“I’ve told you already. I’m not leaving anything out,” Emerson insists, pursing her red-stained lips as she slams the palms of her manicured hands on the stainless steel table in front of her. Even after spending a couple of days at sea, she somehow looks completely put together with designer clothes, coordinating accessories, and heels. The epitome of high maintenance.
“Tell me again,” Marshal Doherty orders firmly, his penetrating stare untiring. “Why were you in Madden Decker’s office on Friday afternoon, alone?”
“I went into Madden’s office Friday afternoon to drop off a report I was working on before I left for my vacation. I don’t know where he was or why his assistant wasn’t at her desk. Why? What is going on?” Her nervous gaze flits around the cold interrogation room, searching for something. “Where did Madden go? Is he listening in? I want him in here.”
The clock on the wall loudly ticks off the seconds as I watch the two of them face-off from behind a pane of surveillance glass. I desperately want to rush in there and demand she stop playing games, that she tell me what happened to Blake, but I don’t. I can’t. I know Doherty is doing me a favor by including me to this extent already. Though, truth be told, he probably knows I’d be doing my own form of questioning to her later.
“Emerson, this is serious,” he snaps, leaning closer to her to stress the importance of her next answer. “If you’re lying, you could face serious prison time. Not to mention, your answers could possibly keep Mr. Decker out of trouble. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary when you were in his office Friday? Did you touch anything on his desk?”
She swallows hard and drops her chin to her chest, and at first, I get hopeful, thinking she’s about to admit her guilt. To tell us something . . . anything. But then as tears swell in her eyes and she adamantly shakes her strawberry curls around her shoulders, I begin to question my initial assumption. Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe I’m reaching. Maybe I’m just too desperate to place blame.
“I swear to you. I didn’t see anything,” she maintains her stance. “I don’t know what’s going on, or what you want me to say, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m always working in the best interest of Decker Enterprises. I’m the most loyal employee they have.”
Doherty does little to conceal his disappointment when he announces she’s free to go, running exasperated fingers through the thin hair covering his scalp. Since Emerson claims knowledge of nothing and we don’t have physical proof of her participation in the abduction, there’s not much we can do.
He warned me about this beforehand, but I felt confident Emerson would crater and tell us what happened. Confident she was involved somehow. We’ve now wasted a whole day waiting for her return, and have nothing to show for it. Crucial hours have been lost.
All we know for sure is that Blake received a text from my phone telling her I’d pick her up Friday evening. Marshal Doherty was able to get the video surveillance from the office building where she works, once we got Blake and Jae’s boss, Mr. Thompson, involved, and we saw her get in a black town car with no plates at approximately six o’clock in the evening. The driver who got out to usher her inside the car was careful to keep his hat down on his forehead and his face tilted away from the camera. There was no struggle when she climbed into the backseat.
And that’s it. All we have.
The door to the room I’m in bangs open and Doherty stalks in. The frustration I feel is mirrored in the deep creases of his forehead. “I’ll let you know if we learn anything new, and I expect the same from you,” he states tersely. “Don’t get in over your head with this, Decker. You have no idea the people you’re dealing with. Leave it to the professionals. We’re going to do everything in our power to get her back from wherever she is.”
He leaves with the same noisy entrance he came in with, and his warning follows him out. There’s no way in Hell I’m going to sit around and do nothing. I don’t care who the fuck I’m going up against. Somebody has what’s mine.
As I storm out of the federal building into the airless summer night, my thoughts are completely submerged in the planning of my next move and I fail to notice the woman waiting for me next to my car. It’s not until I retrieve the keys from my jeans’ pocket do I look up to unlock the door, and by then, we’re only a few feet away.
“Emerson?” I lift my brow, silently asking what she wants.
Pushing off the hood, she closes the gap between us nearly instantly, her expression guarded. Almost as if she’s waiting to decide on her mood based on mine. Not the reaction I’d expect from someone who was just detained for questioning by federal authorities if they had no idea why.
