by Eve Bradley
“Rhett was in charge of grabbing you some different clothes.”
My hand goes to my head, which I realize is throbbing from shock and a lingering hangover.
“Why did he pretend like he didn’t know any of us? Like he was on their side?” I ask, suddenly annoyed with all the pretenses and weird subtleties.
Alexi sighs and folds his hands in his lap.
“I think you could figure it out.”
How? I roll my eyes and decide to ignore him. The other two should be here soon, hopefully with something comfortable and a little more modest for me to wear. Not that I’m all for ultra modesty, but it would be nice not to be looked at like a piece of meat. I take the bag and glance around the room with its posh angles and pretty black and red furnishings. I throw the bag under the bed and make sure no one can see it.
Just then, we hear a knock at the door.
In saunter the other two pieces to the puzzle I’m trying to solve. The other two men who’ve sent wiggles of lust into my stomach. But more than this, I’m so curious. Each man is uniquely sculpted, holds themselves with tailor-made confidence, and has a shroud of mystery hanging over his head. I have to know what this is and what kind of danger they’ve gotten me into.
“About time,” I say, and cross my arms over my chest. “What’s going on?”
Rhett’s chocolate hair swoops and bounces on his scalp as he drops two duffel bags on the bed. Alexi hops up and gives them both a raise of his brows as if he’s transmitting our altercation telepathically. Shawn stands in front of me and adjusts his cuffs. He’s wearing a stormy gray suit and dark tie that makes him look even more cutthroat.
“Get changed,” Shawn orders.
Rhett throws a wad of clothes at me from one of the bags. It smells clean and new as if he’d gotten it fresh out of the store. I inspect the clothes and realize it’s a Dolce and Gabbana tracksuit, and as suspected, there are tags still attached. There’re also socks and underwear in there too.
I go to the bathroom to change, and hurriedly strip the red sheath off of my body. My stomach turns a little, and I realize I’m still struggling with the hangover, my limbs quivering with chills. I’m sure it’s intensified by the uneasy feeling boiling in my belly. Just being around them makes my nerves flare-up.
The tracksuit fits me perfectly and even accentuates what little ass I have. It’s black and white with the initials on the side of the waistband. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much nice material on my body. It’s outrageously soft, sensual, and I look like a rich housewife headed out for a jog with the other trophy wives who stay in perfect physical condition so they’re husbands don’t seek out affairs.
As I come out of the bathroom, Shawn’s eyes flick up at me and then he draws a chair around so that he can sit on it with his arms resting on the back. Why does the look he has remind me of a school teacher about to punish his student? Have I been a bad girl? Cue awkward laughter.
I sit down on the edge of the bed in front of him. Alexi and Rhett are standing against the wall behind him and the sum of their masculine energy is pretty intimidating, I won’t lie. I cross my legs and arms nervously.
“So, is this the part where you explain everything that’s going on and let me into your little club?” I say shrewdly.
Shawn’s grim smirk sends a thrill through my gut.
“No,” he says it simply and then pulls something out from behind him. It’s a cream folder. He opens it and his eyes track over the words. “You know, I had to dig deep to find anything about you. It took my guys nearly double the time it usually does. But, I’m satisfied now that I know your secrets.”
“You can’t know,” I snap.
There’s no way. When I left Illinois, I covered every step. I did every transaction in cash. My past and the things I’ve done are dead to me, just like…
“You tried to kill your stepfather?” Shawn’s voice pierces the air and nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“Tried?” I croak.
My mind is a flurry of images and memories that I’ve tried so hard to destroy. My sister and I living each day in poverty, my mother fighting cancer and being beaten every day, us being afraid of his ass nearly every time he came home after wasting all the treatment money on alcohol. The memories are aching, and with each vision splattering across my mind, my shields break, and it all comes flooding back. The last time I saw my stepdad, he’d pulled a gun on my mom. He’d been sloppy drunk, and I had finally had enough.
“I shot him.”
