Death Wish (Deception Duet 2)

He goes for my panties next. I may have promised not to scream, but I didn’t say anything about not fighting. With as much force as I can manage, I kick at him, hitting him in the center of his chest. If I hurt him, he doesn’t flinch. Only smiles. Creepy and indicative of what’s to come.

“The more you struggle, the more I enjoy this.”

I shouldn’t give him what he wants, but I also can’t sit still while he strips me. I’m able to claw his face pretty good, earning a vicious snarl. That’s it. Too easily, he rips away the last of my clothing, leaving me naked and exposed.

“You can walk or I can carry you. Your choice,” he rumbles, nearly black eyes boring into me. “Decide or I’m going to decide for you.”

Sparrow must be back because the pounding on the door continues. Scout acts as though he doesn’t hear it.

“Make your choice,” Scout murmurs. “Three, two…”

I don’t know where he expects me to go but I’d rather walk naked than have him carry me. Shakily, I sit up as he counts to one and scoot to the end of the bed. It’s a futile attempt, but I try to cover my breasts with my arm and between my thighs with my other hand. It leaves my ass on display, but that’s better than nothing.

His starved gaze sweeps over my flesh and he smirks at my hand covering my pussy. “Walk. Into the bathroom.”

I’m not eager about having him at my back, but I don’t have any other option. Turning from him, I wobble on my way to the bathroom. Inside, the bathtub is filled with bubbles, smelling of lavender.

The pounding on his bedroom door is muffled now.

“What’s this?” I demand.

“You’re not sleeping in my bed smelling like a street rat.”

Sleeping in his bed?

Another fresh wave of panic hits my bloodstream.

“Get in.” He motions for the bath. “Now.”

I can’t move. My feet remain planted on the tile floor, sore and aching from my long trek. His warm palms on my hips, though, have me skittering from his touch. I nearly faceplant in my attempt to escape him. The second the hot water touches my sore foot, I cry out. Not from pain. It actually feels really good.

Sinking down into the hot water, I gladly hide beneath the suds to avoid his probing stare. I draw my knees to my chest, hugging them to me and rest my chin on top of them.

“Better?”

My eyes cut over to him and I glare at him. “Fuck you.”

His chuckle is deep and wicked. “Filthy mouth, filthy girl.”

Ignoring him, I try to make sense of my situation. How I got here. What will happen to me and Della. The events of tonight keep piling up.

Is Dad alive or did I kill him?

If he’s alive…

For a split second, I’m thankful we escaped him. I can pretend we’re at Ty’s, safe and protected, not in the lion’s den.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice comes out as a quaky whisper. “Why, Scout?”

“Because I can.” He prowls over to the tub and sits on the edge. “You’re my prize—our prize.”

He’s not making any sense, but now that he’s talking, I don’t want him to stop. I need answers. I need to figure out how in the hell I’m going to get out of here.

“I want my sister.”

“Your sister is sleeping. Don’t worry. She’s with the softy.”

These three men tricked me into a false sense of security, kissed me, were intimate with me, and I’m supposed to not worry. Right.

“I don’t understand,” I admit, my bottom lip trembling. “Why me? Why us?”

“You were a job, prickly princess.”

“A job.” My blood cools at his admission. “What exactly was your job?”

“A little bit of this. A little bit of that.”

“Seriously? These answers are pathetic,” I say with false bravado. “You’re pathetic.”

“Oooh, kitty has claws.”

I want to rip his eyeballs out.

“What am I to you now?” I demand instead.

“You’re ours. For a job well done.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, chasing more hot tears down my cheeks. The water soothes my sore feet and achy muscles, but it does nothing for the anxiety clawing at me and shredding my mind.

“We did you a favor,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing down over my spine.

Shuddering at his touch, I jerk away from him and move to the other side of the tub.

“A favor?” I demand in a shrill tone. “Are you insane?”

“So they say. Sully thinks it. Sparrow says it.”

“I want to talk to him,” I say, lifting my chin. “Sparrow.”

He studies me for a beat, gaze roaming over every tearstained inch of my cheeks before he settles it on my lips. “No.”

“Why not?” I shake my head in confusion. “You just said I was a prize for all of you.”

Sully and I kissed. Several times. He was so good with Della.