Casino man—Mr. Vincent, I guess—turns his gaze on me. He drops a large duffel bag on the floor.
It makes me jump.
He stares at my mouth. I fight not to lick my lips, but I lose the battle and wet them.
“Does it hurt?” His dark eyes narrow just a hair.
I stare up at him. Does what hurt? No, better yet what the hell is he doing here? My head starts to spin.
“Your mouth, does it hurt?”
I shake my head. It’s then I realize he’s talking about the tape that was over my mouth. It does hurt, but I keep that to myself. I’m not sure I can talk at this point. Nothing is making sense.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Mr. Vincent levels Scott with a glare.
Thankfully, for once, Scott shuts up. He’s not getting us anywhere good by talking. None of them are listening to him. Everything keeps coming back to me, like this is my fault.
“I’m the man with the twenty grand you need.”
The duffel bag. Is it full of cash? How did this man just happen to show up with twenty grand in a bag? I stare up at his handsome face. In the dim light of the room, he looks more like a villain then anything. A hot one, but still a villain.
“Why?” My voice cracks. My throat hurts from the screaming.
“Does the why really matter right now? You made your deal, and I’m going to be the one collecting.”
He can’t be serious.
“What the fuck does that mean? You’re buying my sister?” Scott starts struggling again.
I fist my shaking hands. Tommy makes an mmp sound as he tries to stop the blood. Wait. Did Mr. Vincent hit him because of the tape over my mouth?
“Tommy, I’ll remove your fucking eyes if you look at her again.”
I cringe. My stomach drops. Tommy stops looking at me immediately. He’s actually scared Mr. Vincent will follow through with his threat. I shouldn’t be grateful for this, but I am. Scott is once again quiet.
I gasp and close my eyes when Mr. Vincent pulls out a knife. Is he going to kill Tommy?
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
I open one eye. He’s right in front of me now, so close I could reach out and touch him.
“Yeah, because you just paid twenty grand for her, you sick bastard.”
Mr. Vincent raises his other hand, prepared to slap the shit out of Scott.
“Please don’t.”
Mr. Vincent stares at me, then slowly drops his hand.
“She saved you.” Mr. Vincent slides the knife through the plastic zip ties and frees my hands. I jerk them to my chest and rub my sore wrists. Tommy snags the bag off the ground and takes it over to the man who’s still holding the saw. He grumbles as he puts the torture tool down, clearly crestfallen he didn’t get to use it.
Mr. Vincent points at Scott. “This is how this is going to work. Laura comes with me.”
“Hell no!” Scott again tries to get free.
“Knock it off.” If my choice right now is between Fat Tommy and Mr. Vincent, I’ll take Mr. Vincent. Or maybe I should be worried that Tommy is scared of him.
“She’s collateral. When you come up with the twenty grand I paid for her, you can come and get her.”
“No deal!” Scott shouts.
“Dirk,” Mr. Vincent says, though he keeps his eyes on mine.
Dirk grins, and the saw comes back to life.
“Deal. It’s a deal!” I shout. “Please turn it off. I can’t take it.” I drop my head, tears sliding down my face.
The saw stops, and I can feel Dirk’s disappointment even if I can’t see it.
“Laura, don’t do this.”
I shake my head. “There’s no choice.”
“There is! I can get us out of this.”
“Yeah, by losing a limb. I’m not letting that happen.” I lift my head to look at him. “You’re all I have.”
“Shit, Laura.”
Mr. Vincent holds his hand out for me. I stare at the roughness of his palm that doesn't go with his fancy suits. I hate that my hand shakes as I put it into his.
“Laura, I’m sorry.” Scott sounds defeated. Then he gets back on his usual bullshit. “If you hurt her, I don’t care who you are, I’ll burn you down!”
Mr. Vincent pulls me to my feet. My legs are weak and not ready to stand. I fall into his chest. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me even closer. Why does he have to smell so good?
“Did Tommy scare you?” He asks it so gently, nothing like the tone he’s used so far.
I nod. How could I have not been scared?
“Do you want me to kill him?” That same gentle tone.
“Mr. Vincent!” Fat Tommy squawks. “Man. All I did—”
“Shut up.” Mr. Vincent’s demeanor turns lethal and makes my skin break out in goosebumps. “Now, tell me, do you want me to ki—”
“No. I don’t want anyone to die.”
“But he should pay?”
I want to say yes. I don’t. What kind of game is he playing?
“You want me to scare him like he scared you?”
I find myself nodding.
He smirks. Then his mouth is on mine in a hard kiss that’s over as quickly as it started. “Pay attention, precious. So you can see what happens when someone else touches something that belongs to me.”
This time I don’t close my eyes.
6
Xavier
She keeps glancing at my knuckles, but she doesn’t ask the question I can feel lingering on the tip of her tongue.
“Yes, they’re sore. No, it doesn’t bother me. Don’t worry about it.” I flex my hands on the steering wheel as we speed toward my estate in The Ridges.
She swallows hard and keeps lacing and unlacing her fingers.
I know she has questions, but she probably won’t like my answers, so maybe it’s better if we keep the silence goin—
“Why were you there? What’s going on? Is this some sort of human trafficking thing?” Her questions all run together into a mosh, but I catch them.
I glance at her. She looks away. But then I feel her gaze return as she studies my profile.
“Fat Tommy is a popular bookie. I do some business with him.” All true. Vaguely. “I was there on business.”
“You carry $20,000 on business?” She winces back, as if thinking I might strike her for the skepticism in her tone.
“Don’t be afraid of me.” I take a hairpin turn on the edge of the sharp ridge that leads to my home.
She gapes. “How can I not be? You just bought me! Like a damn pony! Are you going to sell me into sex slavery or make me be your little Cinderella maid or, or …or …?” Her eyes widen and she pinches her lips together as her eyes water.
“I won’t hurt you.” I want to reach for her hand, but she’s busy doing the lace-unlace-lace-unlace.
“Then let me go!”
“No. Don’t ask that of me. Ask for anything else, and there’s a good chance you’ll get it. But don’t ask me to let you go.”
“Why?” She throws her hands up, and I catch her left one in my right.
“Because you’re mine.”