by Teagan Kade
The others head off not long after lunch, including my mother. She seems to have won over the Kings—a hard task according to Nolan.
Given the weather’s heated up, we decide to go for a quick swim.
The pool at the back of Stone’s mansion is massive. I picture the old man doing laps out here himself like Crestfall’s own Bruce Wayne, halfway to asking Nolan where the batcave is when Alissa arrives with a swimsuit for me.
I take it from her. “Thank you.”
“I’d join you,” she tells us, “but we’re headed out.”
She smiles and moves away. I swear she’s some sort of housewife ninja, barely makes a sound as she moves.
I hold out the swimsuit she gave me. It’s a sheer white two-piece, bandeau top. I stretch out the bottoms and it’s way more Brazilian than I’m used to. I’ve still got PTSD from that thong.
Nolan steps out from the back of the house in black swim shorts, body resplendent in the sun. I notice the ink in his tattoos takes on a green hue in direct sunlight, his eyes becoming near translucent in their beauty and depth.
He sees me holding up the swim bottoms. “Cheeky.”
“We’ll need a rescue team to get this thing out of my ass.”
“Or my teeth,” he smiles, bouncing his eyebrows up and down.
“You’re terrible.”
“Terribly attractive,” he beams.
I roll my eyes and head to the pool house, five minutes of wrangling the swimsuit into position following. I turn and look at my butt in the mirror and, yeppers, that’s more white skin than should be legal.
I emerge blushing, Nolan standing there with his hands on his hips waving his hand to get me to turn around.
“No,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he replies.
I exhale and spin slowly, trying to cover my butt with my hands, yelping aloud when his own take them away.
“Holy shit,” he says, wolf-whistling, “we better get into that water before I take you right here.”
“With half the staff watching?”
“Let them look. Besides, can you imagine what my father and Alissa get up to out here?”
“And there goes my libido.”
“Come on,” he says, taking three steps and diving perfectly into the water, surfacing somewhere around the middle.
I ease myself in a little slower, adjusting to the temperature of the water and breast-stroking out to meet him.
He takes me in his arms. I wrap my legs around him breathing hard because my god he looks incredible.
“Still thinking about Rex?” he asks.
“Not anymore.”
His hardness is pressing against me, the iron flat of his cock against my clit. All that separates us is the fabric of our swimwear, though I’m pretty sure he’d do away with that if I asked.
“We’re alone, by the way,” he tells me.
Surprise pulls my face inwards. “What do you mean?”
“I had Alissa send the staff home early, thought we could do with the privacy.”
That flicker of desire becomes a flame.
I reach underwater and hook a finger in the crotch of my bikini bottom, dragging it to the side. “Should I take this off?”
And the smile he returns tells me I’m in for the fucking of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LINNEA
There’s nothing like a good session in the gym to scrub your mind clean. You focus on the burn and the world simply slips away.
“You were like a banshee in there today,” Carrie gushes, toweling herself off in the gym’s changing room—this one a bit bigger than a closet. “I half expected you to walk out of there with an extra set of abs.”
Abs—and boom, I’m transported right to Nolan and his expert hands…and mouth…and tongue…and hell, pretty much every part of his body all seemingly fine-tuned for my very own pleasure.
And yours alone, my head adds.
Carrie’s stooped to look at me. “Hey, you having a stroke down there?”
I snap out of it and take a shirt from my bag, pulling it on. “I guess I was just extra-motivated today.”
“Why? Did Hamilton say something?”
“No, but I wanted to feel it today for some reason.”
“What’s that?” Carrie laughs. “Pain?”
I nod. “The right kind of pain.”
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
I think of Nolan’s hand, flat against my backside last night, the soothing touch that followed and the exquisite juxtaposition of it all. We’ve been getting extra kinky of late. “Are you jealous?”
Carrie tosses her towel onto the bench, completely naked, not that she cares. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s so confident in their own skin. She stands before me with her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a vibrator every shade of the rainbow. I think I’ll be just fine.”
“It’s not the same,” I tut.
“They’re hard, they’re long, they get the job done. What more do you want?”
I have to laugh at that. “Suit yourself.”
Carrie’s phone chimes. She pulls it from her bag, smiling as she reads the screen.
“It’s not your damn Pokémon Go group again, is it?”
The whole Pokémon Go trend passed a long time ago, but for some reason Carrie remains obsessed, regularly darting off to hunt these virtual monsters, or steering us to ‘gyms’—hot spots around town where these virtual creatures lurk. The average age in this group is about ten, but she doesn’t seem to mind. That’s another thing I admire about Carrie—she does not give a flying damn what other people think. Never has.
“Oh. My. God. Someone found Chimecho.”
I shake my head. “Good god, woman, you’re obsessed.”
Dressed, I pick up my bag. “I’ll leave you to your monster hunting.”
She makes a jerking off gesture. “Off to do a bit of monster wrangling yourself no doubt”
I start walking. “Bye, Carrie,” I trill.
“Oh, yes, Nolan,” she moans, attracting a good deal of attention, “give it to me. Give me that big, hard manaconda of yours. God. Yes!”
