by Alaska Jones
Caged
by Alaska Jones
Caged (An Alpha Protector Romance)
Copyright © 2016 by Alaska Jones
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and events are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
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Table of contents
Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Free bonus chapter
About the author
Chapter 1
Jenna
Waking up feels like emerging from water. I take a deep breath and stretch, rolling onto my side with my eyes still closed. The pillow smells strange, but I like it, the woody fragrance of men’s cologne.
I bolt upright, eyes wide open. My bed doesn’t smell like men’s cologne, and the walls around me should be beige, not gray. My breath catches in my throat as I look around, not remembering how I got here.
The room is plain and impersonal, with an old wardrobe and the bed taking up most of the space. The wall clock tells me it’s noon, but heavy curtains make it seem like evening. There’s a nightstand to my right, where I find my purse and cell phone – what’s left of it, anyway.
My hand flies to my chest as I look down at the long T-shirt I’m wearing. Panic surges through me, and I remember everything.
The angry men that assaulted me in the alley behind the club. Their greedy hands and hissing voices. The blinding pain that followed the fall. The tall figure that appeared behind their backs, a split moment before I passed out. The way one of them was dragged away like a puppy.
And I remember flashes after that. Strong arms carrying me up the stairs. A quiet voice telling me to lie still. Careful hands wiping blood off my face, calming me down as I wake up with a gasp and go right back to sleep.
I touch my forehead and wince. The bruise that didn’t seem to be there a moment ago starts to throb the second I’m reminded about it. My fingers slide over a Band-Aid carefully as I get off the bed and walk over to the window. I’m on the third floor, for all the good this knowledge does me, and all I see is a red brick wall. With the air inside so stale and my head heavy from restless sleep, I crave a fresh breeze, but give up when the window creaks as I pull at it. I’m not ready to meet my savior yet, whoever he is.
There are men’s clothes in the wardrobe, but not too many, so I know he doesn’t really live here. The drawers are full of random things that I suspect have been here longer than he has, and that’s it.
I look around the room one more time with a resigned sigh and feel utterly stupid when I notice another door in the corner, the same color as the wall. Good job, Sherlock, I mutter inwardly as I cross the room. I’m so sure that the door leads to a closet that I don’t even think before grabbing the doorknob and swinging it open. Instead, I find a big, bright bathroom.
And there’s a naked man in it.
My jaw goes slack, and seconds stretch out as I gape at the long, muscular back and legs. Tearing my eyes off of his butt, I follow the lines of the big tattoo that stretches from his lower back, up to his shoulders and down his right arm. He raises his eyes to the mirror, and our gazes lock. It’s enough for what’s left of my brain to come back to life and make me slam the door shut.
“I’m sorry!” I call through the door, cringing.
There’s no reply.
Well, that’s reassuring. I flop down on the bed and grab my purse, trying to get rid of the naked stranger in my head. The fact that I can’t remember the last time I had sex isn’t helping – my jackass boyfriend has completely given up on pretending like a decent human being, and I stopped paying attention to all the women he’s been seen with. It was foolish to fall for Anthony in the first place, but back then, I believed I was following my heart to LA. I wanted to sing, and he gave me my dream. Who cares if my life with him turned out to be just an ugly arrangement? There are other good things in life, like friendship and the pleasure of seeing dozens of people fall silent at the sound of your voice.
I spill the contents of my purse on the bed and see that nothing’s missing. The next thing I do brings instant regret.
My face is a mess. I peer at the compact mirror, wondering how big the cut is under the Band-Aid on my right eyebrow. The skin above it is purple and swollen, and there’s a nasty scratch on my chin. My eyes are bloodshot, as if I’ve been drinking for days, and their usually bright green color looks muddy gray. On top of it all, my smeared makeup and tangled red hair make me look like a beat-up whore.
Great, I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair to smooth it down a little. There’s a bandage on my knee, and I touch it hesitantly, wondering why it doesn’t hurt at all. For the first time since I woke up, the tight knot in my stomach loosens up a little as I realize that the tattooed stranger is a friend. That the strange empty room and window with no view don’t mean I’m in danger. Maybe he’s one of Anthony’s men, I speculate as I spot a bottle of water on the windowsill and reach for it.
“Eat,” a deep voice sounds behind me, making me jump.
My eyes dart up, and I can’t shake off the wide-eyed expression as I stand on my feet, staring at the tall man in front of me. He’s wearing jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt that clings tightly to his muscular chest. While his shoulders are broad enough to block the doorway, his narrow hips and long legs keep him from looking bulky. Even with my five feet, seven inches, I suddenly feel like a dwarf.
