Aubrey
My head seemed full of sand when I woke, so I didn't dare open my eyes. Everything was strangely quiet—given that my apartment complex was usually a hotbed of parties, loud music, drunken sex, and children fighting around the clock. As I lay there, all I could hear was the sounds of the busy city streets and that seemed like crickets compared to a normal morning. I took advantage of the uncharacteristic peace and pulled the sheets tighter around me, the world wasn't infringing on my rest and so I wasn't ready to face it yet.
Then, glimpses of the night before began seeping in around the edges. The last thing I remembered with clarity was getting ready to walk out on stage. I didn't remember leaving the club—or even how I got home.
I rolled over and noticed that the sheets smelled musky and unfamiliar, so I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the pale room. Blinds covered the large window at the side of the bed where muted light streamed in, broken up by the dark shadowed lines of the fire escape.
My heart thudded as I clenched the sheets—naked and alone in a foreign room.
Sitting up, I held the sheet to my chest. A pair of men's jeans were tossed over the side of a hamper, and a T-shirt hung from the foot board. They were the only clothes in sight, so I quickly pulled the shirt over my head. At least it gave me some covering. I slid my leg over the edge of the bed, but the floor let loose a tiny squeak announcing my movement as soon as my foot hit the floor.
Slow, steady footsteps approached the bedroom door, and it opened revealing an oddly familiar man. My brain clunked like a computer searching through a damaged drive. The information was there somewhere but fragmented among images of men, flashes of lights, and the sounds of loud music.
The man in the private room.
"Two scotches," I said softly.
"You remember," he lifted an eyebrow but didn't seem all that pleased. In fact, for someone who I assumed had brought me home, he looked rather irked for me to be there. Unless he had been nearly as out of it as I apparently was.
"Did we...?" Stupid question. Naked in a man's bed—I'd know. I'd have to know.
He shrugged, his eyes traveling a slow path down my form to my naked legs. It didn't matter that I was half covered, his gaze—that look on his face—made me feel vulnerable, utterly naked, and violated.
I tried to remember—to put the pieces back in place. "Did you give me something? I don't—"
Sure, start off by accusing the strange man who has you trapped in his bedroom of drugging you.
His laugh was dry, but the edge of his lip crinkled up as if amused by the accusation. "No, I don't play that rouse."
"I wasn't drinking." My mind continued in slow motion, but my heart thudded in a quick juxtaposition, filling my ears with a pounding static that made the room spin.
"You were drinking something I'd wager."
"Only water...." I dropped my gaze to the bed, tucking my leg back under the sheet—my only protection. The bottle of water...that's when I had begun to feel hazy. "Devlin. Why?"
"Ah, she's catching on," he mocked, walking in a long, lazy arc around the bed, never taking his eyes off of me. "You are on birth control right?"
My heart stuttered and I gasped for air. Oh, Lord. "What—I—No."
His face twisted into a scowl, but his intimidating approach continued unfettered.
What had I done? Somehow, yet again, I landed in deeper. And I couldn't even for the life of me remember how.
"No birth control and working for Devlin. You're looking for trouble."
"I just dance." I tried to match his snarky know-it-all tone but fell short by a few miles.
He made a sound in his throat, slowly closing in on me. "He's a smooth talker, isn't he? Always says the right things—of course, that doesn't mean he says the truthful things."
My fear was impossible to hide, but I kept my gaze directed at him while trying to assess the room for an escape route. But then what? Call Devlin and ask for help again. I needed more information, some leverage, a smart way out. "And you?" I asked. "What about you?"
"I..." he traced his fingertips along the footboard and I flashed to the night before when it had been my skin under his touch. "I have the luxury to be a bit more blunt. My clients don't really care how sweetly I talk."
Blunt. Then why the hell did he avoid my initial question? Because it should be obvious, my brain pointed out.
"Who are you? I don't...." I cleared my parched throat. "I don't remember your name."
"Because I never gave it to you—although I do assume there are still plenty of things you don't remember."
His fingers left the footboard, moving to find my feet through the sheet. His touches were faint, gentle, and yet overwhelming as if each contained a forgotten memory.
"Colt," he said, paying more attention to where our skin nearly met, separated only by a layer of fine fabric.
"You knew I'd been drugged—or whatever—when you brought me here?" I jerked my feet away but his smile only deepened.
