Masterful 3 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  The hours passed slowly as I grew hungrier, dirtier, and more exhausted. The silence of the walls around me seemed to mock me, but there was nothing I could do but wait.

  --

  I heard the door open. A bright shaft of light blinded my basement-weak eyes, then Killen came down the steps with Rosine close behind.

  They were both clean and rested, but I saw at once that his good cheer was gone. He was smiling, but anger lurked in his pale eyes.

  "You don't look nearly as pretty as four days ago," he said with a short laugh. "Rosine is going to help you clean up, then we'll have a little chat."

  Once upstairs and back in the house, Rosine pushed me into a small bedroom without windows.

  "Don't get any cute ideas," she said. "The bathroom doesn't have a lock or anything sharp. Get cleaned up. You smell like shit."

  "I'll keep smelling that way, if you expect me to put on these clothes again," I snapped.

  "There's something else for you," she said, shoving me toward the bathroom. "Shut up and get moving."

  I stepped into the shower and washed off my grime, sluicing my hair with bath soap because there wasn't any shampoo. I couldn't enjoy getting clean for fear that they'd burst in while I was naked.

  When I came out of the bathroom, something was on the bed. It was the blue dress and Louboutins that had been in my car when Killen and Rosine showed up at my office.

  Seeing the clothes almost made me start crying, remembering that shopping trip with Natalie. I was going to tell Hex everything about those searches. Just one more day was all I needed. Now…

  Rosine pounded on the bedroom door. "Hurry up. I haven't got all day," she called, sounding irritated.

  I slipped into the dress and shoes, toweling my hair as dry as I could. At least the basement grime was gone, even if the party dress felt ridiculous.

  The door opened. There was Killen, handsome in a dark suit and white shirt. Rosine had changed into a red dress that made her into a stunner, but her sour expression spoiled the full effect.

  "Very nice," he smiled, holding out his arm to me.

  After a moment of hesitation, I allowed him to walk me out of the bedroom and into the living room.

  "You must be very thirsty," Killen said, motioning to cold drinks on a sideboard. "Have something. We have a little business matter to discuss."

  His charm reminded me of Hex at his best, but I couldn't forget the anger on his face down in the basement. His shifting personality frightened me more than Rosine's perpetual surliness.

  Killen motioned me to a low velvet chair, sitting across from me while Rosine hovered in the background.

  "I miscalculated," he said. "Something has surprised me very much."

  "What might that be?" I asked, not sure that I wanted to know.

  A slow glitter formed in his eyes.

  "I know my brother," he said. "The trail of clues I left was very easy for someone of his skill to track. They're set up so that when he finds them, I know right away."

  My hands had been slowly tightening around the bottle of Perrier that I was holding. I didn't speak.

  "That trail has been cold for five days," he said. "He received the envelope I left for him. There's been nothing. In other words, Eva dear, you apparently don't mean as much to him as I hoped."

  Rosine snickered, but my heart was singing. I wanted Hex as far away from this weird house on the hill as he could get.

  "That puts me in a dilemma," he said in that same gentle tone. "Step on the terrace, so I can show you something."

  My unease returned, but I had very little choice. I stood up and followed him, my high heels clicking on the wood floors.

  Sometime since the night I'd been brought here, the furniture on the terrace had been pushed aside. In the resulting space was something I'd seen online, but never in person.

  It was a bondage chair. Black, solid, obviously expensive.

  "Imposing, isn't it?" Killen said, stroking the dark wood with loving fingers. "Great setting, looking at the ocean as the sun sets. Best of all, two beautiful girls to enjoy it with me."

  He smiled at me again. Something in that look made me think that jumping off the terrace might not be a bad idea.

  "I always believe in having an alternate plan," he said. "Stephen hasn't shown up, but I believe we can find a way to keep your visit from being boring."

  --

  I fought as hard as I could. In the end, Rosine had a scratch down her face, and Killen had received a partial knee-blow to his crotch. Every instinct told me that if I went into that chair, terrible things were going to happen.

