SLAUGHTER

by Tessier, Shantel

  “You’re right.” I finally break my silence. “I was looking for you. And I must admit, you were hard to find.” I’ve been trying to locate him ever since I got that phone call weeks ago. The bastard is actually good at hiding, but he’s also predictable.

  “I messed up,” he admits, dropping his head.

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Please don’t kill me.” The sound of his begging makes me smile.

  “That would be too easy for you.”

  He tries to get up off the chair, but my men place a hand on his shoulders to keep him sitting. He looks at both of them with a terrified expression. “How did you …?”

  “You think you outsmarted me?” I laugh. “I allowed you to take me. I couldn’t find you, but I knew you’d come right to me. And now, here we are.”

  He lets out a moan of pain. “You baited me?”

  I don’t answer because I refuse to waste my breath on stupid questions.

  “What are you gonna do with me now?” he asks, hanging his head. Not sure if it’s in defeat or due to blood loss. The warehouse smells of copper, and a steady drip falls from the chair to the concrete floor.

  “I’m gonna give you a chance to make it right. But in the meantime, I’m gonna keep something to make sure you get the job done this time.”

  “Anything. You know I’m good for it.” He lies easily, forgetting that I know him well. He’s already thinking of ways to fuck me.

  He’s not gonna like what I plan on taking. “Presleigh.”

  His head snaps up, and he looks at me, his eyes wide and face drained of color. That right there was the look I wanted to see. It makes letting this man take me worth it.

  “No … you … can’t …”

  “Phone,” I demand, lifting my free hand to my men.

  Mason digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. I dial and then place it on speakerphone before setting it on the metal table next to me. The same one where I cut off Dennis’s fingers just last night. His blood still covers it, now dried.

  “Kayn.” The male’s voice answers. He does all my dirty work for me. I pay him more than enough to follow orders, and he never asks questions.

  “What’s the status?”

  “About to breach,” he informs me.

  I smile. “Perfect timing.” It’s a little past four a.m., so she should be home from the bar by now. And they’ve already been instructed that if a man is there, to kill him and get rid of the body.

  Preston stares up at me. “Wait, Avery. She’ll hate you …”

  She already does. And the feeling is mutual. “I don’t care.”

  When he realizes I’m telling the truth, he continues to beg. “Avery, please …”

  “Too late to beg.” I made up my mind weeks ago. And once I make a decision, I never go back on it. Plus, I want her. Fuck, how I want her.

  “Stand by,” Kayn says quietly.

  We stand in silence, listening to the phone. There’s the sound of a door creaking open, then nothing but silence.

  After a few minutes, you hear a muffled shot, and then Kayn says, “Living room clear.” I know that wasn’t for my benefit. He’s speaking through his earpiece to the five other men I have there.

  “Hope he wasn’t important to you,” I say to Preston, knowing that Kayn just killed one of his guys.

  “Avery!” He growls. “You can’t do this …”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I snap.

  He did this to her!

  He closes his eyes as if he can’t believe this is happening.

  A loud feminine scream comes through the speakers, and I smile at the sound of her voice. Then glass shatters. “Get off …” she calls out, but the rest is muffled by a hand over her mouth.

  “Fuck.” One of my guys moans.

  “Fucking bitch,” another says, followed by the sound of her being slapped.

  My smile widens at Preston while he listens in horror.

  “Hold her down,” another demands.

  “Trying …”

  She screams again, and then you hear commotion as things get knocked over. More glass shatters.

  “She ran out the back door,” another one calls out.

  Hope blooms in Preston’s eyes that she may get free. I continue to smile, knowing they’ll get her. That’s what I pay them for. Plus, my men like to hunt.

