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

by C. P. Mandara

  'I love you,' I whisper. If I'm going back to jail or worse, I want her to know that. We've been through too much for me not to be honest with her.

  'I love you too,' she replies, smiling up at me. 'I think I've always loved you, little good that it did me.' I smile at that. In the beginning my parents stood between us. I couldn't defy them. Now, nothing stands between us but Mal, but he is a much bigger obstacle than they ever were. Why didn't I put two fingers up to my family years ago? We could have been happily living together in a two up, two down, with three kids in tow by now. None of this misery would have befallen us, and while we might not have been rich, we would have been happy. Harper would have seen to that. I'm an idiot.

  Helena clears her throat. I'd almost forgotten she was in the room, but she strides towards us with a decidedly disgusted expression.

  Standing over us with her hands on her hips, she says, 'Touching. Oh, how touching, Brandt. When Mal said you were in love with her I didn't believe him and had to see for myself. I thought you'd have far more sense than to fall for a tart like her, but it seems he was right. What little brains you had left you lost as soon as you stepped out of that jail cell. Such a shame. I thought we could have made something of ourselves, but it seems it's not to be. Too bad.' Her pouting lips are mocking. 'It seems you will have to go back under lock and key after all.' She strides back towards the door and throws it open wide.

  'Helena, what the fuck?' I hiss. What is she up to now? Gabriel is as shocked as I am and jumps to his feet almost instantly, as if sensing danger. It looks like his sense is bang-on, too, because in the next instant the room fills with thugs. This cannot be happening. Not now. Now after all we've been through.

  It is, though. Guns are aimed all around us, and even Gabriel doesn't bother to fight back. We know when we're beaten.

  Helena strides back into the room and pulls two more guns out of her bag. 'Hold that for me,' she purrs. I do no such thing. I have no idea what she's up to, but it cannot be good.

  'Fuck you,' I spit, backing away from her.

  'Oh, Brandt,' she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 'Don't be like that.' She then proceeds to place one of the guns at my temple, while thrusting the other one towards me. 'Hold the fucking gun, or I'll blow your brains all over the place. There's no coming back from that, darling. If I were you I'd take my chances in jail. Your choice, though. I don't particularly care either way.' The other gun is then thrust into the middle of my face, dangling off her index finger by the trigger guard, taunting me. Grinding my teeth together I pick it up gingerly. I know what's about to happen next. I can see it play out like a movie in my head, and it's not one with a happy ending.

  Helena looks pointedly at the gun. 'Place your finger on the trigger, darling, there's a dear. That way we can pin Frankie's murder on you as well, even though you weren't capable of such a thing. You're a pathetic asshole, really.' Yep, this is what I was expecting.

  'And if I don't?' It's a stupid question, but I could accept my death over the next forty years in prison. There are other consequences I'm less accepting of though.

  'I'll put a bullet through Harper's forehead, and then Gabriel's. You've got to the count of three, dumpling. One, two...'

  She doesn't get to three. I do as I'm told. The gun that was used to kill Frankie in the Langdon Hotel now has my fingerprint all over the trigger. This, in combination with the other weapon, should ensure I never see the light of day ever again. The plan is genius.

  'There. That wasn't so hard, was it?' I get another mocking frown, and I've never wanted to punch someone so much. How did I not see what a vicious little bitch she has become?

  'Was planting the drugs and gun in my room not enough for Mal? Five years in prison is a mere paltry sum in his world, right? Now he just wants me to rot in there, to make sure I never go near his girl again, huh?'

  'I'm his girl now,' Helena barks back. 'He's going to kill Harper later today. You're not going to live, either. He'll just arrange for someone on the other side to slice your throat. Better say your goodbyes now while you still can, sweetheart.'

  I don't say a word. I am not saying goodbye to Harper again. She is not going to die while Gabriel and I still have breath left in our bodies.

  Placing the gun in a plastic bag, Helena turns to one of her underlings. 'Take him to the nearest police station with this. Now they'll be able to connect him with two crime scenes.' Thrusting the plastic bag at one of her thugs, two others step behind me to make sure I don't try to escape.

