I made it through the garden and waited, looking over my shoulder to see if Reginald was following or if Drake was home and had discovered me gone. But nothing. I was going to get out of here.

  It was just through the meadow, into the woods, and I would be home free. Easy.

  With another deep breath, I got up and ran.

  With every stride forward, I kept thinking about the way my mother had said that I would never amount to anything, that no one was ever going to look after me the way that she had. All the times that she had lied to me and made me sick, taken me to the hospital, when all along she was the one making me ill. The anger, the hurt, and the disappointment fueled me, and I ran faster than I ever had in my life.

  The year after I had gone to live with Gran, the doctors were shocked by my miraculous recovery. I danced and played sports for the first time, only to discover I was bad at most of them. But God, did I enjoy at least trying. I had never been given an opportunity before.

  And with every step, I ran farther and farther away from that little girl who was kept in the dark because she was too sick to do anything. Because her mother didn't love her… or loved her too much.

  Halfway through the meadow, I saw several cars driving along the main road. They were still about a quarter of a mile away, so I didn't worry about them. Those weren't the ones I was trying to flag anyway. I needed to get into the woods and further along the road, and then I would stop someone when I had cover and could see who was coming. It'd be just my fucking luck to stop Drake as he was coming back from whatever errand he was running, and that would just be damn fucking fantastic.

  I was almost through the meadow when suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. The prickle of awareness I always felt when he was near, like my body was honed to his. Along the main road, a car slowly drove back and forth. Going back toward the house, then away from the house. Suddenly, it stopped and the tires screeched. Then I stopped and stared. I didn't need to be closer. Didn’t need to see the make and model of the car. I just knew. That was Drake.

  Holy. Fuck.

  Bitch, move.

  I didn't need to be told twice. I booked it into the woods. He still had to catch up to me. I didn't know how far I was going to get, but I needed to get as far as I could. Maybe if I could get up into a tree, he wouldn't find me.

  Run, honey, run.

  I was reminded of a parable my grandmother told me. She loved to tell me and Willow African parables that she'd heard from her mother. Our favorite was always the one about the lion and the gazelle.

  The basic idea was that every day a lion woke up knowing he had to be faster than the slowest gazelle or he would starve. And every morning, a gazelle woke up, knowing he had to be faster than the fastest lion, or he would be eaten. And when the sun came up, no matter if you were lion or gazelle, you had better be running. That's what this felt like.

  For fuck's sake, I needed the odds to be in my favor. So I bore down and ran faster, knowing that Drake was coming for me.

  20

  Drake

  What. The. Fuck.

  There was no fucking way.

  Even though my eyes were relaying the message, my brain refused to compute. There was no way the runner in the meadow could be Daphne. No way.

  My body knew though. The way that she stopped and stared at me and then took off even faster, I knew.

  I screeched the car over, parking along the edge of the woods and allowing another car to pass. Fuck me.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was still wearing my fucking suit.

  I slammed the car door shut, locked it, and took off running. She had a lead on me, a quarter of a mile at least. Maybe half.

  She was quick, but I was quicker. And there was the question of how long she'd been running and if she knew anything about covering her tracks. I was a decent tracker. Not the best, but not the worst. Although I had better find her before dark, otherwise, I was fuck out of luck and Massimo would fucking win.

  I took off across the field. At the entrance to the woods, I double-checked the pattern of the broken twigs.

  I slowly followed one for several feet, and then the pattern stopped. No footprints, no broken twigs. I went back and retraced my steps to the other path. That one went on further. She'd gone this way. Smart girl. The twinge of guilt that hit me dead center in my chest was annoying and not something I was prepared for.

  Once I knew which path she took, it was easy to see if she stayed on the trail. She was heading straight for the stream. Also a smart move. If I'd never seen her, this path would have led her right to water, and she could have stayed hidden in the woods and gone home. Granted, I would have just been waiting at her flat.

  But I knew she wasn’t that stupid. She would have gone to her sister or to the police. I didn't need the fucking law up my arse, not now. I was too close. I wanted to get my fucking life back, and I wasn't going to let her ruin it for me.

  I followed the path at a quick pace, making as much noise as I cared to. Let her be afraid. Let her know I was coming for her.

  Worry about that later.

  I hadn't left shoes in the room. Was she wearing socks? What kind of stupidity was that? She was going to fucking rip her feet to shreds.

  I heard a scream up ahead, and my stomach dropped making me pick up my pace, bolting in that direction. One of the pathways had veered off to the right.

  Fuck.

  My heart stopped. The sudden flood of adrenaline with the chaser of fear sliced through me. Was she hurt? Had she fallen? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  The faster I ran, the louder the thrashing around got in the bushes up ahead. When the path led up an incline that had steep drops on either side, I slowed down. And that was when I saw her in a tangle below. She was trying to scramble back up one side of the ravine. Then she turned, her eyes wide when she saw me.

  There were too many fallen leaves, and she kept sliding in the mud. And yes, there she was in fucking socks. She winced and cried as she tried to scramble.

