Текст книги "Transparent"
Автор книги: Erin Noelle
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
I STARE BLANKLY AT THE balding, middle-aged man seated across the table from me, my mouth hanging agape. Time is at a standstill in the ritzy oyster bar of the Bayside Marina, where we sit at a table near the window. Easton is stunned silent next to me, Jae in a similar speechless state at my diagonal.
I’m in shock. We all are. Complete fucking shock. Unable to even process the words Marshal Doherty just spoke. Words that shred me to my core.
Lies. It has to be lies. That’s my initial thought, though I know what he says is one-hundred percent true. He has no reason to be dishonest. He’s shown me the articles on his phone. It’s her in the pictures. Looking exactly like she did in the photos inside the hidden envelope in her drawer. Like the one I took and keep in my desk.
“Who?” I ask, finally able to manage words. “Who do you think has her? Honestly.”
The suit-clad man sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing me with a circumspect hesitation. If he’s smart, he can sense the desperation oozing from my pores, and he realizes how dangerously devoted to finding Blake I am. No one will stop my efforts to find her, especially not after what he just revealed about her unthinkable past.
“The first place we’ll look is Chicago,” he concedes, his voice so low it can barely be heard over the buzz from people around us. “Vincent Ricci has become one of the most powerful underbosses in America over the past few years, and he has made no secret he’s looking for the woman who murdered his son. There’s a pretty price on her head. It may take a couple of days for whoever has her to get her there, but I’ll have my guys working close to him, keeping their ears to the ground. The Italians are known for having flashy, extravagant celebrations when they torture and kill someone they’ve been searching for. A way to show their entire community what will happen to you if you’re ever marked as an enemy of theirs. If he has her, we’ll know soon. They’ll want everyone to know.”
My stomach rolls, threatening to revolt at the images in my mind of where she could be. What they could be doing to her. If this sick fuck has her . . . I shudder at the thought. Though I’m slightly hurt from her deception, I understand why she didn’t tell me, and my primary concern now is alleviating the danger that looms over Blake . . . or Bryleigh . . . no, fuck that. She’s still Blake. My Blake. My sweet girl.
“Soon isn’t good enough,” I roar, not caring if people nearby look over at us.
The last forty-eight hours have been like something straight out of a Quentin Tarantino film. I’ve gone from having a missing girlfriend, to watching her abduction on the building video surveillance feed, to learning she was once married to, and eventually was involved in the death of, a member of the Italian mafia. I’ve faced one crazy fucking revelation after another, and now, here I sit with a US Marshal, waiting for a girl I’ve known since I was a kid—someone who I thought was a family friend—to dock, so we can question her about any involvement in my girlfriend’s kidnapping.
It’s all so fucking surreal. No one could make this shit up.
As I turn to my brother, I squeeze my hands into tight fists atop the polished wood table. “Easton, I swear to God, if I find out you knew anything about this—about who she was—I’m going to fucking kill you.”
My tone is low and clipped. It’s the second time I’ve threatened my brother’s life in as many days, but this time I’m afraid I might just mean it. He stole my first love from me, having no regards for my feelings or brotherly love while he was burying his cock inside my fiancée’s pussy over a decade ago, and I’ll be damned if he takes Blake away from me now.
“Dude, Mad, I had no fucking clue about any of this. And if I did, I would’ve told you immediately. I swear to God,” he contends, his eyes wide. He’s either really as taken aback about learning all of this as I am, or he’s a really fucking good actor. I’m praying for the former.
I glance impatiently down at my watch then return my focus to Marshal Doherty. “She should be here soon. What’s the plan when we see her?”
“I’ll allow you—and you alone—to accompany me when I approach her to explain I’m taking her in for a few questions. I need you to try to keep her from getting too defensive, but give her absolutely no information. If she refuses, I’ll be forced to cuff and detain her,” he explains, clearly preferring the first option. “I’d rather we not make a scene. Then, you’ll be allowed to follow me back into town and listen in on the interrogation from another room. Depending on her answers, she’ll either be kept and charged, or released. This questioning is based solely on circumstantial evidence, and if she pushes the issue, there’s not much we can legally do.”
“Got it.” I nod and take a drink of the ice water, locking my unwavering gaze at the end of the pier. The moment Emerson appears in my line of sight, about ten minutes later, I rush to my feet and announce, “It’s time to get some answers.”
“I’ve told you already. I’m not leaving anything out,” Emerson insists, pursing her red-stained lips as she slams the palms of her manicured hands on the stainless steel table in front of her. Even after spending a couple of days at sea, she somehow looks completely put together with designer clothes, coordinating accessories, and heels. The epitome of high maintenance.