  We can hear him running after her, and her faint cries in the distance, but he’s gaining on her. He’s six-foot-four, so those long legs will get her in no time. I know they’re running behind her house. I could have taken her last night after I made love to her one last time, but I wanted to play mind games with her. I had slapped her earlier and then told her I was gonna take her body. But I wanted her to give it willingly. I wanted to see just how far she would let me go. When I showed up back at her place, she was even drunker than when I left her, but there was no denying it. She may hate me, but she wanted me between her legs. But that’ll never happen again. Not like that—soft and sweet. It’ll be hard and dominating. I’ll remind her why she hated me in the first place.

  “Please, Avery …” Preston pulls me back to the moment. This is why I waited. He never really treated her like he cared, but put in a situation he can’t control, I knew it would affect him.

  A few gunshots go off, and Preston gasps before he narrows his eyes on me. “If you kill her …”

  “I want her alive,” I say simply. And my men know that. They did it as a warning.

  His jaw tightens, and he looks away from me. Once I get her, she’ll wish they would have killed her.

  “Found her,” a man shouts, and then she screams as we hear them hit the ground. “Drug her,” he orders, barely out of breath.

  I run my men like dogs, so they attack like wolves.

  “No.” We hear her panicked voice. “Don’t …” Her voice trails off, and then there’s silence.

  I walk forward, closing the distance between Preston and me.

  “You son of a bitch,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “This is your fault. You chose to fuck up! Now you must pay the price.”

  “She’s innocent,” he growls.

  “The innocent are the first sacrificed in war.”

  He hangs his head and shakes it, knowing I won’t give her back. “How long?” he finally asks.

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “You have four weeks to kill him.” The longer I have her, the more he’ll sweat. I snap my fingers, and the men drop the black duffle bag by his feet.

  “No one can kill him!” he growls through gritted teeth.

  “You better find a way, Preston,” I say. I’m setting him up. He has to know that. I plan on finding Damon and killing him myself. But this will keep Preston busy and out of my way. And who knows, maybe he’ll get himself killed along the way.

  “When I finish the job, you’ll let her go?” he asks roughly.

  I almost laugh. “No. You complete the job in four weeks, and I’ll kill her.” He doesn’t even flinch. “If you haven’t fulfilled your duty by the end of the four weeks, I’ll keep her.” Whatever he chooses to do, she will spend the rest of her days under my control.

  “Fucking bastard.” He sneers. “You loved her once.”

  I ignore that statement. “What’s it gonna be, Preston? Her blood is already on your hands.” He tries to stand on his one good leg from the chair, but my men grab his shoulders and shove him back down to his ass. “Now it’s up to you how she spends what time she has left.”

  “Sir?” Kayn’s voice comes through the phone. “The package is secure.”

  Piece of cake. “Four weeks, Preston.” I then turn my back on him, pick up my phone, turn it off speakerphone, and place it to my ear, walking out into the early morning night. “No one touches her but me. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  _______________

  I sit in my study back in Vancouver with a glass of scotch on my desk. My younger brother lounges in the ch
air across from me. The crackling of the wood in the fireplace fills the room. Doesn’t matter what time of year it is, I always have it burning. “You sure you wanna do this?” Tristan asks, breaking the silence.

  “It’s already done.”

  He sighs, but I ignore it, hoping he’ll drop the subject. He doesn’t. “Let’s not forget that it’s Presleigh. One, you guys were in love. Two, now you guys hate one another. And three, any bitch being here day and night would be a problem. There’s a reason we sleep with nothing but whores.” He takes a drink of his scotch.

  “You fuck whores.” I don’t pay for sex.

  He ignores me just as easily and continues. “You’ve never lived with a woman before, and now you’re moving her in here with you like she’s your fucking wife.”

  “Slave,” I correct him.

  He rolls his eyes, not believing me. “Come on, Avery. You can’t fool me.”

  “What do you suggest I do?” Not like I really care.

  “Break her neck and throw her into the Mediterranean Sea. Let the sharks swallow what’s left of Preston’s family.” He takes another drink. “She’s gonna do nothing but cause problems.”

  “I can handle her.”

  He snorts.

