by Tiffany Snow
“I should thank you,” I said to him. “Ryker told me you dislocated your shoulder to get free and come help me.”
“Did he tell you why we went in there in the first place?” he asked.
I nodded. “Ryker’s partner was a dirty cop. Viktor paid him for access to tap my phone line. And he recorded me talking, made it sound like he had me.”
“Ryker and I came to an understanding in that moment,” he said. “The past between us didn’t matter. What did matter was saving you. It was the first time we’d agreed on anything in over a decade.”
“I’m glad,” I said. And I was. It would be good for them both if they could be friends. At least the pain I’d gone through hadn’t been in vain.
“But I also realized I’d been an ass,” he said, moving closer to me. His hands cradled my face. “You finally trusted me, and I threw it away because of Ryker. Because of the past. A past I can’t change. But the future … the future is still up for grabs.”
I couldn’t speak, just staring up at him in stunned silence. His blue eyes gazed deeply into mine and the calluses on his thumbs brushed my cheeks.
“I love you,” he said. “That became crystal clear to me last night. I didn’t have to kill Viktor. I wanted to. He’d hurt you, and I’d had to watch him do it.”
“You … you love me?”
“I have for a long time, I think,” he said. “It just took me this long to realize it. You and I have something special and rare, a connection that’s deeper than anything I’ve ever known. You feel it, too, don’t you. You’ve probably known a lot longer than I have.”
I was so confused I stepped back, away from his touch. “First you told me no, then you told me you were wrong, then you said sex between us would change everything. And I believed you, and I wanted to be with you. Then Ryker showed up and you said it had been a mistake and should never have happened. Now you decide you love me and that we have a ‘special connection?’ ”
Anger replaced confusion and I turned, grabbing the first thing I could lay my hands on: my cookie jar. I threw it with all my strength at the wall. The ceramic hit with a crash, splintering into a thousand pieces with M&M’s flying everywhere.
“Why do you keep doing this to me? I can’t take it anymore!” I flew at him, wanting to hurt him the same way he was tearing me up inside. “Why are you doing this?” I was yelling at him and hitting his chest. “Why?”
He grabbed my wrists, forcing me to stop. “Sage—”
I struggled in his grip. “You can’t keep doing this! You can’t—”
“Sage!”
He pushed my arms down, locking my wrists behind my back and holding me tight against him. I couldn’t fight him anymore and I was crying and why oh why was he doing this to me?
Suddenly, he was kissing me, hard, his lips pushing mine apart. Our mouths collided with a fierce passion, my anger melting into a fierce desire. My wrists were free, but I didn’t push him away. Instead, my arms circled his neck, holding him tighter and closer.
His arms were a vise around my waist and I began clawing at his clothes, yanking on his shirt. He broke off kissing me long enough to pull it over his head, then he jerked mine off, too. He didn’t bother unfastening my bra, the fragile lace tearing until the fabric fell to the floor. His mouth covered my nipple and I gasped, my head falling back. The scrape of his teeth made me moan.
My fingers tangled in his hair and I pulled until he lifted his head to kiss me again. Skin against skin was a potent drug and my knees went weak.
Parker pushed me backward and my back hit the wall. I grappled with his belt, tugging it loose. I needed him.
He brushed my hands aside, pushing the yoga pants I wore down my legs and dragging my panties down with them. I kicked them aside, but slipped on the fabric. Parker caught me, saving me from hitting the floor, and lifted me. I eagerly wrapped my legs around his waist, swinging my hair to the side so it was out of our way, then I kissed him again.
I barely paid attention as he carried me to my bedroom. He set me on my knees on the bed and I attacked his jeans again, making quick work of the fastening and zipper.
Parker wore nothing under his jeans, which was all kinds of hot. I pushed the denim down, my hands clutching at his ass. His erection pressed against my abdomen and I couldn’t help rubbing against him like a cat. His hands were buried in my hair as he kissed me.
He pressed me back onto the bed and I clutched at his shoulders. I was wet for him, burning for him.
“This isn’t going to be gentle,” he said, his words rasping in my ear.
“I don’t want gentle.”
He thrust inside me without another word, filling me. I heard him moan at the sensation even as I gasped.
“Oh God oh God,” I moaned. “Yes, please—”
His mouth cut me off, his kiss deep. Then he was pulling me up until I straddled his hips. It pushed him deeper inside me and I couldn’t get enough. His hands gripped my hips as he pistoned into me. With every thrust, his cock slid over my clit, pushing me into a frenzy of desire.
“Tell me again,” he whispered. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” I gasped. “Love you love you.”
He kissed the words from my lips.
“I love you, too. Come for me, sweetness.”
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of my chest. My body tightened, straining for release. His mouth fastened to my breast, his tongue flicking over my nipple, and it was enough to send me over the edge.
I cried out, my nails digging into his skin. He thrust harder and faster into me and a keening sound came from my throat. A rush of heat washed over my skin, and then he was coming inside me, his cock pulsing and his body shaking with the force of his orgasm.
Our bodies were covered in a layer of slick sweat, both of us gasping for air. His tongue stroked mine, playing and teasing, and I could taste the salt from his skin.
