Unhinged

by Natasha Knight

  “Sit down.”

  “I told you I have to go to work.”

  I glance over my shoulder. “And I told you to sit.”

  She hesitates but reads the warning in my eyes, and sits.

  “Good girl.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  Ignoring her, I get two dishes out of the cabinet and divide the eggs and bacon. Finding forks, I set the plates on the table and take the only other seat opposite her.

  She looks at the food like it’s poison.

  I pick up my fork and start eating.

  “Breakfast, Eve. Eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She pushes the plate away.

  “You know better than to waste food. Now eat.”

  She picks up her fork and pushes the eggs around. “How long are you staying?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “Takes for what?”

  “For me to get what I need.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Answers.”

  She lowers her gaze back to her plate.

  “Eat, Eve.” My food’s already gone.

  She takes the smallest bite of eggs possible. I watch her as she chews and I know she has to force herself to swallow.

  “That’s not so hard, is it?”

  Her purse is on the coffee table. I get up and instead of bringing it over, I look through it to find her cell phone, and take it to the kitchen.

  “Call your boss.”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” I know her password so I punch it in, then scroll through her contacts and put the phone on speaker as it starts to ring.

  “What the hell?” She’s up trying to grab it out of my hands, but I grip hold of one of her wrists.

  A groggy voice comes on the line a moment later, and her eyes go wide.

  “Hello?”

  She stares up at me and I smile, gesturing to ask who’s doing the talking.

  “Um…Devon,” she starts.

  Good girl, I mouth with a grin I know looks evil.

  She tries to take the phone but I hold onto it, and to her.

  “I’m sorry to call so early, but I wanted to let you know I’m on my way to pick up Mr. Beckham and I’ll take him out to see those other properties this morning.”

  “Oh, okay, that sounds fine. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He sounds half asleep.

  “Thanks. Um, go back to sleep, Devon. Sorry again for calling so early. I didn’t realize the time.” She gives me a glare at the last part.

  I smile wide.

  “Bye,” she says.

  I hit end, release her, then switch her phone off and set it on the kitchen table.

  “Again, not so hard, is it?”

  “You can’t just do that! This is my job we’re talking about.”

  I’m walking away though, into the bedroom. I need something from my bag and she’s not going to like it. When I return, she’s already switched her phone back on.

  “I’ll take that.”

  “No,” she turns her back, her thumbs working frantically, but I reach over her and close one big hand over both of hers.

  “I said I’ll take it.” I look at the screen. She’s in the middle of changing her password. I just shake my head, and this time, slip the battery out and tuck it into my pocket. “Now sit.”

  She’s furious but when she sees what I’ve got in my hand, she backs away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need a shower and I don’t trust you’ll be here when I get out, so I’m making sure you will be.” I hold up the handcuffs.

  “No! No way!”

  “I have a gag too,” I offer as her voice rises.

  She’s confused for a second, and it makes me laugh. “Sit your ass down. You’ll finish breakfast while I have a shower. Then we can get down to business.”

  “I said no!”

  She sidesteps and makes a run for it, but I catch her easily, and instead of sitting her at the kitchen table, march her into the bedroom. She’s struggling and making too much noise for my liking, so I pull her back into my chest and lift her off her feet. One of my hands is covering her mouth, pressing the back of her head into me, the other is wrapped around her middle.

  “What are you going to tell your neighbors if anyone gets curious about the noise coming from the house?” I ask, unfazed, easily moving her along. She won’t want anyone involved. It’d cost her too much. I know it, and I know she does too. Still, I like the feel of her body against mine, and her struggles, well, they only make my dick hard.

  I know the instant she feels it because she stills.

  Setting her down so she’s standing, I keep one hand over her mouth and rifle through my bag to get the ball gag out. When I see how wide her eyes go, I smile.

  Without speaking, I toss her onto the bed. She’s on her belly, but before she can flip herself over and get up, I’ve straddled her and reach around to put the ball of the gag into her mouth. “Open up, habibi.”

  She’s sealed her lips and is frantically turning her head from side to side. At least until I pinch her nose shut.

  “Open the fuck up.”

  The instant she does to take a breath, the gag’s in place and I secure it behind her head.

  “Now, this could have gone differently,” I say, sliding her toward the headboard so she’s sitting up. “You could be eating a nice, quiet breakfast.” I cuff one of her wrists then slide the cuffs through the bars of the headboard and secure the other. “But you chose to do it the hard way.”

  I get up off the bed and look down at her. She’s struggling against the cuffs and is saying something, but it’s all muffled sound. I smile wide.

  “Try to relax,” I say. I turn my back and walk into the bathroom, whistling a tune, enjoying this, enjoying myself more than I have in a long time.

  5

  Eve

  I can’t believe this. I’m bound and gagged and freaking drooling all over myself while Zach’s in the shower, singing! It’s been twenty minutes. I’m going to kill him when he unties me. I’m going to strangle him!

