Combust
Holly S. Roberts
Combust
Holly S. Roberts
Published by Four Carat Press
Copyright 2018 Holly S. Roberts
Printing History
eBook edition 2018
Paperback edition 2018
Edited by Michelle Kowalski
Cover by Fantasia Frog Designs
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be multiplied, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by whatever means. Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the writer. This eBook is licensed for your use only.
This is a work of fiction. ALL characters are derived from the author’s imagination.
No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
Chapter One
Austin
I grip the side of the casket tight enough that my fingers turn blue while peering down at the man I thought of as father. There’s a twist in my gut, a feeling that many would call caring. It surprises even me. Victor chose me for my lack of emotion and turned me into his perfect killing machine. He cared in his own way but was never affectionate, which I didn’t want or need anyway. I was his problem-solver whenever the problem required a permanent solution. I was also his boogeyman to show off and put fear into his friends and enemies alike. If I had a conscience, our arrangement never would have worked.
Victor rescued me from a juvenile facility when I was twelve. To this day I have no idea how he managed my release into his custody. It’s one of the great unsolved mysteries that died with him. When I first arrived at his home, I thought he was a dirty old man. My plan was to kill him when he touched me. At twelve, I was already aware of the dangers men presented. Victor picked me up with minimal explanation and transported me to his mansion, where he introduced me to his wife and gave me a large bedroom on the second floor with a view that looked out over an actual pond. The bedroom was sparsely decorated but met my needs. I ate dinner with Victor and his wife, Cindy, that first night. While they carried on a quiet conversation and Cindy gave me furtive glances, I thought about how the walls would look painted in their blood.
The first night, I lay in bed with the covers pulled up to my nose, dinner knife held tightly in my fingers, waiting for the door to open. I never closed my eyes. It took several months before I slept soundly and returned the knife to the proper drawer in the kitchen. Within six months, I settled into my new life. The life that’s now gone to shit.
I stare at Victor’s closed eyes, trying to see behind the mask. When he was alive, those eyes saw clear to my soul. Victor was abrupt, seldom showed emotion, and liked everything neat and tidy. His death captures the way he lived—violent to the end. I drag my tearless gaze away and glance at Cindy lying in the casket beside his. She above anyone never deserved this. If there is truly humanity in this world, Cindy held it in the palm of her hand. She loved Victor and she loved me. She may be the only person in my entire life who truly cared about me for more than I could offer as a killer.
Victor’s feelings were far more complicated. I served a purpose and he trusted me. In his line of work trust is everything. My gaze moves back to Victor and I lean in closer. “The men who harmed Cindy will pay,” I promise softly so I don’t subject the other attendees to my statement. Victor and I understand the rules. We play the game even knowing it will end like this: alone in a mortuary with half-assed relatives hoping for a scrap of the empire. Those same relatives won’t be happy knowing I’m Victor and Cindy’s sole beneficiary. The empire I never wanted is now mine.
Victor’s death also creates a blood debt. Cindy’s death is another matter entirely. You fuck with Victor’s organization and it will cost your life. You fuck with the innocent who have nothing to do with the game and you open a door of horrors that should remain locked. I’m that horror and by the time I’m done, the people responsible will understand that my wrath has no rules. All these years Victor held me in check and now the door to my inner demons is open and all they want to do is swim in blood.
I lean down and kiss Victor’s cold cheek. Besides a handshake, I’ve never touched him. A kiss for the man who gave me a new life seems fitting in this instance. I glance again at Cindy. So serene even though her death was far from peaceful. They tortured her. Not Victor, which makes me think they wanted information. Victor loved Cindy but he bowed to no man, and I know Cindy suffered more than he did because of his ruthlessness.
I walk around Victor’s casket so I’m standing over Cindy and bend down. I kiss her cheek too. For killing Victor, they will die. For killing Cindy, they will suffer first.
I glance around the church, which holds no power over me. It’s cold and unappealing. The cathedral walls and the gold accents hold decades of feelings that aren’t part of my life.
Death is my church.
∞∞∞
Four months later…
I pour myself a glass of water while listening to the muted yelling coming from the cellar. I glance at the clock. It’s been five hours since she woke up. I would think she’d have lost her voice by now. The intensity of her anger hasn’t let up in the slightest. Hour after hour she’s made her feelings apparent using sarcasm and threats. It surprises me she hasn’t screeched at the top of her lungs. Instead, I know exactly what she thinks of the fucking coward (her words) who did this to her.
Four months. It took me longer than I expected to track down the person responsible for Victor’s and Cindy’s deaths. I give Diego Fernandez credit for evading me for so long. His stupidity was thinking he would get away with it. He’s a semi-small player in northern California and he’ll regret the day he put his fucking toes in Victor’s territory. One by one he and his men will die. I don’t care how long it takes. The woman downstairs will be the first to suffer.
I swallow the last of my water and allow myself a rare grin. It’s time for my deviant side to reign. I remove the house keys from my pocket and unlock the door to the cellar. It’s an unfinished basement really. Cindy used it for wine and food storage and it’s perfect for my needs. The voice below immediately stops. I flip on the small flashlight attached to the keys and walk downstairs. The small, direct stream of light gives the stairs eerie shadows, which I’m sure add a nice dramatic effect as I descend. The squeaky steps do the same.