  That’s the difference between me and my brother. He prefers the easy way, and I don’t. “Plus, that means what I told Preston was an empty threat.”

  He shrugs. And tosses back his drink. “So?”

  “So? What’s the point of making a threat if you don’t follow through with it?”

  We are ruthless. Soulless. We make those who fuck us, pay—with their lives. Our father taught us that respect should be earned, and we have done things to make sure we get that.

  He looks up at me with no emotion in his blue eyes. “She’s gonna die regardless. If not by you, then Damon will …”

  I lift my hand to stop him, and he obeys.

  “I can do it for you,” he offers when I don’t say anything.

  My eyes narrow on him. “Don’t fucking touch her.” She’s mine. She always has been and always will be. That’s why I chose to take her when I did. Damon doesn’t deserve her. I do!

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you. I’ve seen you kill without blinking. And if you don’t plan on bluffing …” He spreads his hands out wide. “Then you have to kill her.”

  “I will. When I’m finished with her,” I say through gritted teeth. That could be years down the road.

  I haven’t been able to get that look on her face out of my head. The way her glassy eyes looked at mine and how her soft hands gripped my shoulders. It was as if I had been dead for the past eleven years and she brought me back to life.

  It’s fucking pathetic!

  I take a drink of my scotch.

  It proved that, after all this time, she still wanted me. And I plan on giving her what she wants. I’m going to fuck her until she’s a crawling, sobbing mess. But this time will be different. I’m calling the shots.

  Her brother actually did me a favor by fucking up.

  The door opens, and my butler walks in with his hands behind his back and dressed in a black three-piece suit, thankfully ending this conversation. “They’ve arrived, sir.”

  “Thank you, Marvin.” I nod and abandon my study, Tristan following behind me.

  We both come to stand in the foyer of my home when the double doors open and in walks Kayn. He has that usual look of hatred on his face, and he’s carrying an unconscious Presleigh in his arms.

  Her head bobs, then it flops back, exposing her thin and elegant neck. Having my hand wrapped around it made me hard. I loved that she didn’t even try to fight me that night in the bathroom of the club. That seems so long ago now. Her right arm dangles to the side and long legs hang over the other as he carries her limp body.

  “She’s a handful,” he announces.

  My brother grunts as if to say I told you so.

  “How so?” I question, wanting details. It’s been almost ten hours since I heard him take her from her home in New York. I haven’t spoken to him, knowing they were traveling on my private jet.

  “She woke up on the plane and stabbed Darrell in the arm with a fork.”

  At the mention of Darrell, he walks in behind him. Shirtless with a white bandage wrapped around his upper arm, he has dried blood running down to his wrist.

  “How did she get a fork?” I ask, smiling. She’s got bigger balls than her brother. But she always has. That’s why I fell in love with her in the first place. She’s also afraid to fly. That’s another reason they needed to drug her. I knew she’d freak out in the air.

  “I was eating, and she grabbed it from me,” Darrell explains. “I didn’t think she’d wake up. I gave her enough to keep her out for the entire flight. Or so I thought.”

  I arch a brow. Maybe I need to kill him since he fucked up and let a woman get the better of him and can’t do a simple job.

  Kayn comes to a stop in front of us. Some of her brown hair covers her face, and my brother pushes it away to reveal her to us. It’s void of any makeup; her full lips are slightly parted, and there’s a handprint across her right cheek and a bruise on her shoulder. Her bottom lip has a cut on it. I told Kayn that no one touches her, but I meant sexually. I knew my men would do whatever was necessary to get her—even if that meant smacking her around.

  She wears a white tank top that has ridden up, exposing her flat stomach and a black jeweled belly piercing. With a pair of white cotton shorts. That’s what she must have worn to bed.

  “Now I understand why you want to play with her,” my brother says as if he could forget how beautiful she is.

  I never did.

  Kayn goes to step around us, but I hold out my arms. He hands her off without protest.

