Authors: Courtney Lane
“She has a head injury and it looked as though she was stabbed more than a few times, too. Did you murder her?” I called after his path while my feet landed on solid ground. Mentioning that I saw Jory was out of the question. She might’ve escaped to the room, and I wanted to ensure she remained safe until I could find help.
He turned on a dime and strode toward me. The slow beat of the taps of his shoes on the marble floor worked out of sync with my racing heart. On his face, the human was gone and replaced by a stark, dangerous mask. “She’s Mrs. none-of-your-fucking-concern. I’m in the beginning of cleaning up a mess that her dishonesty created. Does that answer your question?”
I rubbed at my thigh, hoping my pants were as flexible as they looked and currently felt. The violent pace inside my chest became a painful sensation. The thrum in my ears muffled what little sound there was around me.
The devious smile became amplified. “No longer feeling inquisitive? You aren’t going to ask if I was the one who specifically killed her?” With each step he made toward me, I moved in the opposite direction. “While the knife work wasn’t my doing, I finished the sloppy job with a bullet to her brain.
My
reasons for killing her weren’t centered around her lies. Would you like to know why she’s dead?”
Finding myself cornered, I tried to find a way out. “The reason you killed the woman with shitty taste in decorating is the last thing on my mind.”
Darting his arms out, he blocked me into a corner of the room, keeping me prisoner with his hands resting on the wall at my back. He inhaled as if he were breathing in the fear I pretended wasn’t there and relished in the scent permeating his nose. “The flight response is coaxing you to do something silly. It’s telling you to run.” His deadly warning was hidden in the soft lilt of his voice. “Don’t. I’ll find you, and it will change the dynamic of our relationship. You never have to worry about dying at my hand. What I can’t really promise is that I’ll never hurt you. It’s not because I want to.” The flicker in his eyes told me he took pleasure in making me squirm. “It’s because it has to be done.”
The alarm bells were resoundingly loud, repeating over and over again:
“This is bad. This is very bad.”
He touched my trembling arm, making it burn and itch. He grabbed my hand, locking his fingers in the spaces and kissed my knuckles. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together. I’m going to change your life. Don’t ruin our beautiful start by behaving rashly.”
I shied away only to have Catch delete the space between us and strengthen his hold on my hand. The diamond ring became a torture device between my fingers.
“D-did you want me to see this?” I pointed toward the bathroom. “That.”
“You think it was my idea to scare you?” Inching closer, he exhaled, and his breath danced down my face. Gripping the back of my head in both of his hands, he pressed his body against me. The action was so swift and smooth, I yelped.
“Sugar,” he purred, running his lips across my forehead. “I know what you want to do. I can guarantee you I will catch you. And because you made me run, it will frustrate me.” He dropped his hold on me, giving me much needed space between him and my body. “Are you going to be a good girl, or are you going to do something very ill-advised?”
Simultaneous in my actions, I nodded with a coy smile and slid my hands down my curves. “I’m going to be a very fucking good girl, Catch.” I aimed to seduce with my words; he wasn’t moved.
It didn’t matter, it distracted him. I slipped out of my shoes and tried to keep my height from suddenly changing by staying on the balls of my feet. Using the tip of my toe, I pushed one of the stilettos a few inches away. He was too preoccupied with watching my mouth as I slowly licked my lips to notice what I had prepared between us.
“Wait…that was another lie. I was never good at pretending to be a good girl.” I dropped down as fast as my body would move and picked up the shoe. My arm, wielding the lethal heel, came up with my body and was stopped by a slender and deceitfully strong hand surrounding my wrists.
Using his hold as leverage, I lifted my foot to build up momentum and used the second one to land a kick to his groin.
His hold tightened on my wrist. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as they reddened, fighting against the pain I’d dealt to his most sensitive area. Eventually, he had no choice. He coughed and wheezed, bowing forward, and released his hold on me.
I dashed down the corridor, sliding on my ass as I raced down the marble floors. I took the steps two, and occasionally three, at a time. Racing across the foyer in long and fast strides, I started for the front door.
I tried for the door, the metal panel over the knob glowed a steady red. As though I finally had luck on my side, it turned green, and a clicking sound emanated from the crease between the two doors.
I burst through the doors, swinging my arms in a controlled fashion to heighten my speed. I never looked back, and I never looked down. Twigs and dry needles padded my heavy steps, burning the tender bottom of my feet.
The gate to the estate was closed. I searched around for a panel and pushed a series of buttons. Nothing would make it budge. My head swayed from left to right, sizing up the brick enclosure on either side of the wrought iron gate.
I checked back at the path toward the house. Catch should’ve recovered, but he was nowhere to be found. A tree large enough to give me a boost caught my attention. Rubbing my hands together, I prepared them. I scaled the lower branches until I reached an overarching branch. Extending my body, I reached out clutching the brick enclosure and unwrapped my legs from the branch.
Having trouble pulling myself up, I pushed with all my leg strength and vaulted to the other end. I fell several feet down and curled my back to soften the blow. My action helped very little; the impact burned my spine, slowing me down.
I staggered up, running away from the street and into the dense forest of trees. I zigzagged around until I heard the telltale sign of a car. I stayed on the side of the tree line until I was sure it wasn’t Catch. When I was certain, I raced toward the road.
They passed me by despite my overdramatic arm-waving. I was ready to give up until I heard the screech of tires.
I limped toward the car, keeping my distance in case my ride would’ve been a worse fate than going back to Catch. A man dressed in a black suit, clad in huge black sunglasses turned to me. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I checked both sides of the roads. “Can you take me…take me somewhere?”
