by Anya Nowlan
Some had tried, in the beginning.
It always ended bloody. Most of those people weren’t around to tell the tale. The luckier ones had ‘merely’ gotten maimed for their trouble.
“Get back or you’re going to get hurt,” Logan growled, taking a few steps back as if gearing up. “We’re coming through this door one way or another.”
Sienna gulped. She knew they weren’t messing around. The flimsy wood keeping them at bay wouldn’t last long, and these guys were shifters, unnaturally strong and fast. The chain on the door would be the least of their problems.
Abandoning her attempts at closing the door, she ran to the kitchen, her fluffy slippers slipping on the floors. Rummaging around in the drawers, she picked up the largest knife she could find in shaky hands.
Yeah, sure. Because I know what to do with this.
But she had every intention of making do.
This wasn’t the first time she’d have to defend herself against someone stronger than her, but being familiar with this kind of situation didn’t exactly help assuage her fears. If anything, knowing what a slap to the face or a punch to the gut felt like only filled her with more trepidation.
Her knuckles blanched around the blade as she gripped it even more tightly.
The chain ripped out of the wall and clanked to the floor as the whole door flew off its hinges, left hanging from the frame only by a couple of screws as stubborn as Sienna.
The men strode in, looking annoyed they had to put forth the effort at all. Not that they’d expended a lot of energy. They were clearly used to getting whatever they wanted around here, but Sienna wasn’t about to make it easy for them.
Whatever they wanted from her, they were going to have to fight her to get it.
Logan arched a brow at the knife in her hand, smirking at her. Sienna had to admit, she probably didn’t make that impressive of a sight, in a faded yellow bathrobe, standing 5’5’’ with nothing but piss and vinegar, and the aforementioned kitchen knife, on her side.
“You going to cook us dinner before we take you to the boss?” he asked, drawing a chuckle from his buddy.
“All I’m cooking for you is… is an ass-kicking!” Sienna declared, brandishing the blade before her.
Okay, so that wasn’t my best comeback, she mused, planting her feet and crouching down on bent knees in her best impression of a battle stance.
“Wait. You want to take me to Holland?” she added after a second, confusion brimming in her.
“Yeah. He’s feeling a bit tense and could use your magic fingers,” Bill replied, wagging his eyebrows.
“You broke my door down for a massage?” Sienna all but yelled, flabbergasted. “After I had to shut down my parlor because of your ass backwards demands? You have some nerve!”
“Look, lady, put down the knife and let’s go,” Bill sighed, spreading his hands.
Sienna was almost trembling with anger. Just a few months ago, she had been the happy owner of her very own massage parlor, helping people unwind and doing what she loved. Then, the Claws came to her neighborhood and started shaking down businesses for protection money.
After the florist down the street got his fingers broken for not cooperating, Sienna, along with most everybody else, decided it was best to pay up. But the payments just kept increasing, until she could no longer afford to both pay the Claws and keep her place open.
In the end, she’d had to sell all of her massage equipment just to be able to make rent on her apartment.
The man in question, Holland, had come in a couple of times himself, after hearing about Sienna’s reputation among her other customers. She knew he was up there on the Crimson Claws power ladder and probably the last man she needed to make an enemy out of.
Despite thinking little of the man who had put both her and the people she lived and worked with side by side into danger, she put on a good face and dealt with him like she would any other customer. Professionally and courteously.
After a while he suddenly stopped coming. Sienna hadn’t questioned why. She was just glad she no longer had to rub down a guy who was essentially bleeding her dry, even if he was all muscle and growl and in better physical shape than most of her other clients.
A pretty package for an ugly person didn’t really mean much.
“Why don’t you offer to reimburse my damn door and maybe I’ll think about it?” she spat back, still brandishing her ridiculous cooking knife.
The last thing she’d used the knife for had been a pastrami sandwich. It was absolutely unimportant, but it popped up in her head just the same.
Logan shook his head at her, looking amused, while Bill rolled his eyes. They didn’t say anything more, just started advancing toward her like a pack of hyenas cornering a wounded gazelle. Sienna backed up until she was flattened against the kitchen wall, the knife held in front of her.
Cornered, like the prey that I am, she thought grimly, as low growls erupted from the men’s throats.
Apparently they liked the fact that she was resisting. Somehow, that only made it worse in Sienna’s head.
She started slashing wildly as soon as Logan and Bill got close enough to the blade. She managed to draw some blood before they rushed her. As soon as the men reached her, they twisted her hands behind her back until she dropped the knife.
It had been inevitable but for some reason, she’d kept hoping on a miracle. A flash of lightning to strike Bill and Logan dead on the ground, an earthquake, a damn masked crusader – anything!
Instead, she got to be face-first on her kitchen floor for a moment, idly wondering when the last time was that she’d really washed it.
“Ow,” Sienna complained, as they dragged her up on her feet and unceremoniously out of her apartment.