He crosses the room in two large steps and puts a steaming bowl on the nightstand, but all I can think about is how this gigantic creature managed to sneak up on me.
“Wait!” I call out as he walks out as quickly as he came in. His shadow lingers outside the door, and he takes one slow step back, stopping just outside the reach of light. “I-I need to talk to you!” I stammer in bewilderment. “Where are you going?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his silence filling me with tension. Slowly, he ducks his head through the doorway, and the coldest gray eyes I’ve ever seen settle heavily onto me. His strongly molded features and hollow cheeks give him a rugged look, hardened by the heavy stubble and neck-long, dark hair that’s swept upward in messy strands. His eyes pierce into me wit
h menace, and I suddenly feel like hiding behind the curtain.
“Eat,” he repeats slowly and steps back.
Paralyzed with fear, I can only stare as he closes the door. The lock clicks shut, making something snap inside me, and I sprint to the door and pull at the handle, even though I know it’s pointless. Words won’t come out as I open and close my mouth in shock.
Right there and then, I know it.
I’m going to die here.
Chapter 2
Jenna
“Open the door!!” I yell in anger, banging my fist against it. “You psycho, you have no idea what you got into!”
There’s no response, so I keep pounding until my hand goes numb. I remember about the bathroom door and dart there, my bare feet slapping on the cold tiles.
“Damn!” I curse in frustration as I find the door to the hallway locked, but I don’t give up just yet. “My friends will find out about this and kill you, you hear me?! Let me out, NOW!” I keep hammering at the door, until it suddenly swings open, making me jump back in surprise.
He stares at me, the corners of his lips turned down in annoyance. God, he’s huge. I look up at him, thinking that he must be six-feet-five. My mind goes back in time to the self-defense class I took when I was eighteen, and I realize just how useless it is against someone like him.
Silently, he steps forward, and I take two steps back. My anger turns into terror as he stalks through the bathroom with measured steps, and I keep backing off, barely breathing. I stare at his face, looking for something, anything, but it’s utterly blank.
One more step, and I’m back in the bedroom. He slams the door shut behind him, and as I back off, he suddenly closes the distance between us and picks me up. I swallow down a yelp as he sets me down on the bed, just before I walk into it and tumble over.
“Sit still,” he says in the same commanding tone, turning to the window to pull the curtains open.
I obey on instinct, as if he’s still holding me there. In fact, I can still feel his hands on my waist, strong but gentle. With the curtains open and light filling the room, he turns back to me, a big shadow that seems to take up all of the space. He reaches out one large hand, making me jerk back, but I still when he simply puts one finger under my chin to turn my face to the light.
Eyes wide in surprise, I study him as he studies my bruises. His long brows draw together in a frown when he bends down and moves his thumb to my forehead. He’s so close, I can see specks of green in his gray eyes. It’s only now that I notice the dark circles around them, as if he hasn’t slept well. A long minute passes in silence as he examines my face, and I sit there, forgetting to breathe.
“Does this hurt?” he rumbles, pressing slightly on my eyebrow.
“No,” I rasp and clear my throat.
“Headache?” he asks, and I nod as he lets go of my face and straightens up. “There’s a pill.” He points at the nightstand, where the bowl of soup sits untouched. “You have to eat.”
“I don’t have to do anything, until you tell me who the hell you are and what happened last night,” I say, glaring at him as I get up to my feet.
He folds his massive arms on his chest and arches a brow at me, the first genuine emotion so far. “Last night, you slept in this bed, same as the day before and the night before that,” he replies in a lazy, warm baritone.
“What?” I croak out. “I’ve been asleep for two days??”
“You hit your head pretty hard. I gave you a sedative so that you’d get your rest and let the medicine do its job. You know, instead of running around and trying to break the doors.”
“You locked the door! You can’t just lock someone in your bedroom and not expect any questions!” Next thing I know, he’s walking out of the room again. “You haven’t told me who you are!”
He turns to me, eyes darkening with menace. “I’m the man who saved your life, and you’re a complication. That’s all you need to know for now,” he snaps at me. “No more questions until you’ve eaten your lunch. I have to go finish something, so be quiet.”
Mouth open, I watch him walk out through the bathroom, only to return in a second. “And careful in the bathroom. Last time you went there, you almost collapsed and hit your head again.” He disappears behind the door before I can say anything. I don’t even know what he’s talking about.
Confusion and worry settle in the pit of my stomach as I sit back down. I look at the soup bowl, shake my head, and reach for my broken cell phone.
Chapter 3
Cage
I lose track of time as I scroll through the big list of names and phone numbers on my laptop and write down the ones I might need. That night at Club Velvet, I made quite a list of my own, more out of habit to gather information than out of need. I was so sure that Anthony Hunt would show up, and I’d be done with this job in a day. But the bastard disappeared.