  "Daphne, enough. Just come back."

  "The fuck I will," she called.

  She managed to scramble halfway up, and I bolted down my side, going for her.

  When she heard me coming, she scrambled faster, pulling herself up and over onto the path. When I reached for her, she turned swiftly and kicked me in the chest, sending me sprawling because it was the last thing I had expected.

  I nearly hit my head, and I groaned when I landed right on a rock on my arse.

  "Fuck me."

  Her eyes went wide and her lips parted, almost as if to ask, "Are you all right?" But then she caught herself and scrambled again. Next thing I knew, she was on the path.

  I suddenly realized why it was so difficult for her to climb back onto the path. It was wet and muddy, and even with my shoes on I was struggling.

  When I finally managed to make it back to the path, she was running as if her life depended on it. But she was limping and favoring her right side. And she was cradling one arm. Fuck, she’d hurt herself. I swore to God I was going to tan her hide.

  Well, I'm pretty sure her arse is pretty tan. How are you going to accomplish this?

  I had some ideas. But throwing her over my knee was an appealing one. And surprise, surprise, my cock entered the conversation.

  She might like it.

  Shut it.

  I was not losing to my dick today. Nope, I was not thinking about that right now.

  Up ahead, she fell again and used her arms to break her fall, crying out in pain as I chased her down.

  Ten feet, five feet. She took a sharp left, and I ran right past her. When I came back for her, she stuck out her leg, causing me to trip and tumble right back down the ravine.

  She was running again.

  Oh, for fuck's sake. One woman. So much goddamn trouble.

  "Daphne, I'm not fucking around."

  "Fuck yourself then."

  Despite myself, a chuckle escaped.

  I liked her spunk. She really did not give up. And fucking hell, if that wasn't the sexiest thing I'd ever seen in my life, I didn't know what was. I was up on the path and after her in seconds. And this time, I could see she was definitely favoring that leg. She was almost at the road.

  Fuck.

  With fifteen feet more to go to hit the pavement of the main road, I wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up.

  21

  Daphne

  I was done. My big rebellion was over.

  Before I could even get a scream out, his hand clamped over my mouth. "Where do you think you're going?"

  I struggled in his arms, and he held me against him tight. "I swear to fucking God, if you do not stop moving, you will hurt yourself."

  Not only did that make me move more, but it also made me do head strikes and groin strikes with my hands.

  And that's when he flipped me around like I was a rag doll and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me back the other way.

  I whacked against his back and his arse.

  But all he did was chuckle. "I kind of like you spanking me."

  I tried kicking my legs, but he had such a strong lock on them I couldn't move.

  He tsked as he carried me back. "What am I going to do with you? Do you care to explain to me how the hell you broke out of your cuffs?"

  "Do you care to explain to me how you became such an arsehole?"

  He chuckled. "Well, I see you're just a spicy kitty."

  "Fuck you."

  "Oh, that mouth. I know you think you're insulting me or hurting me, but it's making me hot. I like a spicy kitty."

  I shut my mouth then, because what if he did like that? Fuck. I was never getting away from him. I was going to die here. No one was ever going to find me. There would be pieces of me in fucking Reginald's goddamn freezer, where he kept the extra meat.

  I frowned thinking about the oxtail soup. Was that…?

  No. No, that was oxtail. I had eaten enough oxtails in my life to know what oxtail tasted like, but fuck me.

  As we lumbered back across the trail that we came from, he planted his hand on my arse to secure me. And the warm gush between my legs forced me to press my thighs together.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? This man had kidnapped me, tied me up, held me against my will, chased me down, basically hunted me, and somehow, he still made my clit throb? Fuck me.

  Yes, fuck you, indeed.

  No, not like that.

  But my body wasn't listening, because his hand, big enough to practically cover a whole cheek, cupped my arse gently, and I did not have a small arse.

  Fucking hell. I did not want to think about just how big his hands were. I did not want to think about what he could do with those hands.

  He can just as easily choke you out. Which is not what we want.

  This was true. He could choke me out. He could hurt me. Not in a fun, kind of sexy way. If he had his way, I was going to die in captivity.

  I was so screwed.

  No, he's going to take you back, and you're going to find another way to escape. That's all this is. Rest up. Then fight again.

  Could I do that? Fight again? How much fight did I have in me?

  So I slumped into his hold. The sun had already started to set, and the orange and purple sky had dimmed mostly into purple now. Soon it would be dark, and I hadn't gotten far.

  I worried as we started going down the slope of the ravine when his hand was even firmer on my arse. Was he massaging? The hold was gentle but firm.

  No, he just doesn't want to drop you.

  But fuck, it was the way he was holding me. As if I could infer tone from a grasp. What was wrong with me? Was this some fucking Stockholm bullshit?

  No. If you survived your mother, you can survive this.

  Are you there God? It’s me Daphne. Please let me be right about surviving. And while you’re at it, can you please give me a better escape plan?

  And I wouldn't cave. He thought he could break me, but he had no idea where I'd come from or what I’d been through.