My voice is shaky and my mind is spinning. I think I might pass out. I let him bleed out on the floor while Emily and my mom watched, horrified. I told them both that I loved them and then ran before the police could come. I told Emily to tell them that he’d shot himself. That it was suicide. God, Emily. Tears amble into my eyes like old friends that I’ve never liked. They’re familiar and fucking annoying. I never wanted to go back to this place, yet here we are.
“He’s not dead,” Shawn’s eyes widen a fraction, but this hits me harder than anything.
“He’s not…?” I whisper, and my hand flies to my head. “Fuck.”
“You thought you killed him, and that’s why you ran?” Rhett asks. I can tell he’s trying to be sensitive, but his words are haunting. His brows knit together, and he adjusts. I hear the leather of his jacket squeak as he does so.
I let out a deep exhale. I guess I have to be honest now.
“Yeah, I thought he was dead. I would have run regardless. I just…he would have killed my mom. I had to do something,” I tell them.
Each one seems to register a similar form of understanding.
“But why are we talking about me? We should be talking about you!” I snap, then stand, completely enraged. “What’s going on? Who is Penny? Why am I trapped in this room?”
Shawn lets out a breath like he’d clear the air of the demons in my past as if it were as simple as blowing smoke away.
“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” Shawn says, and his eyes flick up to meet mine. It feels like he’s seeing me naked right now, the intensity is so raw. Everything hurts. But I can handle the past once I deal with the present. Even if the alarm bells are ringing like sirens in my head, I have to set this to the side. I need to focus all my efforts on getting out of this room.
“It’s fine,” I manage to grunt the words, but my mind flashes to my mom and sister. If he’s alive, has he stayed with them and continued to abuse them all these years? And I wouldn’t have even known? The audacity of it, the sheer ridiculousness of it, causes wrath to build up in my blood.
“How about you come with me,” Shawn says. “We’ll have dinner at my place and I’ll explain everything there.”
I stop myself from unleashing hell on his sorry ass.
“You want to…I thought you wanted to keep me in this room? Alexi said…”
“Well, I think this is warranted,” he gives me a wink. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Oh god, the way he looks at me, even in my distraught and horrified state, turns my stomach. I swallow and meet his gaze. Maybe he’s remembering last night when I’d parted my legs and sat flush with his lap. Maybe he’s thinking about our short kiss, the way the tingle of the chasteness built into a stifled desire for more. Do I have any choice?
“I’d love answers,” I say coolly, keeping my eyes firmly on his.
The other two shift awkwardly and I glance at Rhett and then Alexi. They seem indifferent.
“Rhett bought you a few different outfits. Choose one. Alexi will make sure you get there safely,” he hooks his hands on the edge of the chair and lifts off. Then, without another word, he heads for the door.
“O-okay?” I trail after him.
Rhett gives me an expression that tells me he’s trying to show me some form of compassion. I watch his stubbled chin, perfectly pink lips, and a shaft of dark chocolate hair swish and turn away from me and then follow Shawn out the door. Which leaves the stickler Russi
an and I alone yet again.
“Well,” Alexi looks at me with a stern, approving smirk. “You’re a tough one, I’ll give you that.”
I roll my eyes. Every time I think about the gun in my hand, the adrenaline in my system, the kick-back of the pistol-- I’m flooded with panic like I’m in the exact same place I was before, standing in front of my stepdad, ready to kill him. I told you, I’m not a good girl. I’ve done things I never thought I would have, and I guess I can’t really argue my case because I suppose either way you flip it, I did shoot my stepdad. Isn’t the fact that I could even pull the trigger a sign of some flawed strand in my DNA? And I tucked it all away. I ran, like a fugitive into the night, did all my transactions in cash, and made my way across the country to start a new life. This new life led me to Lenny, Jack, and Lorna. It led me to the cold-blooded, dilapidated state that I’ve been in up until a day ago.