“Tell me again,” Marshal Doherty orders firmly, his penetrating stare untiring. “Why were you in Madden Decker’s office on Friday afternoon, alone?”
“I went into Madden’s office Friday afternoon to drop off a report I was working on before I left for my vacation. I don’t know where he was or why his assistant wasn’t at her desk. Why? What is going on?” Her nervous gaze flits around the cold interrogation room, searching for something. “Where did Madden go? Is he listening in? I want him in here.”
The clock on the wall loudly ticks off the seconds as I watch the two of them face-off from behind a pane of surveillance glass. I desperately want to rush in there and demand she stop playing games, that she tell me what happened to Blake, but I don’t. I can’t. I know Doherty is doing me a favor by including me to this extent already. Though, truth be told, he probably knows I’d be doing my own form of questioning to her later.
“Emerson, this is serious,” he snaps, leaning closer to her to stress the importance of her next answer. “If you’re lying, you could face serious prison time. Not to mention, your answers could possibly keep Mr. Decker out of trouble. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary when you were in his office Friday? Did you touch anything on his desk?”
She swallows hard and drops her chin to her chest, and at first, I get hopeful, thinking she’s about to admit her guilt. To tell us something . . . anything. But then as tears swell in her eyes and she adamantly shakes her strawberry curls around her shoulders, I begin to question my initial assumption. Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe I’m reaching. Maybe I’m just too desperate to place blame.
“I swear to you. I didn’t see anything,” she maintains her stance. “I don’t know what’s going on, or what you want me to say, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m always working in the best interest of Decker Enterprises. I’m the most loyal employee they have.”
Doherty does little to conceal his disappointment when he announces she’s free to go, running exasperated fingers through the thin hair covering his scalp. Since Emerson claims knowledge of nothing and we don’t have physical proof of her participation in the abduction, there’s not much we can do.
He warned me about this beforehand, but I felt confident Emerson would crater and tell us what happened. Confident she was involved somehow. We’ve now wasted a whole day waiting for her return, and have nothing to show for it. Crucial hours have been lost.
All we know for sure is that Blake received a text from my phone telling her I’d pick her up Friday evening. Marshal Doherty was able to get the video surveillance from the office building where she works, once we got Blake and Jae’s boss, Mr. Thompson, involved, and we saw her get in a black town car with no plates at approximately six o’clock in the evening. The driver who got out to usher her inside the car was careful to keep his hat down on his forehead and his face tilted away from the camera. There was no struggle when she climbed into the backseat.
And that’s it. All we have.
The door to the room I’m in bangs open and Doherty stalks in. The frustration I feel is mirrored in the deep creases of his forehead. “I’ll let you know if we learn anything new, and I expect the same from you,” he states tersely. “Don’t get in over your head with this, Decker. You have no idea the people you’re dealing with. Leave it to the professionals. We’re going to do everything in our power to get her back from wherever she is.”
He leaves with the same noisy entrance he came in with, and his warning follows him out. There’s no way in Hell I’m going to sit around and do nothing. I don’t care who the fuck I’m going up against. Somebody has what’s mine.
As I storm out of the federal building into the airless summer night, my thoughts are completely submerged in the planning of my next move and I fail to notice the woman waiting for me next to my car. It’s not until I retrieve the keys from my jeans’ pocket do I look up to unlock the door, and by then, we’re only a few feet away.
“Emerson?” I lift my brow, silently asking what she wants.
Pushing off the hood, she closes the gap between us nearly instantly, her expression guarded. Almost as if she’s waiting to decide on her mood based on mine. Not the reaction I’d expect from someone who was just detained for questioning by federal authorities if they had no idea why.
“Madden, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Concerned. She’s going with concerned over pissed-the-fuck-off.
My lips press into a thin line. “Do you think we’d be spending a Sunday evening here if everything was okay?” I clip, sidestepping her to get to my car. “And no, I’m not going to discuss it with you. Go home and stay there until you hear from me.”
At first, she doesn’t respond, but just as I’m bending myself into the driver’s seat, she pivots and sprints over to me, using her arm to force the door open wider. “Wait!” she exclaims. “I don’t have a car here. You can’t leave me in this part of L.A. at this time of night. Your parents and mine would never forgive you.”
Gritting my teeth, I’m furious, because I know she’s right. I’m still not sure what to believe about her, but I’m too much of an emotional wreck right now to argue. If she truly has nothing to do with any of this, I’d never forgive myself if something happens to her too.
“Get in,” I grumble, ready to drop her off and get home. “Hurry.”
Emerson circles around the front of the car and climbs into the passenger side with a victorious glint in her eyes. Thankfully, she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut during the drive to her house.
