by B. B. Hamel
“So you want me to, what, hang around here until you eventually decide you have to kill me to save yourself?” I stood up. “No, thanks.”
He stared at me with that intense gaze again, his green eyes flashing and expressive. “That isn’t going to happen,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to kill you, Emma.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you don’t have another choice.”
“You said you’d let me leave.”
“I will. But if you leave, we’re both dead.”
I sighed and sat back down, frustrated. “I don’t get you. What kind of killer are you?”
He grinned at me. “A pretty fucked-up one.”
I watched as he turned and left the bedroom. “Where are you going?” I called out.
“Sleep,” he said. “You can have the bed.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I kid you not,” he said, and he stripped his shirt off. I couldn’t help but gape at his strong chest covered in tattoos, at the ripped muscles corded along his length. I felt my heart beat hard in my chest, and my pussy was dripping wet.
I’d never experienced this sort of reaction to a man before in my life, but Brooks was unlike anyone I’d ever met. His confidence, his intensity, and, damn it, his body all made me so incredible intrigued.
“Got something to say?” he asked, grinning.
I stuttered, clearly caught staring. “You’re not great at this kidnapping thing.”
“We’re in this together now, Emma,” he said. “Like it or not, we have to figure this shit out together.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked again.
He just shrugged. “Good night. If you get lonely, come join me out here.” He smirked and then lay down on the couch.
I retreated back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I got into his unfamiliar bed, my head spinning, totally unsure about what was going on.
He could have killed me at any moment, but he didn’t. He could have taken me any time he wanted, but he put clothes on my back instead. He could have kept me locked in that closet, but instead he was letting me sleep in his own bed.
Brooks was a killer. He’d murdered my father and countless other men. But he was being kind to me, even if he was a little cocky.
I didn’t know what I was feeling. I couldn’t decide if he was lying to me or if he was telling the truth. Part of me believed him, and I knew that a lot of what he was saying was pretty logical.
Still, I’d promised myself that I’d never let myself get owned by another man. I’d spent too long acting as a slave for my father.
I had to get away. Even if Brooks was telling the truth, I had to run. I’d rather take a chance and die out on my own, a free woman, than let him control me.
5
Brooks
In my dream, my mother was alive. I was a kid again, and she was smiling down at me. She took me by the hand and led me outside, into the park.
As we walked toward the jungle gym, she talked. I couldn’t understand her, but she sounded happy. Slowly though, her face began to morph. The skin around her face became bruised and beaten, black and blue, old and decaying.
I woke up with a start just as my mother turned into a skeleton before my eyes.
My apartment was empty and quiet. I was on the couch and the early morning sun was streaming in through the window. I’d gotten maybe three or four hours of sleep at most, and I probably wasn’t getting much more tonight.
I sat back and sighed. I had a small television set up against the wall, a coffee table, a little kitchen table, and that was about it. The place felt bare because it was. I spent most of my time out on jobs, at clubs, and occasionally at the Barone mansion. I just didn’t have time to decorate or any of that shit.
As I scanned the room, I felt like something was off. Something was wrong. I slowly got off the couch and walked toward the bedroom door. I eased it open gently and peered inside.
The bed was empty.
“Shit,” I said.
I went through the whole place, which took about thirty seconds. Emma was gone, absolutely gone.
I quickly got dressed and slipped my gun into my jeans. I had to find her before anyone else did, or else she was dead and I wasn’t too far behind her.
Damn girl. She was a lot more difficult than I had imagined. Strong willed and with a big fucking temper to boot. I never would have guessed that she was going to come at me like she did. She was like a fucking wild animal when I let her out of the closet, a beautiful fucking wild animal.
I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see her strip. The girl had a body like nothing I’d ever seen before, and my cock was hard just thinking about her. Those lips and that fierce expression on her face, angry and resentful, hatred etched across her eyes, it just made me more fucking excited.
I wanted to slide my thick cock between her legs, feel that dripping pussy. I was willing to bet I could tame her wild streak with my fingers and my tongue, get her begging for my big cock to make her come again and again.
But I could worry about that another time. Right now I needed to find her.
I pushed out of my apartment and hit the stairs, taking them two at a time. I had no clue when she left or where she was going, but I had to try to find her.
I stopped in my tracks as I got to the bottom of the stairs. Emma was curled in the corner next to the front door of the apartment building. I walked toward her cautiously until I realized that she was fast asleep.
Did she get down here and forget how to use a door? It wasn’t locked, so she could have easily just opened it and left.
“Emma,” I said, standing over her.
She didn’t stir.
“Emma,” I said again, more loudly, and nudged her with my toe.
She jolted awake, sitting up and looking around wildly.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re safe.”
