Condemned Complete Series: A Dark Romance

by Gemma James

  “Rafe.” Holding my belly, I choked out his name on a sob that tried to break free. “I need you. Find a way to come back to me.”

  4. LEVERAGE

  Rafe

  Four days. That’s how long I had to figure this shit out before Shelton turned me into his prized death fighter. Such a match would give him a huge payday, along with the revenge he craved. If I didn’t cooperate, he had only to remind me that my son’s life depended on it.

  He had all the fucking leverage in the world, and no amount of pacing this cell, spinning all the angles in hope of finding a way out, would change that. The harsh reality of my situation hung over my head, crowding the air in the windowless room with desperation.

  Spewing a string of curses, I banged on the door. “Hey! Is anyone out there?” I needed answers. I needed for him to talk to me.

  Pound, pound, pound.

  “Shelton! Talk to me, you fucking coward!” I beat on the door for several minutes, long after my knuckles throbbed.

  Silence. Incessant, maddening silence.

  The bastard had shut me in with the promise that he’d see me soon. That was sometime yesterday.

  With gritted teeth, I stomped from the door to the far wall and back again—all of ten fucking feet. Waiting was the worst part. I had no idea if my son was okay.

  And I didn’t have a clue where Zach might take Alex. I had to assume he’d take her off the island, if he hadn’t done so already. The thought gutted me. I banged on the door again, and the wood vibrated under the onslaught. I could break through if I put enough effort behind it, but with my son’s whereabouts unknown, I couldn’t take that chance.

  I took another angry loop around the closet-sized room. I was about to park my ass on the floor when the lock on the door suddenly clanked over.

  Shelton stood on the threshold, flanked by two of his men. “What do you want?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I took a step toward him, tempted to pound that irritated smirk off his face. “If you want me to fight in your fucking cage, then let my son go.”

  “You’ll do what you’re told, regardless.”

  “How do I know you haven’t hurt him already?”

  “I’m not in the business of hurting children.”

  “No, just kidnapping them,” I snapped. “I want to see him. If you think I’m going to trust your word, you’re crazy.”

  Shelton’s steady gaze bored into me for several moments. “Fine.” He nodded toward the open door. “Come with me.” He pivoted, entering the hall, and I followed suit, almost expecting a trap because he was being too agreeable. The place was built like a barn, but instead of open stalls, doors lined the hallway. Shelton stalled in front of the last door on the right.

  My son had been right down the hall the whole time, alone and scared. The fact that he’d been so close yet out of reach killed me, and I braced myself for what I might find on the other side.

  Because I hadn’t set eyes on him in six months, and it had been even longer since he’d seen me. He had no idea who I was. In fact, he probably didn’t remember the day he’d spotted me from the back of his mother’s car last summer outside the post office.

  The day I learned I was a father.

  Shelton rapped on the door three times then waited a full thirty seconds before jabbing a key into the paddock. He opened the door, hinges squeaking their protest. The room was windowless, like mine, but at least Shelton had attempted to turn it into a space suited for a child. A twin bed sat against the back wall, and a desk and lamp took up space along another. Artwork lined the walls—little stick figures playing basketball, and drawings of various animals. My gut tightened.

  How long had my son been here?

  Will sat on the bed, his jean-clad legs drawn to his chest while a blindfold shielded us from his sight. Now I understood why Shelton had knocked and waited, and I found it reassuring that Will hadn’t seen any of their faces.

  It gave me hope that Shelton didn’t have plans to hurt him.

  “I want to go home.” The demand sounded weak on the boy’s lips, yet somehow, underneath the thready quality of his nine-year-old voice, I detected strength.

  Or maybe it was stubborn determination. Either way, I found bravery in those words and the way he said them.

  Shelton cleared his throat. “Someone’s here to see you, Will.” He gave me a warning look. “You’ve got five minutes.” He exited the room and shut me inside with my son.