  As I made a last effort to escape, Killen darted in and slammed me into the chair, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Rosine jerked my hands over my head and shoved them into the metal cuffs mounted into the high back of the chair.

  She touched the scratch on her face, glaring at me.

  "That better not leave a permanent mark, you bitch," she snarled, raising her hand to hit me.

  "Rosine," Killen said, his low voice stopping her in mid-swing. "Remember what I told you about keeping control of this scene."

  Her green eyes still blazed, but her arm came down.

  "Who owns you?" he asked.

  "You do," she said angrily, but there was something like desperation .

  "Remember that." His attention turned back to me. I braced for a blow, but instead he stroked my cheek in a caress.

  A slap would have suited me better.

  "Rosine can tell you that I get bored fast, but she learned to keep my interest." He gave a sudden grin. "In fact, she might be more twisted than me now."

  She tossed her head, but that same broken look was in her eyes. In spite of my fear and loathing, an unwelcome thread of pity twisted through me.

  What if Hex had been like this? Could I have resisted him, or would I be like Rosine, angry but under the spell of a sadist who had bent her to his will?

  My sympathy evaporated when she grabbed my ankle and shoved it into the metal cuff on the chair, scratching me in the process. Killen locked down my other leg before folding my dress up to my waist.

  Since they hadn't provided underwear, I had nothing underneath. His jovial eyes smiled into mine.

  "There are so many things I can think to do with you," he said, "but Rosine was specific that she wants you all to herself."

  He leaned closer to nuzzle my ear. "You might wish for me before she's through," he whispered.

  "I heard that." Rosine had reached behind the chair, coming up with a wicked-looking straight razor. "Not that I disagree," she added.

  "A show like this calls for wine," Killen said. "I'll be right back. Don't start without me."

  Rosine watched him go.

  "After we've had our fun with you," she said, "I may go back to Atlanta. A bitch like you always has a little sidekick. What is it? A dog or a cat?"

  She pressed the tip of the razor against the ball of her thumb. A tiny bead of blood appeared.

  "Whatever it is, there won't be much left." She sucked her thumb. "Won't be the first time."

  Roxy. Any trace of sympathy I had for Rosine vanished.

  "I don't have time for a pet," I said. "Even if I did, Stephen would know the second you got near the building."

  "You're so blind," she sneered. "If he cared, he'd be here. He's probably already cleaning out that place where you lived, getting it ready for his next piece of ass. I told Killen—"

  The sound of glass breaking inside the house interrupted her. Both of us looked toward the luxurious living room and froze.

  Killen was in a half-crouch, looking toward the master bedroom. A broken bottle of wine lay pooling at his feet.

  Standing in the doorway was a dark figure that seemed to blend with the shadow of the doorway. A black-gloved hand pulled off a dark ski mask, then I saw a flash of dark-honey hair.

  "You have something of mine," Hex said.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Killen's smile w
as large as he threw his hands wide in mock greeting.

  "Fucking shame to waste that good wine," he said. "It's been a long time, brother."

  "Not nearly long enough," Hex said, "and I don't have a brother. Spare me your bullshit. Where's Eva?"

  "Getting some fresh air." Killen jerked his head toward the verandah. "Say hi to Rosine."

  A peculiar intensity seemed to vibrate from the girl beside me as Hex glanced her way. Then his eyes fastened on me. That hot silver gaze missed nothing: the restraints, Rosine's razor, the dress yanked up to my waist.

  I'd always sneered at things like telepathy. Now I looked into his eyes and channeled my thoughts as hard as I could.

  Don't be distracted by me! Watch out for him!

  Apparently telepathy wasn't my strong suit. Hex took a single step toward the terrace, then pain stung my neck. Rosine was pressing the tip of the razor against the pulse in my throat.

  "Can't be in two places at once, can you?" Killen taunted. "You're late showing up, but I made it easy for you to get in. I knew you were here."

