I was on something soft. I moved my arms around, feeling the blanket over top of me and the soft mattress I was on. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the strong smell of a pleasantly familiar cologne mingled with sweat. I licked my lips. My dry mouth tasted faintly of copper. Blood? What the fuck? Where was I? What happened?
Moving was a bitch of a task bringing all kinds of horrid agony to my skull. I felt around me as I sat up. Wooden headboard, more wood beside the bed. Night table, perhaps. I blinked and looked again. Yes, night table.
I was in a bedroom. How fucking lovely. Whose bedroom? And why didn’t this bedroom have a goddamn window? A windowless bedroom that….
I screamed, releasing all the pent up anger and frustration. I’ve been taken. The car accident. Not much of a fucking accident but a deliberate hit to get to me. Why me? Why?!
I fumbled out of the sheets and stepped clumsily out of the bed, tripping over something hard on the floor. I fell gracelessly, landing on a rough, cold ground. Fucking cement ground? What in God’s name… I groaned loudly at the sharp pain in my head intensifying with the fall. I swear, I felt my brain jiggle around.
A loud click came from somewhere behind me, then the creak of a door. Then another click and light flooded all around me, paining my eyes. Sluggish and disorientated, I looked around the bare room, meeting nothing but cement walls.
Breath escaped me when my eyes connected with the door. A heavy framed steel door that was opened all the way and accommodating a large, brawny man I recently learned the name of.
Tears fell from my eyes as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
“Wh-Why?” I stuttered, moving away until my back hit the wall.
Remy stopped a few feet away from me, looking down at me with those dark eyes of his. His black hair was soaked, dripping water to the floor around him. Judging by his soaked leather jacket and jeans, I’d say it was rain.
“Why?” I repeated, louder this time.
His eyes roamed around my face and body. He didn’t look angry. There was certainly no intensity behind his gaze that made me feel like he had similar motives to his dead brother, Brett. Instead, he appeared incredibly calm, moving over to the bed that occupied most of the small room.
His heavy frame settled down onto the mattress, elbows propped on each knee. He clasped his hands together and continued to stare at me. Deliberation scribbled all over his face. All I heard in the room was the drip, drip of water hitting the ground and my frightened, quickened breaths.
“My brother,” he finally spoke, his baritone voice loud and hard as the walls around us.
I gulped audibly, tasting further the coppery taste in my mouth. “What?”
“My brother,” he repeated, as if that was answer enough for me.
“What about him?”
“You tell me.”
I looked around again. Nowhere to go in what appeared to be a well concealed room. Was this man going to kill me? I knew what he wanted, but what would it mean for me if I gave him the information?
“I don’t understand you,” I simply stated, trying to bring the kind of firmness in my tone that would sound convincing. I’m sure I pulled it off well, only he continued to sit in that exact position, boring holes into my face, waiting…
“I don’t know what you want,” I lied.
Another long stretch of silence.
Uneasiness rooted me in one spot. The chill in the room had me bringing my knees to my chest. This was the calm before the storm. For a fleeting moment I wondered how the fuck my life had taken such a drastic turn. Was I ever at all in control of it?
“I’m going to ask you one more time.” I felt chillier by the sound of his voice. His calmness, I realized, was deceptive, for he looked like the kind of man whose anger was unforgiving.
“What happened to my brother?”
There was no disguising my fear. I’m sure he could hear the drumming of my heart, and if not that, could see the trepidation cascading out of my eyes along with the tears.
This was it. To lie or not to lie; that was the fucking question I kept asking myself. How is it that one moment can feel like an hour? It’s as if the world slows and revolves around you as your life hangs in the balance.
What to do? Tell the truth and expect some kind of hope for survival? Yeah, right. Men like him – the Jackals – they don’t play fair. They lie, manipulate, and do all the dirty one could think of. Ridding the world of one woman was just another notch in their book of sins. Dump ‘em and move on type of thing. If I lied? Who would I be protecting? The Scorpion gang? As if their world meant anything to me because, let’s be honest, they weren’t a bunch of nuns. They did the dirty too.
Still. The truth would lead to Jaxon and I couldn’t stomach hurting him. The last thing I wanted was for him to cop a death wish for killing the man that was moments away from raping me. He did the right thing, I realized.
“I don’t know,” I whimpered brokenly. There was no convincing him with that tremble of words.
His jaw clenched and his hands tightened around each other. His tongue flicked out, tracing the bottom of his red lip and his dark gaze circled the room around us. What the fuck was he going to do?
“I don’t know why you’re protecting them, and I don’t know what the fuck a girl from Winthrop would be doing in a place like theirs with that killer of a man holding your hand. But I’m not going to play your game. You were warned.”
I let out a cry when he stood up and stepped toward me. I tightened my knees to my chest. Shaking all over, I closed my eyes and continued to sob.
“From recollection, you were a lot more fun flirtin’ and shit in that bar all those years ago. Even Daniel praised you. Tough cookie gone soft, I see. Which means this game’s going to be run my way. You’re the property of the Jackals, and it’s about time you understand what that means since you’re heading down that route anyhow.”
What the fuck was he talking about? Flirting? Jackals? Daniel? Fear overtook the confusion. I was waiting for him to do something. Maybe grab me. Beat me. Rape me. Something!
Why are you sitting there all confused, birdy?” he asked, crouching down in front of me as I looked up at him. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you what you are?”
Birdy? Birdy? Birdy! “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That was sincere, for once. I truly hadn’t a fucking clue.
“Don’t remember my face at a particular set of swings one night when you were fourteen? Or when you chatted me up in front of your Scorpion boy all those years ago at that bar job of yours?” He said all this soothingly as I studied his face in disbelief. That familiar cologne… I’d entrenched it into my memories after that night on the swings, trying to savor a piece of him. That explained the nostalgia.
“And that Daniel boy,” he added, leaning his darkened face into me until he was half a foot away. “Didn’t ever wonder why that law firm called you up outta the blue to come in for an interview? Or how they even got your resume? Or that your lack of experience was never an issue? Same with that convenience store job. None of that clicked in that pretty little head of yours?” He eyed me with a soft smile, like he enjoyed my shocked reaction to all of this. “Although I’m pretty pissed he was fucking you on the side when he was explicitly told not to touch you.”