Sliding his sunglasses on top of his head, he showed me a glimpse of his glimmering, dark brown eyes. “Whatever you need. Come in.”
I swung the door open and settled into the seat. As he drove off, I quickly shut the door. “There's a girl back there in trouble. I need you to call to the cops.”
His head jerked so quickly, a hair disobeyed the gel he saturated his mane with and began to stick straight up. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
I fastened my seatbelt and ignored him. “Thank you for stopping to help me, but can we not?” I pointed to his phone in the center console. “Call.”
“Sure.” He touched a full bottle of Evian in the cup holder. “Have some water. Calm down. You’re safe now, okay?”
I shook my head declining.
A loud pop caused the car to rock and jar. Unable to maintain control of the wheel, he veered off the side, sending the car careening toward the forest. The force thrust us to the right, and then the left. My head crashed against the side door glass with such a heavy impact, my vision began to blur.
A sound similar to a firecracker went off. Glass shattered on the driver’s side. The man who helped me had gotten his head stuck partially inside the glass on his driver’s side window.
I shoved at the door but it was stuck against a tree. I looked up for a sunroof and had no luck. Struggling with my seatbelt, I slid into the backseat on the passenger side, and shoved the door open.
Willpower won over whatever the crash had done to my senses. I rolled out of the backseat, onto the side of the road. Turning toward my path, I forced myself to push through and ran at a delayed pace down the road. I stumbled as my legs gave out on me. The roadside spun around as if sucked through a spinning vortex.
“Sugar,” Catch called me sweetly, his voice resounding from behind me. “There’s no point in running from me, sweetheart.”
I didn’t listen.
A waffle resounded through the air. I felt a burn at my neck. I touched a feather, attached to a small cylinder. Pulling it from my neck, I examined it. Between the feather and the needle was an empty vial.
The crackle of shoes on leaves and tree needles pounded in rhythm with the ear-piercing hum. I lifted my heavy lids to see a pair of leather boots in front of me, legs dressed in dark pants, and the barrel of a tranquilizer gun gripped tightly in his hand.
“You’re trying to kill me,” I spat at Catch, holding my neck. I dropped my hand, finding it too heavy to maneuver.
He crouched down into my line of sight. He was genial, entertained with the ordeal.
“Just kill me and get it over with.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You’re never going to die by my hand or anyone else’s.” A hand reached out for me. I tried and failed to smack it away. He grasped my hips and helped me stand upright, propping me up against what I assumed was a tree.
“You’ve learned a very valuable lesson today, Sugar. I’ll do anything to get to you, including kill.” He embraced me like an attentive lover. “I’m not going to tell you what I know about you. That would suck the fun out of the time we’re going to share together. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me everything.
“You haven’t come to my side of things, but you will. When you do, you will realize what I know; we want the same things, sweetheart.” Sucking his teeth, he glanced at my neck; I knew better than to think it—pity cinched his features. “I shot you with a tranquilizer dart. I can tell you haven’t been getting much sleep, and the small dose will affect you more than what’s considered usual to give you some much needed rest. It will be a while before you wake up again.”
“You shot me like I’m a dog with rabies?” My words were so slurred I barely understood them.
“I shot you because you’re stubborn.”
“Fuck…you!”
A soft raking of his nails against the delicate skin on my neck elicited a violent shudder. “Fuck me, Sugar?” He held my head firmly and rested his lips against my ear. “I know this is hard for you, but have patience, sweetheart. You’re going to wish you could hate how much I’m going to make you feel.”
His warning was the last thing I heard. The duplicitous good looks were the last vision imprinted in my mind.
-8-
R
EADY
TO
B
EGIN
?
Taking care, I sat up in bed and surveyed my surroundings. I had been transported to a bed in a room different from the one where I stumbled on Catch’s secret.
One-sided frenetic chatter filtered into the room, emanating from the hallway. The woman’s voice sounded very similar to Jory’s—and even closer to the woman who helped Catch at the hotel in California Plaza.
“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Jory said. “It was funny, watching her get all scared and run, wasn’t it?”
I supposed the joke was on me. I slid out of bed fingering an outfit foreign to me; a white summer sweater, and a white skater skirt. A mild soreness hit me on my neck and torso, indicating he might’ve given me something to numb my pain. I was oddly without any underwear. My pussy felt like walking sex, and was lightly lubricated by some kind of clear blue jelly substance. My only calming thought was that it didn’t feel like I’d been fucked.
As I planted my feet down on solid ground, a restricting device tightened around my ankle. I lifted my leg to investigate. A thick ankle cuff was secured around my ankle.
Exhaling loudly, I brushed my hands over my damp hair, partially dry in places, forming my natural curls.
A shadow hit the room and drew my gaze to the doorway. Catch greeted me with neither a smile nor a frown. The too-pretty-to-be-such-a-psychotic-asshole was placid. “I apologize for Jory’s behavior; she has a very esoteric sense of humor.”
“You can say that again,” I grumbled. “The dead body would’ve made me run, anyhow.”
“I told her the same.” With a sigh, he stepped forward. “Your bracelet doubles as a tracking device.”
I stared at the offending piece of jewelry and blew out a hissing stream of air.
“Sugar, take my simple piece of advice and use it going forward. Confidence is a tool. Arrogance is a disadvantage.”
“What the fuck do you want from me, Catch?” My exhausted voice was barely audible. I felt heavy, my reactions slowed.