My heart throbbed. I should have been doing something, calling the police, calling Cody, running away, but I couldn’t. I just stood there, staring at the rip in that couch, knowing that something sinister had happened.
My hand reached into my back pocket, seeking relief from the sound of Cody’s voice. Maybe he had brought one of his friends from work, one of the ones who are always a little less capable of coping with the “stress” and usually have a new drug down their throat. I thought that maybe they got into a fight and…
With a sigh, I sunk to the floor, holding the phone in my hand. My own depressing, make-shift story was falling apart, in my head anyway. So, I decided to call.
I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath until the call went to voicemail. I let out all the air in my chest, sucked in another deep breath and tried again.
Nothing.
Voicemail.
Tone.
Beep.
Beeeep.
Beeeeeep.
I must have called him twenty times before I collapsed onto the floor, a ball of stress, feeling like one of those cartoons that might just spontaneously burst into flames. My mind started working. It was at moments like these that I always felt like one of my characters… like there was a master writer somewhere above the universe putting me through the ringer before she let me have my happy ending.
But what was my happy ending?
I couldn’t tell how many minutes or hours had passed before I heard a sound coming from the hallway. I froze at the dangling of something metal on the other side of the door. A key?
My heart soared. I sat up, a smile playing at the edges of my lips as I had already started the forming of an obligatory stream of compliments and apologies in my head. After being immersed in the idea of being alone, truly alone, of losing Cody without having planned it, without having chosen it myself, I realized that maybe I could handle waking up another morning to him staring pensively out of our window.
The door blew open, slamming against the wall.
My heart skipped a beat. “Cody?” It was wishful thinking.
I didn’t have the stomach to look up, so I kept my head down, afraid of what was above me. I saw two sets of boots, black leather. Long legs. Beads of sweat sprouted on my forehead. Streams of sweat slid down the insides of my arms. I could feel my stomach churning, getting ready to purge everything inside of me.
“Oh God.” I breathed.
Just as those words slipped out of my mouth, I felt one of them grab a handful of my hair, yanking my head up and stretching my neck. I let out a grunt of pain at the sharp pang that shot through my scalp. “No…” I sounded like a whiny child.
I blinked my eyes. There were little dots in front of my face. My back was on fire with pain. “Please.” I whispered. I didn’t know what to do besides beg them not to do whatever it is they had planned.
There was a large, rough hand on my face, pressed into my skin. My eyes grew wide, a shot of anxiety running through me that I could hardly explain before…
With a crack, everything went black.
Chapter Three
I peeled my eyelids open. The room spun around me. I could see walls, two walls. A dark corner with a rat sitting in it. It was practically as big as my face and chewing on something. I swallowed but the lump in my throat wouldn’t budge. My lips were dry. My neck. Oh God, my neck felt like someone was repeatedly driving a screwdriver through the bone from the inside out.
I sucked in a breath. The air was dank, rancid. It made me feel nauseous, but I kept breathing it because I knew that I needed it and it felt good to fill my lungs. I glanced down at the rest of my body. Ropes ripped into the skin of my wrists and arms, binding them behind my back and the back of the chair. My ankles were roped to the legs of the chair. As soon as I became aware of this, I wanted to move them.
All at once, I itched all over, itched to break free and run away. Panic wafted from the seat of my belly like deadly smoke. It bathed my organs and slipped into my blood, driving the fast beating of my heart, the panting.
“I have to get out of here.” It came in impulsive bursts of air.
Thin, hot tears fell out of my eyes, leaving wet spots on the concrete. I started slamming my chair against the ground. Maybe I could break the chair with my weight like I have seen in movies about a billion times. But the wood wouldn’t budge. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t Drew Barrymore and this wasn’t a flimsy movie prop.
“Hey!” Someone banged against the door.
I froze. Here it was. I didn’t know what to expect. Was this going to be my last moment on Earth?
I listened to the sound of about a billion locks being turned, levers being pulled, my own heart pounding. Until finally, a man stepped in. I recognized the shoes. The rest of him was clad in a dark blue suit, one that fit his slim body perfectly. He looked less like he would break all of my bones and more like he was going to slip a knife out of a hidden holster and cut me like a roll of sushi.
He didn’t stop walking until he was close enough for me to smell the cologne coming off of him. Tom Ford cologne.
I dared look at his face. He had sharp bones and an easy scowl. Beyond that, bright blue eyes, but not the kind you can swim in, the kind that will cut you.
He reached out his hand to me, as if in a greeting.
I glowered at it, my debilitating fear temporarily replaced with agitation.
“Oh. Right.” He raised an eyebrow at me, then folded his two hands together. As he paced back and forth, he relayed the obligatory villain ultimatum. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can either tell me where the fuck your boyfriend went…” He stepped even closer to me.
This time, I could smell the menthol on his breath. His fingers traced circles around my cheek.
Chills shot up my spine, goosebumps rising on my skin.
He gripped my chin so hard my eyes started to water. “Or I can go searching for him.”
I flinched at the spittle on my eyelid.
Cody? “You took him asshole!” I was going for conviction, but my voice sounded more like a series of badly timed hiccups.