"Yes. Next time you'd have me leave you at the mercy of my brother?"
"Brother?" I inventoried his features again. His skin was a touch paler and his eyes sparkled green—nothing like Devlin's cold, dark eyes. Maybe a touch of the nose was the same, but Colt had fuller lips, a longer face, and long brown hair, currently pulled back in a short ponytail. Every second I spent taking in the details hardened the pit in my stomach and brought back quick flashes of him holding me. Touching me. "Devlin?"
"I'll take your shock as a compliment." His knuckles grazed my arm, reminding me of touches shared between lovers, not strangers.
I knocked his hand away. "Will you just tell me what happened?"
He drew back and crossed his arms. "In short. He drugged you—obviously an attempt to ensure that you'd have a bad night and he'd have you exactly where he wanted you. I was amused by the situation and took my own pleasure in cutting his enjoyment short."
"Amused? This is all entertainment to you?" My throat protested my high-pitched words, but I ignored the course pain. "Where are my clothes?"
"You're a stripper, darlin'—hope you didn't forget that part as well. You weren't really wearing much to begin with."
I shook my head. "Can you lend me some sweats or something and point me to the nearest bus stop?"
"No."
My blood thickened at his short and emphatic answer. Playing some kind of mind-fuck with his brother—fine. Knowing Devlin, I couldn't fault Colt there. I wasn't remotely okay with him dragging me into it, but true fear didn't kick in until I saw the look in his eye when I mentioned leaving.
I rolled off the opposite side of the bed and ducked through the door. My feet slid against a living room throw rug as I navigated the unfamiliar room and bolted for what I truly hoped was the exit.
When I reached for the doorknob, his arm came around my stomach and a cold blade pressed into my neck stealing my defiance.
"First," he said. "Let's cover all the bases. You can run out of here wearing nothing but my shirt and take your chances with the people out there. Granted the people around here know better than to call the cops—also a strike against screaming your fucking lungs out. But I also wouldn't guarantee how long you'll last before someone else tries to take that nice ass of yours."
I shuddered and felt the blade loosen slightly.
"But you may find a phone, you may find someone honest, or you might just run into a cop on your own. Then what?"
I clenched my jaw.
"That's right," he whispered, his breath catching my ear as his voice softened to a low growl. "No cops for you, or you would've taken that route long ago."
I had tried. How much could he possibly know? And how much would Devlin have told him?
He's just playing mind-fuck, I assured myself, but then, I wasn't sure how or if that made the situation any less threatening.
He flipped me around, pressing my back into the door and holding the knife firmly at my neck. "You were running from something long before Devlin blackmailed you into stripping at his high-dollar lion's den."
Holding me with only the blade to my throat, he shifted, drawing his other hand up the side of my leg.
"Please," I whispered, trying to shake him free without the blade cutting into me.
The way he grinned, the Cheshire Cat had nothing on him. And I was utterly at his mercy.
"What do you want?" Every word was like a ball of razor blades passing through my throat.
"I think you've figured that out." He licked his lips and cocked his head as his hand continued its journey up my side, inching up the shirt. "Just a little bit?"
I gasped for air, but a buzzing like thousands of insects filled my head. Just as I thought I might have a panic attack, Colt eased the knife back, giving me space to breathe—almost enough space to run, but as he'd pointed out, I didn't have many viable options.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"No." His answer was again simple and direct. "I have no reason to."
"Rape me?" My voice shook more with that question.
The muscles around his mouth strained as if he was trying to hide a smile. "No. You'll agree."
The air rushed out of my lungs with a rugged, choked gasp, leaving me lightheaded. "I don't think so."
"You will agree." He lifted his eyebrows and drew the knife tip down my throat to my collarbone. "You'll still hate me. Fight me. Fight every sensation. But I'll win. And in the end, you'll beg for it."
The touch of the knife sent my senses into overdrive, but I wasn't as terrified as I should have been—Devlin had already shocked that out of my system. "I don't think that's actually considered consent."
"Ah," he reared his head back. "We're going to debate the finer points of the law, are we? But you see, none of those details matter unless you're willing to use the law. Would you like to call a lawyer to debate semantics?"
Part of me did wonder what would happen if I just had sex with him and got it over with. "No."
"I have an offer for you," he said. He folded the knife and tossed it onto a table. Then, he grasped my wrists and pushed me into the wall, prying my legs apart with his knee and pressing his thigh against my naked sex. "I'll take care of whatever it is you owe my brother—no more stripping and no more playing his game."