“Madden, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Concerned. She’s going with concerned over pissed-the-fuck-off.
My lips press into a thin line. “Do you think we’d be spending a Sunday evening here if everything was okay?” I clip, sidestepping her to get to my car. “And no, I’m not going to discuss it with you. Go home and stay there until you hear from me.”
At first, she doesn’t respond, but just as I’m bending myself into the driver’s seat, she pivots and sprints over to me, using her arm to force the door open wider. “Wait!” she exclaims. “I don’t have a car here. You can’t leave me in this part of L.A. at this time of night. Your parents and mine would never forgive you.”
Gritting my teeth, I’m furious, because I know she’s right. I’m still not sure what to believe about her, but I’m too much of an emotional wreck right now to argue. If she truly has nothing to do with any of this, I’d never forgive myself if something happens to her too.
“Get in,” I grumble, ready to drop her off and get home. “Hurry.”
Emerson circles around the front of the car and climbs into the passenger side with a victorious glint in her eyes. Thankfully, she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut during the drive to her house.
When she gets out, she leans over the center console and brushes her lips against my cheek. “I’ll wait to hear from you. If you need my help, let me know. Don’t push me away, Madden. I’m not the enemy.”
The moment the door latches, I take off down the street, desperate to get away from her before I lose my shit. And during my trip home, alone in my car with the heaviness of the entire situation, my entire world completely falls off its fucking axis.
I realize I no longer care about my company, my family, my own life. Now that I know the truth about Blake, about the life she endured before I found her, I’m in even deeper than before. I can’t let her down. I have to save her.
The next thing I know, I’m packing an overnight bag and headed to the airport. I’ve got a one-way ticket to Chicago, and I’m not coming home without the girl I love.
TWO DAYS, I’VE BEEN STUCK inside this cabin. Two days of nothing but staring at the four walls, torturing myself with all of the ‘what ifs’ my mind can conjure up. And there are millions.
I still have no idea where we are. The one time I was daring enough to peek out the frosty rectangular window above the couch, all I could see were trees. A thick forest of redwoods surrounded the remote cabin, with icicles dangling from the near-barren limbs. Not a single hint at our location or any other civilization. And I don’t dare get close to the only door in the place, reinforced with numerous key-only deadbolts.
Raze stays in the small bedroom off the living area most of the time, either speaking in Russian on his phone or working on his laptop. Knowing we’re somewhere that has cellular and internet service gives me hope, but he makes a point of locking up the electronics in a safe each time he’s finished using them.
Other than to go to the bathroom, the only time I’ve left the couch was for a shower last night. I broke down and cried as I stood under the lukewarm spray, finally allowing the emotions to get the best of me. I’m trying to be strong, but any chance of escaping already feels bleak and hopeless. Where would I go? And how long would it be before Raze found me again? Or even worse . . . Vincent.
br /> Raze has barely spoken to me since we first arrived and I spit in his face, both literally and figuratively, as I refused to answer his questions. He emerges out of the room only to prepare food for the two of us, leaving me a plate of whatever he’s made on the coffee table. I pick at it, unable to ignore the emptiness in my stomach, but not without resentment. I hate being here with him. I hate everything he is. Everything I tried so hard to free myself from.
There’s been no mention of Madden again, and I spend most of my time worrying about his safety. The guilt inside me worsens with each passing hour. Guilt that I didn’t tell him who I was or what I’d done. Guilt that I so selfishly allowed him to fall for me, and for me to fall for him, giving him a false hope of a future between us. Guilt that I’ve put his life in danger. And now, I doubt I’ll ever be able to apologize. All I can hope is he stays safe. And alive.
Lying down on the lumpy cushions, I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes, hoping tonight won’t be another sleepless night. You’d think by now I’d have learned how to turn my mind off and forget the pure madness surrounding me, but I haven’t. It follows me everywhere. Eating away at what’s left of my sanity. Bit by bit. Soon, there will be nothing left of me for them to take.
“That’s it, sweet girl. Slow and steady. Let me take care of you.”