The sight of my own, upturned living room flashed before my eyes. The gash. Oh, the gash.
His hand slipped down to my neck.
My eyes flew wide in anticipation, my palms damp. Oh God. Please don’t hurt me. I wanted to burst into tears right then and there, but then I got a good look at the man staring back at me and I got so angry at that little wrinkle in his forehead that it was easy to stop the tears in their tracks.
He squeezed. My lungs hiccupped, my eyes burning. “I’m not fond of your fucking act.”
Just breathe. I focused on the shallow air coming in my nose. “It’s…” Push. “Not.” God. “An act…”
He ripped his hands away from me. “You are going to tell me where he went.”
I shook my head. This whole thing felt like a dream more bizarre than my own mind could have even come up with. Never in my wildest dreams… how could this be real?
“Why are you looking for a broker?” My voice was only barely coming back.
His lips curled into a crooked smile. “You’re a smart ass.” His hand went up, swiftly, decisively.
The next thing I knew, he drove it across my face. A scream leapt from my lips and bounced off the walls, echoing right back. It sounded nightmarish even to me. Before I could reposition my head, before I could feel the burn growing on my face, he slapped me again. This time from the other side.
I grunted, holding myself in. I didn’t want to scream again, or cry anymore or give him the satisfaction. But, God it hurt.
He let out a dark chuckle. “Ohhh. Did he teach you that?” He knelt down in front of me, like he was gonna kiss me or… something. He dug his fingers deep into my skin.
The pain was starting to get to me. It was starting to ooze into my mind, taking the clarity out of everything. Dizziness hit me like a wave.
“Did he train you not to give
in?” With that, he yanked my head back. “Oh... Oh… careful.” In the next second, he was standing behind me. I heard the flick of a knife being quickly slipped out of his jacket.
If there was ever a moment I wished I could be wrong.
My heart pounded against my chest. I thought about every single thing that has ever crossed my mind in my entire life. I thought of my dad and how he would always complain about the spots on his spoons or how his food was usually cool in the center. I thought about my mom and her shrill voice and how I always wanted her to shut the fuck up on Saturday mornings when I was in high school. I thought about my Studio Art boyfriend that broke me into MOMA on our first date. I thought about Cody. I thought how much I had loved him once. I thought about how he must have run away.
And left me here.
To die.
“This is serious now.” His lips were moving right on my skin.
If ever there was a time for tears, now was it. But my eyes were dry, practically petrified.
“You are going to tell me where he went.”
I sucked in a quick breath. “I swear to God I don’t know.” I had never hated Cody so much. I had always thought that if death stared me in the face, whenever that would be, that I’d feel it. Really feel it. I thought I’d be so aware of the darkness on the other side, but I couldn’t feel anything. I was practically in agony over how little I could feel. I wanted to feel something. I wanted it to just come already.
My jaw swung open as he reached down and grabbed my thigh in his iron grip. My face was pressed into his neck as he drove the knife through my leg. Oh. Fuck. It hurt so bad I couldn’t even process the pain. It was like a bad shot from an amateur nurse who couldn’t find the damn vein. God. I screamed out as a way to express my pain but stifled it quickly so that I could hear what the man was saying.
“… Why he bought a one-way ticket to Morocco with your credit card? Why he emptied out your bank accounts?”
“What?” I screeched. My throat burned in agony.
He circled me again. “I’m getting sick of this game,” He said as he swiftly took off his jacket.
I had watched enough movies to know that when a guy did that it was about to be over. Up until then I had had reason and motive on my side. Now it was nothing but rage and impatience. He could easily kill me even accidentally.
This was the part when I was supposed to vehemently plead for my life, but I saw something behind him.
My attacker’s mouth kept moving like he was asking me a question but there was man walking up behind him that I just couldn’t ignore. He had a smirk on his face and bright, amber eyes. He had a cut jaw, strong Adam’s apple and plump lips. He towered over the both of us. He looked almost like a model in his sharp suit and the way that he walked like he knew a million people were watching.
My attacker’s voice broke through. “Answer me!”
He backhanded me across my face. Somehow the pinch of pain was a lot more intense this time, like my bruises were stacking on top of one another. My chair teetered back and forth. I sucked in a gasp as I went crashing to the concrete ground. I cried out in pain. I could practically feel my elbow twist the wrong way.
The man let out a sound that could only be described a low fierce growl. “Eliseo!” He stepped in front of my attacker and slammed him against the wall so hard that a crack ran through it.
Eliseo let out a low grumble. “Hands off.”
The man stepped away almost immediately, straightening out his suit as if to regain his composure. He cleared his throat as he turned his attention towards me. I could tell, even from this low side angle that there was something different in his eyes.
He kept his eyes on me as he spoke. “I think we’re done here.”
Chapter Four
I rolled over in the bed. It wasn’t until my eyes opened to the sight of expensive looking wall paper, long cream curtains, heavy, dark wood furniture that I even realized that I wasn’t being held captive anymore. There was no chair, no ropes, no concrete walls, and no musty air. The bruises and aches remained.