  'No!' Harper screams behind me. 'Take me. Leave him out of it.' The sound makes my stomach clench. She has been through so much. If Helena sends her back to Mal I won't be able to live with myself.

  Turning to Gabriel, before I'm frogmarched out of the room, I say, 'Don't do anything stupid just yet, and keep her safe. Just give me a few hours, okay?' He nods at me, but there's a look of desperation in his eyes. It worries me. Gabriel isn't a quitter, but he isn't the type to flog a dead horse either. Still, he values his own hide, so maybe they'll be alive for a little longer yet.

  Helena, meanwhile, is smiling smugly. Gesturing to Gabriel and Harper she says, 'Take them both out back and dump them in the SUV. I know someone who's going to be very pleased to see them.' It doesn't take a genius to guess who that 'someone' will be.

  Considering I thought spending five years in prison was my worst nightmare, I decide I have greatly underestimated the level of bad shit I would have to deal with this year. Nightmares have nothing on my life.

  Chapter Twenty-One - Gabriel

  Everything around me is spinning out of control. What the fuck just happened? We've been double-crossed by Brandt's new bride? I have to admit, I never saw that coming. So, it seems the woman's been working for Mal all along. What's her problem? Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. We're fucked. There is no getting out of this mess.

  From where I'm standing, Brandt's just been gift-wrapped for the Met police, and we're about to go back to finish the ending of a horror movie that's worse than anything I've seen on TV lately. Harper isn't going to make it past a day. They're pulling her up off the bed, but she can't even stand on her own two feet. The girl is all over the place due to Mal's mistreatment of her, and the only good thing about that is that at least she won't have to endure too much more. I, on the other hand, could be there for weeks as he picks me apart piece by piece. I'm almost tempted to go gung-ho on them now, consequences be damned, but Brandt has just pleaded with me to behave myself for a little bit longer, and I probably owe him that. But I have no idea why he wants to drag this shit out. There is no way he can get out of this, of that much I'm certain. He might be the brains of this outfit, but things are way out of control here. There's no coming back from this. I'm not watching us both die a long, slow and torturous death under Adley. If things go pear-shaped I'm taking matters into my own hands, and that's that. He'll understand. Actually, I don't care if he doesn't because I'll be dead.

  Harper and I watch as Brandt is basically dragged out of the room. His eyes are wild as he looks back at us, and I suspect he's thinking what I'm thinking: that there's a good chance we'll never see each other again. It's hard to believe that we both got out of prison a few weeks ago, only to find ourselves on death row before the month is out. How's that for irony?

  Once Brandt is out of the room Helena turns on us. Striding forwards on her ridiculous heels, with a pair of massive sunglasses perched on her nose, she tries her best to look down on me, even though I am several inches taller than her. The woman is trying her best to let me know who's boss, not that I give a shit.

  'Mal never told me you were attractive. Fancy that,' she purrs, while her viciously long nails snake over my face.

  'I bet there's a lot of things Mal didn't tell you about me,' I reply, smirking. I'm fucked if I'm going to bow down to her. If she wants me on my knees she'll have her work cut out.

  'Such as?' her voice is a throaty whisper as her hands move lower, checking out the lin
e of my abs through the thin veil of my T-shirt.

  'My cock is as big as a firehose, darling, and I enjoy waving it around.' If there's one thing I've learnt during my time in prison, it's that sex can be an excellent weapon if used correctly. Brandt had to learn that one the hard way. I smile as I think about it, and what do you know, Helena thinks the smile is for her. The next thing I know her hand is all over my junk. Thankfully it's hard as I've been thinking about Brandt because I find her about attractive as a garden slug. This is coming from a man-whore, by the way. I can fuck anything, take my word for it, but I'd have to use my imagination with the viper standing in front of me.

  'Good to know,' she purrs. 'Maybe we can find out if that firehose feels as good as it looks later. Mal just wants you dead, but I don't see why we couldn't drag it out for a bit. What do you think, sweetheart? Fancy being my fuck-toy for a bit?'

  I recoil inwardly, but you wouldn't know it to look at my face.

