by K. A Knight
He tries, the engine not even turning over as he yells at the vehicle. Max heads to the passenger side and me to the driver’s side. I knock on the window, smiling carefully.
He frowns, rolling down the window. “The fuck you want, pretty boy?” he snarls, and I let the grin fade, the coldness taking over, my face transforming in a moment.
“You,” I tell him casually, and drive my fist forward, smashing it into his face. He rocks back, knocked out cold, slumping in his seat. I reach through the window and unlock the door, swinging it open and frowning at his crumpled body.
“He’s big, grab his feet, won’t you?” I call to Max, who’s watching, leaning against the passenger window.
We manage to manoeuvre him out of the car between us, and toss him in the back of a borrowed truck before slamming his door shut, leaving the keys inside. Max drives as I sit in the passenger seat. It takes only five minutes to get to the warehouse where I’d set up earlier. We use different spots each time, leaving no trail. Today just happened to be a rundown, old newspaper printing warehouse. Max parks around the side, facing the river so no one can see us. I disabled the cameras along here anyway and put a loop feed on the others, so we won’t be seen.
We drag Pinky inside, slamming him into a metal chair, which I’d screwed down to the floor—you soon learn from your mistakes when you do this enough. One thing I learned is to always secure the chair, so when you leave them to simmer in pain and fear, they don’t topple sideways and break the chair and try to escape.
I secure his hands to the chair arms and his ankles to the metal legs, ensuring the bindings cut into his flesh. It will rub raw, and even when I’m not torturing him, he’ll be in agony. Put a man in pain long enough and he’ll break.
Everyone breaks eventually, it’s just a case of how long they hold out for.
The floor is hard, ink stained concrete. The walls now covered in graffiti, dust, and cobwebs. The windows are sealed up and boarded. The place is huge, causing my footsteps to echo. There is only one unlocked door in and out, which I control.
I drop my bag near the table and chair, opening it up to reveal my favourite torture tools.
Max snorts as he shakes his head and tosses me the keys. “You’re a scary motherfucker, do you know that? You look like a bloody boy scout, and you act like a psychopath.”
“All the best people are crazy, and those that hide behind a pretty face are usually the most dangerous.” I grin, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows with practiced, precise movements, the shirt straining against my muscles as I fold my jacket and place it on the waiting stool.
“Say hello to Scarlett for me,” I tease, laying out my tools onto the waiting metal table, then straightening them.
“Sure, I’ll tell Nadia too.” He laughs, his footsteps retreating before the warehouse door slams shut behind him. I wait for his car to start, the engine purring as he pulls away, and then it all goes quiet.
Pinky’s eyes are wide, darting around searching for an escape, his chest heaving and muscles bunching as he tries to free himself.
“Now, let’s have a little chat, shall we?” I ask him, selecting a bone saw first and stepping closer.
He screams against the gag, twisting in the chair, desperate to escape. His eyes are wide and filled with terror as he watches me approach.
He’ll be doing more than screaming before we’re through.
Chapter Five
Nadia
I’m drunk...again.
I left Scarlett’s last night, claiming I wanted to go home and be alone, but it’s really because I didn’t want to intrude on her life any more than I had. It was clear she was missing Max and they were changing their routine just to fit me, and I didn’t want that. So I got a cab home...only when I got there, I couldn’t force myself to go inside. No, I grabbed a dress Scarlett had packed in case I felt like going out, and changed in the backyard, stashing the bag in the garage, and then I went out.
Logically, I know this isn’t the best way to cope with my grief and I’m only harming myself in the long run by not facing it head-on, and instead numbing it with alcohol, but logic isn’t paying much attention right now.
I don’t know what time it is, and honestly, who cares? I’ve been drinking since late afternoon. I went from bar to bar until the nightclubs opened, and then I hit them up, dancing in the mass of people, losing myself in the strobe lights and sweaty, gyrating bodies. I danced with everyone and anyone, buying more and more drinks until I could barely see. Now, I’m stumbling to the bathroom, sick making its way up my throat.
