Rusty had held up a hand, saying, “No explanation necessary, dollface,” and she’d breathed a sigh of relief.
First Christian spouted off about her being at his beck and call and doing his bidding when he had her tied up in bed; then hehad to go and parade their dirty laundry—literally—for the world to see? Had the man no shame?
Apparently not. Or maybe he was like a dog, and the whole charade had been his idea of peeing on her and marking his territory so the other two men knew she washis.
Pretty ridiculous, considering one of the men was gay and hadzerointerest in her sexually. And the other? Jamin “Angel” Agassi?Well, the truth was, Emily had a hard time imagining Angel letting his guard down long enough to get, you know,naked. In fact, she’d often wondered if he showered fully clothed and strapped with weapons. So, yeah, no need for Christian’s metaphorical leg hike.
In fact, she’d been so irritated with him that she’d decided to let him make his own damn sandwich. But then Angel had finished eatingand gone to bed. Rusty had followed his example two minutes later, and she’d been left with nothing to do. Which meant her mind had immediately turned to Angel’s wallet and what Christian must have found inside since he hadn’t attempted to pickpocket Ace or Rusty.
The thought of Christian stalking up that staircase, determination in his eyes and a condom in his pocket, had obliterated allthe not-so-nice feelings she’d had toward him and instead filled her with anticipation. Not to mention a gazillion ideas of ways they could do deliciously dirty things together.
Since she figured it was in her best interest to get him fed as quickly as possible—the man was going to need his stamina for what she had planned for him—she’d tossed her hands in the air and muttered, “Fine. I’llmake the damn sandwich.”
After she’d finished, she’d waited. Andwaited.
In the dark. And the quiet. Her mind wandering back to Christian and that lovely condom. The thought of ripping open the package and sliding the latex over him had her insides melting into sticky caramel goo. That goo began to heat and bubble when her imagination went a step further—to her on her back, legs wide,and him angling his cock down, taking her slowly, his thick length stretching her as it disappeared inside—
At that point, she hadn’t been able to stand it a second longer. She’d trudged downstairs, sandwich in hand, to find him.
But it was even darker down here. And quieter.
Her anticipation waned as a chill stole up her spine and the hairs on her arms lifted. She curled her baretoes against the cold marble tile and whispered again, “Christian? Did you find the washer and—”
She cut herself off when footsteps sounded behind her.
“Well, it’s about damn time.” She blew out a sigh of relief. “I was beginning to think you’d—” That’s all she managed before a hand clamped over her mouth and cold metal kissed her temple. The sandwich fell from her nerveless fingers, hittingthe tile floor with a soft-soundingplop.
“Don’t move,” a deep voice rumbled close to her ear.
Neanderthal.She’d recognize that accent anywhere. Not to mention the smell of him, all cheap cologne and old sweat.
His meaty hand left her mouth to snake around her throat, thick fingers pinching into skin already bruised by his first assault. With her heart trying to burst through herchest and her lungs refusing to do what they’d been made to do, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to scream loud enough for anyone to hear. But damned if she wouldn’t give it her best shot.
She opened her mouth. Before any sound emerged, Neanderthal whispered, “If you scream, I’ll shoot the first person who comes running.”
If his tone were a color, she imagined it would be bloodred. He wasn’tkidding. He would kill the first person he saw. She clamped her mouth shut and turned her head slightly,veryconscious of the pistol pressed to her temple.Seriously? Twice in one day? Can’t a gal catch a break?
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“Right now?” He chuckled. The dry, slithering sound reminded her of worms crawling through the unseeing eye sockets of a dried-out skull. “AllI want is you. Thought I was gonna hafta search the whole sodding house, but here you are. Right by the front door. Making my life easy.”
Her eyes darted around the dark entryway, looking for Neanderthal Numero Dos, a.k.a.Ben. He was nowhere to be found. At least nowhere her straining eyes could see and—
A terrible thought suddenly occurred.
Did Ben have Christian? Is that why Christianhadn’t come back upstairs? Had Ben…donesomething to Christian?
She didn’t allow herself to contemplate the possibility that Ben might havekilledChristian, because if she did that, her psyche would shatter into a million sharp, cutting pieces. She needed her wits about her if she had any hopes of getting out of this mess.
Christian’s fine, she assured herself as Neanderthal dragged hertoward the front door.He’s smarter than both Neanderthal brothers put together. Tougher too. He’s fine. He is. He has to be!
“Open the door,” Neanderthal commanded, his hot, wet breath swirling around her ear, making her shudder with revulsion. “Slowly. Quietly.”
Her hand was shaking with fear when she did as instructed. But as soon as she opened the door, her whole body began to quake.And not only with fear. With cold too. The spring night had turned icy. Frost was forming on the grass, glinting like diamonds under the light of a half-moon.
“Now,” Neanderthal said, keeping one hand around her throat and the other around the pistol kissing her head, “you’re gonna walk with me down the steps and out onto the front lawn. If you try to run, I’ll kill you. If you try to scream,I’ll kill you. If you try to bite me or hit me or take my weapon, I’ll kill you.”
There it was again. That bloodred tone.
