning to hammer behind my eyes. I am so sick of these games.

  'He likes to play with people,' Harper whispers. She's not telling me anything I don't already know. I also know that he wants me out of the picture so he can have her all to himself, even though he wants to kill her. Yeah, he's that kind of jealous bastard.