  'Always happy to oblige, princess. You tell me when and where, and I'll be there.' I gently remove her hand from my crotch. Gun or no gun, she's not getting her hands on my dick unless I'm naked and have no other choice in the matter. To soften the blow, I lift her fingers up to my mouth and gently kiss her hand. She is my captor, after all, and I can play nice when needs be.

  'Well, well, well. Perhaps I'll have more fun this evening that I thought. You are intriguing, Mr Rodriguez. I look forward to seeing you later.' She slides her wrist out of my hand, flicks back her blonde mane, and then motions for her goons to get me and Harper out of the joint.

  I can't help a sigh. Round two, here we come. Let's hope I play this hand better than the last one.

  Less than an hour later we are back at the warehouse where it all began. As we are ushered inside it's hard to believe anything has happened here. All the dead bodies have been cleaned up and there's not a speck of blood in sight. Was the shootout we witnessed before staged? Were we meant to escape so we could witness Brandt being arrested? It's a possibility. It's also possible that Mal has neutralised whatever threat there was on his life, and now that the problem is taken care of, business can continue as normal. My money's on the former, though.

  The ride over is not pleasant. Harper is shaking like a leaf and there's little I can do to console her. She cannot go through this again. To have a taste of freedom and then for it to be whisked away from right under your nose is more cruelty than most people can handle. This is probably why Mal did it. He wants to crush her flat like a used aluminium can. He won't be happy until there's nothing left of the poor girl. I won't let him. If it comes to it I'll end us both, because there's no way he's torturing her more than she has been already. Yes, I'm in love with her. Yes, I need a fucking lobotomy and yes, I know this won't end well. The trouble is, I couldn't pick a side even if I wanted to. Yes, I still love Brandt, but the emotions are different. With Harper, I want to caress her, protect her and worship her. With Brandt, I want to slam the man into next year, torment him and make him worship me. If circumstances were different I'd probably want them both the same way, but they're not. At the moment Harper's like a precious Ming vase balanced precariously on the edge of the table. One wrong move and she's never going to be the same again. Brandt is just being stubborn, but he has every right to be. I was a class-A shit. I don't deserve to be forgiven, and once he finds out I'm in love with his girl, he's probably going to get me a tombstone for my birthday present. With any luck I won't have to worry about it. I can't believe I just said that.

  When we get to the warehouse Mal is waiting for us, and let's just say he's not standing there with open arms. The man is dressed from head to toe in black and he has a face as long as my arm. Things obviously haven't gone quite the way he planned. I have no idea what's up with his dream of world domination, and I think it's better not to ask.

  'Afternoon Mal,' I say cheerily when he stands there looking at us, much as you would a prized painting in an art gallery. Now don't get me wrong, I know we're pretty, but we ain't that pretty. Unfortunately I get a thump in my gut for my troubles. Trying to draw in breath through my ass, Harper wobbles on her feet beside me.

  'Get her inside now!' Mal thunders, looking up and down the street to make sure no one is witnessing this little exchange. There isn't a soul about, lucky for them, because if there was they wouldn't live to tell the tale.

  A couple of the guys take Harper by the arm, and she has to lean heavily on them as they walk her inside.

  'And him?' One of the remaining guard's points to me and Mal's head swivels round as he examines me with narrowed eyes. For a minute I wonder whether he's going to order them to shoot me on the spot, and my heart accelerates like a McLaren MCL35.

  Then his hand flies towards the door and he says, 'Put him inside with her for now. Maybe we can kill him later while she watches.' His smile is nasty. It appears we're done playing games. This is the last leg of the journey and it's a one-way ticket to hell.

  I don't say a word as I'm led inside. There's no point. You can't reason with Mal's thugs. The penalty for disobeying him is a rather painful and drawn-out death, and that's a good enough deterrent for just about anyone. I've already come to the conclusion that we aren't getting out of here alive unless a miracle happens. The only decision I have to make is how we want to go down.

  The guards thrust me back in the little room at the back of the warehouse. Harper is already sprawled on the bed, and she's shaking so hard I fear the poor girl is going to fall apart. Sitting down gently beside her, I grab her hand and say, 'Breathe. Just breathe.' She needs to calm down, else she'll pass out. Actually, that might be the kinder option.