Parker lay back on the bed, keeping me on top of him. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart.
I was completely wiped out—mentally, emotionally, physically. It seemed Parker was, too, because he didn’t try to talk, merely reached over to turn down the covers, then moved us over and drew the blankets up over our naked bodies. I was asleep within moments.
* * *
I was awakened abruptly by Parker flipping me onto my back, his body covering mine.
“What—”
“Move and your head will have another hole in it.”
The voice came from above us and I could see a man standing in the room. He held a gun to the back of Parker’s head.
“Get the girl and let’s go.”
Two men in my bedroom, both armed.
I looked at Parker and I could see in his eyes that he was readying himself to fight. He looked at me and it seemed as though time stood still. His muscles coiled with tension.
A sudden blow caught him in the back of the head and I screamed, then he was being pulled off me. I followed him as they rolled him over on his back.
“Parker! Oh my God—”
“Let’s go.”
I was yanked from the bed and they threw my clothes at me.
“Get dressed or your boyfriend dies.”
The one who’d knocked out Parker stood over his unconscious body, gun pointed at his head.
I scrambled to put my clothes on and shoved my feet into tennis shoes. When I was done, the second guy motioned with his gun and I preceded him out of the bedroom.
Leo Shea stood waiting in my living room.
“The cop wasn’t with her?” he asked.
“Nah, some other guy.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “What do you want?”
“I want the sonofabitch who’s been spying on me, pretending to be someone he’s not,” Leo replied. He turned to one of the men.
“Tape her up.”
I struggled, but all too quickly my arms were bound with d
uct tape and another strip placed over my mouth.
“What should we do with the guy?”
Leo glanced at the bedroom door, then shrugged. “Kill him.”
I screamed at him, muffled behind the tape, and flung myself away from the guy holding my arm. Rearing back, I headbutted Leo right on the bridge of the nose.
He roared in pain as I was quickly subdued by one of the men.
“You fucking bitch!” His fist came flying and there was nowhere for me to escape.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was pitch black inside the trunk, and cramped. They’d duct-taped my arms behind my back and used more around my ankles, but it was the strip over my mouth that terrified me. It felt as though I’d suffocate. Breathing slowly through my nose, I forcibly calmed myself. Panicking would be bad. Panicking could kill me.
I couldn’t tell where we were going or how fast. My senses were all turned around. I didn’t know what they were going to do to me and I didn’t want to try and imagine it. Instead, I tried to think of what to do next.
Parker.
A sob built inside my chest but I swallowed it down, knowing that a nose clogged with tears might kill me.
The car doors slammed and I braced myself. The trunk popped open and sure enough, those same guys appeared above me.
“You get her legs,” the tall one said.
One took my shoulders, the other my legs, and they hauled me out of the trunk. I couldn’t tell where we were, but knew we were no longer downtown. There was water nearby; I could smell it and hear it. And it was dark, the only streetlamps few and far between.
I was terrified they were going to throw me into the water and let me drown, but they carried me inside a building. A small one, from what I could see—the wooden floor creaked and groaned beneath their feet.
We went down a flight of stairs but I was headfirst, which was awful. I was afraid they’d lose their grip on me and there’d be no way for me to cushion my fall. But we made it to the bottom with me still in one piece.
The guy with my feet set them down so he could open a door, then they carried me through the doorway and set me on the dusty wooden floor none too gently. Then without a word they left, closing the door behind them.
I let my body relax. I was on my side and I rested my head on the floor. My right eye was swollen nearly shut and my head hurt so bad I wanted to vomit. The trip inside hadn’t helped that, and I took a moment to just breathe. If I threw up, I’d choke on my own vomit.
“Sage?”
Jerking my head up at the sound of my name, I frantically peered into the dark shadows of the room, fear licking at my veins. After a moment, I could see well enough to make out a figure huddled in the corner.
Branna.
She was inching toward me the best she could, though I could tell she’d been bound in the same fashion, only her mouth wasn’t covered.
When she got to me, I saw she’d been beat up, her face more bloody and bruised than mine. There was blood on the white tank top she wore, too.
“Looks like they didn’t exactly take it easy on you,” she said dryly. “Hold on,” she said.
Turning around, she was able to move her hands near my face. Realizing what she wanted to do, I scooted closer, letting her fingers brush against me until she got hold of the tape. I braced myself, but even so, it didn’t prepare me for the blinding pain of the tape being ripped off.
I gasped, biting back a cry. Some of my hair had been stuck in the tape and had gone with it. My eyes watered and I gulped down air, relieved to have the tape off. I laid my head on the floor and just breathed for a moment.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Do I look all right?” I croaked, then coughed. The smell of dank mildew in the room was nearly overpowering.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice thick. “What does Leo want?”
“He wants Ryker,” she said, turning back around. “He must be wanting to use you as leverage. It’ll be okay. Just stay calm, all right?”
“How can it possibly be okay?” I asked in disbelief.
“Turn around,” Branna said. “We’ll put our backs together and maybe we can get the tape off.”