  It’s useless trying to get free. My wrists hurt, and this gag is humiliating and uncomfortable as hell. I try to wipe at the drool that’s dripping down onto my chest but only manage to make a bigger mess.

  Ten minutes later, the shower switches off. I don’t know if I’m relieved though because for all the whistling and singing, I know he’s serious about getting answers. I don’t know what he’ll do when he realizes I don’t have what he’s looking for. What he thinks I did, if he knew why, he’d understand. But he has to know I was betrayed too. I didn’t intend for what happened to him or his men to happen. I didn’t know what Armen would do. I was tricked. Set up and used by my own brother.

  My back is straight and I’m glaring into the hallway when Zach walks out of the bathroom. He’s drying his hair with one towel and he’s got another one wrapped low around his hips. Like last night, I can’t stop looking at him.

  He tosses the towel he was using on his hair aside so it’s all standing up around his face. He cocks his head to the side and looks at me like he’s sorry for me, and walks toward me.

  “You’ve got a little drool…” he trails off as he wipes some of it away, but he’s only smearing it across my cheek.

  I twist my face away, embarrassed when I should be angry.

  “You know what though?” he asks, sitting down so I have to scooch my legs over so his aren’t touching mine. He pets the back of my head then uses my ponytail to make me look at him. He leans in close, runs the scruff of his jaw across my temple, then moves his mouth to my ear. His breath is hot and he’s tickling the ridge of my ear with the stubble on his chin. “I like it wet,” he whispers.

  I go rigid as he lingers there, warm and close. Too close.

  When he finally releases me, my chest is tight and I have to force my lungs to take in air. He rises to his feet and I can see the outline of his cock. He stands there, watches me lookin
g. Lets me. His eyes are hard when I turn mine up to his and for a moment, my head races to the conclusion that he’s here to take what he thinks is owed him. What he thinks he bought that night.

  No. He won’t do that. He won’t take if I don’t give. I know him, and he’s not a monster.

  He turns away and fishes out a pair of boxer briefs and jeans to get dressed. When he drops the towel, I force myself to look away. I won’t be caught watching. It’s what he wants, I’m sure.

  When he turns back to me, I face him. He’s got his jeans on and has to adjust his cock to get them zipped. He pulls a black T-shirt over his head. It strains to contain him.

  “Ready for me to take it out?” he asks.

  For a minute, I’m not sure what he’s talking about. But then he gets that cocky grin on his face and points to the gag.

  “The gag, habibi. What did you think I meant?”

  I mutter a curse.

  “What’s that?”

  I repeat it.

  “It’s really hard to understand you with that thing in your mouth. You want it out?”

  I nod once, angry.

  “Are you going to scream?”

  I narrow my eyes, glaring at him.

  He sits down on the bed again, head to the side, studying me. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to scream?”

  I shake my head once, but I’m still glaring.

  He smiles wide. “Good girl.” He reaches back and I think he’s going to take it off, but then he pulls away and I know he’s playing with me. “Do you know what will happen if you do scream?”

  I make a noise. It’s me telling him to go fuck himself, but I can’t actually form the words.

  “What’s that?”

  I say it again.

  “I’ll tell you what. You scream, and I’ll gag you until lunch and we’ll try it again then. Understood?”

  My shoulders slump, and I nod. If there’s one thing I trust, it’s that he means what he’s saying.

  He reaches behind me and a moment later, slides the ball out of my mouth.

  “Fuck,” I say, closing and opening my mouth, the muscles of my jaw sore. I try again to wipe the drool off on my shoulder, but he takes the towel he just discarded and wipes my face with it. I realize it’s the one that was just wrapped around his dick, and feel my face heat up.

  “What is that, your little bag of kinky sex toys?” I ask, gesturing to the duffel.

  “You like kinky sex toys?” he counters.

  “Uncuff me.”

  “I don’t think so. I like you like this.”

  “My arms are sore and my wrists hurt.”

  “Then you’ll know for next time not to struggle.”

  “I hate you.”

  He shrugs and goes into the bathroom. I hear water running and I assume he’s washing the gag because when he returns, it’s dry and he sets it on the nightstand.

  “In case we need it again.”

  I have no doubt he’ll use it again the moment it suits him.

  He stands and moves around the room to close the windows. He then takes the single chair from the corner, brings it closer to the bed and sits down on it. Any joking or laughter is gone from his face when he folds his arms across his chest and studies me.

  “Why did you decide to turn informant on your own brother, Eve?”

  I’m surprised by his question. It’s not the directness of it. It’s just I guess I’m not expecting that one. Because why would he care?

  “My parents were dead. My two other brothers had disappeared. Armen was all I had left, and I knew what he was doing was going to get him into trouble. Or worse.”

  He doesn’t speak, just sits there as if waiting for more. I know he’s versed in interrogation techniques, and for a moment, my mind wanders to other methods. Darker ones. I think he knows what I’m thinking, and there was a time when I would have said no, Zach Amado would never use those tactics. But now, after yesterday, seeing his reactions, seeing how unhinged he’s become, knowing what he’s been through in the last two years, I’m not so sure anymore.