When she gets out, she leans over the center console and brushes her lips against my cheek. “I’ll wait to hear from you. If you need my help, let me know. Don’t push me away, Madden. I’m not the enemy.”
The moment the door latches, I take off down the street, desperate to get away from her before I lose my shit. And during my trip home, alone in my car with the heaviness of the entire situation, my entire world completely falls off its fucking axis.
I realize I no longer care about my company, my family, my own life. Now that I know the truth about Blake, about the life she endured before I found her, I’m in even deeper than before. I can’t let her down. I have to save her.
The next thing I know, I’m packing an overnight bag and headed to the airport. I’ve got a one-way ticket to Chicago, and I’m not coming home without the girl I love.
TWO DAYS, I’VE BEEN STUCK inside this cabin. Two days of nothing but staring at the four walls, torturing myself with all of the ‘what ifs’ my mind can conjure up. And there are millions.
I still have no idea where we are. The one time I was daring enough to peek out the frosty rectangular window above the couch, all I could see were trees. A thick forest of redwoods surrounded the remote cabin, with icicles dangling from the near-barren limbs. Not a single hint at our location or any other civilization. And I don’t dare get close to the only door in the place, reinforced with numerous key-only deadbolts.
Raze stays in the small bedroom off the living area most of the time, either speaking in Russian on his phone or working on his laptop. Knowing we’re somewhere that has cellular and internet service gives me hope, but he makes a point of locking up the electronics in a safe each time he’s finished using them.
Other than to go to the bathroom, the only time I’ve left the couch was for a shower last night. I broke down and cried as I stood under the lukewarm spray, finally allowing the emotions to get the best of me. I’m trying to be strong, but any chance of escaping already feels bleak and hopeless. Where would I go? And how long would it be before Raze found me again? Or even worse . . . Vincent.
Raze has barely spoken to me since we first arrived and I spit in his face, both literally and figuratively, as I refused to answer his questions. He emerges out of the room only to prepare food for the two of us, leaving me a plate of whatever he’s made on the coffee table. I pick at it, unable to ignore the emptiness in my stomach, but not without resentment. I hate being here with him. I hate everything he is. Everything I tried so hard to free myself from.
There’s been no mention of Madden again, and I spend most of my time worrying about his safety. The guilt inside me worsens with each passing hour. Guilt that I didn’t tell him who I was or what I’d done. Guilt that I so selfishly allowed him to fall for me, and for me to fall for him, giving him a false hope of a future between us. Guilt that I’ve put his life in danger. And now, I doubt I’ll ever be able to apologize. All I can hope is he stays safe. And alive.
Lying down on the lumpy cushions, I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes, hoping tonight won’t be another sleepless night. You’d think by now I’d have learned how to turn my mind off and forget the pure madness surrounding me, but I haven’t. It follows me everywhere. Eating away at what’s left of my sanity. Bit by bit. Soon, there will be nothing left of me for them to take.
“That’s it, sweet girl. Slow and steady. Let me take care of you.”
Madden’s voice washes over me, soothing any anxiety I have about what’s about to happen. I know he won’t hurt me, as my pleasure is his primary concern. He owns it. Owns every part of me. Including my heart.
“Let me know if it’s tied too tight or becomes uncomfortable at any time, and I’ll free you immediately,” he assures me as he tugs on the knot binding my wrists to a slat on his headboard. “Same for the blindfold. You want it gone, just tell me. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nod, licking my parched lips, desperate for his kiss. Tingles of anticipation climb up from the tips of my toes and descend down from the top of my head, converging at the apex directly between my legs. My panties are already damp, my nipples pebbled into hard peaks, and he hasn’t even touched me.
This isn’t the first time Madden has bound and blindfolded me, but it’s still a huge step each time he does. Giving up control to him—fully submitting to his will—is something I never in a million lifetimes dreamed I’d be able to do after my life with Ish. But there’s something about this man that makes me want to do it. My desire to please him overrides any fears and insecurities I still have. It frees me from the darkness.
“Yes what?” His warm breath drifts over my bare stomach as he slides down my body, causing goose bumps to spread across the exposed flesh.
My lips curl up in a coquettish smirk, but I purposely refuse to answer him, finding rare confidence in my vulnerable state. Barking out a deep chuckle at my playful disobedience, he leans down and draws one of my hard rosy buds in between his teeth, biting hard enough to make my back bow off the mattress. I gasp, excited.
“Yes what?” he repeats, flicking his tongue torturously over my nipple. The sharp pain in my breast quickly morphs into a thrum of erotic pleasure, and the vibration of his voice adds an additional layer of stimulation to his roguish teasing.