“You have no idea,” I shut my eyes, roll my hands over my face, and go to check the duffel bag of clothes Rhett bought for me.
Six
The Gift
Here I am, all dressed up in a peach pink dress. Another dress. This one is sheer though and hits below the knee. It also has a neckline that buttons high at the neck and leaves my back naked to the open air. I obviously can’t wear a bra with it, so my breasts go free yet again. I try not to think that this is something Shawn might want. Why would he be attracted to me? There are a million girls here in LA that he could have and I’m definitely not the cream of the crop.
I don’t care though. I’m not here to be the best or win any sort of Miss America competition. I draw my rose gold hair up into a short ponytail and slip on the cute white heels Rhett chose for me. I honestly look sexy if I do say so myself.
When I arrive at Shawn’s home, Alexi gives me a short, concentrated nod before speeding off in the blue Lamborghini he’d used to ferry me to the mansion. I almost asked him if he was jealous. I’m probably lucky he sped off so quickly. I’ve already dug myself quite the hole.
Shawn is already waiting for me on his doorstep. God, when I look at him standing there, I feel this intense, irrational fear that something bad is about to happen. Like this could be a situation where I’ll be pressured, or there’ll be some weird catch to the entire setup. I try my best to walk like a normal woman, but I’ve never been good at walking in heels. Graceful has never been my middle name.
“Allie,” Shawn inclines his head a little, and I bare my teeth as if I’m smiling.
He offers me his fucking hand. It’s like I’m in one of those movies where some posh man welcomes the woman into his world of diamonds, glitz, and glamour and sweeps her off her feet. I forego the hand and slide past him. Not today, buddy. I’m here for the business, not the pleasure.
He follows me through the entry, and once again, I’m in his home, the beautiful, sleek, modern space that extends for what seems like miles and gives way to room upon room. But this time, things are a little different. There’s a trail of candles that are leading out to the garden. The sliding glass doors that Alexi walked through the other morning are open, and I can see that the candle-lit path leads to a pretty dining table set for two.
“Um…” I cross my arms and bite my nail. “What are we…” I blow out a breath and turn on him. “What is all of this?” I motion around at the candles and outside.
Shawn raises his brows and sticks his hands in his pockets. He looks so delicious in this low lighting, and I can’t help but feel special. He’s gone to a lot of trouble for me. The logical part of my brain stops me. I haven’t seen him with women before, so I have nothing to base this off of. Maybe he’s just like the rest who see something they desire and then charm their way into getting what they want, i.e. the vagina, and be on their merry way. Maybe he’s done this before and knows what price a woman’s pussy goes for.
“Dinner and answers,” he says shortly and lifts his chin as if daring me to argue.
“Dinner and answers? Candles and a beautifully intimate setup seems a little overkill doesn’t it?” I tease.
He shrugs, a sly crack at his lips.
“I find that it’s nicer to discuss anything with the right atmosphere,” he explains and then beckons me to follow him out the sliding glass doors.
It truly is glorious. Lights twinkle all over the garden, the stars are flashy overhead, the candle-flames flicker and wave at me like happy little spirits, and the gleaming china reflects it all. We end up following the walkway down to the table that overlooks the rest of the garden and the pool. Wine has already been poured into sparkling glasses, and I grab hold of the stem swiftly.
“Go slow tonight,” Shawn says, making his way to the chair across from me, and steeples his hands in front of his face as he sits, watching me with amused reproachfulness. “I want you clear-headed.”
I set the wine glass back on the table and lean back in my chair. We stare into one another’s eyes. I don’t know how I’m able to do it. It’s probably years of defiance and the rebelliousness to survive that fuels me. I think it’s the arrogance commingled with the twisted charisma that has me intrigued. That’s typical right? The girl with daddy issues likes the bad boys?
“You’re controlling,” I comment and finger the glass lightly. “You want everything exactly how you like it. What happens when you don’t get what you want?”