I rolled over again and winced at the burning in my thigh caused by the scab quickly forming. I rubbed my legs together. There was some sort of bandage. My wrists were shiny, as if someone had rubbed them with ointment. My throat ached from screaming, burning with every breath that I took. I pulled the satin sheets up to my chin and stared up at the ceiling. Who had a chandelier in their bedroom?
How did I get here anyway? Did I pass out? Before I could even ponder this, the sight of Eliseo’s scowl came to my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it only made it worse. I could smell the menthol, feel his lips against my skin, the breath in my ears. I let out a sob but it wouldn’t go away. My cheeks were wet with tears. Was I doomed to this for the rest my life, stuck reliving the trauma Cody left me in?
Cody.
The thought of him confused me. I didn’t know if I should wish him there with me or wish him dead. Why couldn’t he have been a good boyfriend? Why couldn’t he protect me instead of putting me in harm’s way? Did he even care that he was putting me in harm’s way?
There was a click as the door opened. I gulped. Was it someone else, summoning me for another round of torture? When I saw the man who walked in, an inexplicable calm took over.
“Hello, you.”
It was almost playful. It was the man from the night before, or two nights before or however long I had been stuck in this bed sleeping. He reached for the oak chair in front of his armoire and dragged it to the side of the bed. Then, he sat down in front of me, sliding his dress pants up ever so slightly and resting his foot on his knee. I raised an eyebrow at his alligator-skin shoes. Those were not the footwear of someone who was good news. And yet, for some reason, I found myself calmed by his presence. For the first time since I had been kidnapped, my fear had been replaced with a different emotion. Something completely unexpected. Desire.
“Hey.” My voice came out a nasty croak. I cleared my throat but it hurt so much there was no way I was going to try that again.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it from on top of the duvet.
I flinched at his touch, part of me expecting him to drag me from the bed and beat me to death. But he didn’t. He just kept it there, letting the warmth and the pressure from his hand slowly reach me.
“I’m Markus.”
I squirmed out of his touch, propping myself up. It was only then that I realized that my clothing had been changed. Instead of the short overalls and stockings I was wearing the day before, I was clad in a short-sleeved night gown. Satin, like the sheets.
“Why am I here?”
He grimaced at this. His frown slowly rising into a knowing smile. “Already with the questions.” He folded his hands in his lap, sitting back, watching me, like I was a cat he had just brought home from the pet store.
I glowered at him, the grog of my sleep melting away and leaving nothing more than profound agitation tempered only slightly by pain. How dare he hold me there like this and not expect me to demand to know why I was there? How dare he hold me at all? “Of course, with the questions.” I wanted to say more. I had more to say. I wanted to get all up in his face and shout. I wanted to remind him that I am a fucking human being and fucking human beings shouldn’t be treated like that.
But I couldn’t. Maybe if I was a character in one of my novels. But not as myself. No, as myself, I settled for a glower and hoped that he wouldn’t hit me.
But he just raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Why haven’t you hit me yet?” I squeaked out. It sounded stupid but it was the biggest question on my mind.
He scooted his chair closer to me, resting his hands on the bed. I couldn’t stop my eyes from following them there. “Ah, well, I can imagine you might expect me to, even from in between the sheets of my own bed.”
I grimaced. “Why am I sleeping in your bed?” I would have jumped out of it right then and there if my whole body didn’
t ache so much.
He shrugged. A slow smile spread across his face and a slight dimple appeared on his left cheek. “Because I requested it.”
Somehow, it felt like I had just exited one threat only to be presented with another. I glanced up at him and for a short second, I could have sworn he was checking me out. But, no, it might have been my overactive imagination. “Why would you do that?”
He left his chair and joined me on the bed.
I couldn’t move away fast enough, and the indentation in the mattress only made it that much harder.
He reached over and traced his finger along the edge of my chin tenderly. “Because I couldn’t stand the way Eliseo was destroying you.”
My heart fluttered. My first instinct was to lean into his touch. By the time my second instinct kicked in, I was already gone. I had let him in. I could feel my skin tingle as his fingers traced my lips, his eyes following. There was something in his eyes as he focused them on me that I hadn’t seen in a long time. Longing. I couldn’t explain it. In fact, it hardly made sense, but it felt as if my whole body was falling into itself from just his touch. My thighs started to spread, a quivering yearning growing in between them. “W-what are you doing?”
His hand spread so that it covered my whole cheek. He leaned into me and my head began a hazy spin. I couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a dream and yet, beyond the fog, was the picture of my overturned couch. The thought of Cody came to mind and made me wanted to wretch.
His lips brushed against my cheek close to my ear. “Saving you,” He whispered.
It took everything in me not to whimper. I turned my face into his, all other thoughts fading. The pain from the day before, the image of my home in shambles, my life with Cody, all fading behind my eyes. When our lips touched, it was the only real thing in world. My skin seared with his touch, my heart exploded in my chest. I was breathless, my lungs constricting, my eyes rolling back. This man had a magical effect on my body. His touch was like an enchantment enveloping all of me.
CLAIMED BY THE ALPHA UNDERBOSS Page 2