  Will raised his chin in my direction. “Are you gonna let me go?”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I crossed to where he sat on the bed and crouched in front of him, making sure to keep enough distance between us so I didn’t spook him.

  “It’s not up to me, buddy, but I’m going to do everything in my power to get you out of here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Realistically, he should be very afraid, though fear was the last thing I wanted him to experience.

  “Who are you?”

  Jesus Christ, he had to ask the tough question. “I’m a friend. I came here to make sure you’re okay. Has anyone hurt you?” I held my breath, hands balling into fists at the thought of anyone laying a hand on him.

  But he shook his head, and I let the furious tension in me subside.

  “Are they feeding you good?”

  “Yeah, but I’m allergic to peanut butter, so I couldn’t eat lunch a couple of times.”

  Nikki had also been allergic to peanut butter. “I’ll tell them to stop with the PB&Js.”

  Hell, he looked so small and scared sitting there. I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him everything would be okay, but I didn’t dare touch him.

  Someone disengaged the lock on the door, signaling the end of my five minutes. I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Listen, Will. I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. But I need you to do something for me.”

  “Okay.”

  No hesitation whatsoever. Just easy agreement. I wasn’t sure if his quick trust was a good thing, or a bad thing.

  “I need you to keep that blindfold on when they’re around. Don’t ever take it off or peek at them, okay?”

  He gave a rapid nod of his head. And maybe he knew as well as I did that if he could identify them, they might not let him go.

  The kid was smart.

  “Are they keeping you in a room too?” he asked in a whisper.

  Smart and perceptive.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed his hand and squeezed, sidestepping his question. “You’re going to be okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “Time’s up,” came a gruff voice that didn’t belong to Shelton. I glanced behind me and found Military Dude standing in the hall. I let go of Will’s hand and headed toward the open doorway, putting some distance between us.

  And it hit me hard that this could be the last time I saw my son. The final glimpse of him tore my heart out. He seemed so small, sitting in that dimly lit room, the only life in that space the vibrant doodles of a fourth grader. The door slammed shut between us, and Shelton’s man latched the lock again.

  “Are you satisfied?” Shelton said from three feet down the hall. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he arched a brow my way.

  “You don’t need him here. Let him go back to his grandparents. I’ll cooperate as long as I know he’s with them.”

  “You’ll cooperate anyway.”

  Shit, I’d gotten myself into a real bind, and for the fucking life of me, I couldn’t see a way out of it. Except I’d gotten out of tough spots before, beating odds that seemed impossible. Could I do it again? I wasn’t so sure this time.

  “He’s allergic to peanut butter, so he needs something else for lunch.”

  Shelton gave a quick nod. “Consider it noted.”

  A tense beat of disquiet passed. “If I win this fight, will you let him go?”

  “Come out the winner, and I’ll consider it.” Shelton closed the spaced between us and prodded me
in the chest. “But you have a long way to go, Mason. You’ll need to prove your usefulness, and your trustworthiness.” He dipped his head until we were nearly nose-to-nose, and his voice dropped. “Fail to do either of those things, then your boy won’t see the outside of that room ever again.”

  It was then that it really sank in, becoming as real as a sledgehammer to crumbling plaster. This situation was permanent. Shelton wanted to turn me into his prized death fighter. Someone whose strings he controlled.

  And I wasn’t sure I wanted to test the consequences if I refused to be his puppet.

  5. BARTER

  Alex

  The thump-thump of Zach’s boots down the staircase pulled me from sleep in tortuous stages, thrusting me into a waking nightmare that was all too real. I lay prone on the cot, helpless to do anything else as time passed me by, showing zero regard for my pain. The heat, the blackness, the small space—they all trapped me in a hell I couldn’t escape. Panic threatened to rise with every breath.

  Zach couldn’t win.