When it’s all out, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and groan, leaning my head against the stall wall, while ignoring the impatient woman banging on the door wanting to pee. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I mistype my password a few times before I manage to dial Scarlett, already feeling guilty. It’s late, she’s probably asleep.
“Babe?” she answers, out of breath.
Okay, so not asleep.
Really not asleep.
“Can you come and get me?” I slur, falling slightly sideways.
“Nads? Are you drunk?” she snaps, and I hear rustling in the background.
“Yep!” I laugh and then I sob a little, forcing it back. “I-I got sick, I think I had too much,” I admit, my voice getting worse as I try and hold back the tears.
“Shit, okay, where are you?” she questions, panic in her voice, and I feel worse and worse, which isn’t helping me hold back my sobs.
“I-I’m sorry,” I sputter.
“Babe, don’t apologise, where are you?” she inquires again, then she mutters something to Max in the background before coming back to me. “Nadia!” she orders.
“I-I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have called and disrupted you—” I fall sideways and my phone slips from my fingers. I watch in dawning horror as it plops into the toilet, floating in the dirty bowl.
Fuck!
Cringing, I grab it and wipe it on tissue, pressing the on button, but it doesn’t so much as fire up. Shit, now what? Good going, Nadia.
Throwing it to the side, I watch it crack as it hits the tiled floor. I slide down the stall wall, burying my head in my hands and crying, my shoulders shaking from the force.
Everything fades, my eyes blackening, and the next thing I know I’m being jerked awake by someone pounding on the door next to me. “Nadia?” comes a smooth, cultured voice, a familiar one, but I can’t pinpoint why.
“Yeah?” I croak, and see polished black shoes at the bottom of the stall door before it suddenly unlocks and tries to open, but my splayed legs are blocking it.
“Move so I can get in,” he demands.
I manage to drag my legs up and the door opens, revealing Keanu, and I want to groan. He takes me in, frowning at my messy state, his eyes landing on my smashed phone. “Scarlett couldn’t get a hold of you and became worried, she asked me to find you and get you home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” I spit maliciously, angry at myself that he’s seeing me this way. Isn’t it bad enough he’s perfect? He’s even in a fucking suit without a hair out of place. I force myself to stand using the wall but fall forward, and luckily, he catches me, wrapping his arms around my waist to steady me.
“Fine, we’re getting you out of here and sober though,” he tells me, his voice almost...soft. He reaches down and grabs my bag, throwing the sparkly clutch over his shoulder before he pockets my phone. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
He leads me from the suspiciously empty toilets, and when he flips open the lock on the scratched, green door, I realise why. He locked us in so I could have privacy. There’s a line of pissed off women outside, but he ignores them as he helps me through the club and out of the front door, the cold wind hitting me and making me shiver, sobering me almost instantly.
He feels me shudder and props me against the wall, strips out of his designer suit jacket, and wraps it around me, ignoring my protests. His arm goes back around my waist
and he leads me down the still bustling outside area and around the corner, but I’m starting to slow, my legs turning to jelly and not responding.
“Hold on, almost there,” he murmurs, but I stumble again, and he sighs. “Okay, fuck this,” he mutters, before swinging me up in his arms, one banding under my shoulders, another under my legs as he quickens his pace, effortlessly carrying me to the car park around the side and to his...fucking jaguar.
He opens it and slides me into the low leather seat, covering me with his jacket again as my head flops against the headrest, unable to even support myself anymore. He crouches in front of me, pushing my hair from my face. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not going to get sick in your car if that’s what you’re worried about,” I snap, wincing at how angry I sound. I’m taking out my own self-hatred on him and it’s not fair, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“Not what I was thinking, love, but good to know.” He grins, tucking my hair behind my ear before pulling his jacket up farther. He stands and shuts the door, rounding the back of the car. I take the moment to sniff his jacket, the woodsy and pine scent going straight to my head.
