“Christ. Relax.” I snatch the filthy gag from her mouth, and I can’t ignore those lips. Damn those are the kind of lips that serve one hell of a purpose. And they’re cracked to hell and back… I glance around the office, but the only drink I have is whiskey–damn good whiskey, too.
I grab the bottle and flick the cap off, placing it to her mouth. “Drink it.”
But she doesn’t. “I can pay you,” her voice shakes. And fuck my life, she sounds like the Queen of England.
Rich didn’t just kidnap a girl, he kidnapped a foreigner. Incredible—he’s moved me right on into international crime. I place the bottle to my lips and chug, debating on putting another bullet in his body just for good measure.
“Please.” Her eyes go all soft. “Just let me go.” Her eyes go all soft.
As much as I’d like to just let her go, I can’t. She’s seen my face. She’s at my house. If I let her go now, she and that shithead boyfriend of hers could run to the cops. Maybe that was his plan, hand his darling little girlfriend over as collateral and hope the cops would get me for kidnapping before I came back for the twenty-grand he still owes. Now, I have no choice but to kill his ass, and then hope it scares her enough to keep her mouth shut.
“Please.” Her face crumples like she’s about to lose it. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“Unfortunately, doll, it now has everything to do with you.”
Tears fall down her cheeks and she drops her chin to her chest. I don’t do tears.
I half-roll my eyes before cupping her cheeks and using my thumbs to wipe her face. “Look, your piece of shit boyfriend is going to pay up–” then I’ll kill him– “and you can go on your merry-fucking-way.”
“He just… let that man take me,” her voice breaks on a sob.
And what kind of dickhead does that? Maybe I should just send one of my guys up to kill the sorry bastard and forget the twenty grand. “My advice to you,” I say, eyeing her up. “Get better taste in men.”
“And what if he doesn’t pay you?” Her voice wavers. “Will you kill me?”
And that’s a question I don’t like. Because if he doesn’t pay–hell, even if he does pay–she’s a risk. This is a business of blood in, blood out, and dead men can’t talk. I have no problem sending one of my men to put a bullet in her boyfriend’s skull, but hers…My non-existent conscience attempts to rise from the dead, and I beat it back. “I’m not in the business of killing women.” Especially not women I’d gladly fuck.
Another stream of tears roll down her face.
Swearing under my breath, I turn her around and untangle the rope from one of her wrists. At least this way she can wipe away her own damn tears.
I move her hands from her back to her front to re-secure them, ignoring the fruity, girly scent that lifts from her hair and the way her ass feels against my dick. I stare over the curve of her tits as I work to refasten the restraint, and each ragged breath she drags in shifts the blood flow to my cock. This is not the time to be getting a hard-on for a girl.
The second I get the rope back in place, I shove her toward the couch to get her away from me before I do something stupid. “Sit. Lay down. Whatever…” Just as long as she’s as far away from me as possible in this office.
I take a seat at my desk, staring down at the bulge in my pants before I snatch the bottle of whiskey. Getting a hard-on for a hostage. What the ever-loving-hell?
Victoria
I’ve been sitting here for the past hour, trying to figure out a way to escape, but there isn’t a single window in this room, and the only exit is the door on the other side of Jude’s desk.
I watch him take a phone call, trying to work out whether or not he’ll hurt me–or kill me. He clearly wants his money. If I’m dead, he won’t get paid. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though.
Jude hangs up the phone, mumbling under his breath as he snatches the liquor bottle from the desk and heads to the door.
This is it. The second he’s out of this room, I’ll have my first opportunity to run. But instead of opening the door, Jude takes a seat in front of it,like a damn guard dog, then drains the whiskey from the bottle.
Is he just going to keep me in this room for three days? Surely the man has to sleep…
He glances at me. His already annoyed expression deepens as he shifts, pulling up his shirt and removing a gun from the waist of his jeans.