  He carried me across the field to the car he’d left on the side of the road. No one would see him with me now. As we approached the car, I squirmed a little, hoping maybe I could get free and dart back into the woods somehow.

  A swat on my arse came so fast and quick that I gasped. "Stop it. You're only going to hurt yourself. That is not my fucking intention."

  I wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that I'd been spanked like a child or the fact that I was pretty sure I was wet.

  Or even worse, I think he knew it, because his hand soothed the spot where he’d smacked me. And fuck me, I was so close to coming. I might die if I didn't.

  You will not come for him. Swear to fucking God, over your dead body.

  When we reached the car, I assumed he was going to shove me into the backseat. Would he handcuff me? Or worse, zip-tie me?

  But no, instead of the backseat, he opened the boot and bent over to put me in. I launched myself at him, wrapping my body around his. "No. No, please God, no. Not there."

  He attempted to peel me off, but I hung on like a baby kitten, all claws and terror, refusing to be put into the carrier.

  "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? I can't trust you being in the car with me. You could use the seatbelt to choke me out."

  I stilled for a moment. "That's a thing?"

  "I'm not telling you that answer. Now, get in the fucking car. I don't want to knock you out."

  I held on tighter, locking my feet. Problem number one, there were no cars to see me. Problem number two, there was no one around to hear me. Problem number three, I couldn't be locked in the boot.

  Please God, I’ll do anything. Do not let him lock me in there, not in the dark and the cold. Do not let him lock me in the boot, please, please, please, please.

  I prayed to every deity I could think of. I prayed to a God I thought had abandoned me years ago. It didn't matter. I prayed, because I did not want to go in. But he was stronger than I thought, and he grunted as he unlatched me from the back of his neck and used his power to unlock my legs.

  When he tossed me unceremoniously into the boot, I pleaded with him, reaching my hands up. "Please, God, I'll do anything, okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run. I'm sorry. Please, God, do not lock me in. Please, please, please, don't. Oh my God."

  He frowned down at me. His gaze flicked to my wrists, and he winced. "I don't have any other choice. You did this."

  Before I knew it, the tears were spilling. "Don't lock me in the boot. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, I'm begging you."

  "You should have thought of that before you made your escape. Tell me one fucking thing, is Reginald even still alive?"

  My brows lifted. "Reginald? Why would he not be alive? Did something happen to him?"

  His brows furrowed. "You're telling me you didn't hurt him to escape?"

  I shook my head. "I would never hurt him. Sure, he's helping you keep me against my will, but he's been kind to me. Besides, I don't hurt people. That's your job."

  His brows knitted, and I could see my opening. "Please, I'll be good, I swear. Just don't lock me in here."

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head as if to clear it. He almost seemed to hesitate. Suddenly, the hint of vulnerability I could have sworn I'd seen just a moment before vanished, and his eyes went cold and flat, a steely gray, no longer looking electric blue. And then he closed me up in the darkness.

  22

  Drake

  I ran into the house, determined to find Reginald first. She said she hadn’t hurt the old man, but history had taught me that people lie.

  I didn't have to go far. He was in the kitchen. "Hey, you're back earlier than I thought. I was thinking—” He stopped, eyes going wide when he saw me. “What's the matter?"

  I wish I could even explain the relief I felt as the tension melted away. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. "Bloody hell, I thought you were dead."

  He frowned. "What the devil is wrong with you?"

  "I… Fucking Daphne. I found her running, and I thought she'd hurt you to escape."

  Reginald's face fell. "Daphne's out?"

  "Well, she was. Now she’s in the boot of my car."

  And then his shock was replaced by horror. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Drake?"

  "What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought she hurt you, mate?"

  Before I could stop him, he marched out the door, straight to the car. "Open the bloody boot."

  "Be careful, because she was kicking and screaming when I put her in there."

  He scowled at me. "Have you learned nothing? Of course, she was kicking and screaming when you put her in there. Jesus fucking Christ."

  I unlocked the car and the boot popped open. But instead of a kicking and screaming Daphne, we were met by pitiful sobs. Reginald's look of reproach was one I wouldn’t soon forget. He looked disappointed and disgusted with me. When I joined him at the boot of the car, I could see why. Daphne's eyes were red-rimmed. Her face was soaked with tears and snot, and she was curled up in a ball, unmoving except for the excessive shaking caused by her crying.

  My gut knotted.

  Reginald reached for her, and I batted his hands away. "No, I'll get her."

  The knot in my gut only squeezed and tightened as I reached in to lift her. Fuck me. I had more than scared her. She was terrified.

  She weighed barely anything as I scooped her in my arms and carried her in the house. I was more aware than ever of her limpness and her blank stare. She wasn't looking at anything. She was done fighting.

  Isn't that what you wanted?

  The answer shocked me.

  No, it was not what I wanted. I didn't want her scared or terrified.

  Reginald followed me upstairs and into my room. Nothing looked amiss. The cuffs were still where we placed them, so how the fuck had she gotten out?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28