They’d wrapped it around my entire lower arms several times and I had doubts that we’d make much headway, but I did as she said.
“How long have you been in here?” I asked.
“A few hours,” she said. I could feel her working at the tape, trying to tear the edge.
“What will they do to us?” I asked, my imagination conjuring scenarios I didn’t want to think about. Not that I cared anymore. Parker was dead. They’d killed him.
But before she could answer—if she’d have answered—the door opened. The short counterpoint guy of the duo entered and I saw the glint of a knife in his hand. He reached for me and I pulled away with a sharp jerk.
“Hold still,” he snarled, grabbing my legs. With one swift slice, he cut the tape, then yanked it off me. I was very thankful I was wearing jeans and not a skirt. Grabbing my elbow, he hauled me to my feet.
“Leave her alone,” Branna said. “It’s me Leo wants. The girl’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, you’re comin,’ too,” the guy said. “Leo wants both of youse.”
The guy sounded like he’d watched too many Bugsy movies. Or maybe that’s just how an Italian gangster thug sounded.
Tall and skinny came back with a guy I hadn’t seen before. One held a gun on Branna while the other cut the tape off her legs so she could walk.
“This way.”
I tested the bindings on my arms, but they were as tight as ever. Branna hadn’t been able to make more than a small dent in them and I hadn’t torn hers at all.
They sat both of us in two folding chairs about a foot apart. The lighting was better but the smell wasn’t. I could hear the lapping of water against the wall outside. We were right on the lake then.
I heard steps on the stairs and watched as Leo descended. More footsteps sounded from upstairs. I could hear them walking around.
“So, Branna,” Leo said, stopping to stand in front of us. “You see I brought you some company. And now I have the two women Detective Ryker cares about the most.”
Branna didn’t say a word.
He held a cell phone in front of her face. “Call him.”
“My hands are tied, dipshit,” she said, her lips twisting with scorn.
Leo backhanded her and I jumped at the sharp crack of sound. But Branna just looked bored, despite the blood trickling from her mouth.
“Untie her,” he ordered.
Shorty hastened to do his bidding. Branna rubbed her arms once the tape was removed.
“Now do it,” he said.
“You sure have a hard-on for Ryker,” she said, taking the phone from him. “Does he do it for you?”
He went to hit her again, which was his mistake. She grabbed his arm and wrenched it. There was a sharp crack of bone breaking and Leo grunted in pain.
She twisted and stabbed her elbow into his solar plexus, then tossed him over her shoulder and into the wooden chair. It splintered under his weight with an ear-splitting crash and he hit the floor.
The guys flanking me had been stunned, but now they sprang into action and attacked her. I watched in dismay, then leapt up and threw myself into the mix, hoping to take one of them out just by getting in their way.
It worked for a moment, as they couldn’t get a clear shot at her, then the tall guy slugged me hard, right in the gut.
I grunted in pain and bent over, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe at all as my stomach felt like it was on fire from the inside out.
The sound of a gun’s slide being racked made me force my body back up. Leo was up, one arm cradled to his chest and blood flowing from a cut on his head, but he was pointing a gun … at me.
“Stop!” he yelled.
The two men paused, as did Branna, who was fac
ing off with them, gun in hand.
“Stand down, or I’ll shoot her,” he said.
I wasn’t sure Branna really cared, and the way she eyed me for a moment, I was sure she was considering just shooting me herself, then the rest of them.
“Shit,” she muttered, then tossed her gun onto the floor.
My good eye was glued to the gun in Leo’s hand, my other eye swollen shut. I was breathing too fast and felt like I was going to pass out. His hand moved over the trigger—
Gunshots sounded from upstairs and my gaze flew up at the ceiling.
“You,” Leo said to the tall guy guarding me. “Go see what’s going on.”
Picking up the gun Branna had thrown down, the guy nodded and went running up the stairs. I heard another shot and saw the spatter of blood. His body came tumbling back down, lifeless.
“Mr. Shea,” a voice called from upstairs. “I advise you to disarm yourself, if you want to live. We’re coming down there.”
Leo had only one guy left and himself. I could tell when he’d made the decision because he lowered his weapon.
“It seems I’m left with little choice,” Leo called back.
More creaking on the stairs and I watched warily as men came down. Lots of them. I’d expected the cops, but what I saw instead made my jaw drop.
“Dad?”
My dad was among the men; he seemed to be in charge of them, actually, as he was the only one not brandishing a semiautomatic rifle. Only one of the men looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was holding a handgun rather than a rifle.
My dad’s gaze landed on me and relief broke over his features. “Sage, honey,” he said, hurrying toward me.
I glanced at Leo, who’d gone very pale. “This … this is your … your daughter?” he asked.
By now my dad was inspecting my damaged face and his expression was so unlike my father’s usual cheery façade that it sent a chill down my spine.
“She is,” Dad said. “And it seems you’ve been mistreating her.” He glanced at Leo. “That’s quite unfortunate. For you.”
If possible, Leo turned even paler. “M-M-Mister Muccino, please believe me. I had no idea this was your daughter. She never said—”
