“Come on, time to go, Miss,” he says, and with obvious reluctance, Adrienne nods.
“Bye, Memphis,” she practically whispers, pausing at the door.
“This isn’t good bye,” I tell her.
She gives me a hopeful look and I memorize her, standing there, mussed up and gorgeous. Sage shakes his head and I swear he rolls his eyes slightly as he closes the door and locks it.
I stalk over to the bed, picking up Adrienne’s discarded panties on my way there, and fall down on it like a bag of rocks.
I don’t think a lifetime of jerking off is going to get me any less frustrated than I am right now. But her juices on my fingers and the scent of her sweet pussy certainly helps.
Ten
Adrienne
That night, I fall asleep with my heart beating fast and my mind spinning.
I can’t believe what I just let Memphis do. And I can’t believe just how much I enjoyed it.
I can’t sleep at all. My mind keeps going back to the moments we spent together, the way he held me, the way he made me come. I’ve never known pleasure like that beyond my own fingers, and I crave so much more from the man I thought was a monster.
When I finally fall asleep, it’s well past four in the morning, and my stomach is filled with butterflies when I think of Memphis. My dreams revolve around him, and the next morning, I wake up with a smile firmly plastered on my face.
All morning, I wait anxiously for Hannah to arrive, hoping she’ll bring a new letter from Memphis with her. When she finally appears with my breakfast, I nearly jump out of bed in an effort to get to her.
“Calm down, Miss,” she tells me with a small smile. “You’ll fall over and break something if you’re not more careful!”
I giggle, and briefly wonder just how long it’s been since the last time I did that. I don’t think I’ve even laughed five times since my father passed away. My hopeful eyes go to Hannah’s, and she seems to know what I want right away as her face lights up with a smile.
“I have something for you,” she says, putting down a tray with some coffee, juice, and fresh croissants. Cobb may be a monster, but he does take good care of me here, even if I am a prisoner.
I push those thoughts aside as my eyes focus on the small piece of paper on the tray Hannah brought. I look at her for confirmation, and she gives me a small nod before leaving the room. I can hardly wait before opening the piece of paper, my eyes drinking in his words.
Adrienne,
I can’t believe I finally got to feel you. Hold you in my hands. Hear you gasp. Make you moan.
We’re going to need to do that again. Plenty of times.
I had a dream about you tonight. It was strange - my parents were there as well. I felt like I was so close to understanding my past, but so far at the same time.
I wish there was a way to make my memory better. To help me remember how I became the man I am today.
I hope you are well, Adrienne. I need to see you soon. After last night, I hope you know you belong to me, not Cobb.
Memphis
My heart flutters at his words, and I clutch my chest with a silly smile on my face. He makes me feel like some lovestruck teenager, and I love it. It makes me forget about everything else that goes in this mansion, both under and above ground.
I ponder Memphis’ note while I eat my breakfast. He’s mentioned several times he’d like to regain memory about what happened in his past, and I think I may have a way to help him with that.
When I was a child, my father was known as the man who knew everyone and everything.
He kept notebooks upon notebooks of names, scribbles about people he’d met through his life. He often told me you never know when a connection might come in handy. And something tells me his notebooks might hide the answer to Memphis’ questions.
It’s a long shot, of that I am sure.
But from what Memphis has told me about his life before the basement, I’ve pieced together the story as best as I could.
His parents were killed by a man whom Memphis beat to death after the attack. After that, he became homeless, roaming the streets until he met Cobb. He agreed to his terms because he needed the money, needed a way to get out his nightmarish life.
But I think there was a reason that man attacked Memphis’ parents. And I think I might be able to find out what it is.
I decide to ask my mother where those books went when I get a chance, and spend the rest of the day writing the perfect note back to Memphis. I eat lunch alone in my room, but the dinner hour comes and passes with no sign from Hannah. I’m growing slightly worried, but finally, there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I say timidly. Hannah’s knock is softer, and this one is determined and strong.
A guard opens the door, looking at me with lifeless eyes. My whole body stiffens, and I wait for him to deliver another blow. Having him here instead of Hannah can’t be a good sign… can it?
“You are going down to dinner with Mr. Cobb and your mother,” the guard tells me. “Get ready. You have one minute.”
I stare at him, unable to comprehend what he said. Ever since I’ve been in this mansion, I’ve been eating all my meals by myself. To have it change now feels a little strange.
“Thirty seconds,” the guard tells me.
I jump and run my fingers through my hair, putting on some sandals I left by my bed. Thankfully, I’m already dressed - though my outfit is just a casual dress, nothing special. Before I have a chance to object, the guard grabs my arm and drags me out into the hallway. Even if I dug my heels into the ground, I wouldn’t be able to stop him.
He half-drags, half-guides me down the stairs, into the large salon area. A large dining table is set up for three, with Cobb sitting at it and my mother at his side. A place awaits me, with perfectly laid out cutlery and soft classical music playing in the background.
The whole image makes bile rise in my throat. Here we are, the picture of a perfect family. Cobb, handsome as hell in his leisure suit, and my mother, stunningly fragile in a pretty dress, but painfully thin and pale. And then me, with my sullen expression and arms crossed protectively in front of my body.