Of fucking course he smells good too.
He gets into the driver’s seat, firing up the car before looking at me, the light overhead still on. “I’ll take you to Scarlett’s.”
“No,” I protest, reaching out and grabbing his arm. His green eyes zero in on the touch and I swallow hard. “Please don’t, I don’t want to ruin her night more than I already have.”
He stares at my touch for a little longer until I start to get self-conscious and pull back, but his other hand comes up and covers mine. “Fine, where do you want to go? Another friend’s place? A boyfriend?”
I drop my eyes to his smooth, manicured hand on top of mine, feeling suddenly small and very lonely. “No, no, erm, home is fine,” I mutter. I can sleep outside if I need to.
He frowns, but pulls away, and I do the same, blinking at the spot of red against his white shirt, but just as quickly as I thought I saw it, he’s yanking his arm away and pulling from the car park. Only when I look out of the front window do I realise that he didn’t ask where I live.
He drives through town in silence, the heaters blasting to warm me, and when we pull up outside my house, I freeze slightly. I can’t do it. I can’t go in there.
Chapter Six
Keanu
The smell of Nadia, under all the alcohol and vomit, is wrapped around me, and I can’t wait to escape the fruity fragrance. It turns my cock rock-hard, making it press against my slacks as she sits in my jacket. Fuck, I’ll need to destroy it so I don’t have to smell her every time I wear it and walk around with a fucking hard-on like a teenager. I open my car door, looking over at her. “I’ll help you inside,” I offer, but she doesn’t move, just stares at the darkened house, and I hesitate. “Nadia?” I call, and she finally looks at me, her head turning, her eyes clear once again, but brimming with unshed tears.
“I can’t go inside,” she admits.
“What?” I ask, frowning and shutting my door.
“I can’t, I tried, but it’s like she’s still there and gone at the same time and it hurts too much, I’ve never lived there without her…” She trails off, looking away in embarrassment, and I sigh.
Shutting the door, I lean towards her, placing a finger under her chin and tilting it up until she looks at me. “I understand. How about I take you somewhere else to stay tonight?”
“Where?” she whispers, those fucking eyes filled with tears and if they overflow, I will lose my shit, I just know it. I don’t know how to keep this version of her at bay—when she’s happy and confident it’s easy to walk away from—but this...this vulnerability is shredding my control and my cold, dark heart. “I have nowhere to go,” she murmurs, the words killing me.
Fucking hell, don’t do it, I tell myself, but my mouth opens anyway. “You can stay with me tonight.”
Fucking idiot.
“Really?” she asks, her eyes lighting up with relief, so what do I do?
I fucking agree. “Sure, just for tonight, I’ll let Scarlett know,” I mutter, typing on my phone before pocketing it and starting the car again, gripping the wheel hard as I wind through the city to my place.
What the hell am I doing? My house is just that, my safe zone, the place of privacy where I can be alone...and she will change all that. Am I still doing it? Yes. Because as it turns out, Max is right, she’s my weakness. So after tonight, I need to stay away, cut off all communication because I can’t afford to be weak—ever.
But tonight, just for tonight, I can indulge in my weakness.
It takes us under ten minutes to get to my place, manoeuvring through the sprawling homes and manors until it turns into a private, winding driveway leading up a hill. At the top is my gate, so I click my phone and it unlocks, allowing us through. I head straight to the house, parking out front, and slip out, going around to open her door for her.
She slides from the car, huddling into my jacket, and gapes up at my home. I follow her eyes, trying to see what she thinks when she looks at it. It’s modern, really modern. White and black architecture make up the structure sealed with a dark grey front door, and to the right is a matching grey garage. In the middle is a long row of bullet proof windows.
Around back is a swimming pool and cabana house with a bar. Cameras and motion detectors cover every inch of the property. I unlock the front door manually and swing it open, letting her in. She stops in the hallway, the dark wood floor a sharp contrast under her pale feet.
