by Faye, Amy
“Alright, if that’s how we’re going to play it, I’m coming in.”
There’s a floorboard underneath my foot that creaks. Damn Michigan raised floors. If this was just laid down on foundation, it would be fine, but they just have to have their basements. I cringe and wait for something to change. Nothing does. They’re in there and apparently they’re worried enough about me that they intend to stay.
I have a system. It’s a simple one, but if you want to clear a building, you can’t go without. You won’t be able to be certain that it’s complete. It’s impossible to. In my case, it’s right to left. Two doors on the right, two doors on the left.
The closer door on the right eases open. It doesn’t make a sound until it bumps into the bathroom sink. The room is empty. If someone wanted to hide in here, I don’t think they could. There’s no cabinet below the sink, the shower curtain is partway clear and pulled back, and the sink with it’s pedestal stand takes up the close corner. No way.
The far room on the right is a bedroom. A thousand places someone could hide if they were clever. I take the whole thing in with a glance and then I close the door and move on to the next room. If I keep an eye out for door movement, then I’ll be able to react quickly.
I opened the far left door. Right to left. There was an instant where I had to put my full attention on the room. There’s nobody immediately visible in here, either. A noise from the front door snapped my attention in that direction. A petite figure, visible through the front glass. Laura.
I checked the door behind me again. Still closed. There was just one left. I took a breath and flattened my arm against my side and readied myself for whatever the trouble was, and then turned the knob and threw the door open. Which, as it happened, was exactly what they’d been waiting for.
Twenty
Laura
When I stepped through the door, my first thought was that I needed to get Charlie, get out, and figure out what to do from there, maybe, as a distant third step. Seeing a large man framed by the textured glass, in the middle of the hall, meant that either I was doomed to fail, or that someone else was already working on it.
Against my better judgment, I stepped into the room. My courage was rewarded, and at the same time, punished. Dave was there. The hand further from me was cocked back like he was holding it against his hip. The hand closer to me reached for the door handle. Between them, his white shirt had a bright red stain.
Was he hurt? Had he gotten himself hurt? I swallowed hard. I don’t know what I would do with myself if he got himself seriously hurt while he was looking out for me, and my son.
He looked over at me. His expression was serious. And then he pushed the door open, and lunged inside. I could hear a scuffle, but I couldn’t see it. So I did what I could in the situation: I grabbed a beer bottle.
It felt heavy and solid in my hand, and then I hefted it high over my head and moved, ever so slowly, towards the door.
By the time I made it to the hallway, only a few short seconds had passed, but the room was already quiet. I hefted my bottle higher and stepped into the doorway, ready for whatever was going to come at me.
At least, I thought I was. But somehow, I wasn’t expecting what I found.
Dave was on the ground. He had the younger of the two men with his arm twisted into a wicked, painful-looking hold. What surprised me was the third person. I recognized him, a little bit. He was younger still than the guy who still tried to wriggle out from under Dave’s knee.
He was an honor student, as far as I knew, and he did plenty of volunteering at the elementary school. Plenty of volunteering everywhere, as far as I can tell. He had a wild terror in his eyes and a long knife in his hands. He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to do with it, except that he wanted it vaguely near Charlie. Near enough to be menacing, even if I didn’t think he would actually do anything.
“Let him go,” Dave said. He twisted the kid’s arm and he let out a yelp of pain. “Or I’ll break it.”
“Y-you can’t afford that,” the kid said. He looked like a horse about to bolt, more than someone about to commit a murder, but people get weird when they’re panicking. They make bad decisions. “You’d lose all your leverage.”
“No,” Dave said gruffly. He held his knife in his hand, the blade pulled back against his own forearm where it was out of the way, in his free hand. “I really wouldn’t.”
The youngest’s eyes widened even more, if that were even possible. “Just… just let him go, okay? Drop the knife and let my brother go!”
“You first,” Dave said. His eyes narrowed.
“I can’t,” the kid answered.
I realized with a sick feeling in my gut that we weren’t going to get anywhere. That this was just going to get worse.
“Give me the knife,” I said softly. “I’ll go, and I’ll take him with me. He’s not going to hurt anyone, if you just give me the knife, okay?”
Tears streaked Charlie’s cheeks, but he was silent. He was so brave. I could feel my own eyes burning, but I had to be strong for him. For everyone. To make sure we all got out of this.
The boy turned to me with wide eyes and seemed to register that I was there for the first time.
“You,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Or what?”
“My brothers, they said…”
“Forget what they said,” Dave growled. “Give her the knife, if you don’t want to give it to me. Count of three. You give up the knife and I give up your brother. That sound fair?”