I’m nearly scared of what he’ll say. But it really doesn’t matter. I’m living on the edge here, completely outside of my comfort zone. I look like a barbie bitch bought and sold to the highest bidder. Like a girl who’d let him do whatever he wants and thank him for it. But, I won’t let him have the satisfaction, even if the devil in me longs to taste what he has to offer.
“I don’t always get what I want,” he sighs and sits forward. “I’m not god.”
“You wish you were,” I mutter childishly under my breath, and he glares.
“My father taught me everything there was to know about business; how to finesse the IRS, how to make and keep my billions, and more. But he was ruthless. I try to be a little more forgiving,” he says.
“Forgiving?” I balk and grip the arms of the chair. “Isn’t forgiveness overrated?”
“Not when it comes to personal peace,” he says and allows a strand of amusement to light up his face. His dusky blond hair makes him look extremely tan, his gray eyes pulsing down into me as if he’d pin me here and now.
“Why am I in danger?” I finally blurt. God, please just tell me.
“Allie, I’m sorry. I think you know that I’m not a good man. I deal with the underbelly of this city and I do what I want because I have the money and the motivation. The Young brothers? They were a part of my plan.”
“Your plan?” I croak, ice singing through my belly.
“It’s not the first time we’ve done it,” he says loftily and shrugs his shoulders as if he’s cold. “And if you think we’re bad after all is said and done, I can promise you that the Young brothers are a lot worse.”
“Worse how?”
“They deal in drugs. Human trafficking. The black market,” he says slowly, as if deep in thought. Then he reconnects with me, and I feel my gut clench.
“Wh-you said you’re bad. What could be worse compared to that?” I say, and I feel extremely foolish. Of course, this is where I end up. Smack in the middle of criminal central. Could it have gone any other way? Maybe my past is a magnet to all things dark. I did murder my stepdad. Almost, I think, and the reminder is chilling. I swallow and try to focus on what Shawn’s saying.
“Large scale theft. Occasional murders,” he says, and I see the muscles in his throat flex as he says it as if the words are disgusting even for him to say.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Not this. I wanted to think they were my saviors, that he was simply a rich billionaire with a simple task for me. Why couldn’t I have just been arm candy? Which leads me to wonder…
“What was the plan?” I whisper, hating how prickles of fear scatter across
my skin.
Shawn looks at me with his jaw twitching, and I wait as patiently as I can. Is he calculating just how much to tell me? Even though I can guess that this is a strain for him, his eyes are cloud-free, and the only way you’d be able to tell that he was having some inner moral battle is because of his slightly terse brows.
“I sought out the Young brothers as a target. They’ve been causing too many problems in LA. I wanted to take them down a notch,” he sighs and takes a sip of the wine. I follow the flow of liquid down as he swallows, enjoying the way even his neck has muscles I’d like to lick. I look down immediately, hating that it’s even a thought running through my head. Focus, Allie. He wants to take the Young brothers down a notch, what could that entail?
“I don’t like the businesses they’re in,” he explains and leans back in his chair.
“I don’t blame you.”
I agree. I despise men like the Young brothers. This probably stems from my relationship with my stepfather, but I digress.
“Alexi, Rhett, and I have a side business. We con these problem groups, depending on where they are. When we get word that there’s a trafficking ring or a gang causing too many problems in a city, we try to take care of it the best we can, but only if we get the opportunity. The Young brothers were ripe for the picking.”
“Okay. So you’re like Robin Hood?” I snort as I hold back a laugh.
“No, Allie. Not at all.”
“You’re conning them to do good, though?” I press.
Shawn rolls his eyes and leans forward, his expression a persistent warning.
“We’re not good. I want you to get that through your head. You have to understand this. We’re not normal men.”
“Oh,” I giggle and raise my hands a bit. “I know you’re not normal.”
Shawn stands and comes around to stand just in front of me. He looks down into my face, and I glare. What does he think he’s going to do? Smack me? I’ll smack him right back. I honestly have no fucks to give.
