Текст книги "Willing Captive "

Автор книги: Belle Aurora

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Willing Captive

Published by Belle Aurora at Smashwords

Copyright © 2013 Belle Aurora

First published 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, includingphotocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,without the prior written permission of the author, except in thecase of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certainother non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. Forpermission requests, write to the author, addressed “Request:Copyright Approval” at [email protected].

Chapter One

A series of unfortunate events

Lily

She wrapped her small hand around his thick girth and squeezed. “I can make you happy. Just give me a chance, baby.”

“Don’t do it, Brock. Don’t fall for it,” I mutter to myself. Tapping the screen on my eReader to turn the page, I cringe and whine, “Oh, you stupid son of a bitch! She’s sleeping with your brother!” Shaking my head, I sigh, “Serves you right for falling in love with a ho.”

My bedroom door opens and my sister, Terah, creeps in and shuts the door behind her, careful not to make a sound. I look at her ensemble and already shake my head vigorously. Her face pleads. She says nothing just smiles huge and nods excitedly. I sigh, “No, Terah. I almost got busted last time.”

“Lily, you’re gonna dry up like an old prune. You’re only twenty-two, sweetie. Live a little!” She sounds exasperated.

Suddenly feeling defensive , I scowl at her. “I live just fine, thank you very much.”

Terah’s face softens, and she sits on the edge of my bed. “He can’t hold onto us forever, you know? We gotta grow up sometime.”

I know she’s right.

I hate when she’s right.

My name is Delilah Flynn. Everyone, except my dad, calls me Lily. I spend most of my days right here, in my bedroom. This has not always been my choice, but over the years, I’ve grown to love my room. It’s become a sort of sanctuary to me.

In this room, I can be who I want to be. No pressure. No expectations. I can do as I please. And I like it like that.

Our family owns a transport company called Flynn Logistics. My father came over to America from Ireland when he was thirteen. His family had nothing. When I say nothing, I mean nothing. He tells me stories about how my grandfather would come home from work and remove his coat only to hand it to my father so he wouldn’t be cold when he walked to his job as a grocery store shelf stocker.

They had to share a coat. It was a communal coat! That’s how poor they were.

Mom met Dad when she was in high school. High school wasn’t really an option for my dad. His family couldn’t afford it, and back then, there was no shame in that. Mom and Dad happened to live on the same block and soon became friends. A year passed and Mom fell hopelessly in love with Dad; she never cared about the fact that he was poor. Her family wasn’t much better off. But she figured if she could only have him as a friend, she’d somehow deal with that. What she didn’t know was that dad loved her just as much, maybe more, but he wouldn’t ask her out until he was sure he could provide for her properly. Dad says he loved her before he even knew her name.

Talk about being brought up with an unrealistic view on love, right? Like that would ever happen to me. The probability of that happening to anyone is maybe one in a billion.

I admire my dad so much. What he’s accomplished in his life is short of miraculous. He started working in a transport sorting center when he was sixteen for a major logistics company. He spent the first year working his ass off and showing his superiors he was reliable and enthusiastic. Eventually, he was moved up from the sorting center to manager of transport. He spent five years with them and learned all he could. From packing and shipping items, to understanding how sorting machine do what they do then working up to managing a ground crew. He saved every spare penny and resigned when he was twenty-one. That’s when he started Flynn Logistics. It was a huge risk. Luckily, it was a risk that paid off. As my dad always says in his thick Irish brogue, “Can’t lose a thing if ye’ve got nothing to lose.”

Flynn Logistics now goes head-to-head with the major transport companies. We’re competition, a huge threat to them, and I see the pride light my father’s face whenever this fact is brought up.

My father is somewhat overprotective. When I say he’s somewhat overprotective, it’s kinda like Channing Tatum being somewhat good looking…as in tremendously. So, here I am, a grown woman with my sister as my only friend. If I want to leave the house for anything, anything at all, I need an escort. The same goes for my sister, but she’s sneaky and finds ways around the rules. I never really understood why this was, but my father is not a person you argue with. Don’t get me wrong, my dad is a loving, caring man. He rarely raises his voice to anyone and it takes a lot to get him angry. He’s a good dad, just a little over the top and extremely paranoid. But in our household, my father holds a lot of respect, respect he’s earned. So, rule number one, you don’t ever question my father.