I reach the bottom and glide the light across the floor until I see her. She’s sitting with her back against the stone wall, her body curled into a blanket wadded half on her lap. The material moves slightly and she squints into the light when I’m closer. A metal chain secured to the floor is attached to her ankle, and the steel scrapes against the cement floor when she pulls her legs in closer to her body.
I’m sure her shoulder-length dark hair has seen better days. It’s oily and ratty right now. Her slender build is not to my liking. I like a little flesh on my women. That’s not what she’s here for, though. Her stark brown eyes blink and pierce me as I move closer. Her cheeks are almost gaunt in their sharpness. Her brother should feed her better. Not that I really care but her gauntness detracts from possible beauty.
“Who are you?” Her voice is raspy from yelling. What almost makes me smile is how she thinks she can demand an answer from me. She really doesn’t want to see me smile. She thinks she’s tough, and she’ll learn just how wrong she is.
“Your worst nightmare,” I say in a low, dispassionate tone. There’s no redness in or around her eyes, which means she hasn’t been crying; she’s just using her vocal cord
s in a steady stream of insults to the person—me—who’s taken her prisoner.
“No, you’re an idiot,” she bites out through clenched jaws. “You have no idea who I am.” She lowers the blanket and I catch her entire face in the flashlight’s beam. She’s actually beautiful in an exotic way that intrigues me. Not that it will change my plans. “My brother will kill you,” she adds, so sure of herself because she has no idea who I am. She doesn’t believe that I’m what nightmares are made of.
She will.
I point the flashlight down to the floor and run it along the wall. She follows the light while I speak in a lazy tone. “I know exactly who you are, Melina Maria Fernandez.” I squat down so we’re almost eye to eye and continue running the light around the room until it comes to a medical bed complete with restraints. A very slight whimper escapes her, but she cuts it off. The sound sends a thrill into my cold, dead heart. “We’re going to become almost…intimate,” I tell her. “First we’re removing your clothes.” I move the flashlight back to her face. She shakes her head in denial and I see the first crack in her strong-girl performance. “Remove everything like a good little girl and you may keep the blanket.” I stare long and hard with unforgiving eyes that I know work to my advantage. “If you make me do the work, you’ll have nothing.” I pull scissors from my back pocket. She’ll need to cut the shorts off. The basement is cool, not cold, but definitely not warm enough to be naked with nothing but a cold cement floor for a bed.
“Please, he’ll pay you.” This is what I expected and I’m satisfied to finally hear fear in her tone. It’s so much more fun to know when you’re terrifying someone.
“Oh, he’ll pay. In the meantime, you’ll suffer. Clothes. Off. Now,” I say sharply so she understands I’m serious. I have no desire to touch her yet, but that will change when I have her secured on the bed.
Her lack of tears surprises me, but I have no problem adding it to the list of things she’ll pay for. She’s shaky as she stands; she uses the wall for support. Her breathing is harsh and her hesitation makes me think I’ll be removing her clothes after all. When I’m almost ready to assist her, she finally moves. Her hands tremble as she unzips her shorts and pushes them down her thighs. “Please,” she tries again.
“Everything off.” I say it casually this time. I’ve won and we both know it.
She picks up the scissors and cuts the material so she can remove her shorts. Her shirt follows and she’s left in her bra and panties. She hesitates and I almost backhand her for taking so long. She must read something in my expression. With a delightful whimper, she unclips her bra from the back and lets it fall. She slices the panties and they float to the floor. A deep breath escapes her lungs before she lifts her head and stands in front of me nude. The scissors fall from her fingers and she kicks them out of the stream of the flashlight without me asking. There’s a daring fire in her eyes now and I like it more than I should. She’s found her strength again and we really can’t have that.
My gaze travels over her slowly. Though she’s thin, her breasts are a perfect handful, her nipples are pink with pointy tips from the cold I’m sure. Her waist curves in so small it’s very possible I could span my hands around her stomach and touch my fingers together on both sides. My eyes slowly work their way to her shaved pussy and my dick jumps. I have big plans for the naked canvas she presents. Within a very short amount of time, she’ll know she’s mine to do with as I please. And then her brother will know it too.
I collect her clothes and shove the blanket in her direction with my foot. “You’ll be fed twice a day as long as you follow the rules. There’s a bucket for waste in the corner and several water bottles with clean water against the wall beside you. I’ll be back to deliver dinner.” I keep my voice even.
Picking up the scissors, I point the flashlight toward the stairs and step away from her. “Turn on a light. Please don’t leave me in the dark,” she begs with a tremble that sends shivers through me. It’s such a pretty sound and I enjoy hearing the panic laced through the words. She’s learning very quickly that I hold all the cards and her life is in the balance.
I stop at the first step and shine the light back in her direction. “You won’t enjoy what happens when the overhead lights go on, so I recommend you embrace the dark.” Her breath hitches. Even that sound makes my dick twitch. I whistle Mozart as I climb the stairs. I smile. Our first introduction went better than I hoped. Now I just need to stay away and give her more time in the dark to dread what comes next.