The guard guides me to the table, practically pushing me down on my designated chair.
“Welcome,” Cobb greets me with a smile. “I thought it would be nice to have a little family dinner. Don’t you agree, sweet thing?”
My mother flinches at the term of endearment he uses for me, and so do I. I don’t even dare looking at her, too scared of showing Cobb I care. He would surely use it against me.
“Thank you,” I mumble in response, looking down at my plate.
My fish, potatoes and asparagus look perfectly fine, but awfully unappetizing to my eyes. I struggle to eat a morsel of the food someone prepared for us while Wilson starts yapping on about something inconsequential.
He tries to involve my mother and me in conversation, as if we really are a family. But having lived and known my father, I know full-well Cobb’s full of shit.
In the middle of dinner, we’re interrupted by a guard. Cobb fixes his snake eyes on him, and the guard looks worried as hell for having interrupted our family reunion.
“Business call, Sir,” he mutters to Cobb.
The man’s lip twitches in an angry way, but in the next moment, he’s the picture of politeness and professionalism once again. He dabs at the corner of his lips with a fabric napkin, sets it down on the table and grins at my mother and me.
“Excuse me for a moment, my beautiful ladies,” he tells us. “Duty calls.”
He leaves the room along with the guard, and my mother exhales, her whole body shaking as the man leaves the room.
“Mom,” I’m quick to say. “Are you alright? He hasn’t been hurting you, has he?”
She’s shaking her head, and she won’t stop. Her gaze is fixed on the table and I see tears in her eyes. She either can’t tell me, or she doesn’t want to. I reach for her hand on the table and she
flinches away from my touch.
“It’s alright,” I tell her softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She raises those big doe eyes to meet mine and I see so much pain there - pain that was not there when my father passed away. Pain that Cobb put into her gaze. I hate him.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” my mother asks in a fake cheery voice. “Have you been holding up well? Are they taking good care of you?”
Her hopeful look makes me think she doesn’t know a thing about the dungeons, or me being offered as the prize to the winner of the fighting tournament. I swallow my words, not wanting to trouble my mother even more. I force a smile on my lips.
“Yes, mom, everything’s okay,” I tell her. “No one is hurting me.”
“Good.” She looks so relieved; it almost makes me glad I lied to her.
“Mom, I was wondering…” I start to say, sneaking a glance at her. “Do you have any of our stuff from the house? Could you get me something I needed if I asked you?”
She gives me a curious look, and I’m glad I asked. She needs a distraction, anything that makes her think of something other than Cobb.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” she asks me.
I inch closer to her, giving her a conspiratorial look.
“Remember those books dad had on people he’d met?” I ask her eagerly. “He used to keep notes of people he’d seen, talked to, or wanted to meet. I really need them for something.”
She looks curious, but doesn’t ask why I need the books.
“I’ll do my best,” she nods. “I don’t know whether I can actually do it, but I know where they are, and I’ll try to get them to you as soon as possible.”
“Thank you!” I move in to hug her when the door opens with a slam. We spring apart in fear, and our eyes go to the door where Wilson is standing in all his glory, his hands forming fists at his sides.
Not a good business call, I take it.
He approaches us like a predator, and both my mother and I shrink in our seats. I feel scared and helpless in his presence, and I wish he’d just leave us alone and take his anger out on some other poor soul. However, his eyes are zeroing in on my mother now, and he grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling her to her feet. I shriek, but he takes no notice of the sound I’m making.
“You filthy whore,” he insults my mother.
With one motion of his strong hands, he rips her dress down the middle. The fabric pools at her feet and I gasp when I see her body covered in cuts and bruises. My hand flies up to my mouth as I stare at my mother, more broken than ever.
She forces a smile on her lips as she looks at me, always trying to reassure me.
“It’s okay, darling,” she tells me softly. “It’s going to be okay.”
Wilson ignores her words and slams his fist into her face. I get up and scream at the top of my lungs and my mother stumbles backwards. I’m watching the scene unfold in shock and horror as Cobb approaches me next. If he did that to my mother, whom he’s been in love with for years, I’d rather not know what he’s going to do to me.
“Sweet thing, get up to your room,” he tells me with a grin. “You don’t need to see what’s next.”
Horrified, I stare at him. I need to stop this. I can’t let him treat my mother this way.
“Hit me,” I whisper.
He gives me a confused look.
“Hit me instead of her,” I add, bravely raising my head. “Don’t hurt my mom. Just take it out on me.”
Cobb approaches me like a snake getting ready to strike, his finger tipping my chin back like I’m some prize animal. He murmurs something to himself, his finger gently trailing down my lips onto my neck.
I close my eyes, trying to block everything out, but he barks for me to keep them open. His eyes are crazed as he strokes my face, my mother moaning behind him on the floor. Cobb’s free hand goes to the bulge in his pants, and with an almost detached disgust, I realize he’s getting turned on by this. Sick fuck.
“It’s not your turn yet, sweet thing,” he tells me, making my skin erupt in goosebumps. “Mother, then daughter. Wait for me, Adrienne.”
