“You arrived together?” he asked.
How much could she tell him? Maybe the cartel wasn’t listening right now, but could she really take that chance?
“Not together. The compound had just been built.” She closed her eyes and wiped at the stream of bubbles running from his hands. “She hated me from the beginning.”
“Why?”
So many reasons, and none that she could disclose. So she settled on another truth. “Why does La Rocha abduct, rape, and sell girls? They’re evil. She is pure fucking evil.”
He seemed so perplexed by this with his brows all knitted and his lips clamped together. Of course, he didn’t get it. He associated with the Mexican cartel. Hell, he was a goddamn slave buyer.
Except… He didn’t fit the mold. Not exactly. Something was weirdly off about him.
He finished shampooing and moved on to conditioner. “Was she ever a captive here?”
“Are you kidding? This place is her brainchild. Her pride and joy. She built it from the ground up.” She squinted at him. “Why are you so interested in her?”
“She’s fucking gorgeous.” He licked the corner of his mouth and put his face in hers. “You’re jealous.”
Yeah, right. Beautiful women grew on trees around here, and she never wanted to be one of them. Which was why she welcomed every fight, hoping the beatings would make her less desirable.
He fell quiet as he rinsed her hair, seemingly lost in thought.
Then he finished the rest of her. Somehow, he managed the intimate task without making it sexual. His gaze touched her nudity without being creepy. His hands glided over her breasts and between her legs without trying to violate her.
He couldn’t have made it more obvious that something strange was going on.
Maybe it was her appearance? She didn’t need a mirror to imagine how grotesque she looked. Good. If a puffy face killed his boner, she might consider punching herself to maintain the swelling all week.
But if her looks turned him off, why had he chosen her?
“How many times have you been pimped out to the guests?” He pulled the drain and let the water out.
“You’re the first.”
He winged up an auburn eyebrow, an expression that made him look younger. Almost playful.
“You’re not special.” She slid her knees to her chest, shivering in the draining water. “If I hadn’t won so many fights for the cartel, they would’ve killed me a long time ago. I’m a flight risk who’s outlived her value, and you said you wouldn’t pay for broken goods.” She laughed hollowly. “You’ve been duped, Johnny Boy.”
“You’re not only wrong. You’re scared.” He bent in and wrapped a hand around her throat, holding her gaze. “Scared shitless, because you know that when your bruises fade, I’m going to like what I see. When I taste you, I’m going to savor that, too. What you may not know, but will soon discover, is that when I’m inside you, you’ll come on such a violent tailspin of pleasure that my cock will be the only one that ever matters. Then, now, and forever.”
“Hate to burst your bubble, but women don’t get off when they’re raped.”
He grabbed a towel and lifted her from the tub, his voice the texture of velvet. “We’ll see about that.”
Her mysterious captor was right about one thing. She was scared. How could she not be? As traumatizing as it was to be fucked into the dirt by the four top dogs of La Rocha Cartel, sex with them was always predictable, routine, and over quickly.
This man promised none of that.
She lay on a settee in the wet room, swaddled in a towel, watching him and his bodyguard gather supplies. They worked effortlessly together, anticipating each other’s movements, communicating without words. She was horrifyingly captivated.
How many times had they done this? How many women had they raped? Killed?
They didn’t need to pay for sex. Not with those sculpted faces. But it wasn’t uncommon for serial killers to charm women into their beds.
These guys had more than just charisma, with their powerfully honed physiques, the intelligence behind their eyes, determination in the set of their shoulders, and they smelled good. Sweet Jesus, the room reeked of clean, woodsy, virile masculinity.
Potent males.
Gorgeous.
They looked like fashion models, not corrupt businessmen. But to be invited here, John must be tremendously wealthy. Or in debt up to his pretty green eyeballs.
“During the fight tonight…” He perched on the settee beside her hip and loaded a toothbrush with paste. “You knew which solar light would pull free.”
“It was a lucky guess.” She reached for the toothbrush.
He drew it away. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. Last time I walked through the yard, I dug up the stake and loosened the hole.”
He took her hand and caressed his thumb across her palm. She shivered, waiting for him to do something mean. But he just kept the pad of that thumb moving in featherlight circles.
Tingles of sensation licked through her, unlike anything she’d ever felt. It made her uncomfortable. Nervous. She knew how to battle pain. But affection? Kindness? She liked it too much. More than liked it, and that put her at a disadvantage.
“Don’t.” She yanked her hand from his grip.
“You’re not in a position to make objections.”
“Oh, buddy, I can and will refuse you. Isn’t that what you wanted? A whore who will kick and scream and wear herself out? It makes you hard and hung—”
He shoved the toothbrush in her mouth, and she choked on the glob of mint.
“Asshole.” Her garbled, foamy insult lit up his eyes with a devilish gleam.
It was almost a smile. A beautiful one, unfortunately. He really was so nice to look at, with his red hair glinting like metallic copper in the overhead light. Though he kept it short, it curled at the ends, giving him a relaxed, tousled look.
Wide across the shoulders and narrow through the waist, he had the V thing that she’d only ever seen on porn sites. Like in the male on male videos, and the macho men with big cocks, oh, and the naked solo amateur guys, stroking themselves for the camera… God, she used to love watching those.
She used to love sex.
There had been a time when she loved having a boyfriend, too. A guy she could talk to and kiss whenever the impulse struck. She missed the comfort in connecting with another person, even when they turned mean and tried to smack her around.
Someday, if she escaped this place with her mind and body intact, she would find a decent partner, someone to love, and just maybe, she wouldn’t feel so alone.
As she brushed her teeth and spat in a cup, John watched her as fixedly as a predator with eyes on his prey. A wolf in a suit. She could admire his impossible beauty and even hold a conversation with him, but it didn’t change the fact that he was going to rape her. If not her, then someone else.
Golden Eyes crouched beside her head with a medical kit and reached for her face. She jerked away.
“Be still.” John bent over her and fingered her wet hair. “He’s going to treat your wounds while we talk.”
“Why bother?”
“If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll figure it out.”