Again, I refuse to answer, knowing exactly where this little game is heading. From the first time we were together, Madden has always liked when I call him Sir when we’re in bed. It makes him feel in complete control, his cue I’m handing over the reins to my body, freeing my mind of everything except the sensual gratification he bestows. For whatever reason, taking care of me, worshipping my body with never-ending reverence, is what makes him happy. And what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t want him happy?
But I do like to make him work for it . . .
His mouth moves from one breast to the other, performing the same tantalizing trick to the other sensitive tip. “My sweet girl likes being bad?” He releases me with a loud pop then I feel the tip of his nose resting against mine. His mouth hovers directly above mine, and there’s nothing I want more in this moment than to feel our lips fused together. I need it like I need my next breath.
“I bet you can’t hold out five minutes before you’re begging for this,” he taunts, grinding his erection into my throbbing mound.
Groaning, I pull against my restraints as I buck against his hard body. The man may be in his mid-thirties, but he’s got the toned physique of someone a decade younger. I lift my head, a hasty attempt to capture his mouth with mine, but he’s too quick and retreats to the foot of the bed.
“Uh-uh. No kisses for you either until you answer my question correctly,” he warns lightheartedly. “Now I’ll ask again, Blake. Yes what?”
A blaze of rebellion sweeps through me, and with a boldness I’ve never felt before, I tip my nose in the air and shake my head, a wicked grin threatening to break through my compressed lips. Warm laughter fills the air and my heart swells at the sound of his amusement, but then, the next thing I know, he’s flipped me over on my stomach in one swift motion.
Seconds later, my lacy panties disappear from my body and he’s kneeling between my ankles, my drenched sex open to him to do as he pleases. Slowly, he drags his fingers up the inseam of my calves then thighs, stopping just before he reaches the spot I so desperately need him to touch. Arching my back, I lift my bare ass into the air. A silent plea.
“What? You want my fingers playing with that tight little pussy you’re offering up to me?”
His vulgar words cause my gut to clench, but instead of with disgust, it’s pure carnal desire that his dirty talk ignites. Each time we’re together, he strips away more and more of my inhibitions, and I’ve begun to crave the freedom it allows me to indulge in.
“Please,” I whimper, spreading my legs wider for him. “Please touch me.”
An unexpected smack across my right butt cheek startles me, but before my brain has time to register any pain, he’s kissing the spot of impact. “Answer me, stubborn girl, and I’ll touch you.”
“Yes,” I sigh, leading him to believe I’m going to give in, but then stop at the single word.
Another smack, this time to the other cheek, which is also followed by a soothing press of his lips. “Yes what?”
“Please,” I beg again, my voice breathy and low. “I need you.”
My thoughts are blurred; swirls of iridescent light dance behind my closed lids. Every nerve ending is on high alert, waiting to see what he’ll do next. The intensifying ache in my core is becoming unbearable.
With a feral growl, he grabs my hips firmly and yanks me higher up on my knees, falling into place directly behind me. The tip of his cock presses up against my wet slit, rubbing up and down between my swollen lips. “Feels so fucking incredible, Blake. Don’t make me wait any longer. Tell me.” His fingers bite into the skin covering my hips, holding me perfectly still as he spreads my juices from my clit to my puckered asshole. “Do you want my dick inside you? Do you want me to make you come all over it?”
Unable to resist him any longer, I accept defeat and cry out, “Yes, Sir!” as he claims my body for his own.
Feverish kisses to my neck and a fast-paced rhythm bring me to my first orgasm rapidly, and I explode blissfully as he thrusts behind me, seeing a galaxy full of stars through my euphoric climax. However, as I collapse onto the sheets with exhaustion, needing a few seconds to catch my breath, a strong hand grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head backward.
“Bitch, I didn’t tell you it was time to rest,” Ish’s loathsome voice snarls in my ear. “Get your ass up and please your husband.”
Frantic and hysterical, I jerk against the ropes tied around my wrists like a wild animal unwilling to be tamed, but the restraints won’t budge. I try to kick my legs, to fight him off of me, but I’m no match for Ish. He pins me down with his weight, straddling my hips as he forces himself into me. It feels like he’s ripping the flesh off of me each time he pulls out and plunges back in, my body trying its damnedest to reject his advances.
As hot tears spill from my eyes, soaking the sash that covers them, I scream over and over again, “No! No! Get off me!”
The nightmare stops suddenly as two burly but gentle arms wrap tightly around me and my face is buried into a warm, inviting chest. Then a voice that’s neither Madden’s nor Ish’s, yet oddly familiar, murmurs into my hair, “Quiet there, kotyonok. You’re gonna be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