  I pushed his name from my mind and focused on the positive. He might have the upper hand, but he couldn’t touch me. Not without my cooperation. I wished I could ignore his presence, or at the very least, the ruckus of his arrival, and find sanctuary again in sleep. I’d been drifting in and out all day…

  Or was it night?

  I’d lost track of even my best guess.

  Blinking against the sudden brightness, I made out his form on the other side of the bars. He lifted an arm, tilting the bottle of water gripped in his hand toward me.

  “You ready to negotiate?”

  “You have nothing I want.” Sitting up, I crossed my arms.

  “Maybe not, but I’ve got something you need.” He set the water bottle on the concrete floor, just out of reach—should I be stupid enough to attempt grabbing it through the bars while he stood there. “The water is yours if you get over here and open your pretty mouth. If you make me come hard enough, I’ll sweeten the deal with lunch today.”

  My stomach grumbled painfully at the thought. I was beyond hungry, but what really worried me was the signs of dehydration I could no longer ignore.

  Pounding headache.

  Dizziness.

  Dry mouth.

  It was a sweltering sauna in the cellar, but I wasn’t sweating nearly as badly as the last time he’d visited me…hours ago? Yesterday? Reality was a disorienting swirl around my head, making the dizziness worse.

  Another bad sign.

  I draped a protective arm over my belly, knowing I couldn’t hold out any longer. Fighting tears, I glanced at Zach’s smug face. “Please, Zach. Don’t make me do this. I’m begging you.” I crawled off the bed and stood on my knees. “If you care about me at all, don’t make me do this.”

  His gaze was an illicit caress on my skin as he rubbed a hand over the bulge in his jeans. “Begging turns me on.”

  Clenching my jaw, I hopped to my feet, willing myself not to glance at the bottle of water. He’d only set it there to taunt me.

  To fucking tempt me.

  He might not be able to get his hands on me inside this prison, but I was still at his non-existent mercy. Because he had me. We both knew it. There would be no imminent rescue. No one was left to find me—he’d made sure to eliminate his competition. Concession was the only way to survive. If I didn’t have my baby to think about, I might be able to hold out longer.

  Zach had leverage, and he didn’t even know it.

  Swallowing my pride and my fear, I stepped within his reach for the first time since locking myself inside the prison. “I-I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “I’ll suck you off.”

  His grin practically split his face. “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”

  He hadn’t left me with much choice, but I didn’t bother pointing that out to him. Unconcerned with my lack of enthusiasm, he closed the last foot between us and thrust out his pelvis.

  “Unzip me.”

  A tremor shook through my arm as I reached between the bars for the button of his jeans. I’d barely touched him before he grabbed me by the hair. I gasped, panic gripping me, and met the glare of his hazel eyes.

  “Get on your fucking knees where you belong.”

  Inch by inch, I went down, his fist in my locks guiding me to my surrender. A gazillion seconds seemed to pass as I slid his button free. I stalled even longer on the zipper, feeling the press of his huge erection against my arm. He let out a warning growl, prompting me to yank his zipper down.

  “Open,” he rasped, fisting the root of his cock, aiming the tip at my mouth. He pulled me forward, the cool bars pressing against my cheeks, and pushed between my lips. My first instinct was to shove him away, to close my throat to keep him from going too deep, but when he tightened his fingers in my hair and let out another growl, it took everything in me to stand my ground and allow him to use me.

  “Jesus, Lex,” he groaned, shoving his dick into my throat, each thrust more violent than the last. My tongue felt like a slug of sandpaper in my mouth, but Zach didn’t seem bothered by it. His pleasure leaked all over my tongue, causing the friction he wanted with every slide that brought him deeper. Gripping the bars to steady me, I began to gag.

  “Damn,” he panted. “Good girl. Take it all.” He seated himself so deep that my tongue flattened against his nut sack. “Touch your cunt. You’re coming too, baby.”

  Pushing against the bars for leverage, I whined a muffled protest.