Our family isn’t big. It’s just me, my older sister, Terah, my mom, and my dad. We live in a mansion in an exclusive suburb in Atherton, California. I thought this house was a little over the top when we moved in. I mean, I know we have money, but dad insisted we move from our old home, a sweet four-bedroom house, into this monstrosity four years ago. Our newest house includes ten bedrooms, six bathrooms, a library, three offices, a sun room, a huge pool with matching pool house the size of our old place, a tennis court, and, of course, a state of the art monitored alarm system.

I hate this house. There is nothing homely about it. It’s sterile. It feels like a prison decorated to look like a palace. But I know better; I see it for what it is .

My dad was so excited to show me my new room that first day here. When the door swung open and he shouted, “Ta da!” I almost fainted.

My bedroom is freaking huge. It’s five hundred and thirty square feet, which is half the size of our old home. If I stand at the door and look into my room, this is what I’d see: On the left-hand side is a mahogany, four-poster, king-sized bed with a floral-print bedspread. Next to it is a matching mahogany dresser that is just for looks because I don’t have a lot of clothes (I’m not a girly girl who likes to shop), a desk which I never use because I prefer to do any school work on my bed. There’s a door leading to my built-in closet, and a second door leading to my private en-suite bathroom. On the right-hand side, is a complete entertainment system with a big screen LCD TV, DVD player, a PlayStation 3, a brand new stereo, which also acts as surround sound when I watch movies, two comfortable sofas, and my favorite feature is my library lining the entire back wall.

Reading is my escape. It makes my brain work, which gives me a short reprieve from my isolated life.

My room has been painted a pale-peach color, which I love. I have several paintings lining the walls, and a huge bay window leading to the small patio outside.

Terah, who is twenty-four, has a room that looks identical to mine, just on the opposite side of the hall. Our bedrooms are the only two that are permanently occupied on the second floor; the rest are guest bedrooms. Mom and Dad occupy the only bedroom on the first floor. Dad said it’s safer for Terah and me in case any intruders come thieving in the night, that way, theirs would be the first bedroom approached. Can you believe that? I’d rolled my eyes and told him he’d been watching too many ‘CSI’ shows.

Looking up from my eReader, I sneak a peek at my sister. Her puppy-dog eyes are wide in pleading and she bats her lashes at me. She looks like a constipated shih-tzu . I laugh, “Don’t even try it. I’m not going. You wanna party? Party, Terah. I’m staying right here.”

She throws her hands down on the comforter and growls at me. “Fine! Become a crazy cat lady. See if I care. Don’t say I didn’t try to help when you’re stroking your pussies all night long wishing someone was stroking yours.”

I burst into laughter as she slides off my bed and makes her way to the wall to wall mirror in my walk-in closet. Stepping out of the closet, she asks, “How do I look?”

Looking up, I silently take her in.

She’s beautiful. As always. Wearing a pair of black short shorts that make her already long legs look impossibly longer. The deep-green sequined halter she has on makes her emerald-green eyes pop, her deep burgundy hair cascades down her back in soft waves, and the small-heeled sandals make the whole look deceptively innocent. She takes a pair of my gold dangly earrings and puts them on.

Truth be told, I look a lot like my sister. When people see us together, they ask if we’re twins. We look almost identical to the way our mom looked when she was younger: deep red hair, green eyes, tall and slim. My dad always said he hoped we’d be ugly like him. That never fails to make me laugh because my dad is really quite handsome. He’s tall with a solid frame, dark brown hair, and light-green eyes.

“You look beautiful, Rahrah.” I say wistfully.

She smiles at my use of her childhood nickname. Her soft eyes peer into mine. She whispers, “Please come with me. Just one more time.”

Dipping my chin, I shake my head slowly. “Naw, I’d just become the life of the party.” I shoot her a wicked grin. “I know how much you like being the center of attention. Wouldn’t wanna take that away from you. You go. I’ll cover.”

Stomping over to me, she sits back on the bed and wraps her arms around me. I hug her back as hard as I can without choking her. She snickers, “Ha ha, bitch.” She holds me a long time before she mutters, “Not always gonna be like this. You’ll see.” And it makes me want to cry.

My eyes blur and the bridge of my nose tingles.

“I know,” I mumble into her shoulder.

Squeezing her once more, I release her and put on a huge fake smile. “Go. Quickly.”

Terah runs over to the windows that lead to my patio and blows me a kiss. She opens the door and steps out when we both hear the intercom in my room hiss before dad’s voice clearly sounds. “Terah. Delilah. Downstairs. Now.”