I can’t stop laughing making it out into the foyer. I swear I can still hear her going at it. Even the girl at the front desk looks puzzled.
“She’ll be fine after she’s had her meds,” I tell her.
I come out through the gym doors into a mild day of fleeting sunshine, about to step across the road when a black limo screeches to a halt, the doors popping open and my father’s goons whipping around behind me.
Not this shit again, I think to myself.
“Hey!” I yell, but it’s late and the gym’s isolated out here away from campus.
One of them takes my bag, the other forcing me into the back of the limo and sliding in beside me.
The doors slam closed and the limo is off. The whole thing takes seconds.
I calm myself, eyeing my father sitting opposite. “You could have asked nicely, you know.”
“I did. You’ve been ignoring me.”
“Do you blame me after the shit you’ve pulled? You think this is any better? Kidnapping me yet again in broad daylight? As I said before, how’s that going to help your cause?”
I’m surprised how articulate I’m being, but I’ve truly had enough of this shit.
“I didn’t want it to be this way, Linnea, but you left me no choice. You will marry Harry.”
Again, the rhyming is almost, almost amusing. “Why are you so desperate for this merger, really? I know there’s more to this.
I see him eyeball the goons on either side of me, then watch him clear his throat—a rare tell. “All right. Without the merger, my company will go under. I’ll lose everything.”
“You mean your Ferrari and nightly glass of Chandon? Boo-fucking-hoo.”
“I won’t lie, Linnea. I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and I cannot be without. I cannot be…”
“Poor?” I suggest. “You
could do with some humility.”
He ignores that. “But you, you, Linnea, can save me, the whole company, and you must think of everyone who will suffer when it goes down—not just me.”
I lean forward, pointing at him. “You steered it into the rocks. If the company is falling apart, it is your fault. You should fix it.”
He extends his hands. “I’m trying to.”
“By forcing your only daughter to marry that Wall Street loser?” I hold up my hand, showing him the wedding ring. “Like I told that Harry idiot, I’m already married.”
The façade drops. He comes forward pointing back with all the sting of a hornet. “You owe it to me, Linnea! You are blood!”
“I’m nothing to you,” I yell back. “You made that clear a long time ago.”
“You will marry Harry. There’s no more arguing, no more acting and carrying on like an entitled brat. You will do it because I say so!”
His face is red, the desperation clear.
I ease back, folding my hands in my lap. “Let me out. Right now.”
The bluster over, my father knows the battle is lost. He knows his outburst has cost him.
“I said,” I repeat, firmer. “Let me out. I’m expected and the cops will come looking if I don’t show.”
My father exhales and taps the window behind himself leading to the driver’s compartment.
The limo pulls to a stop.
But the older goon beside me won’t budge. “Let. Me. Out,” I repeat, taking my bag and trying to push past him.
I look to my father. “Tell your lap dog to let me the fuck out. I’m growing impatient.”
The younger one beside me finally opens his door, mumbling something about not wanting a part of this, not wanting to end up in prison.
Good call.
As soon as it’s open, I shove past him and out onto the street, running for the nearby treeline. I don’t stop until I’m around the corner, watching the limo slowly pull away.
I can’t believe I’m out, but I know I have to get to Nolan. I’ve got to tell him what’s happening, to warn him.
I saw the desperation in my father’s eyes. He’s one step away from doing something stupid.
I won’t allow it.
I get my bearings and run.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NOLAN
I’m not sure if equilibrium has been established, but the bigger picture seems to be forming. We’re married. There’s nothing Linnea’s father can do about it. That thought alone is enough to put a spring in my step, but it’s the greater thought of spending my life with Linnea that has me close to doing cartwheels down the street.
Earlier today a scout rang through asking if we could meet, said he had a very special offer he’d only detail in person. I should have put Jamie onto it, but hell, what’s the harm in talking with this guy? I can always bring in Jamie later.
I’m a block away from the diner having parked behind Main Street, about to cross the alley leading to the shops when I hear an engine revving.
I look left and see a limo flying down the alley towards me.
Fuck.
I start to run, but the limo’s already pulled up next to me, the big guy from before already out reaching for my arm. I twist but the fucker’s quicker than his mass would suggest, getting hold of my shirt and tugging me towards him. I swing, connect with his jaw, but it’s like the guy’s a crash-test dummy. He just bounces on back and strongarms me into the back of the limo.
Pressed inside, the door closes and the limo takes off at full speed.
My first thought: I need to get out of here.
I brace myself against the seat and go to kick the door, but the big guy punches me in the back of the head. It’s hard enough to knock me forwards against the glass of the window, a dull, déjà vu pain spreading through my skull. I reach up and there’s blood on my hairline, and the window. I grunt and fold forwards, the world tilting dangerously when I try to lift my head any higher.
The big guy’s muttering something about payback, but my entire focus is on my head. It’s like someone’s lopped off the top and is slowly filling it with concrete. I want to pass out, let that welcome black blanket envelop me, but I have to stay awake. I have to find out what these pricks want before they get to Linnea.