  "Right. That's why there's wine all over the floor," Hex said. "You still don't have any taste. What a shitty vintage."

  Killen threw his voice toward the girl beside me, keeping his eyes on Hex.

  "Rosine, if my brother takes one more step that way, make sure there are consequences," he said.

  The press against my throat became harder. A thin thread of blood trickled down to stain the neckline of my dress.

  Hex's face was impassive. I could feel his attention divided between me and his brother.

  "You've gone to a lot of trouble to get me here," he said to Killen. "Stop wasting my time. What the fuck do you want?"

  "Do you think I don't know that you've been the one screwing up my deals all these years?" Killen asked. "You're a thief. You've stolen from me."

  "In my book," Hex said, "someone taking jobs that treat little kids as 'collateral damage' is a psycho, not a businessman."

  "Do you think you're some kind of hero? That's your style?" Killen jeered.

  The grin that came to Hex's face was nothing like the one I loved. It was dirty and contemptuous, designed to insult.

  "Why don't you ask Rosine what she thinks of our different styles?" he asked.

  Killen glanced at her. Rosine and Killen were both distracted now, one looking confused and the other murderous.

  "I'll make you a deal," Killen said finally. "A little game. If you win, you can have them both."

  Rosine flushed. "You can't treat me like—"

  "Shut up, Rosine." Killen's eyes were back on Hex.

  Hex laughed. "You think I trust you to keep any deal? What's your play?"

  "It's real simple," his brother said. "You and me, right here, right now. You beat me down, you win."

  "What makes you think I'll agree to a bullshit deal like that?"

  Now Killen was smiling.

  "Because if you don't," he said, "we'll just go straight to the end of the story. Rosine will cut your little pet's throat. The way I see it, you don't have much of a choice."

  "Rosine," Killen called. "Lock the door to on your side. Don't open it until one of us is on the floor."

  The blade left my throat as she went to slide the heavy doors shut. As the lock clicked, Killen winked at me.

  A sudden wave of understanding made me go cold. On the surface, this sounded like a brawl where the loser would limp away in humiliation. But the look in Killen's eyes said something different.

  He was going to kill Hex. Not only could I not help, but I was the distraction that might prove fatal.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Rosine leaned against the terrace ledge.

  "Want to place a sporting side bet?" she asked. "How about every time your guy lands a punch, I give you a little something?"

  She drew back and cuffed me across the face. Immediately my cheek began to throb.

  "See?" she gloated. "Isn't that better than a tacky souvenir to remember this trip?"

  "You're right," I said. "You're tacky enough all by yourself, Bambi."

  Ah, sarcasm. The desperate and ill-advised bluff when I was out of other moves. The look on her face made the second slap worth it.

  Over her shoulder, the drama between Killen and Hex was starting to play out in the living room. They circled each other like two dogs readying for a fight. Killen was heavier, but I thought Hex would be quicker.

  Killen was smiling and confident, but Hex said something that made his face go white. I couldn't hear through the glass, but whatever it was made Killen stop circling and charge.

  But Hex wasn't there. He had moved to one side, measuring Killen with cool detachment.

  Rosine turned to me, her eyes blazing green fire. "I've changed my mind," she said. "Screw what happens in there. We'll have our own party."

  She glanced toward my feet, then brought her face close to mine.

  "I know those scars on your ankles," she said with a cold smile. "You were a cutter. Fucking amateur. Let me show you how to make a real cut."

  The last rays of the setting sun ran along the blade of the straight razor as she touched it to my cheek. Reasoning wouldn't work, and neither would begging. I braced myself for what was coming.

  All at once, the razor was gone. So was Rosine.

  She seemed to jerk back, as if on a string. I saw a dark arm around her waist, a gloved hand twisting the blade out of her grip. Suddenly she was flung away, crashing into a chaise lounge several feet away.

  The tall, masked figure approached me, making me remember that I was stripped half naked. Whoever it was, the clothes were all black.