  Her frail body sags in my arms, but she doesn’t make a sound. “How much did you give her the second time?” I ask because it should be wearing off soon.

  Darrell smiles. “I gave her a double dose. She should be out until later tonight,” he says, proud of himself.

  I give them my back and begin climbing the winding staircase to her new room.

  PRESLEIGH

  I wake to a pounding headache and dry mouth. I dig my face into a soft pillow and moan in agony. My entire body is sore. I lick my cracked lips and hiss in a breath when I feel a pain in my neck. It’s stiff.

  Sitting up, I brush my wild hair out of my face and open my eyes. I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness. A lamp is on a table to my left but dimmed. My head falls forward, and I place my hands over it.

  What did I do?

  My cheek throbs, and I pull my hands away to see cuts on them and my wrists. I flinch when I touch my face.

  I look around and realize I’m in an unfamiliar bedroom. Bright white walls with five big bay windows to my right. Blood red drapes are open, showing me the night. The floor is a dark hardwood with a big area rug to match the drapes and comforter. The bed is a white four-post sleigh bed. A white leather couch sits in front of the windows. A chair sits over in the corner, and in front of me, there’s a fireplace. It’s the exact opposite of my black and gray décor. Not to mention, this bedroom is the size of half my house.

  Where am I?

  Did I drink too much last night? I remember going out with Alex and then Preston showing up and dragging me out. He had taken me home. I opened a bottle of Fireball the moment I got inside my house. I don’t remember passing out, but I do remember waking up at one point …

  A strange sound wakes me up. I open my eyes and see my bedroom door still shut. I lie back down, knowing it’s Max, my brother’s idiot friend. Maybe Preston is back.

  “Living room clear.”

  I open my eyes again and blink. Is someone else in my house? No. I dreamed it. The alcohol is making me hear things. I close my eyes, and seconds later, I hear my bedroom door open.

  I scream as a man walks into my room. He rushes my bed and grabs me, but I shove him off. He hits my nigh
tstand and knocks over my lamp, shattering the bulb. “Get off …” I scream, but a hand slaps over my mouth. I bite down on it as hard as I can.

  “Fuck.” The guy who had hit the nightstand moans from the floor. “Fucking bitch,” the guy who I bit growls, and then he slaps me across the face.

  Two hands grab my shoulders, pushing me onto the bed. “Hold her down,” another demands.

  “Trying …”

  I scream, kicking one in the face, and then I jump up and run toward the back sliding glass door. Glass shatters behind me, but I don’t stop.

  “She ran out the back door,” I hear one say.

  I run barefoot through my backyard toward the trees. I can climb one and hide until they give up.

  My heart races, and I trip, scraping my knees on tree branches. The world tilts from my drunken state, and I cuss myself. Gunfire goes off, and it has me looking backward, causing me to trip once again. I cry out, standing just as one of them leaps for me, taking me to the ground.

  “Drug her,” he orders

  “No …” I scream. I’ll never make it if they do. “Don’t …” I get out just as I feel a prick in my neck. And everything goes black.

  I throw the covers off me when I feel bile rise. I stumble to one of the doors in the bedroom and fling it open. Thankfully, it’s the bathroom. It bangs, hitting the interior wall. I run toward the toilet and fall to my knees just in time to spill all my contents into it.

  No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

  I hug the toilet as more memories flood my foggy thoughts.

  Where am I? I can hear the roaring of what sounds like engines and feel vibrations. Am I on a plane? No, I can’t be. I don’t fly.

  My body jerks, and my eyes spring open. The first thing I see is a row of empty seats facing me. My chest starts to tighten. My head snaps to the right, and there’s a window. All I see is a red blinking light out on a wing. My breath comes quicker.

  I’m on a plane.

  My palms start to sweat, and my stomach knots.

  I’m on a fucking plane.

  I don’t fly. Preston knows that. All of my friends know I have aerophobia—a fear of flying.