Terah’s stunned facial expression is priceless. I burst into laughter and say in a sing-song voice, “Someone’s busted.”

Eyes wide with shock, she whisper hisses, “No way! There’s no way he knows. This has gotta be something else.”

I shrug. “Lucky you didn’t go. We both would’ve been in lockdown for a month.”

Terah looks down at herself. She looks like she’s going clubbing and we need to cover her up quickly before my dad sees. “Take off your shoes and put on my robe. Wrap it up tight.”

She slips into my red Japanese silk robe and ties it so tight she’s probably cutting off the circulation from her waist down. We make our way downstairs and into the dining room. As soon as I see my dad, I know two things: he’s tired, and worried.

Shit. Not good.

Mom sits next to him, holding his hand, looking equally as tired and twice as worried.

Double shit. Something’s wrong.

Terah and I stand just inside the dining room door. We look at each other with obvious concern and she takes my hand in hers and squeezes. I clear my throat and my dad looks up. He puts on a fake smile. “Ah, there ye are. Come in, my girls. Take a seat.” I love my dad’s accent.

Terah and I sit close to each other. I look from mom to dad and ask, “What’s wrong? And you can’t lie for shit so don’t say ‘nothing’.”

Dad glares at me. “Language, Delilah.” I hate being called Delilah.

Mom pats his hand. She looks to me and my sister and explains, “There have been some problems at Flynn Logistics.”

Terah and I look at each other in shock before my sister whispers, “Are we losing the house?”

Dad’s brow furrows. “No. This isn’t about money,” he sighs and runs his hands down his face. Whatever this is, it’s affecting him…a lot.

My heart squeezes.

Sick of the run around, I look right at my dad. “What kind of problems?”

Dad inhales deeply and leans back in his chair. “Well, there have been some accusations thrown around. These accusations are the kind a person can go to jail for…for a very long time.”

My sister and I both squawk in disbelief, “What?”

Mom cuts in. “Calm down, girls. Your father hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s little they can do. We’ve allowed the police full access to computers and documents at the warehouse and to whatever else they need.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Dad nods. “Jett and Jamie are helping as much as they can. We’ve shown the police we’re being cooperative. I’ve left them to it. The police don’t want me back there till this has been sorted.”

Silence covers us like a thick fog. I shrink into myself. “Well, this certainly sucks balls.”

Dad’s lip twitches. “Yes, darling. It does suck balls. But like ye ma said, everything will be okay. I’m sure of it.”

Terah asks the question I’ve been dying to. “What exactly are the accusations?”

Dad looks between us a long moment before he answers, “Well, it’s complicated. All ye need to know is that we’re upping security here and at the warehouse. College is out of the question until this enquiry is complete.” Looking toward my sister, Dad’s face softens in apology. “Sorry, Terah.”

Terah looks as if she’s about to burst into tears. This is her second year of college. I’ve been working with dad at Flynn Logistics the past two years. He calls it an internship; I call it a sly way for him to keep an eye on me. The only two people I really see there are Jett and Jamie. I rarely leave the office.

Jett and Jamie Harrison are my dad’s right-hand men. They moved here from Ireland about three years ago. Well, actually, Dad brought them over from Ireland to come live with us and to work at the warehouse. Dad’s best friend growing up was a man named Kian Harrison. Although I never met him, I heard about him a lot and spoke to him on the phone some. He was a happy man, always laughing and making jokes. It never seemed to faze him that dad had become a big-shot businessman. To Kian, he’d always be Ciaran Flynn with the muddy face that played soccer with him whenever he could. They remained true friends until one night three years ago when Kian’s wife, Aileen, called to tell us that Kian had died from a heart attack. Dad spoke with Aileen a lot to check on her welfare. He sent money which she declined. Dad was devastated. No amount of money could fix this. Aileen called one night, and after a short conversation, Dad asked what he could do to help. He told her he’d do anything that was in his power. She timidly asked whether he’d give her twin sons jobs at Flynn Logistics. Dad was more than happy to do that. If Kian’s sons were anything like their father, they’d be a great addition to the business.

Turns out Kian’s sons are exactly like their dad was. Sweet, polite, and funny. Both are hardworking men at twenty-six years old. They’re identical twins. And gorgeous.

As in Meow.