Now I have to use every shred of intel I can lay my hands on, starting with the redhead’s SIM card. There was plenty of time to copy the phone book and return the SIM, though I still didn’t expect her to be up and kicking so early. It should’ve taken days for her to recover, and I should’ve been done with Hunt by then. Instead, I’m stuck in this mess. My target could be anywhere on the globe, my boss is riding me for no damn reason, and I’ve got Jessica fucking Rabbit locked in my bedroom.
I cut my eyes at the ugly old sofa that I had to sleep on. Fucking torture device. I had been more comfortable sleeping on cold rocks, than on this sofa. Maybe if I were closer to the redhead’s size, I’d be fine with sleeping here, in the living room. But then I wouldn’t be who I am at all.
Only the toughest sons of bitches survive in Special Forces, and if not for that page of my story, I wouldn’t have ended up selling my skills to the mob. Not that I’m proud of it, but I still prefer this outcome to spending the rest of my life locked up in a ward after what happened in Iraq.
Iraq. The memory flashes in my head, crippling me. Just like a million times before, once the sequence starts playing out in my head, all I can do is watch. Helpless.
The sun, the sand, the noise.
Hands, holding me. The gun digging into my scalp. The accented voice above me.
“Look, soldier. Look and never return here.”
Ronny’s eyes on me, so calm.
The gunshot. The blood. The scream stuck in my throat.
I flinch, dropping the pen, and blink a few times. How the hell does everything always go back to this, I don’t know. It takes me a moment to remember what I was doing, but I can’t continue anyway. My hand flies up to my neck of its own accord, and my fingers run over the long scar. A stupid habit I’ll never get rid of. A reminder. A proof. A punishment.
Why did they save me? I should’ve bled to death. I should’ve been the one to die, instead of everyone I couldn’t save that day.
Pushing myself to my feet, I drag a hand through my hair with a heavy sigh. I need to focus on the job. One last time, and I’m free. My pal is waiting for me in Todos Santos. My new house. My new, trivial job. Oh, I would kill for a trivial job right now.
Which is exactly what I’m going to do.
Come on, Anthony. You must’ve left a trail. Show it to me. I grab his picture off the table and stare at it, willing my luck to get better. Because so far, it’s been a fucking disaster.
It started when I agreed to take a job I wasn’t supposed to be doing in the first place. I was done, finished, ready to pack my shit and leave. I was never like those other thugs Dwight held on a short leash and disposed of later. I had my own rules, and he valued me too much to ignore them. The others were dogs – I was the bloodhound. They were the muscle and guns, and I was the eyes and ears. The others followed orders, and I only took the jobs I wanted. No women and children. No innocents. No slaughter.
In fact, sometimes all I had to do was find the target. Another one of Dwight’s partners, who decided he was smarter than everyone. They were all the same – greedy, stupid, predictable.
Anthony Hunt was no exception.
He was supposed to be at the club that night. He had a flight the morning after, and there was nothing to tip him off, but somehow, he found out. He knew I was coming for him, and he didn’t show up at the usual Friday show.
I stayed there through the whole thing, writing down the staff’s names, sketching the floor plan, watching the redhead entertain the crowd. Keeping an eye on the VIP table on the second floor. But Hunt was probably already on another continent. He ran so fast, he didn’t even take his bitch with him.
And she managed to get in trouble just outside the club. And bang her head. And pass out on me. Sigh.
And I won’t even get paid for this. Thanks to my buddy Mike, who’s got a talent for getting in trouble, I now do charity kills. All to keep Dwight from snapping Mike’s neck. One last job. One pardon from the boss.
They are planning to kill me afterward, of course. Even after everything Dwight has seen me do, I’m sure he thinks he’s smarter than me. Which is why I’ve left a big, fat trail that will lead them in circles for months, while I’ll be enjoying my new life in Mexico. A little brain, money, and connections go a long way. Just like a sweet smile and some basic tech skills. Thanks to that, I already know all about Hunt’s sexy girlfriend.
When he didn’t show up at the club, and it was getting late, my intuition told me it was time for plan B. If I were to track down someone like Hunt, I had to know all about his people, starting with his girl. Fortunately for me, she was quite popular.
A few minutes of chatting with the staff and customers told me all I needed to know. Most people have no idea how much can be found about them on the Internet. From one account to another, from the things they share on purpose, to what they let slip out, there’s always a trail. Their photos and comments and product reviews make them as transparent as someone you’ve known since childhood. I’m not even talking about her Facebook page that links to her parents and friends. The girl is either awfully stupid or has no idea what her boyfriend really does for a living.