  'Kill me,' she whispers. 'Just get it over with.' I can tell she's deadly serious. I've seen that look of desperation before. But I shake my head. While a part of me wants to put both of us out of our misery, another part is going to give Brandt a chance. I keep trying to tell myself he's a smart guy, but brains or no, I don't see how he can dig himself out of this. Still, he's surprised me on more than one occasion, so I owe it to him to drag this out a little longer.

  'No.' My voice is gentle but firm. When she grabs my hands and places them around her neck, I have to swallow down the tennis ball that has lodged inside my throat. She is going to make me cry, and I don't cry - ever.

  'I need to give Brandt a chance,' I whisper. 'If things look like a lost cause, I'll take care of you. I promise. Trust me?' She shouldn't trust me. No one should, but she nods anyway. It's probably because she doesn't have the strength to argue, which is just as well.

  We don't get a chance to talk any further because Mal comes storming in.

  'Sweetheart,' he croons, walking towards Harper's prone form, 'you don't look so good. See what being apart from me does to you?' He sits down on the bed causing me to jump up off it, and he runs a hand over her face. I watch as she flinches. She's not strong enough to hide her reactions now.

  'You've got what you wanted, Mal. Brandt's inside, I'm dying, and you're ruler of the fucking underground. What more do you want? A four-piece quartet advertising your victory? Kill me and get it over with. Enough already.' That's my girl. She may not be able to control her reactions, but she doesn't pull any punches with her words.

  Mal picks up her hand and squeezes it so tightly she gasps. 'I don't think so, darling. Especially not after your pal over there drugged me. It took me a full twelve hours to recover from that shit.'

  'Welcome to my world,' Harper says dryly. 'While we're at it, if you have anything half-decent, I wouldn't mind some. I could do with something to take the edge off.'

  What the hell is she saying? She can't handle anything right now. Her body is shutting down. Any kind of drug in her system is likely to kill her off and she knows it - which is probably why she's goading him.

  'Oh, I don't think so, sweetheart. Not this time. No, no, no. This time you need to be at the top of your game for what happens next.' Mal pulls his gun out of the back of his jeans and I fight the urge to take cover,
but he uses it to scratch an itch on his back before placing it back where it belongs. Jesus Christ. My nerves are shot.

  'So, what do we do now then?' Harper says resignedly. Now I know she is scared because I'd be shitting my pants right now, but you wouldn't know it to look at her. Hell, she's braver than most blokes I know and that is saying something considering where I've been.

  Mal doesn't say anything, he simply pulls a tube of glue out of his back pocket and waves it in front of her. His cell phone then chooses that moment to ring, and he snatches it out of his pocket and frowns.

  'You,' he swivels around to point at me, 'tie her to the chair. I'll be back in ten.' Don't hurry on my account, I feel like shouting after him, but think better of it.

  I have to carry Harper to the chair. She's so weak she can't stand on her own. It makes my blood boil. I keep asking myself over and over if I'm doing the right thing. This would be the perfect opportunity to break her neck in two, and I could sort myself out seconds later by having a go at one of the guards he's got stashed outside. There are even more here now, so Mal isn't taking any chances. Maybe he's worried Markovich will come back?

  As I place Harper in the chair she starts sobbing. I didn't think I could feel any worse than I already do, but something inside of me breaks.

  'Look,' I say, as I sit her down, 'Brandt asked me to give him a few hours. I figure I owe him that. I have no idea what he has up his sleeve, but I think we should give him a chance. The trouble is, I owe it to you not to let that bastard take chunks out of you. I'm in love with you, Harper. If you haven't figured that out in the past few days, you know now. When he hurts you it feels like he's physically ripping me to shreds. Now I've seen a lot of shit in my time, but nothing has ever affected me this way. If I can find a way to get him to leave you alone for a bit, could you hang on for me? I have no idea if Brandt will come through for us, but if there's a chance we might make it out of here alive, I'm willing to give him a couple of hours. Are you?'