Madden’s voice washes over me, soothing any anxiety I have about what’s about to happen. I know he won’t hurt me, as my pleasure is his primary concern. He owns it. Owns every part of me. Including my heart.
“Let me know if it’s tied too tight or becomes uncomfortable at any time, and I’ll free you immediately,” he assures me as he tugs on the knot binding my wrists to a slat on his headboard. “Same for the blindfold. You want it gone, just tell me. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nod, licking my parched lips, desperate for his kiss. Tingles of anticipation climb up from the tips of my toes and descend down from the top of my head, converging at the apex directly between my legs. My panties are already damp, my nipples pebbled into hard peaks, and he hasn’t even touched me.
This isn’t the first time Madden has bound and blindfolded me, but it’s still a huge step each time he does. Giving up control to him—fully submitting to his will—is something I never in a million lifetimes dreamed I’d be able to do after my life with Ish. But there’s something about this man that makes me want to do it. My desire to please him overrides any fears and insecurities I still have. It frees me from the darkness.
“Yes what?” His warm breath drifts over my bare stomach as he slides down my body, causing goose bumps to spread across the exposed flesh.
My lips curl up in a coquettish smirk, but I purposely refuse to answer him, finding rare confidence in my vulnerable state. Barking out a deep chuckle at my playful disobedience, he leans down and draws one of my hard rosy buds in between his teeth, biting hard enough to make my back bow off the mattress. I gasp, excited.
“Yes what?” he repeats, flicking his tongue torturously over my nipple. The sharp pain in my breast quickly morphs into a thrum of erotic pleasure, and the vibration of his voice adds an additional layer of stimulation to his roguish teasing.
Again, I refuse to answer, knowing exactly where this little game is heading. From the first time we were together, Madden has always liked when I call him Sir when we’re in bed. It makes him feel in complete control, his cue I’m handing over the reins to my body, freeing my mind of everything except the sensual gratification he bestows. For whatever reason, taking care of me, worshipping my body with never-ending reverence, is what makes him happy. And what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t want him happy?
But I do like to make him work for it . . .
His mouth moves from one breast to the other, performing the same tantalizing trick to the other sensitive tip. “My sweet girl likes being bad?” He releases me with a loud pop then I feel the tip of his nose resting against mine. His mouth hovers directly above mine, and there’s nothing I want more in this moment than to feel our lips fused together. I need it like I need my next breath.
“I bet you can’t hold out five minutes before you’re begging for this,” he taunts, grinding his erection into my throbbing mound.
Groaning, I pull against my restraints as I buck against his hard body. The man may be in his mid-thirties, but he’s got the toned physique of someone a decade younger. I lift my head, a hasty attempt to capture his mouth with mine, but he’s too quick and retreats to the foot of the bed.
“Uh-uh. No kisses for you either until you answer my question correctly,” he warns lightheartedly. “Now I’ll ask again, Blake. Yes what?”
A blaze of rebellion sweeps through me, and with a boldness I’ve never felt before, I tip my nose in the air and shake my head, a wicked grin threatening to break through my compressed lips. Warm laughter fills the air and my heart swells at the sound of his amusement, but then, the next thing I know, he’s flipped me over on my stomach in one swift motion.
Seconds later, my lacy panties disappear from my body and he’s kneeling between my ankles, my drenched sex open to him to do as he pleases. Slowly, he drags his fingers up the inseam of my calves then thighs, stopping just before he reaches the spot I so desperately need him to touch. Arching my back, I lift my bare ass into the air. A silent plea.
“What? You want my fingers playing with that tight little pussy you’re offering up to me?”
His vulgar words cause my gut to clench, but instead of with disgust, it’s pure carnal desire that his dirty talk ignites. Each time we’re together, he strips away more and more of my inhibitions, and I’ve begun to crave the freedom it allows me to indulge in.
“Please,” I whimper, spreading my legs wider for him. “Please touch me.”