  He responded by tightening his grip in my hair. “If you want that water bottle, you’re gonna fucking come for me.” An insistent yank on my curls sent my fingers dipping between my legs. I’d do anything to end this hell as fast as possible. As I circled my clit with my middle finger, Zach shallowed his thrusts, slowed the pace.

  The fucker was playing with me as I played with myself.

  “Christ, you suck me like a vacuum.” He let out a long groan, and unwanted tingles tore through me, heating my skin, making me press more firmly against my hand. I blinked hot humiliation down my cheeks, unable to stop the flow any more than I could rein in the way my body was wired.

  He slid in all the way again and held, expelling a grunt of pleasure as I gagged. “So good and deep. Keep touching yourself. Get your cunt good and wet.”

  The heat between my thighs intensified. I fucking despised my body. I hated Zach even more for making me do this. Closing my eyes, I gave myself over to the sensation of helplessness, of being used, and pretended Rafe was on the other side of those bars.

  I imagined his fevered green eyes watching me as he fucked my mouth. He’d tighten his fist in my curls, just as Zach did now.

  And in this moment, despite being locked up, I’d have complete power over Rafe. My submission did something to him, took him to a place where he had little control. It was an empowering notion, and the thought sent me over the edge. I moaned around the cock in my mouth as I flooded my fingers.

  That’s all Zach was in this moment—a cock.

  One that spewed its surrender into my throat.

  Afterward, there was only silence, interrupted by Zach’s labored breathing as he shuffled back and zipped up his pants.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I wanted to cling to the fantasy of Rafe as long as I could. It was the only thing keeping me sane. The only thing keeping the guilt at bay for what I’d just done.

  Just a cock. Just a fucking cock. It doesn’t matter, Alex.

  I wasn’t sure Rafe would see it that way. What if he never forgave me for giving in to Zach? I should have held out longer. Another day without food and water wouldn’t kill me.

  As if Zach heard my inner battle, he picked up the water bottle and tossed it into the cell. “Your payment for a job well done.”

  I expected him to leave now that he’d gotten what he wanted, but he didn’t. He paced for a few moments before taking a seat against the wall three feet from where I sat, gulping dow
n the water. Replacing the cap, I set aside the half-empty bottle, determined to pace myself because Zach’s payments were more than I could bear.

  “Did I earn lunch?” The question dripped with dry sarcasm, but I didn’t think Zach heard it.

  “Fuck yeah, you did.”

  My stomach rumbled in answer. From the corner of my eye, I spied him watching me.

  Always watching. Always waiting. It’s what he was good at.

  “I’m not the bad guy here, Lex.”

  “What else are you supposed to be then?”

  “The man who loves you. The man who would do anything to have you. Why can’t you understand that?”

  “Why can’t you understand that Rafe is the only man I want?”

  “I get that you want him now, but things change. If I didn’t believe a part of you loved me back, I might have given up by now.”

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, I dragged both hands down my face. “I don’t love you, and I don’t give a fuck if that hurts you. I stopped giving a shit about what you want or what you think when you drove me to slit my wrists.”

  Dangling his hands between his knees, he dipped his head. “I’m more sorry about that than I can ever say.”

  “Sorry doesn’t erase it. Sorry doesn’t give Rafe his life back, or his son his mother back. It doesn’t give me my innocence back. You stole so much, but it doesn’t even faze you.” I glared at him through the dim light, the weight of our entwined histories heavy in the air. “You can’t see past your obsession.”

  “You’re right,” he said, his voice quiet. Sad. “I can’t. All I know is I need you.” He looked up, his hazel eyes bright with something I didn’t want to face, let alone understand. “I’ve always needed you. Even when we were kids, and you’d cling to me when Dad was on the warpath again, you calmed me, Lex. You’ve always grounded me.”

  “We’re not kids anymore.”

  “No, but the feelings are still there. If they weren’t, you would have let Rafe kill me in that cage instead of letting me go.”