Tall and slender, yet muscular, black hair and grey eyes that almost look silver. They are just…wow. I’ve seen them both eyeing Terah. They’re smitten. And the problem is that she’s just as smitten…with both of them. A recipe for disaster, to be sure.

Dad breaks me out of my thoughts with, “I’m sorry, girls. I canna do anything about this. Terah, I’ve deferred the rest of the college semester and ye’ll stay home with Delilah and me. We’ll work from home doing what we can till they say we can go back.”

Dipping my chin, I nod to the floor. Terah’s hand grips mine so tightly that I know there’s nothing more she wants to do than screech at the top of her lungs and throw shit around the room. I get it. I do. College was her only freedom and with that gone…she’s going to become like me.

Defeated.

Standing abruptly, I announce, “Well, if that’s all, I’d like to be excused. I’m a little tired.”

Dad looks up to me. “Of course, dear. If that’s what ye-” Dads cell phone vibrates on the dining table. The screen flashes bright red. When my father picks up his phone to look at the display, he visibly pales. Looking between me and Terah, he says firmly, “Girls, go to ye rooms. Right now. Lock the doors from the inside. I don’t want ye to come out until ye hear from me. No one else but me. Do ye understand?”

My blood runs cold. I can’t move. I’m petrified.

“I said do ye understand me?” Dad booms and it jolts me. I nod vigorously and from the corner of my eye, I see Terah do the same. Dad focuses on something passed Terah and I, in the distance and whispers, “Run!”

My legs move of their own accord.

I drag Terah down the hall, running in my socks and slipping every few steps. We bolt up the stairs, and when we reach our rooms, I pull her into a hard hug. She whispers, “It’s probably nothing, Lily. Do what Dad says, okay?” I nod into her shoulder.

We separate. I hear her go into her room and shut the door. I open the door to my room, with my hand still on the knob. I freeze, solid as an iceberg.

Oh, fuck my life!

Chapter Two

Kidnapped

Lily

Pressure builds in my ears, my palms sweat, and I lock my knees to stop them from shaking.

Staring into the masked face of the tall, muscled, olive-skinned intruder, I try hard to think about what I should do, but all my brain is giving out is white noise.

He stands by my bed, motionless, wearing a tight black tee, black cargo pants, and black army boots. The mask he wears is black and looks to be leather too. It’s a peculiar looking mask. It’s been sewn together and covers his whole head. The eye holes are round but covered with some sort of mesh so you can’t see directly into the person’s eye, same with the nose holes and mouth. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I almost want to ask him where he got it from . It looks very steam-punk, and if I’d seen him on the street and not in my room being all creepy and shit, I would ask him where he got it.

What the eff? Focus!

My brain currently wears a sign that says “Gone Fishin’”.

Movement at the door to my closet tears my focus away from the intruder. When another identically dressed, masked man appears, only bigger and taller, I figure I’m screwed.

Well, that’s that. Goodbye cruel world. Be sure to fuck thyself on the way out, you mean-assed son of a whore.

I should’ve snuck out with Terah tonight. God, she’s gonna be so pissed at me!

A muffled scream from Terah’s room makes me break out into a cold sweat. I panic a moment before courage blooms from the center of my gut. I breathe deeply and steady myself.

I am not going down without a fight!

My hand stiffens on the door knob. I take a small step back, and the man at my bed shakes his head slowly. And shit! It freaks me out.

I take another small step back. My sister screams again, louder this time, and it slices right through me like a hot knife through butter. The man at my closet steps closer to me. I hold his masked gaze and take another step back. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I turn and run as fast as I can to my sister’s room. I thank God she didn’t have time to lock the door. I open the door to see two more masked men restraining Terah. My hands shake as I take in her tearful face. I rush over to her desk, pick up the crystal vase that sits on the corner of it, and creep over to masked man number four. Unable to see me with his back to me, I smash the vase down onto his head as hard as I can without a moment’s thought. It shatters to pieces and the man falls to his knees yelling, “Fuck!”

Strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me. I kick out and shriek, “No! Let my sister go!”

Balling my hands into fists, I swing back over my shoulders and connect with another masked man’s face. He growls, “Stop!”

Stop? Are you shitting me? How about…no!

“Limp dick motherfucker! Let me go!” I yell out through heaving breaths.

