The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Fifteen

D ante smiled. “ W ho says I want something from your father? I’m just protecting you.”

He was lying. “Protecting me from what?”

His expression turned grave. “There are very scary men out there, puppet. I wouldn’t be a good uncle if I let anything happen to you.”

“I haven’t seen you in years,” I reminded him.

The bodyguard he called Addis came back into the room and stood behind the couch.

Dante chuckled. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t been looking out for you.” He leaned forward and dropped his smile. “How is your mother? Such an unfortunate accident.”

My blood ran cold. “A stroke isn’t an accident.” Was it?

He nodded as if this were a normal conversation between friends. “Terrible for anyone to go through. How is she holding up?”

“What do you want, Dante?”

His eyebrows shot up. “No uncle?”

“What do you want, Uncle Dante?” I repeated, my tone icy.

He clasped his hands. “Your father asked me to look after you for a little while.”

“And that necessitated you having me beaten and kidnapped? I should think a visit to the house and asking me to pack a bag would’ve sufficed.”

His tone took on an edge. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

I never had a flair for the dramatic. I was the least dramatic person I knew. “You know that’s not true.”

Ignoring my comment, his dark-eyed stare bored into me. “You will stay here at the house, and my guards will look after you. I expect conciliatory behavior.” He stood, picking up my glass on the coffee table. “My men will show you to a room, and you will be gracious to them.” He handed me the water. “And you will drink because you do not want to find out how convincing Santos can be.”

Panic seeping out of every crack in my facade, I absently took the glass. “How long?”

“Until I say so.” He nodded at Addis before looking back at me with a lethal stare. “Or until you make a wrong move. And trust me, puppet, you do not want to do that.”

Anxiety threatened to choke me. “You can’t keep me here forever. My father will come for me.” I didn’t buy for one second that my father had sanctioned this.

Dante stared down at me. “Will he?”

My stomach bottomed out and my mouth went dry. “Yes,” I barely whispered.

His gaze measured, he straightened his cuffs. “We’ll see.” He glanced at Addis. “Let’s go.”

My hands shaking, not thinking, only wanting to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat, I drank half the glass. “Uncle Dante, wait.” I stood.

Sparing me a glance over his shoulder as he walked toward the slider door, Dante’s expression became one hundred percent ruthless. “Do as my men tell you.”

Addis opened the slider door for Dante.

“Please,” I begged, my head suddenly swimming as a rush of prickly heat swept down my body. I looked to Santos. “Oh my God,” I almost slurred. “You drugged me.” My knees started to buckle.

Santos stepped toward me.

I tried and failed to hold my hands up.

“Dante,” I cried, slurring the T and E ending as I looked toward my supposed uncle in desperation.

But my luck had run out.

The man whose lap I’d sat on as a child had never been the relative I’d thought.

He wasn’t even decent.

He was a monster.

My legs gave out, and Dante smirked as the man who’d drugged me picked up my boneless body. “Remember the rules, Santos.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it. No visible marks.”

Dante walked out the slider door.

I tried to yell no, but only a half moan came out.

Santos’s cloying cologne filled my nostrils as he strode down a hall and pushed through a door. Carrying me to a bedroom with a view out a second-story window overlooking aqua-colored waters, he dropped my useless body down on a king-sized bed.

I bounced, and my sore arm gave a small twinge of pain. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but none of my muscles were working.

Dragging his eyes down the length of me, Santos licked his lips.

The panic that’d threatened to choke me only a moment ago dulled to a low thrum, and my eyes fluttered shut as the drugs took hold. For a second, I wanted to just let go.

But I couldn’t.

Not now. Not yet.

Forcing my eyes back open, I reached for my earlier panic to stay alert. I needed to focus. I needed to move. I needed to be able to kick him if he got any closer.

As if reading my thoughts, Santos tipped his chin. “Go ahead,” he taunted. “Get up.”

I tried to lift an arm, but not even a finger moved. My chest tingled with fear as it sank in that he could kill me.

With a half snort, half laugh, Santos palmed his gun in the holster under his arm and pulled it out.

My eyes, the only part of my body seemingly still working, tracked his movement.

A sick smile spread across Santos’s face. “Scared, huh?” He dragged the weapon up the inside of my bare leg, pushing my thigh wide open as he went. “Ever had metal between your legs?”

I choked on my own saliva.

“Blink once for yes,” he demanded.

I blinked twice in rapid succession.

“No, huh?” He smiled again. “We’ll have to change that.” Holding his gun against my thigh right below my core, he reached for his belt.

“Santos!” someone yelled from beyond the bedroom.

Anger clouding his expression, Santos yelled over his shoulder. “Busy!”

“Get the fuck out here!” the same person yelled back.

Santos shoved his gun back in his holster. “Guess this is going to have to wait, puppet .” He turned and walked out, leaving the bedroom door wide open.

Paralyzed, from fear, from whatever I’d been drugged with, my legs wide open, my dress riding up my thighs, I stared at the open bedroom door as Santos’s footsteps sounded down the hallway.

A boat engine fired up in the distance, and any hope I’d been holding on to sank to a level of despair I didn’t think I could come back from.

I thought of my mother, and a tear slid down my cheek before I passed out.