Dimly, I realize the scout call was a scam. That’s probably the most irritating part of it. How could I be so stupid?
It can’t get any worse, I tell myself.
Until Rex Marsden rocks forward from the shadows. He smiles there at me from the other end of the limo. I muster everything I have and leap for him, but the big goon pulls me back and drives his fist deep into my stomach.
I cough and squeeze, spit to the carpeted floor. “Fuck you,” I manage to get out.
The blow to the head hasn’t knocked me out, but it’s sure making it hard to fight.
And I want to fight. This asshole has done enough damage.
I want to take Rex and toss him from the nearest bridge. He has no right trying to pull Linnea into his bullshit world.
Honestly, I’m not surprised to find him here. If I have to suffer so he leaves Linnea alone, so be it. If he injures her, touches one hair on her head…
“I imagine you’re thinking of all the ways you’d like to string me up,” he smiles, folding his hands together.
I spit again, a metallic, chemical taste against my tongue I don’t think bodes well.
The limo’s moving fast. We’ve already left the town limits heading down the southern highway.
I need to keep my eye on where we’re going. My hand goes for the cell in my pocket, but it’s missing. Either it fell out when I was manhandled into the car or sticky fingers beside me has it.
I don’t want to talk, but I force myself to speak and straighten up. Instantly, the pain becomes close to overwhelming. “You’re dead,” I tell Rex, making sure I narrow in on those crocodile eyes of his. “Once my family gets word of this, they—”
Rex’s hands go out. “What? They’re going to come get me? You don’t think I’ve been threatened before, son?”
I stifle a laugh. “I imagine the folks looking to take you out could fill a stadium.”
“And you would be right, but you know what has stopped them, what has kept me on top?”
“Your subtlety?”
He ignores that and taps his nose. “Killer instinct. You’ve got to get your hands dirty once in a while to succeed. I’m sure your father learnt that lesson early on.”
“Don’t you dare compare yourself to my father.”
He leans back, still smiling, and places one leg atop the other, hands casually in his lap, eyes darting to the muscle beside me from time to time. “Enough of the small talk, Mr. King. I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here?”
“Fucking enlighten me.”
I reach up. The bleeding hasn’t stopped. It seems to be getting worse, the edges of my vision falling out of focus again. I know from my last run-in that’s not a good sign.
“It’s a shame you had to get involved with my daughter. I’ve seen you on the ice. You’ve got skills, son. You could have gone a long way.”
I don’t like the way he’s talking in past tense. “I am going a long way,” I correct him, glancing out the window as the limo takes a side road, trees filling the frame. I’m losing track of where we are. Fifteen minutes out of Crestfall and you’re in the sticks.
“We’re married, you know.”
I see Rex’s usual composure crack at the word, but he manages to pull himself back, tugging at his suit jacket. “So I’ve heard.”
“I said we are married, you worthless piece of shit. We’re married, it’s official, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
“Is that so?”
I nod. “That’s right.”
His eyes grow icy and cold. “I could make her a widow. I could do that.”
I don’t know if it’s the cut in my head, the pain that’s become blunted
and dull at the back of it, but I suppress a shiver.
I rally myself. Pull it together. Don’t let him get to you.
“You’re not going to do shit.”
“That, young King, is where the killer instinct comes into it.”
He nods to the goon beside me.
I don’t see the knife coming. All I feel is the blade burying itself deep in my side, nudging up against something I pray isn’t vital.
There is a moment of disbelief it has come to this, a strange disconnection that takes over.
The big guy grunts and drives the knife in again. I barely feel it this time, only note the way the handle stops it going right through me.
Rex waves his hand. “Get rid of him.”
The knife is pulled away. I can’t believe the heat that follows, the searing burn at my side.
The goon reaches past me to the door handle, the passenger door swinging wide. He places his hand against my shoulder and pushes.
Before I know it, I’m out the car rolling along beside it in the dirt, the black square of it fading from sight.
Not good.
Not good at all.
I do my best to tamp down the panic and concentrate only on the details, the facts.
I’m in the middle of nowhere.
I have to stay conscious.
I can’t let myself fall into shock.
I’ve taken some big hits on the ice, but the pain I feel in my side is different. It has a bite to it, an urgency that terrifies me. I don’t want to bleed out here on the side of the road, not when Rex is still out there, not when he can still get to Linnea. I need to keep her safe whatever it takes.
I manage to roll onto my back. Above me, clouds draw out like long fingers. At least it’s mild. There’s that.
Pressure, I think.
I place a hand against the stab wound and grit my teeth in agony when I apply pressure, hot blood filling the space between my fingers.
I look sideways and note the road isn’t sealed, so we’re rural.
I’m bleeding heavily, one or maybe two stab wounds to the side, somewhere between a rib maybe? But I’m no doctor.
I wait there a minute or two watching the clouds, but one thing becomes abundantly clear: If I don’t start moving, I’m going to die here. Not a single car has passed by. It’s up to me to get back to civilization.