The kid looked from me to his brother and to Dave, and back. The boy on the floor squirmed and moaned. The kid with his knife on Charlie let his hand slip at the same time that he said “Garrett, are you okay?”
Dave cut in before Garrett could answer. “One.”
I watched the whole thing in slow motion, terrified that something was going to go horribly wrong. I held my hand out, the beer bottle still brandished.
“Two.”
The kid looked from his brother to me. His eyes were wide with panic, but he saw a way out of this and he was going to take it.
“Three.”
The blade was heavy in my hand as he put it there, handle first. He moved slowly, probably afraid that he was going to alarm Dave. I worried the same thing.
Something in the corner of my vision moved, and then a voice was low and right by my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”
I started moving first. I think he wanted to be behind me. The last one out. I didn’t waste any time questioning him. This wasn’t the time for questions.
It wasn’t until I was in the car, the doors locked and the engine turned over, that I finally spoke as I slipped it from park into reverse.
“Are you okay, baby?”
“Mom?”
“Tell me, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he said. “But can we stop by the house before we do anything?”
I looked in the mirror and he silently pleaded with me not to talk about why. I let out a low breath and put it into drive. “Dave? Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” he said. Like he meant it. “A little winded, is all.”
“Whose blood is that all over your shirt?”
“Blood?” He looked down and seemed to notice it for the first time. “I guess it’s mine. Maybe I ripped a stitch running all this way.”
“You ran all the way here?”
“It was a pretty good distance,” he said. Then he added, “Just out of the hospital, I mean.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He had a point. I don’t usually like to admit it, but this time, I couldn’t deny it. And there was something else that I was being an idiot about, too.
“There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t want you to get mad, but I understand if you do.”
“Okay,” Dave said. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m still listening.”
“Do you re
member senior prom?”
“No,” he said. “Except that it was a bad time.”
“I imagine that you would feel that way,” I said. “You didn’t want to talk about what happened, but you were upset when you came to me.”
“My girlfriend left me. Said she’d been sleeping with Tom.”
“You were a little sauced.”
“I remember that, kind of. Getting drunk, I mean.”
“And you were terribly vulnerable.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding,” I said softly. “And there’s something else.”
His face scrunched up. “You’re not serious.”
“I understand if you’re angry,” I said again. “But you didn’t want to talk about it, and by the time I found out, you had already left, and… I mean, you never came back, so…”
“All this time?” He let out a long breath. “I missed all this time?”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I know it’s not fair.”
“It’s not about fair. I can’t believe it.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you left and never came back.”
Dave’s hand reached across the center console and rested on my thigh. Just the feeling of him through all the layers of my fabric set my nerves on edge.
“I’m not going to leave,” he said. His voice was hard, but it still didn’t manage to hide the shakiness in it. “I’m not going to leave ever again, if you’ll have me.”
I put my hand on his and his thumb traced across the back of my palm, and for a moment I felt something welling up in my chest. I eased the car onto our street, before I took Dave back to the hospital.
Then, out of the silence, Charlie spoke up. “What are you guys talking about?”
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Sold to the Billionaire
Bad Boy Romance
Amy Faye
Published by Heartthrob Publishing
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Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’?re about to read…
She rolls her eyes and I see red. “You know what? I’ve just gotten a good idea.”
I pull out my phone. I do have a good idea. About a dozen good ideas that all come together at once in an instant of white-hot rage.
“What’s that?” She says it with an air of contempt.
“You’re going to get on your knees.”
“What? You’re going to get me to suck your cock because you can’t get a woman stupid enough to do it for free?”
I’m recording the whole conversation, now. That’s part of the appeal, I think. It’s an angle. A niche for me to fill. That’s the trick to making money in any business. Have an angle. Something that makes you stand out.
“No,” I say simply. “I’m going to make money. I’m going to sell you to the whole world.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Get on your knees, babe.”
“Why?”
“So I can film you sucking my cock.”
“What, am I supposed to look like I enjoy it? Like some kind of porn star?”
“Look like whatever you want to look like. You hate me, don’t you?”
“You’re catching on,” she growls. But she drops to her knees anyways, and starts undoing my belt for me.
“But you’re still going to suck me off, aren’t you?”
I’m already halfway hard when she gets me out of my boxers. It more than fills her hand, though she’s got smallish hands. Small everything, but proportionally, she’s big where it counts.
She takes it into her mouth and bobs her head gently. God fucking damn. That’s good. She’s good at this. Better than I’d expected.
“Anything to say to the camera?”
She pulls my cock out of her mouth, but leaves her hand around it, jerking it slightly.