“Stop your whining,” Logan grumbled.
She could have told him the arm he was twisting behind her back had been broken some years ago and he was putting too much pressure on the sensitive joints, but she guessed it wouldn’t make a damn difference to the man. She knew it wouldn’t.
Logan let go of her to grab a towel from her kitchen and wrap it around the gash on his forearm.
Even though it didn’t matter in the long run, seeing the man’s wounds made her secretly happy. She’d wounded a shifter! That was something, right?
Nothing to write home to mom about, because Carmen would have a heart attack if she wrote anything like that to her, but at least something. If nothing else then she could say that she tried, stood up for herself.
It was a small consolation, though.
Fabled last walk down the long corridor.
Bill remained behind her back, twisting her wrists whenever she walked too slowly for his tastes.
As she was being led down the hallway, Sienna could see light and shadow alternate behind some of the doors. People were watching her being manhandled and ripped from her home, but everyone was too scared to do anything about it. They didn’t want to be next.
She couldn’t blame them. They weren’t bad people, just afraid. And she wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt on her account, anyway. Bill and Logan looked like they moved furniture for fun and wrestled bears on the weekends as a pastime.
Knowing those two, they probably did. At least the latter part.
Logan led the way as Bill dragged her down the stairs. Their cherry red Ford Mustang was already waiting out front, and Bill didn’t bother being gentle when he shoved her into the backseat of the convertible. He got in next to her, probably to make sure she didn’t have a chance to jump out of the car and make a run for it. Logan got in the driver’s seat and off they went.
Sienna shifted in her seat, edging away from the mountain of a man next to her, not that there was anywhere to go. All she could do was hope the men had been telling her the truth. They were taking her to their boss, so she could give him a massage. As was her job.
That better be all that Holland wants from me, she thought, steeling herself.
Somehow, she wa
sn’t all that convinced she was getting off so easy.
Three
Sienna
Logan pulled up to a huge house in the middle of Lincoln Park and Bill all but pushed her out of the car. Sienna looked up at the massive building, with an intricate brick façade and arched windows. The lawn out front was meticulously maintained.
I guess crime does pay.
“Come on,” Logan said, grabbing her arm and tugging her toward the entrance.
Sienna followed quietly, though she rasped her arm out of his grip as soon as she could. She didn’t like people putting their hands on her, which was kind of ironic, seeing what she did for a living.
“I can walk, thanks.”
She was in their territory now, playing by their rules seemed to be the best course of action. At least until she had a chance to get away. Bill followed closely behind, and she could all but feel his gaze on her ass.
They walked through a huge, spacious entryway to an even bigger living room. It definitely looked like it was styled and furnished by an interior decorator. Every piece of furniture matched and complimented the other elements in the room, coming together in seamless but striking elegance.
Holland sat in one of the armchairs with a tablet in front of him, swiping and typing. He hadn’t changed much from the last time she saw him, though he looked a little more on edge.
Probably why I’m here, Sienna thought mirthlessly.
He raised his gaze as Sienna was escorted inside and stood to meet her. Holland was a tall, broad-shouldered man with slightly curly hair and a predatory smile. His blue eyes and chiseled chin only added to that slight tint of ruthlessness Sienna could sense every time she was in the same room with him.
“Miss Marquez. So glad you could make it.”
Holland stepped closer to her and Sienna immediately fought the urge to take a step back.
“I wasn’t really given a choice,” Sienna grumbled, crossing her arms in front of her.
Holland looked her up and down, pursing his lips, not amused. His gaze shifted to his men next, stopping to take in Logan’s injured arm.
“You look unharmed to me. Logan is usually a lot less patient with people who defy him. I’d consider yourself lucky - I need those hands of yours intact. Probably the only thing that kept you from a few broken bones,” he commented.
His tone remained polite, but his eyes hardened and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Those blue eyes were growing more gold by the moment.
Sienna gulped, most of her bravado vanishing. The last thing she wanted to do was piss off a tiger shifter, especially when she didn’t have a damn thing around to aid her escape.
“I don’t have my equipment. I sold it all,” she said, changing the subject.
“I’ve got everything set up in one of the guest bedrooms.”
Holland gestured towards a hallway leading out from the living area absently, making Sienna look in that direction.
Okay, at least it seems a massage is all he’s after. Good. I can do that.
“After you,” he added with a hint of a threat after Sienna didn’t move.
Sienna sighed and walked to the hallway. This whole playing along thing was really not working out that great for her so far.
There were rooms lined up on each side, but only one door was open. She walked in, eyes widening at the sight in front of her. Holland had turned the room into a mini-version of her parlor, white lilies and lavender candles included.
Soothing sounds emanated from speakers hidden somewhere on the walls. Even the massage chair looked exactly like the one she previously had.
The familiar surroundings made a pang of sadness run through her. The parlor had been her dream, her passion, and through hard work and determination, she had made it a reality.