She stared up at me defiantly for a second before looking down at the ground. “I wanted to leave,” she said.
“Door’s right there.”
“I don’t have money, or anywhere to go.” She looked back up at me. “I’ve never been out of Chicago.”
I frowned. “Really?”
She nodded and sighed. “Dad never let me. Plus, I don’t know anybody outside the city.”
“Come on,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “Let’s get some breakfast.”
She stared up at me with those fucking beautiful eyes. “You don’t own me,” she said. “Just because I didn’t run away doesn’t mean you own me.”
“Okay,” I said. “How about we have this discussion somewhere less public?”
She pushed herself up from the floor, ignoring my outstretched hand. She looked even smaller in the daylight, her thick figure, full ass, and perfect tits still gorgeous even covered by my oversized clothes.
“Lead the way, killer,” she said.
I laughed and climbed the steps. I heard her following close behind.
Once we were in the apartment, I shut the door and locked it. “Sit,” I said, nodding at the kitchen table.
She sat down. “Dismal place,” she said. “I didn’t notice last night, but did you just move in or something?”
I laughed. “Nah. Been here for a while.”
“Why’s it so empty?”
“I don’t spend much time in here.” I went into the kitchen and began to root around for some food. “You’re probably used to that disgusting mess your dad made in your old house.”
“I hated that,” she said, “but he just kept bringing shit home. I couldn’t stop it, so I mostly stayed in my own room when I was home.”
“How does someone get like that?”
She was silent for a minute as I put some coffee on and then began making eggs. It was pretty much all I had, anyway. I was going to have to get some more food if Emma was going to stay here.
“Happened slowly,” she said. “After my mom died, he ju
st fell apart.”
“Sounds like what happened with my mom,” I commented, not thinking about it, “except my dad ran out on her, and she decided a slow suicide by drinking was the way to go.”
“My mom died from cigarettes.”
“Looks like we have a lot in common, a tragic fucking past and a fucked-up present.”
“At least you’re not a prisoner.”
I grinned at her. “Do prisoners get fucking eggs cooked for them plus free coffee?”
“Yeah,” she said. “They feed you in prison.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, this will be better than prison food.”
“I doubt it.”
She dropped back into a sullen silence, and I couldn’t help but glance at her as I cooked. She was looking out the window, a frown on her face. I couldn’t blame the girl for being upset, what with everything going down the fucking way it did.
I finished cooking, poured two mugs of coffee, and sat down across from her, putting the plates down. “Dig in,” I said.
She picked at the eggs, but she drank the coffee.
“What do we do from here?” she asked finally.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, aren’t you supposed to show them my corpse or something?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
“Seeing as how you say you won’t kill me, that sounds like a problem.”
“We have time,” I said.
“How long?”
I shrugged. “A few days.”
“Not much time.”
“I’ll work it out. Trust me, girl, I’ve been in worse situations.”
“Have you?” She leaned back in her chair. “I haven’t. Actually, this is the most fucked-up situation I’ve ever been in.”
“Fair point.” I sipped my coffee. “You always this pissed off?”
“Only when I’m stuck eating breakfast with my father’s killer.”
“Don’t act like you miss that abusive fucking bastard.”
“I don’t,” she said. “If I could walk away from this right now, I’d thank you. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with you.”
“I saw the way you looked at me,” I said, smirking at her. “Last night when I took my shirt off. It’s not so bad, being stuck with me.”
“You cocky asshole.”
“Step down off your pedestal, girl. I saved your damn life, and I’m trying to figure out a way to keep us both alive.”
She was silent for a second, chewing her lip. Finally, she sighed and seemed to relax. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. You saved my life.”
“I didn’t put you in that house. I just didn’t pull the fucking trigger like I was supposed to.”
“I’m not going to thank you.”
“I’m not asking you to. Just quit looking at me like you want to stab a knife in my throat.”
A small smile softened her hard expression. “I’m not looking at you like that.”
“Maybe not. Maybe you’d rather I sank my thick cock between those legs of yours.”
“Now you’re even further from the truth.”
I finished eating and then took my plate to the sink. I grabbed my mug of coffee and sipped it as she folded her legs underneath her.
“Look, I need to get you some clothes if you’re going to stay here.”
“That’d be nice,” she said, “so I don’t have to wear your ratty stuff.”
I ignored that. “Make a list of what you want. I’ll go to your house once and only once, so don’t forget anything. And only stuff I can carry in one trip.”
“Any other rules?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I prefer thongs. I love to see that ass move when I slap it.”
“Got it. I’ll leave the thongs behind.”
I grinned at her. “Go make your list. I’ll leave soon. I want to get there and get back before people realize your dad is dead.”
“Fine.” She stood up. “Pen and paper?”
“In my bedroom on the bureau.”