“Fuck you, let’s get this over with.”
“Good girl,” I say as she takes it back between her lips. God. Very good girl.
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One
Luke
I take one last look at my cards. Like I’m not sure what they are. I tell myself I won’t look again. This time, I might manage it. Because I’m pretty sure of what they are. But a straight flush is an unlikely hand, even in a game of Hold ‘Em, and I don’t want to have overlooked something. Something like the possibility that he’s got the pocket jack and queen to beat my ten-high.
From the expression on Bill’s face, he’s sitting pretty on something. I have to think about it for a long time. What are the odds?
They’re not zero. On the other hand, if he’s just got a flush, who wouldn’t be pleased with that? Or perhaps he’s got a pocket pair of eights. That would make a full house, eights over sixes. A Full House is nothing to sniff at. But it’s not going to beat a straight flush.
That’s the gamble. I take a deep breath. It’s only a measly ten grand, anyways. I could walk away now, and be up twenty more. But I can’t help it. There’s a devil on my shoulder and he’s telling me to roll the damn dice.
“I’ll see your five hundred, and raise you a thousand.”
It won’t end there. But if I go too hard, he’ll back off. Poker isn’t about winning. It’s about letting your opponent think you’re the one making the mistake.
“A thousand? Just that? Luke, you’re getting soft.”
Bill’s eyes flash like he’s a coyote in the hen house. “I’ll go all in.”
He’s sitting on a pile of money. The best I can do is to match him. The pot’s going to get near a hundred grand now, and I’m not looking forward to writing the check that’s going to come with losing. So I won’t.
“All in, huh?” I eye Seth off to my right. He’s got a frown on his face. “Not tonight. Going hard as hell, God damn.”
I make a show of thinking about it. Tap my thumb on the table. It’s unnecessary at this point, I have to admit. I ought to just show the damn cards and take the money. But I got what I wanted, and now I’m going to roll around in it.
“Alright. Call.” I push a stack of chips across the table. It’s less a ‘stack’ and more a pile, and the pile flows over my hands so I have to make a second push to get them all into the middle.
Bill’s never been a good poker player, per se. You can read his face. And his face says there’s no way he’s going to lose. I just have to gamble that he thinks wrong.
“Alright,” Tom says. “Show ‘em.”
I raise my eyebrows at Bill. “You first, man. Let’s see it.”
“Oh, Lucas,” he says, taking another drink of scotch. “You’re going to ruin my whole… thing. You first, come on. Unless you’re afraid it won’t be good enough?”
I shrug and flip the cards over. Five-six hearts. He looks like he’s going to choke.
“You son of a bitch!”
For a minute I’m worried that Bill is going to jump over the table and throttle me. It wouldn’t be totally outside the realm of possibility, with him. He tends to overreact to shit like this, and most men react a little more to losing ten grand than I might.
“What’s the problem, Bill?”
“That’s im-fucking-possible! You’re a god damn cheat!�
�
I spread my hands in a gesture that suggests a shrug. “I don’t need to cheat to win, my man. Unless you’ve got cheating on the brain?”
He suddenly decides that maybe it’s time to think things through before he starts talking. It’s a little late now, friend.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You think every man here can’t see you fiddlin’ with your damn sleeves when you think we’re not looking? Man, I don’t mind the extra effort. Not like you can hid the hand you’re holding from a blind man, but if you’re going to be a cheat, you might as well be a good God damn winner, am I right?”
That gets him, and he starts making a serious effort at getting around the table and into my face. I don’t think he’s thought this through, either. I could clock him into next week if it came to a straight-up fight.
“Now, when are you going to get me that check?”
He pulls back a fist and Tom moves to stop him. I watch Bill’s fist fly through the air like it’s in slow motion. It’s easy to duck around it. I slap him. Not hard enough to hurt, but stiff enough that it’ll rattle his cage.
This time Tom succeeds where he’d failed the first time, wrapping an arm around Bill’s waist and pulling him away before the second punch can fail to connect.
“You’re good for it, aren’t you?”
“You’re a cheating son of a bitch, and I don’t owe you a fucking dime!”
“You’re one to talk,” I say. My voice is low. “A cheat and a squelcher? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Fuck you, man. I don’t have to answer to you.”
I turn to Seth. He’s sitting off to the side, his eyes as chilly as ever as he watches. He hasn’t moved an inch. “I thought this was a friendly game you guys were running here.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Bill, you’re going to have to calm yourself down, or…”
“Or what, pretty boy? You want some? You come over here, or get this bastard off me, and I’ll give you the same. You fucking watch me!”