  “I-I wanted to save him. It was my deal. The man I dealt with before you, he promised—”

  “He lied.”

  I just watch him. I guess I knew that was a possibility back then. And it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Armen’s dead.

  “You were naïve.”

  I shake my head. “No, not naïve. I was out of options. And besides, I trusted you.” I feel my eyes fill with tears.

  This time, it looks like he’s the one surprised by what I just said. It takes him a moment to continue with his impromptu interrogation. “Save your tears, Eve. They won’t sway me. What you said—you trusting me—it means nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  But I know it means something. And it does matter.

  “You were willing to give up your brother, knowing he’d be taken into custody? Jailed? Or worse?”

  “The worst happened. He’s dead.”

  “Is he?”

  That stops me. “Y…yes. No one could have survived that night.”

  “You did. I did.”

  My eyebrows knit together. “But—”

  “Did you see him go down? Did you see his body?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t see anything. Something hit me on the head. I thought it was a bullet, that I was dead, but I was just knocked out. I saw pictures of the place later. Saw the bodies. My brother was blown to bits.”

  He shakes his head, watching me, unblinking. “Are you certain it was him? Did you see his body?” he repeats slowly.

  “Is he alive?” Something like hope—a thing I’ve not allowed myself to have for too long—begins to bloom within me.

  “I didn’t say that,” he says, unfolding his arms and putting one bare foot on the chair, resting an arm on his knee. And just like that, with those few words, he quashes that hope of only moments ago.

  “You like messing with me? Like having me tied up and hanging hope out there only to obliterate it seconds later? Does it make you feel good?”

  “No, Eve, it doesn’t. Not much makes me feel good anymore.”

  “You’re hateful.”

  “Who saved your life that night?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I told you, I was knocked out. When I woke, I didn’t know where I was. I dealt with one man. I didn’t know him. I’d never seen him before. He told me passage for me to travel to the US had been arranged. Said it was the safest thing. Said it was my payment for having helped you. ‘Helped the American effort’ were his exact words.” I’ve never forgotten them, or the way he said it. How he answered my questions about survivors. I’ve never forgotten how terrible I felt that day.

  Zach’s face hardens and he’s sitting up again, forehead creased. “What nationality was this man?”

  “He sounded American. Looked…I don’t know, American.”

  “Looked American how?”

  “I don’t know, Zach! Blond hair, blue eyes. I can’t remember. I didn’t care—”

  “If you’re lying to me, I swear—”

  “I’m not. Why would I?” I pause, but he doesn’t reply. “I never wanted to come here. I never wanted this life. I just wanted my brother back and I wanted us to be free.”

  “What happened that day? Before the night? Your hands were tied when Armen hauled you onto the auction block. It was after the arms sales. When business was done.”

  I feel the tears coming now. “He found out what I’d done, but what he did, I think he was made to do it. The man he worked for—”

  “Malik.”

  “Malik the Butcher. I never met him, never even saw him. He only came to the house a handful of times, and he always stayed in his car. Armen went to him when they would meet. The man never even got out of his car when he did come, and the windows were tinted almost black. I couldn’t even see shadows, outlines of people inside.”

  “Tell me
what happened when your brother found out you’d snitched on him.”

  “He was furious. He said I was going to get him killed. Get myself killed. That you were all liars. Murderers. He said I needed to tell him what I’d told you. I wouldn’t, not at first, but then he told me why he was working for that man. He said Malik could find Seth and Rafi. That he was working on saving them. He said he could get them back that night if I told him what you knew. And Armen also said Malik would have our brothers both killed if he failed.” I drop my head, tears warm in my eyes. “That’s why I told him.”

  Zach is staring at me, but I can’t read what’s in his eyes. He must hate me.

  “I chose my family over you, and I can’t apologize for that.”

  He keeps on studying me, not saying a word, but I mean it. If that was my choice again, I’d choose the same way again.

  I continue, it’s all I can do. “He told me later that I’d be punished. That Malik required it, but that he’d negotiated my life would be spared. I didn’t know what he meant. Didn’t know he’d…” Sell me to be raped.

  I can’t say that part out loud. My own brother, a man who should have protected me, put me on that auction block, stripped me naked…

  I’m not looking at him when I hear him rise. A moment later, he’s wiping my face, my eyes and nose.

  “Thank you,” I say before I catch myself.

  He grunts, then sits back down and he’s studying me again.

  “Your other brothers, Rafi and Seth, did you ever see them?”

  I shake my head.

  “What happened to them?”

  “I don’t know. I would guess your military knows more about them than I would.”

  “It’s not my military.” There’s venom in his words. Betrayal in his tone.

  I realize something then. “Do they think you’re dead? Is that why the alias?”

  He takes a long time to answer, and when he does, it’s a slow nod.

  Now it’s me who has questions. So many questions. He was betrayed that night, and it wasn’t just me who did the betraying. But does he think it’s his own people? And what does he want now?