My body shook. Did he have any idea how deep I was in? How much Devlin had over me?
How many times could I lose myself before there really was nothing left?
"What do you want?" I barely managed a whisper.
He pinned both of my wrists under his massive hand, holding them above my head while his other hand lifted the fabric of the shirt. "Agree."
"To what? What do you want?" I repeated.
"I told you," his breath was heavy as his lips moved against my ear. His hand squeezed my breast and rubbed my bare nipple until it hardened to a point.
"For sex you'd repay what I owe your brother? Get me out of his hold?" Freedom. It was too good to be true. I'd simply be trading one captor for another and I knew Devlin was bad—I had no idea how bad Colt could get.
"I assume you have a substantial debt to cover—more than a debt I imagine, but you give me what I want—someone to," he paused as if considering what would come next,"play with."
I hated how the word play sounded vile and filthy coming out of his mouth. "How long?"
"Until I get bored. I guarantee that'll be significantly less time than you worked out for serving my brother."
"You want me to agree to...." Every word I could think to use made my stomach roll. "Serve you as long as you want—all undisclosed terms subject to only your discretion."
"Now's not the time for bargaining, darlin'. How much are you in for?"
I swallowed. What would happen if I admitted the full number? I had agreed to at least two years of working for Devlin to even appease him while still being able to afford rent and food.
"Fifty-K," I whispered.
Colt whistled then pressed harder against me until I felt his erection.
"Why should I take your offer over working it off?" My voice was barely more than a squeal
His eyes hardened, losing their malevolent spark. "Because I won't be sharing you with a club full of strangers. Should I remind you who drugged you? Why do you think that was? Do you think that even if you manage to be a model dancer that he'll ever let you walk away?"
I tried to look away, but he pressed his forehead to mine. "He won't let you go."
That wasn't the part I needed to be convinced of. "I'm supposed to believe that you're better?"
"I'm me. No fancy suit or flashy tongue to hide behind. But I'll give you some time to think on it." His lips brushed against my neck, moving up to my ear. "I still can't let you leave yet. If you decide not to take the offer, I'll drop you off at the club tonight, and we'll pretend this never happened. Until then—" He hoisted me up and flipped me over his shoulder, sliding his hands between my legs to hold me as he carried me back to the bedroom.
I expected him to take me right then, but he flopped me on the bed and snapped a handcuff around my wrist, securing me to the bed.
"You could just ask a girl on a date, you know?" I didn't know where the boost of confidence came from considering I was helpless and handcuffed to his bed, but it helped knowing that his knife was in the other room, and there was little he could do that would be worse than Devlin.
"A date." He snorted. "I don't want a date. And even if I did, once a girl finds out what I want, she either disappears to the ladies' room and never returns or she enjoys it a little too much. If you know what I mean."
"I—" I shook my head, my voice was nearly gone. "Can I have water—not spiked preferably?"
He nodded and returned a few moments later with a large plastic cup filled with water. "I won't be gone long, but you might want to go easy on it. I'll order food when I get back."
"You're seriously leaving me handcuffed to your bed?"
"Unless I can give you something else first," he said, prying my legs apart. I squeezed them closed trying to roll away from his reach, but the more I fought, the rougher and more aroused he became. He reared away from me, then slapped my inner thigh hard enough to leave a large red handprint. I bit the inside of my cheek, drawing blood as I forced back a shriek.
"I have my own business to take care of. If you need a cop, be sure to yell really loud."
Fucking asshole. I glared as he walked out of the room. It made me feel temporarily better, but didn't do much good for my situation one way or the other.
Two years entangled in his mess, and I'd never even known Devlin had a brother, but it's not like he was known for sharing anything personal. I had to wonder if any of what came out of his mouth was truthful.
I closed my eyes and listened. No people yelling, no stomping feet—I could hear the traffic outside, but this wasn't even close to the city I was used to living in. The rooms here were probably soundproofed and far more expensive than I could even imagine.
Of course it was.
Colt had a loft, expensive furniture, nice things. Whereas I moved into the first apartment I could afford, confident I'd save up enough to find something better. And yet, two years later my staple furniture still consisted of cardboard boxes, a cheap couch, and a mattress on the floor.