This though? This was a mockery of all her accomplishments, a reminder of what was ripped away from her.
She could sense Holland standing behind her as she hesitated in the doorframe. Pushing down the spike of anger that had flared at the slap in the face that was this setup, Sienna stepped inside and started picking out oils as Holland disrobed.
She fell seamlessly into the routine, even though her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn’t keep from biting the inside of her mouth in frustration. This was not how things were supposed to go. Not by a long shot.
In the beginning, everything had seemed so great. Sienna’s Parlor was getting good, reliable clientele. Even some professional athletes had sought her out for her services. And then Holland came and took it all away from her.
It wasn’t something she was about to get over any time soon.
The massage itself went fine. Sienna managed to focus on the work and not on the man she was working on. In Holland’s defense, he didn’t try any funny business, just seemed to genuinely enjoy what she was doing. His muscles were very tense.
Running a ruthless criminal organization must have been stressful. Sienna scoffed under her breath.
After she was done, she waited around in the living area for Holland to get dressed and dismiss her. Arms crossed over her chest, she glared daggers at her two guards, endlessly keeping an eye on her. What did they think, that she was going to make off with the good china?
She wasn’t expecting payment, but the way Logan and Bill stood in front of the exit, she got a sinking feeling that she might not be done yet.
Maybe he wants me to give someone else a massage as well? Oh please, let that be it…
Holland appeared from the hallway, sighing and rolling his neck.
“You really are amazing at what you do.”
He walked over to his little bar area and poured himself a drink. Two fingers of scotch, neat. The favored drink of crime lords all over the globe.
“Thanks. Can I go now?” Sienna replied flatly, anxious to get out of the man’s company.
My apartment’s probably already getting looted, she added internally.
Seeing as she effectively had no door guarding her belongings anymore, and the neighborhood she lived in, there was no way it wasn’t getting torn to pieces…
“I’d like you to stay,” Holland answered, sipping his scotch.
“And I’d like to leave,” Sienna shot back. “I’d rather break my own fingers than be your personal massage therapist.”
She spun around and marched towards the exit despite Bill and Logan looming in front of it. Hell, she was going to walk through them if she had to. So they’d better move.
“I was just trying to be nice, Sienna. Allow me to rephrase. You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” Holland stated sternly from behind her.
That familiar jolt of annoyance shot through her again. He never called her by her first name. She didn’t recall telling him that it was okay and if Holland was anything then he was a stickler for manners. The fact that he’d thrown those out of the window made her anger mix with trepidation.
She knew she was screwed, but was not quite ready yet to face the music.
Sienna tried pushing past his guard dogs, but it was like struggling against a wall. The men grabbed her and whirled her around with a speed that made her head spin. She was little more than a rag doll to them.
Holland was already standing in front of her, gun aimed at her head. Where he got it from, she had no idea.
Does he just have them lying around all over the place?
If so, she would have to get her hands on one. It didn’t change the fact that her heart was in her throat now and she was staring down the barrel, eyes wide.
She was a massage therapist, for god’s sake, not a gangster. The amount of guns she’d seen lately was not okay.
“Go sit down before I lose my temper,” he growled.
Every cell in Sienna’s body was urging her to argue, but there was something about being faced with a very real threat to her life and safety that kicked her survival instincts into gear.
“Fine,” she ground out, shaking Bill and Logan’s hands off of her in a huff.
/> “Good girl.”
Holland lowered his gun, his expression as deadpan as before. Not an ounce of a grin, or any real annoyance. It was like he was going through the motions, with something standing over him and sucking all of the fun out of it. Though how much fun there was in terrorizing people Sienna couldn’t really understand.
“I have a room set up for you. You will stay here until further notice. Don’t start any trouble and we’ll get along just fine.”
You must not know me very well, Sienna thought, fuming.
Four
Sienna
Days dragged on as Sienna had to get accustomed to her new life of being Holland’s in-house masseuse. The room he put her up in was nice, but no amount of amenities could make her forget she was a prisoner.
She was only allowed to leave the house to give massages to other members of the Crimson Claws, and was always accompanied by either Bill or Logan when she did. Holland was trading sessions with her for favors from other high-ranking Claws goons, and she was beginning to be in high demand.
Who knew the mob liked massages so much?
And ones without happy endings, at that, she thought dryly.
Not that they hadn’t asked. But after practically elbowing a guy in the crotch for it – by accident, of course – the requests had not too surprisingly stopped.
To get over the indignity of essentially being a massage prostitute with no free will of her own, Sienna resorted to petty acts of vengeance. She couldn’t lie, she was taking way too much pleasure in those.
“Oops,” she said, wide-eyed, after spilling a glass of red wine on one of the couches in Holland’s living room.
“How did that happen?” she asked, feigning innocence after a mysterious clog in the drain, consisting of rolled up tissues, resulted in a flooded bathroom.
“I’m so clumsy,” she smiled, after knocking over a vase in the lobby.