  There was no way onto the balcony other than the locked door in front of me. The terrace didn't have convenient potted plants for hiding. The figure seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

  I tried wildly to attract Hex's attention. His focus was on Killen, who was circling him again. I made myself stop moving. Whatever was about to happen to me would be over before he could help.

  Gloved fingers plucked at my dress, almost making me scream. Now I sensed that this was a male. He was covering me up, pulling the skirt down over my thighs.

  He worked to free my arms and legs from the chair, and in a moment I was loose. Tingles began immediately as I lowered my arms, rubbing the red marks at my wrists.

  "Are you all right?" He touched the trickle of blood at my neck.

  Rosine was starting to untangle herself from the lounge. Everything inside of me was screaming to hurry, that Hex was in there with an unpredictable psycho.

  "Who are you?" I demanded.

  With one quick motion he yanked off the mask.

  "Hi, Vixen," Del said. "What do you say about getting the hell out of here?"

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  "Del…you…what…"

  "Stephen's my friend," he said. "That's all I have time to tell you. We need to move."

  Inside the living room, Killen charged Hex yet again. This time Hex made no move to step aside. They struck each other hard, each of them seeking an advantage.

  Now that they were braided together, I saw the differences in their bodies more clearly. Killen seemed to have an almost unfair advantage. He was grinning, like he was having the time of his life.

  From some long-ago memory, I heard the voice of my Uncle Dale, a veteran of barroom brawls on three continents.

  Bigger guys tire out faster. You piss 'em off, get 'em winded, then you finish up your business. If you don't, you get your ass kicked.

  Hex seemed to have modified a page from Uncle Dale's playbook. He let himself fall backward, taking Killen with him. They crashed into a chair that broke under their combined weight. Hex was up in a flash, with Killen slower to follow.

  Killen began to swing, and Hex began to dodge. The fight carried them across the living room, with Killen's face growing redder with each attempted punch. His movements slowed, a sure sign that he was getting tired.

  All at once, Hex's
posture became more tense. His eyes flicked to Killen's hand, and I saw the gleam of a knife.

  Killen's confidence in the knife was a mistake. His charge was careless, as if he was sure of his target. Hex shifted to the side, and with one kick the knife went skittering across the floor.

  "Good," Del muttered, his eyes blazing. "Finish the motherfucker."

  Another kick from Hex caught Killen under the chin. His head snapped back, then he crashed into the floor. Hex leaped on him, and the blows that followed was a beat-down of epic proportions.

  Hex's face remained detached as Killen slowly went still under the blows. In his mind, this fight was a task, an unpleasant but necessary job to see through to the end. Killen's arrogance and lack of control had been his undoing.

  In a moment, it was over. Killen was motionless on the floor, his suit and shirt torn and bloody. I could see part of his face in the dim light of the setting sun. That propeller scar on his cheek was going to be the least of his problems.

  Hex stood up, eyeing his brother for a moment before nodding to himself. He turned toward the terrace and saw me standing next to Del. His gleaming gray eyes found the blood at my neckline, seeming to ask if I was alright.

  I nodded, ridiculous tears coming to my eyes. The sun lost the last of its light, and the terrace was almost dark.

  With a final glance at the motionless Killen, Hex came to the door and mockingly tapped to be let onto the terrace. Del unlocked the door, giving Hex a speculative look that I didn't understand.

  I expected Hex to sweep me into his arms. Instead he stood stiff and apart, merely looking at me.

  "Are you alright?" he asked harshly.

  "I think so," I said. "Rosine just scratched me, and I might have a bruise on my face tomorrow. I'm fine."

  Rosine had pulled up to sit on the lounge, her eyes wild as she looked at Killen. Her glance shifted to the three of us, and the hatred in that look made me glad not to be alone with her.

  "My asshole brother was right," Hex said to Del. "I couldn't be in two places at once. Thanks. I owe—"

  Rosine's shriek cut off his words. Inside the living room, Killen had partially raised up from the floor. He was holding something small and dark in his hand.