My knuckles throb but I try to hit him over and over again. He’s moved his head behind mine so I can’t reach his face. Pulling my arm forward, I wrench it back hard and elbow him in the ribs. He drops me and I hit the floor with a thud. Scrambling to my feet, I run forward two steps before bigger, taller masked man number two hauls me over his shoulder and runs with me down the stairs. It hurts my stomach so badly, I feel like I’m going to puke. I don’t even realize I’ve started crying until I can barely take in a full breath. The man takes me down the hall and toward the front door.

The nerve of these guys! Kidnapping us through the front door?

Now that’s just cocky.

I screech, “DAD! MOM! HELP!”

A muffled argument I can’t quite make out reaches my ears and I hear my dad yell out, “Delilah!” just as the masked man takes me out the front door.

Anguish slices through me. My stiff body slumps in defeat and I sob into the man’s back. I cry out, “Please let me go! Oh God, please!”

But the man’s pace never slows.

As we pass the property line, he holds me tightly and carries me into the back of a large black van. The van takes off as soon as my butt hits the seat. I have no fight left in me. The courage I felt earlier is completely demolished by the one thought circling around in my head…

It’s official.

I’ve been kidnapped.

***

The back of the van is pitch black. I can’t see a damn thing. I have no idea where I’m being taken. All I know is that Humungo won’t let go of my arm.

The van stops after what feels like about twenty hours of driving when in reality, it’s been around twenty minutes. The side door slides open and light floods the back. I look around me and fear clogs my throat.

There are another three people in the back with us. They’re all so quiet that I hadn’t even noticed them. They’re masked, too. If the devil had minions, this is what they’d look like; I’m sure of it.

Freaking. The. Eff. Out.

Humungo tugs on my arm and steps out of the van, pulling me out behind him. I look around. We’re in an underground parking lot that’s completely empty. I squeak when he lifts me over his shoulder again and carries me like I’m a sack of potatoes. I don’t mind not walking right now because I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, but damn, his shoulder in my belly hurts like hell. My face is pained as I strain through gritted teeth, “Please put me down. You’re hurting me.”

To my absolute shock, he does.

The man places me on my feet in front of him, grips my upper arm with one hand and removes his leather mask with the other. I’m suddenly staring into a pair of blue eyes that are so cold, if you looked up arctic in the encyclopedia these eyes would be pictured underneath.

“Don’t even think about trying to run.” As he says this in his rough and husky voice, I realize I’m trying to back away from him.

Fear washes over me. I take a moment to look around.

Dark. Desolate. Deserted.

Two options flicker through my mind; attempt to escape, or go with the husky voiced, gruff man. Mentally, I weigh my options. Escaping means running. Running on Jell-O like legs likely won’t get me far, which would leave me captured once more by an extremely pissed-off abductor.

I scan my surroundings again , desperately looking for a means of escape. My face falls when I can’t find one. I look up into the face of my kidnapper and nod in resolve.

The dickhead smirks and I want to knee him in the jingle bells.

My face must convey what I feel because his smirk flares into a wide, gleaming, crooked smile.

The man is actually not bad looking. Not traditionally good looking, but gruffly attractive in a manly way. His nose is crooked and looks like it’s been broken a few times, but he has high cheek bones and a strong chin. His full lips surround his teeth which are white and a little crooked on the bottom. This man doesn’t look like he was ever meant to be a pretty boy. His dark hair is buzzed. His tall, muscular frame is extremely intimidating; his arms alone look like they could squish a person’s head to mush with no effort.

His gruffness, his appearance, it works for him in a mean, scary way. Damn shame he’s an asshole criminal who I want to gut with a jagged, rusty blade.

When the others come out from the van, I’m shocked to see a woman amongst the men. What kind of woman would take part in this sort of thing? She must be a heartless bitch. When she removes her mask, she offers me a sad smile that I want to slap right off her pretty face. She is taller than me, fit and lean with long, dark-brown hair and hazel eyes. An olive-skinned man, who I’m sure was the one standing at my bed, removes his mask and smiles at me. His dark hair is short but not buzzed. His brown eyes are warm and soft. He jerks his chin at me and says, “Wassup?” and I glare at him.

These guys are clearly bananas. Mentally unstable fruit loops, every single one of them.

The third man doesn’t remove his mask. He gets into the passenger front seat of the van and it drives away, leaving me with this strange and potentially dangerous group of people. The lady approaches me and asks kindly, “Would you like some water?”

I don’t want anything from these people. Avoiding her gaze, I shake my head.

