Chapter 1
Chapter One
Cece
B eing locked in a trunk should probably upset me more than it does.
The thing is, the third time you’ve been kidnapped, it’s more annoying than scary.
Should I be terrified? Yeah. That’d be smart. Instead, I’m pissed at myself. I mean, it’s my own damn fault for being distracted by the hideous bridesmaid dress my brother Eddie’s fiancée had picked out. I know better than to get distracted in public. But seriously. The damn thing is peach. And poofy.
I’m barely five feet tall. Poofy is not for me. I look like I’m a seven-year-old playing princess instead of the future head of a criminal empire.
Which might be why Nat picked it out, now that I think about it. She was a little salty to find out that my brother wasn’t the heir we want the world to think he is. Luckily, he’s on my side, so I don’t have to worry about getting stabbed in the back in my own home. Or, at least, not by Eduardo. The jury’s still out on Natalia.
The car hits a bump and I slam into the top of the cargo space, cursing. “I never thought I’d complain that a trunk was too big, but I’m flying around back here.”
The driver doesn’t answer, just continues belting along with middling success to Pink’s “So What?” on repeat. We’ve been driving long enough for me to know exactly when his voice is going to crack. And…yup. There it is.
As if the gods of kidnapping victims hear me, the car takes a sharp right, throwing me to the side as I try my best to brace myself with my bound hands and feet, then slams to a halt, my head cracking against the wheel well. The music, thankfully, stops as the car turns off, the creak of the door telling me the driver is out of the vehicle. I wait to be pulled from my dark box, but nothing happens.
Nothing happens for so long that I debate a nap. At least they took me on a nice night—not too hot or cold. It’s downright comfortable in this trunk.
Sleep’s whispering when the trunk opens, the bright light of headlights blinding me, preventing me from taking a well-aimed swing. I’m jammed into the tiny part at the back, and before I can scramble to the front for a shot at freedom, two more loads are tossed in, the trunk clicking shut to the sounds of masculine cursing.
An elbow gets me in the sternum, and I yelp. “Careful, bony.”
“Shit, there’s somebody else in here,” a male voice murmurs.
“No wonder it’s so damn tight,” another man says, this guy’s voice lower and gruffer than the first.
“Are you telling me they just shoved not one, not two, but three people into the same trunk? Who the fuck are these idiots?” I mutter.
The car turns on, Pink belting out the same bop, the driver joining with his unpracticed yodels. “What the fuck is that?” the gruffer voice asks.
“Pinky will serenade us for however long we’re shoved in here,” I reply.
This time, when we hit a bump, I don’t fly around, but I do get that elbow again, this time into my cheek. “Ow,” I whine. “Can we shift around so I don’t end up losing an eye every time we hit a pothole?”
The bony guy answers, his tone light. “I’m wedged in here pretty damn tight, but I’ll see what I can do. Make sure you’re tucked in before I move.”
I press my back against the seats behind me. “Your turn.”
“My head is opposite yours and we’re back-to-back,” the deeper voice says. “We should try to kneel on our sides, so our legs have space. Tuck our heads into the backs of each other’s knees.”
“On it,” the other guy says, and after a whole lot of wiggling and cursing, they must get set up in a way that works for them. Unfortunately, what works for them has the guy closest to me wedging his face into my boobs.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his breath tickling my chest.
“It’s better than losing an eye, so I can’t complain. You comfy?” I ask.
“Very,” he answers, the grin in his voice evident, even over the painful sing-shouts about fighting coming from the front of the vehicle.
“So, first time?” I ask, not sure how to pass time in a trunk with two men, one of them getting very up close and personal with a sensitive part of my anatomy. His proximity is making my nipples hard, and if I didn’t know how weird bodies can be under stress, I’d be more concerned about how turned on I’m getting.
“You say that like this is just an ordinary Tuesday,” gruff voice says.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say this is an ordinary Tuesday, but this sort of thing happens.” Especially when you’re the secret heir to a criminal empire.
Bony laughs, and it vibrates through me like electricity. “I like you. Chill under pressure.”
“Or delusional,” the other voice adds from somewhere down by my knees.
I’d shrug if I could. Instead, I click my tongue. “I’m in complete control of my faculties.”
“I take it this isn’t your first kidnapping?” happy guy says.
“Nope. Third.”
“Maybe you need to do better keeping yourself safe,” Grumps says.
“I was a kid the first two times. This one was a bit of a fuckup, though, I’ll admit. How’d you two get nabbed?”
“Car accident. They dragged us out while we were stunned. You?” Happy asks.
“I was trying on a hideous dress for my brother’s wedding. Stole me right out the back door before my security even noticed.”
“Is that why there’s all this extra fluff down here?” Happy asks, tugging on the tulle of the ridiculous gown with his bound hands, the backs of my knuckles registering the movement of his forearms, our skin burning where it touches. I try my best to ignore it. Not the time. Not the place.
“Yup. I’m embarrassingly princessy right now.”
“Could use a little less fabric and a little more leg room,” gripes the other guy.
“I think we could all stand for a little more leg room. No need for the attitude,” I say.
He scoffs, and Happy pipes in with a stage whisper. “He’s six four. This trunk situation is pretty dire for him, I imagine.”
“Damn. I’ve only known one guy that tall. He was a bit of an asshole, too,” I mock whisper back, thinking about one of my brother’s friends and a major crush of my preteen years.
“I can hear you. And who isn’t an asshole when they’ve been in a head on collision then stuffed into a trunk with a chatty debutante?”
“I’m no debutante! I’m a grown-ass woman, I’ll have you know.”
“Sure feels like it,” Happy says, nuzzling the crevice between my boobs.
“Buy a girl dinner first,” I tease, liking what he’s doing, wishing this were an entirely different encounter.
“I’m a little tied up right now, but I promise I’ll take you for a fun night out as soon as we’re free. Deal?” His hands find my knee under the tulle and give it a surprisingly comforting squeeze.
“Deal,” pops out of my mouth before I can fully vet my response, but really, his hands against my skin feel like they were made for getting me all riled up. A date might be nice. At least I know we have chemistry.
Grump scoffs. “Only you would find a date locked in a trunk, Liu.” Liu ? Funny. My brother’s playboy best friend’s last name is Liu.
Liu laughs. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get tossed in first, O’Connell. Then you could have your face pressed into the sweetest smelling set of tits I’ve ever been blessed to know.”
O’Connell? No, no, no. Not Liam, “I had a crush on him when I was eleven and he was seventeen,” O’Connell. Not possible.
“Liam O’Connell? Xander Liu?” I squeak out.
“I see my reputation precedes me,” Xander says, but my ears are buzzing as the panic I wasn’t feeling earlier hits me all at once.
“Who’s asking,” Liam demands.
It takes all my courage to respond. “Cece. Cecilia Rodriguez. Eddie’s little sister.”
“Oh fuck,” Xander breathes out, my nipples not getting the memo that this is dire.
But if that statement doesn’t sum this situation up, nothing does.