I flick on the lights—all spotlight, built in—highlighting the long mirror to the right with a silver frame.
The metallic, floating stairs are directly ahead, curving upwards to the second floor. To the left of them is the hallway down to the modern kitchen, my second office, the living room, and downstairs bathroom. Upstairs are two bedrooms, the master with an en suite and built-in jacuzzi, my office, and a spare bathroom.
In the garage is my home gym, and car and bike storage. Overall, my home is clean, precise, and...probably cold when looking at it. There are no photographs or unnecessary decorations, it’s all functional.
“It’s...nice,” she offers, looking at me, her face telling me the truth. She’s not a good liar. A strange trait among the people I know.
“Liar,” I tease with a smile, and she grins back, finally relaxing.
“I like how modern it is, you could just do with...some finishing touches?” she suggests, gazing around again, and then a yawn splits her lips even as she covers it with her hand.
“Come on, you can sleep in the guest room. I’ll lend you something to sleep in,” I tell her, my hand going to the base of her spine and leading her up the stairs to the door on the right. I open it to show her the utilitarian room with the silver bed draped in white covers and the wardrobe in the corner. That’s it.
I almost wince, but manage to hold it back. “Here, I’ll be right back. You can go anywhere but the third door down there,” I warn her, and her eyebrows rise as she looks at me.
“What’s in there?”
“My office,” is all I say as she slips off the jacket and passes it to me. I take it gingerly, swallowing at the sight of the dress she’s wearing. “I’ll be right back.”
Does my voice sound hoarse?
I turn and walk away before I stand and gawk for too long, the image of all that skin on display burned into my mind. I’m going to need to touch myself tonight to get to sleep, especially knowing she’s just down the hall.
I walk to my room, unlocking it as I go, and head to the wardrobe. I clutch the jacket she was wearing closer, her heat still there, and before I can help myself, I bring it to my nose and inhale her scent.
My cock jerks in my pants and I toss it away before I do something weird. Unbuttoning my shirt, I let it hang loosely around me as I grab a plain white shirt similar to the one I’m wearing and some boxers—it will have to do. I ta
ke them back to her, stopping at the doorway, and lean there, watching her as she explores the space, her heels kicked off and her bare, painted toes sinking into the white carpet.
For some reason, seeing her in my home has me turned the hell on, and when she faces me with a welcoming smile, I almost throw the clothes, grab her, and pin her to the wall. Instead, I hold them out to her, not crossing the threshold, the only thing holding me back.
She steps forward, taking them from me. “Thank you, and thank you for letting me stay tonight,” she says sweetly, as my eyes race across her exposed skin, tracing it with my eyes. She shivers under my gaze and I dig my nails into my palms.
“No problem, good night,” I snap, grabbing the door and shutting it, forcing myself away, my control barely there as I lock myself in my room. For my good, not hers, I’m weak.
I want her.
So fucking badly.
I want her tied to my bed, screaming as I slam my cock inside her wet heat. I bet she’s a wildcat in bed, all claws and screams until you make her come. And she would, again and again. I would wring them from her. Stumbling to my bed, I rip off my shirt, unbuttoning my slacks as I flop onto my back, my hand grasping my cock and stroking it as I imagine what I would do to her.
Her riding my cock.
My dick in her naughty little mouth, forcing her to suck me all the way down, her nipples hard as she begs me for more.
I visualise all the ways I could make her come, imagining how she tastes. A groan slips free, her smile flashing through my mind as I part her thighs, looking at her waiting, wet pussy, knowing it’s all for me.
Thrusting into my hand, I imagine it’s her.
Chapter Seven
Nadia
Well, that was fucking rude. I open the door, peek out, and rush down the corridor, ready to confront him and see what his issue is. I know he doesn’t want me here, but he invited me for God’s sake! He can’t be an asshole to me all the time, what the fuck have I ever done to him?