The man and woman casually flank me while Humungo hottie holds me in a tight grip. He jerks his chin to the left and the olive-skinned man and the woman jump to follow some unspoken order.

Oh shit. He’s the boss-man. Just wonderful.

I risk looking up at him to find his narrowed eyes searching me. He searches a while before his gaze fixes on my hair. I’m sure I look like death warmed up and I don’t give a damn. He’s the reason I look like shit and I wear the look with pride. I straighten, stand taller, and glare right back at him.

Take that, asshole.

Okay, so I’m mentally shaking in my boots, but I can’t let him see that. Right now, I have to go with the flow of things, wait for the right moment and try to escape.

Be cooperative. Be polite. Make them think you’re going along with this whole scheme .

Okay, okay. Time to change tactics. I drop my glare and clear my throat. “Excuse me, uh– um– man. Can you please tell me what I’m doing here?”

He looks into my eyes but doesn’t answer. I try to hold his gaze, but his blue eyes pierce mine. It’s getting a little awkward so I lower my eyes to his chest and try again. “If there’s something you want, I can help you get it. If you could just tell m-”

He cuts me off with a curt, “No.” Then turns away from me, gripping my arm tighter. He turns me to face away from him and I’m suddenly blind.

“Hey.” The asshole blindfolded me! “Hey!” I yell again and try to remove it. My arms flail as I fight a very one-sided fight with him. He takes hold of my hands in one of his large ones and clasps them firmly.

“If you struggle, you lose what little freedom you have right now.” His voice speaks low and directly into my ear. I break out into goosebumps and still.

I don’t want to lose that little freedom, but I can’t stop my mouth from spewing out, “You know you’re an asshole, right?”

A smaller, colder hand grips my arm and I hear an amused feminine voice say, “He knows, alright.”

We walk and walk and freakin’ walk some more before I hear the squeal and creak of a door opening . The woman whispers , “Be prepared. We’re gonna be here a while.”

Sigh. Just great.

***

Hours of sitting in this awful chair is starting to numb my ass. I move from side to side, wriggling until one of my captors sighs loudly and runs a hand through his hair.

It’s the hot one. Of course.

I look him in his icy-blue eyes and beg softly, "Please. I don't know what you want from me, but I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything for you to just let me the fuck go. I never saw you. I'll never speak a word of this to anyone." I duck my chin, my voice trembles as I whisper, "Please." My head remains lowered and I watch in slow motion as a tear drop falls into my lap.

I hear my captor’s chuckle and devastation breaks my resolve. I burst into sobs and my captors laugh louder.

I lose it.

"You fucking assholes! Getting off on a petrified girl? What kind of men are you? I'll tell you what kind of men! The kind that no one likes, so they have to stick together or they'll be left at the bottom of the food chain to fend for themselves like rabid fucking dogs!" My chest heaves with rage. Both men have stopped laughing and wear matching scowls. I look the hot one in his hard, cold eyes and screech, "You are lower than scum and I fucking hate you!"

I realize I’m hysterical and burst into laughter. Laughing hard, I yell, "I'm locked away in a shithole!" I laugh so hard I’m wheezing. "No one knows where I am!" I snort through my chuckles. "I'm going to die alone!" Laughter forces its way out of me for a good minute, slowly fading out until I finally stop.

I'm hollow. Empty. And numb.

The olive-skinned man asks, "Feeling better now?"

I don't look at him. I keep my eyes averted and shake my head once. I whisper, "No. Not at all." I finally look up at him. "How would you feel if you'd been kidnapped?"

His lips twitch and he looks over at hottie Humungo. Hottie Humungo’s eyes meet mine. "You tied to a chair?" I look down at my bare wrists and shake my head.

He fires another question. "You been slapped around?"

I look him in the eye and shake my head. He nods in agreement. I blurt out a meek, "I just wanna go home."

He raises his brows. "You're so fucking annoying that there is nothing more I want to do than to let you go right now...but I can’t." I fight the urge to call him a motherfucking douche canoe and glare down at his shoes, my lip curling. He leans back in his chair and states, "You haven't been kidnapped, Delilah."

Eyes wide, I lift my face to look into his and ask, "Who are you?"

Hottie‘s lip twitches. "The person who just saved your life, baby."

What the mother fuck?

I look around the damp, concrete room. All three of my captors wear matching expressions of amusement. Leaning back in the ass-numbing chair, I try to speak but my mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. The olive-skinned man laughs, “Shit, Nox. You broke her.”