I could make do without a crap load of possessions. It wasn't even greed that had landed me in this mess, but maybe that would have made it all easier to accept—knowing that I'd done something to warrant it.
No. I got screwed just trying to live my life—surprise bills, cuts at work... there was always something.
And there was always Devlin.
At first it was simple, he had a friend here or there who'd give me an extension when I needed it. Then, as soon as I'd get ahead, it'd all get worse again. Like the relentless assault of waves before a storm, they grew bigger, more violent, and each time it was harder to dig myself out of the resulting mess.
With a promotion, things started looking up, but mounting bills would no longer wait for my checks, and that time Devlin gave me a loan. I'd known him for six months and never questioned his intentions, but I did wonder what a rich guy who looked like him would see in a struggling country girl like me.
Mom always said not to look a gift horse in the mouth though. And everyone talked highly of him. Everyone said it'd all work out. But the more pay, more bills cycle didn't let up. A kidney stone put me out for more than a week and left me with reduced hours at work for over a month. Then, on top of my regular bills, I had new ones for the surgeries and hospital stay, and once again, Devlin strode in to help. He even ran errands, but a few months later, his helpful, protective façade faded and he laid on the pressure. It had taken more than a year to see the real Devlin.
With the sadistic grin he wore when he saw that I had no way out, he could have challenged Marquis de Sade for his title.
Tired of dwelling on it all, I rattled the handcuff against the headboard to test my limits. I had nowhere to go, and I wasn't hesitant to admit that the warm, quiet room and soft bed were a welcome escape from what I'd come to know as my world.
For the moment, I was alone. Only faced with the threat that Colt would return. Or possibly that Devlin would somehow find me.
He'd drugged me just to watch me fall again. To assure me that he'd never let me go.
A pounding on the door woke me from my restless nap. I had hoped by some miracle to wake up in my own bed, but I woke to the same room, still cuffed to Colt's bed.
"Ashville City Police." The next round of bangs came louder.
Holy mother.... I jerked the handcuff, then rolled over. Desperate to find a way to get free, I jerked open the nightstand drawer—I didn't expect anything helpful, but a rolled piece of black fabric caught my attention and I grabbed at it.
Lock picks. The fucker had left me right here with lock picks.
"We have a warrant to search the premises."
I assumed that meant they intended to enter with or without Colt.
Fuck. I jammed one of the picks into the mechanism until I felt it pop. Then, I slid my wrist free, wrapped a blanket around myself and headed for the window—and the fire escape. As I slid out on to the high perch, the cold air stung my bare skin and I pulled the blankets tightly around myself and closed the window. Hugging the lock picks to my chest like a teddy bear, even though they'd do nothing to protect me, I curled up at least ten stories above the city.
Movement filled the room behind me, but I hadn't heard any crash to indicate they'd broken down the door. The glass next to me rumbled as thuds and voices emanated from the apartment. I clutched the blanket tighter as four loud bangs shook the wall at my back—probably the drawers in the dresser near the window.
What if they looked out?
What if someone looked up and saw me?
I squeezed my eyes closed, shutting out the hustle and bustle of the city and the vertigo that was setting in from being so high.
The room behind me grew quiet again, and I hoped they'd run out of things to ransack and called it quits.
I sat on the fire escape weighing my options for who knows how long before the window opened and I jumped, ready to bolt.
"Coast is clear, darlin', if you want to come back in."
"Colt?"
He gave me a crooked grin—not the expression I'd expected from a man whose house had just been trashed by the police—unless he was used to it. "Who'd you expect?"
"I don't know, maybe the cops who were rampaging through your place."
He offered a hand and helped me through the window, snatching the lock picks from my grasp as soon as my feet touched solid floor.
The bedroom was trashed with clothes and linens strewn all over the floor. The bed was flipped and torn apart, but Colt barely had a noticeable reaction to any of it. Instead, he stared for a long moment at the lock picks and then me before stuffing them back in the drawer where I'd found them. "I'm going to assume you don't want to discuss your obvious lock-picking prowess."
I shook my head, but didn't move from my spot in front of the window.
Then, he gathered the clothing and dumped it into drawers without bothering to fold any of it. He also didn't bother to explain the police visit or anything else really, so I pushed the conversation. "What was that about?"
He glanced in my direction and shrugged, turning the brunt of his attention to straightening his bed instead.
"The police trash your apartment and all you do is shrug?"
"Could have been worse."