With that, he lets go off my face and shakes off the cruelty he just displayed. When he blinks, the face of a perfect gentleman is back and he goes to my mother with concern in his eyes, helping her get back up while cooing over her well-being.
I stare at him incredulously. He really is a psycho.
He escorts my broken mother out of the room and I can only watch them leave. A guard comes to pick me up soon after, guiding me back to my room.
That night, I dream of Memphis again.
But this time, I dream of Cobb taking him away from me, just like he did with my parents.
I wake up to the sound of my door clicking shut. Opening my eyes, I realize it’s too early for breakfast, so I wonder who was just in my room. As my eyes come into focus, I notice a small stack by the foot of my bed, wrapped in paper.
Curiously, I reach for it and unwrap the wrapping.
Familiar images come into focus, and I soon realize it’s a stack of my father’s notebooks. A smile takes over my face and I clutch the books to my chest.
“Mom, I don’t know how you did it,” I whisper to myself. “But thank you.”
Eleven
Memphis
“Motherfucker,” I growl, holding my side.
It feels like I’m keeping my intestines in there with sheer force of will at this point, though I know that isn’t true. I’m just not used to being the one who gets hurt.
I step into my room and the door closes behind me. Number ninety-seven didn’t come easy.
The tournament is heating up. Number ninety-seven didn’t want to go down as easy as I thought he would. This time, it became very clear that we were done playing fair and the bosses wanted some blood. They accomplished that by tossing a shank in the ring in the middle of the fight and seeing which one of us wanted it more.
Beau, the guy I was fighting, got to it first and he made me feel it.
There’s a large rip along my left oblique where he thrust the sharp blade in and twisted down. I think it got stuck on my hip bone and that’s why I didn’t get gutted from tip to taint right there. I turned away from Beau and yanked it out of my side, spraying blood everywhere.
You can imagine that the crowd went absolutely nuts for that shit. Savages. I’m supposed to be the monster here and yet sometimes, I really feel like a god damn angel in there, compared to the scum that gathers to cheer and holler while grown men get killed in a cage.
I couldn’t let Beau get away from it. I don’t know what the rules are for the other mobs in the area, the other ‘gladiator owners’ as they sometimes like to refer to themselves, but in Wilson’s stable, whoever loses gets to hand in their life along with their knuckle tape.
So I shoved the shank in Beau’s eye and twisted the same way he had when trying to kill me. I had to do it, it was me or him and I wasn’t about to go down. Especially not with Adrienne looking down at me from the podium-like balcony she was seated on, her pretty blue eyes shimmering with tears of fear for me.
God, she’s sweet.
I frown to myself, glancing at the door in an effort to forget about my wound. I got stitched up right after the match, crude black marks running up my side and blood still slightly seeping through the bandaging, but that was a while ago.
She should be here already, I think.
I won her fair and square. Even if I’m not in any real shape to fuck her tonight, I still want to see her. Our letters have started getting longer, our handwriting smaller, and I’m dying to talk to her in person.
That’s how deep I’m in. I don’t want her pussy – well I do, but not only – I want her heart. Her mind. And her body.
I lick my lips, glancing up in my room. The bucket of ice water isn’t in the corner I expect it to be in either. Things are getting odder by the second. When I catch a glimpse of a folded up piece of paper on my bed, my stomach lurches
.
Shit.
Hannah would never leave it out in the open like that. She knows the fighters’ rooms get tossed every now and then and we’re careful about this stuff. All the notes have been hand-delivered so far and I don’t think there’s any reason for this one to be any different.
I walk to the bed and jiggle the loose brick above my bed. It budges after a while, spewing a bit of dust along with it that lands on my pillow and I automatically wipe it away, like I always do. I breathe easier when I see the rest of Adrienne’s notes neatly stacked in the small space, safe and sound.
Shoving the brick back, I sink onto the bed and take the note on the covers, frowning. It’s definitely from Adrienne, I can smell her scent on it. Honey. Hint of lavender. Maybe a tiny bit of vanilla.
Fucking intoxicating.
I unfold it and before I get past the first word, my name, I hear footsteps. I scramble to put the note away but I don’t have time to move the brick, so I shove it under my pillow and stand up, wearing a frown. There are too many steps resonating in the hall, and none of them the soft ones of Adrienne that I remember from the last time she was here.
Something’s going to go to shit and I can smell it in the air.
The locks are undone and Sage looks at me like he always does, but there’s a warning in his eyes this time. I slick my tongue over my teeth, feeling my hands clench up as Wilson Cobb strolls into my room as if he owns the place.
I guess he does.
Anyway.
He has one of his big, beefy goons with him. I think the man’s name is Tommy or something vaguely juvenile like that. I never did understand what it was with grown men having kids’ nicknames.
Angel springs to mind, as an example.
But there’s someone with Tommy and Wilson that makes me get a hell of a lot more serious.
Hannah.
She looks fucking terrified and like she’s been crying. Tommy keeps a hand on her shoulder and the four of them pile into my already cramped room, making me take a step back. Wilson wears a welcoming smile, looking positively excited to be there. That can’t be good.
Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance Page 7