An unexpected smack across my right butt cheek startles me, but before my brain has time to register any pain, he’s kissing the spot of impact. “Answer me, stubborn girl, and I’ll touch you.”
“Yes,” I sigh, leading him to believe I’m going to give in, but then stop at the single word.
Another smack, this time to the other cheek, which is also followed by a soothing press of his lips. “Yes what?”
“Please,” I beg again, my voice breathy and low. “I need you.”
My thoughts are blurred; swirls of iridescent light dance behind my closed lids. Every nerve ending is on high alert, waiting to see what he’ll do next. The intensifying ache in my core is becoming unbearable.
With a feral growl, he grabs my hips firmly and yanks me higher up on my knees, falling into place directly behind me. The tip of his cock presses up against my wet slit, rubbing up and down between my swollen lips. “Feels so fucking incredible, Blake. Don’t make me wait any longer. Tell me.” His fingers bite into the skin covering my hips, holding me perfectly still as he spreads my juices from my clit to my puckered asshole. “Do you want my dick inside you? Do you want me to make you come all over it?”
Unable to resist him any longer, I accept defeat and cry out, “Yes, Sir!” as he claims my body for his own.
Feverish kisses to my neck and a fast-paced rhythm bring me to my first orgasm rapidly, and I explode blissfully as he thrusts behind me, seeing a galaxy full of stars through my euphoric climax. However, as I collapse onto the sheets with exhaustion, needing a few seconds to catch my breath, a strong hand grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head backward.
“Bitch, I didn’t tell you it was time to rest,” Ish’s loathsome voice snarls in my ear. “Get your ass up and please your husband.”
Frantic and hysterical, I jerk against the ropes tied around my wrists like a wild animal unwilling to be tamed, but the restraints won’t budge. I try to kick my legs, to fight him off of me, but I’m no match for Ish. He pins me down with his weight, straddling my hips as he forces himself into me. It feels like he’s ripping the flesh off of me each time he pulls out and plunges back in, my body trying its damnedest to reject his advances.
As
hot tears spill from my eyes, soaking the sash that covers them, I scream over and over again, “No! No! Get off me!”
The nightmare stops suddenly as two burly but gentle arms wrap tightly around me and my face is buried into a warm, inviting chest. Then a voice that’s neither Madden’s nor Ish’s, yet oddly familiar, murmurs into my hair, “Quiet there, kotyonok. You’re gonna be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
ANY MAN WHO MURDERS ANOTHER man in his sleep is a worthless coward. Never have I taken another life without first looking into my victim’s eyes, making them aware I own what I’m about to do. One hundred fucking percent. I’m a man of conviction. A man who never second-guesses himself.
Unfortunately, there are a lot of goddamn cowards in this world, which is why I learned early in life to function on very little sleep. In my line of work, I can’t afford to be left vulnerable to my enemies, and more often than not, my enemies are lying in the shadows, patiently waiting for me to let my guard down. A moment of weakness when I keep my eyes closed just a second too long . . . only to ensure I never open them again.
The girl asleep on the couch in the next room is no exception. Her physical appearance is misleading. She may appear to be a tiny, frail little thing—standing at least a full foot shorter than me and weighing a hundred pounds soaking wet, with a sweet, innocent face to boot—but I see the way she tracks my every movement, mentally cataloguing where everything is kept in this isolated cabin. The amount of time she stares at the kitchen drawer where the knives are kept isn’t lost on me. I know she wants to kill me. She wouldn’t think twice about bludgeoning me to death if it meant her freedom. But I can’t let that happen. And she’ll never be free.
Yesterday, when she thought I wasn’t looking, I caught her peeking out the small window, frantically surveying her surroundings. I then saw the despair settle in her eyes when she realized we’re in the middle of nowhere, and that even if she were to miraculously escape from my custody, she’s got nowhere to go. This safe house—hidden in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of Northern California—was built by my family in the early eighties for exactly this type of situation. Disappearing from the face of the Earth. Only, the ironic thing right now is that the place I most want to disappear from is this fucking place. Because of her.