∞∞∞
I fill the next few hours by checking in with Andreas, my assistant for lack of a better word. He’s helping me handle the ins and outs of the transition of Victor’s empire. With my thoughts set on vengeance, he’s been invaluable. We’ll see how long that lasts.
“Boss. What’s up?” he questions as a way of answering his cell phone.
“People to kill.”
A nervous laugh clears his throat. “That’s fucked up, boss.”
“Fucked up,” I agree. Andreas doesn’t know when I’m serious or joking, but he does know I’ll kill without hesitation. Victor understood me. I always take death seriously and I don’t joke about it. I kill without remorse.
Andreas is another story. I never quite understood what Victor saw in him and I’m unsure of Andreas’ loyalty. I would have slit my wrist and bled out in front of Victor if he asked it of me. Andreas might do it, but he would ask Victor why first. I would calmly slice my skin and never require a reason. Maybe that’s why I’m the sickest motherfucker Victor found.
“Fernandez?” he asks. The word is out that Fernandez is looking in our direction for the disappearance of his sister. He will find nothing. I’ve covered my tracks. I have no intention of negotiating with him. When I’m ready for him to know I have Melina, he’ll know because I’ll be finished with her.
“No, I don’t want him dead. Make an example of one of his men, but I don’t want him to know who delivered the hit.”
A week ago when I received the answers I was looking for, I set pandemonium loose on Fernandez’s operation—missing shipments, unexplained fires, and even two misplaced henchmen. Now there will be a third. The bastard’s life is only beginning its downward spiral.
Andreas grunts his acknowledgement and I end the call. I pass the remainder of the day by going through accounts and familiarizing myself more with the inner workings of Victor’s organization. I was his enforcer, and money was never my concern. Now it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. At Victor’s death I became a billionaire. This type of money should change a life for the better. It only ties me down. With another flip of a page of numbers, I swear out loud while standing to stretch my back and shoulders. Walking to the sideboard, I pour a splash of scotch into a glass. The amber liquid collects the bright table light as I swirl it around the tumbler. Victor enjoyed good scotch. Hell, Victor enjoyed good everything. I slam back the scotch, wishing it was cold beer.
I’ve moved into Victor and Cindy’s home, but it doesn’t feel right. Their ghosts follow me wherever I go in the cavernous mansion. I rest the glass back on the table and head upstairs to Victor and Cindy’s room, which encompasses most of the top floor. It’s time to clean their stuff out and hopefully take my mind off the terrible things I want to do to the woman in the cellar.
The work is satisfying even though there’s no blood on my hands when I’m finished. Neatly stacked boxes fill one wall of the room from floor to ceiling. When I finally moved in a few weeks ago, I gave Victor’s household staff indefinite time off. I’ll leave the boxes here and they can donate them if they return. Melina will be gone by then anyway.
At precisely seven o’clock I carry dinner down to the cellar. I know she’s hungry because she hasn’t eaten in the twenty-four hours since I picked her up. I administered a large dose of ketamine to transport her here, and she slept for eight hours after arriving. Maybe time in the dark will make her more pliable for what�
�s to come. No. Not really. I don’t mind if she fights, it will make it much more tantalizing. She’ll be still when I need it or I’ll drug her again.
“Rise and shine, sunshine,” I say when she doesn’t immediately move as I approach. I rest the tray on the floor beside her. She peeks out from the blanket. “You have ten minutes to eat with the flashlight on. I’d take advantage of it if I were you.”
She sits up and pulls the tray close. I stand by and watch her eat the beef stew I made and a roll. She doesn’t glance at me or say anything, and I’m impressed with the silent treatment. She eats slowly and methodically without giving me flack. When she’s finished, she pushes the tray in my direction and grabs one of the water bottles against the wall.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t miss me too much,” I say with proper kidnapping humor. I return to the cellar ten minutes later carrying warm water with a towel and washcloth pressed under my arm. I sit the items down. “Wash yourself from head to toe. There’s soap in the bucket.
She looks at the bucket and back at me. “Why?” she asks testily.
I step forward and grab her by the hair before she thinks to fight. Jerking her to a standing position, I step into her space with only a few inches separating our faces. “Because I told you to fucking wash yourself from head to toe.” I pull the blanket away and throw it across the room. “You’ve lost blanket privileges,” I bite out. “Defy me again, I dare you.” I step back and cross my arms over my chest while I watch her wash with trembling fingers that fucking turn me on. “Everywhere,” I say when she’s finished without washing between her legs. “You need to be clean for what’s happening next.”
Her glare could freeze molten lava, and I like it. She passes the cloth between her legs and rinses it. I pick up the waste bucket and carry it upstairs, leaving the wash bucket behind. I empty her waste in the toilet, wash it out in the laundry utility sink, and carry it back down. She’s standing with her back against the wall, arms wrapped around her middle, and shivering in the cool room. I approach and tip her chin up with my fingers so she’s looking at me. Her brown eyes shoot daggers.
Combust (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 6) Page 1
