I was weak, and I let him get under my skin. The jerk has a way of doing that. Has some magical way of knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn me into a complete psycho mess.
He turns me into someone I don’t recognize.
Someone who makes terrible decisions.
But I only used him. Yes, I only used him to ease some of this pain…
It was nothing. It meant nothing.
But why did I immediately want to do it again?
Why, even now, do I want him to kiss me like he’s trying to devour me? His lips consuming my soul as his tongue claims me completely?
Why do I want his weight crushing down on me and his cock filling me? His heart beating against mine as he drives us to the brink of death…
It’s the pain. It’s only the pain that makes me want to die and be reborn in his arms…
Or is it?
I wasn’t lying when I told him I know exactly who he is. After my kidnapping, I made it my mission to find out more about the men behind my rescue. Going as far as digging through my father’s classified files and making copies of them.
I know everything the police know about Lucifer and those that work for him. They’ve been under surveillance off and on for years, though nothing has ever come of it.
I know Lucifer himself is rarely seen in public these days. Ever since he married, he spends most of his time with his family, sending his men to act in his stead.
His right-hand man, who happens to be the man who drove me home the night I was rescued, Simon, is a computer genius. He’s suspected of being behind dozens of state and federal system hacks, but there’s little concrete evidence, or evidence a jury would understand, to actually prosecute and convict him.
Gabriel, Simon’s brother, was recently released from prison. Somehow pardoned for several first-degree murder convictions by the Governor.
Which is completely mind-boggling but shows the true extent of their power and influence.
There’s little information known about the other men, like Beth’s husband Johnathan, because they keep low profiles. Staying off the radar.
But James has an entire folder dedicated to him.
A folder filled mostly with surveillance photos of him with all the women he’s slept with.
He’s a fuckboy. A fuckboy who’s slept with half the women in Garden City.
CEOs, actresses, waitresses.
He’s an equal opportunity manwhore. No woman too rich or too poor to escape his attention.
There are pages of notes, pages of detectives trying to find a pattern or a reason behind his actions. But ultimately, it seems, the only thing the women have in common besides their dark hair is him.
When I first stumbled across the folder, I was shocked. Then hurt. But in the end, everything finally made sense.
How quickly I melted when he kissed me back…
It was from his years of experience seducing women.
The reason he ultimately pushed me away when Simon showed up...
He did it because he knew he couldn’t get away with using me for a quick fuck because of my father’s position.
But now my father’s dead. There’s no one to protect me, besides the other police officers.
And look what he did to Trent…
Shit.
Even though I’m not his type, I’m a blonde not a brunette, James wants something from me. Something so important, he’s determined to keep me ‘safe’ until he has it.
Whether it’s my life itself or information, I don’t know.
All I know is that I don’t have the strength, power, or experience to resist him.
Even now, I feel weak just trying to imagine resisting him if he touches me again. And if he’s still wearing that suit he left in… God help me.
It should be considered a sin for a man like James to wear a suit like that.
And if he kisses me…
Fuck, if he kisses me…
I’m doomed if I don’t find a way to get out before he gets back.
My panic now a living, breathing thing, I run around the house like a madwoman, checking all the doors and windows.
Only to find them all locked and sealed tight.
On the verge of giving up, I pound my fist against the window in his bedroom.
Then I remember the meat tenderizer.
Running back downstairs, I find the same mallet he used to shatter my phone in the kitchen sink. Like some crazed serial killer, I heft it up, getting a feel for it in my hand, and stalk toward the front window.
Mitzy follows behind me and barks at me like she knows exactly what I plan on doing.
“Stay back, I don’t want you to get hurt,” I warn her.
Frantically, she yips and barks. So agitated, she’s practically bouncing in place as she yells at me.
Ignoring her, I put both hands on the tenderizer, pull my arms back, then swing.
The tenderizer hits the window with a loud crack and the vibration travels all the way up to my teeth.
But the window doesn’t break.
The glass cracks, filling with thin spiderwebs, but the place I hit remains solid. The glass in that spot turning white, as if it suddenly frosted.
I stare at the window for a second in disbelief.
Then I lift the tenderizer, pull my arms back, and whack the fucker again.
More cracks spread through the glass and the round spot of impact becomes more opaque, but the window holds, refusing to shatter.
“What the fuck?!” I screech.
Desperate to be free, I whack at the window until it feels like my arms are going to fall off.
No matter how hard I hit it though, or where I hit it, I can’t break through.
Sweaty, tired, and on the verge of tears, I toss the mallet away and drop to my knees. Grabbing at my head, I try to calm down and think.
There has to be a way out of here…
There has to be.
The doors are locked. The windows are made of a glass that refuses to break.
He mentioned something about Tom Sawyer… but that’s in the basement.
Fuck.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
The asshole totally locked me in a cage.
Rocking back and forth, I yank on my own hair, wishing I could wrap my hands around James’s neck and squeeze. Squeeze and choke the life out of him for doing this to me.
For trapping me.
For taking advantage of me.
For making me want him.
What if there’s a fire?
What if Mitzy has to pee?
He would think of those things, wouldn’t he?
But maybe it completely slipped his mind…
Maybe he didn’t think that far ahead before he left.
And maybe if I call him, maybe if I ask him to open the door for Mitzy, he’ll unlock it.
Calming myself a little, I take a few deep breaths and decide to use that little touch screen he pointed out to call him.
Pulling my hands out of my hair, I straighten and rise to my feet. Little Mitzy follows behind me as I walk back to the door that leads to the garage.
After examining the little touch screen for a couple of seconds, I push around on it, trying to cycle through the options.
Everything is grayed out though, except for the current status, which reads Locked Down in red, and the white Call Contacts.
No matter how many times I mash my finger against the red Locked Down or any of the other grayed-out options, nothing happens.
Giving up, I push on the contacts and scan over the brief list.
Lucifer.
Simon.
Oscar.