"Well, can I have clothes now? You know, in case someone else shows up?" I reached for one of the drawers to find something for myself, but he caught my arm and flipped me around until I was facing the side of the dresser. I planted my hands against the edge of the solid wood to keep my balance as his fingers dug into my hips pulling my ass backward against him.
"You're wearing far more than you were last night," he grumbled into my ear, pressing himself against my back.
I tried not to think about how good his warmth felt after sitting outside in the cold, but the panicked rush of chemicals to my brain quickly took care of that problem.
I twisted my hips trying to throw him off, but his fingers dug into bone until I gasped.
He moaned into my ear, his hot breath catching my hair and dancing around my exposed neck. "I like that sound."
I clenched my teeth, holding my place and refusing to move to keep from exciting him further. "Remind me again how you're better than your brother."
"Better for you," he said, "because at least I have a shorter attention span."
His hardness pressed against me and my stomach twisted. "You're disgusting."
"More so than him?" He nipped my earlobe.
I didn't have an answer for that.
"Have you slept with Devlin?"
Bile rose in my throat and I wondered how much it mattered. In the beginning, I'd thought about it. Fantasized about the strong, rich man showering me in pleasure and every wanton desire. But it never happened. And once I saw his true side, I vowed it never would. "No."
Colt's voice dropped to a primal level—rough and vibrating against the side of my head as he spoke. "Do you have any idea how close you were to having a very different answer to that question this morning?"
His touch suddenly disappeared and he spun me around, catching me by my hair and holding me in place.
I knew Devlin was capable of despicable things. I didn't for a moment put it past him, but he'd never tried anything despite multiple opportunities, so I struggled to figure out what Colt had been talking about.
Colt traced his index finger down the side of my face. His skin was rough and calloused, just like his personality.
"How much do you remember about last night?" he asked, his voice less rough this time.
"Dancing," I said. I didn't have a coherent stream of memory, but I could put most of the pits into a reasonable order. "Devlin sent me out to wait tables. I ran into you and brought you two scotches."
"When did things get fuzzy?"
"Devlin gave me a water before I went on stage. I think that's when it started, but I assumed it was stage fright."
"I think you assumed wrong, darlin'." His face softened, but his grasp on my hair didn't. If he pulled any harder, I'd have a bald spot for sure.
"No shit."
"See...," he leaned into me, still holding me in place. "That is where my brother and I differ."
"I'm not a hooker. I'm not—"
"Not yet. How long have you been trying to get out from under him?"
I tugged at the bottom edge of the shirt, tired of having my decency stripped away. "Too long."
He didn't have to keep rubbing it in, I already knew I'd never escape.
"And how long do you have to stay at the club—if you're lucky?"
"Two years," I whispered. It had only been one night and I couldn't imagine facing two years.
His lips twisted like a hungry beast ready to feed. "You think you'll survive?"
It's just dancing, I thought. I was still trying to convince myself. But Colt knew far more about Devlin than I could imagine in my worst nightmares. "I don't have a choice."
"I'm giving you one."
"Even if I...." The words died in my chest choking me of oxygen.
Colt caught me, holding me to his chest, as my knees shook and went weak. "Six months," he whispered. "Then, you walk away free and clear."
The touch of his skin against mine ignited more bits of memories—or delusions. Sitting on his lap. His confident and intrusive touches. The building heat between my legs.
It must've been the drugs.
"I know too good to be true when I hear it," I said. "And I don't think I can do what you want."
"Of course you can. I'm not asking you to do anything except agree. I'll take things from there."
I still wasn't convinced. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"Yes. But I won't leave any permanent damage I'll make sure you enjoy it."
"Thought you didn't like it when women enjoy it?"
He released me and straightened the hair around my face. "I like it when they enjoy it on my terms."
That sounded remarkably like Devlin. "So, you're a control freak?"
His face twisted as if he was considering the question. "Not really. No, I don't think so. I'm just particular in what turns me on."
"You want me to fight you, so what if I hurt you?"
"It's all fair in my game." He shrugged, adjusting a lamp that had been knocked over. As casual as he acted, I wondered how many times he'd had similar conversations. How long he'd been planning something like this that it could seem so every day to him. "In fact, if you can manage it, I might enjoy it."
I wanted away from Devlin, that was for damn sure, but I wasn't sure if this was a step up or a plummet into a deeper hell.
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