Wrong Kind of Love

I catch the glint of a knife in my peripheral, and though I try to jerk away, within seconds, he pins me to the cold concrete. “Might as well go on and tell me, girl.” The blade slips under my shirt. Material rips and tears as he drags it toward my neck. “I know you work for him. And the longer you take, the longer I drag it out.”

The lascivious glint in his eye tells me that it doesn’t matter what I say; this man will hurt me. Not for information, but simply because he wants to.

He cuts every piece of clothing from me, and the more I fight him, the more I think he enjoys it.

“You make ole’ Jude weak. And looking at you like this…” His eyes spark with a sick gleam as he holds up the blade, then brushes his dirty finger along the edge. “ I can see why. Nice tits. Probably a real tight pussy.”

Bile creeps up my throat as the horror of how the next few minutes will probably play out settles over me. The tip of the blade meets my sternum, and I close my eyes.

“I’ll be doing Jude a favor by killing you. ‘Cause I don’t think he’s got it in him to do it himself.” His fingers brush the inside of my thigh, and I realize he’s going to break me before he kills me.

At least if Jude had done it, it would have been quick.

9

Jude

The morning sun creeps over the pines when I turn off the highway, heading back to my house, hungover and annoyed as fuck. Last night had been some real shit.

Tor—because she is definitely not a Victoria—tried to slice open my jugular, and then I came two seconds away from fucking her, the hostage, the collateral, the innocent offering thrown into the proverbial lion's den.

I couldn’t trust myself in a room with her after that, so I slept in my office and woke up with a hard dick and a headache.

The truck tires skid out when they hit the gravel at the start of my drive, and the greasy, drive-thru breakfast on the passenger seat topples to the floorboard. Tor will probably turn her nose up at the hash browns, but I don’t really care as long as she eats. I can’t help but laugh at the irony.

Yesterday, I put a gun to her head, and today I’m buying her breakfast like I’m attempting to make amends. Her being in my house has become one hell of a ticking time bomb chained around my dick.

My phone buzzes in the cupholder—Caleb. I ignore it. But then he calls again.

I hear him shouting before I pull the device to my ear. “Ria! Fuck. Jude, hurry up and get to the back of the basement. Bob got Ria and… Shit. Please, Ria…” The line goes dead seconds before Bob’s pickup flies past me in a trail of dust.

Anger burns over my skin, and I press the gas pedal to the floorboard, speeding down the drive until the car comes to a screeching halt in front of the house.

I’d told that asshole not to touch her. I’d made myself clear, and for that, I’ll cut the bastard’s dick off when I get a hold of him.

I rush into the basement and skid to a stop in the doorway of the back room. My stomach kinks and knots like snakes curling around one another. Caleb is on the floor with his hands pressed to Tor’s throat, a pool of blood underneath her naked body.

He glances up at me with a panicked look. “I need you to keep pressure on this while I grab a kit.”

I rush across the room, then drop to my knees as Caleb and I exchange places. The gash on her throat is huge. Bob slit her damn throat? My temper flares as my gaze trails over the patchwork of cuts on her stomach, and then the memories of what Tom did to my mother and sister flip through my mind like a tattered movie reel. A war of rage and grief breaks out inside me, but instead of giving into that, I focus on Tor, sweeping a hand over her cheek while I lie and tell her it will be okay.

Caleb hurries back into the room, already opening one of the medical kits. “I told you this was bullshit, Jude.” He jabs a needle into her throat, pulling a thin black thread through. “She’s innocent. You should have let her go.”

A toxic combination of anger and guilt wash through me, battering my conscience like a worn pier at sea. “Just fix her, Caleb.”

After he’s closed the wound on her throat, followed by several of the deeper cuts zigzagging across her stomach, I take off my shirt and carefully pull it over her head, covering her naked body. Then I scoop her into my arms and carry her through the house to my room, where I gently lay her on the bed.