She disappeared and I heard the bedroom door shut.
My fucking cock was rock hard as I stood there. She was so angry, so fucking gorgeous, and it only made me that much more into it. I was making her smile, making her laugh a little bit, and she was warming up to me.
She’d figure out that I just meant to save her life eventually. She had to. Otherwise it was going to be pretty fucking hard keeping us both alive.
I had to take this shit one step at a time. Get her clothes first, and then maybe I could get her out of them.
6
Emma
I sat on the bed, my legs crossed, and began writing out a list of things I’d need.
Thinking about that house felt strange. Barely a few hours ago, it was still my home. Now, it was suddenly completely off-limits, the place where my father was murdered and I was taken.
All of my things, my entire life, was in that house. I hated what that place had slowly turned into over the years, but it was once a really happy place, back before things went to shit.
It was better this way. I almost wished he’d burn the whole place down.
I made a quick list of toiletries and clothes that he could easily grab. It was hard to cut all of my things down to a simple list, but I knew it had to be done.
Once I was finished, I looked at the piece of paper.
That was my life, distilled into three columns.
It was better this way. A clean break, fast and smooth. I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to, which I really didn’t. Maybe I wasn’t free yet, but I was free of that house.
I found Brooks getting changed in the living room. I quickly looked away from his muscular body, not wanting him to see me staring again.
“That it?” he asked.
I handed him the list. He pulled on his shirt and jeans and then checked a gun that he tucked into his waistband.
“Go ahead. It’s safe to look,” he said. I glanced at him and he grinned. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You don’t have to make this more difficult,” I said.
“Sure I do. What’s the fun in being too nice?”
“I don’t know. Maybe since you kidnapped me you could at least be kind.”
He stepped toward me, smirking. “I don’t know. You don’t seem to respond well to kindness. I think you want me to be a little mean, push you around a bit. You like to fight back.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know me so well. Figured all this out in the last three hours?”
“Pretty much,” he said.
“That’s close enough,” I said, holding up my hand. He stopped coming near me. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.
“You sure?” he asked. “I’d like to get much closer. When was the last time you felt a man like me between your legs?”
No man, ever, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue.
Instead he just laughed and turned away. “Relax, girl. You look like you want to take my head off.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Can’t blame you,” he said, laughing. He walked over to the door and then looked back at me. “Listen, stay here. Get some more sleep if you can. I’ll be back soon.”
“What’s stopping me from running out that door?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Same thing that stopped you before. You got nowhere to go and a lot of people who want you dead. Trust me or not, but I’m the only one who cares whether you keep breathing.”
Without another word, he opened the door and left, shutting it behind him.
I stared at that door for a while, my mind rushing over his words.
I was a coward. I’d tried to run away, tried to get away from him, and I almost had. I’d snuck down the steps, but as soon as I stood in front of that apartment door, looking out into the big wide world, I panicked.
I didn’t have any close friends. I had people I knew from work and from school, but nobody I trusted enough to take me in. I had no money since everything
I had stashed was still at home, and plus Dad had already found and gambled away a big chunk of it. I had freaked out and realized that I knew nothing about the outside world, nothing about surviving on my own.
But I also knew nothing about this man, Brooks. Okay, yeah, he made my heart race and my pussy dripping wet, but that didn’t matter. He was a killer, a man sent to kill my family and me. He was dangerous despite what he said about wanting to keep me around.
True, so far he’d treated me well, but how long would that last? I was taking a big risk by staying.
But it could be a bigger risk if I ran. I stood there staring at the door, warring with myself internally again. I could leave, go out into the world, try to make it on my own. I wasn’t stupid or weak, and worse people than me made it out there.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Brooks had said about people wanting to kill me. If he was telling the truth, then maybe leaving was the bigger mistake. He seemed to know what he was doing, and so far he really was the only person to help me.
And he did save me. He’d lied to his partner back in my house that night. Originally he tried to get me to hide again, and it was only after the other man saw me that Brooks decided he was going to take me.
Which meant that he never planned on this. Brooks wanted me here as much as I wanted to be here. He was saving me anyway though.
I took a deep breath and stepped back. There was nothing I wanted more badly than to get out of this stranger’s apartment, away from its white walls and empty space, but I knew I couldn’t. I knew the right choice was to stay and to see what Brooks was like, to try to figure him out.
Maybe he really did want to help me. If that was the case, then I was in more trouble than I realized.
I sighed and went back into the bedroom. I began to root through his things, though I knew I probably shouldn’t. I figured you gave up any rights to privacy once you kidnapped a person.
There was nothing interesting. Clothes in the closet, underwear and clothes in the dresser. Some cash, but not much, in a shoebox. There was another gun, but it wasn’t loaded.
