Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“F ucking fucker!” I pounded my fists against the inside of the trunk, burning with pure frustration. I knew no matter how hard I hit it, nothing would happen. I wasn’t fucking Wonder Woman. But it made me feel better, despite the pain that throbbed up my arms each time I struck it.
How the fuck did you manage to get yourself in this position again , Drea?
At least when Nero kidnapped me, I knew who that fucker was. He may have caught me off guard (which, let’s be honest, was the only way that shit stain would be able to lay a hand on me), but it was my fault. I underestimated the size of his cojones . A mistake I never planned to make again.
I would have escaped earlier, except Nero was a hell of a lot smarter than he looked. He kept me under 24/7 guard. Two inside the room with me, watching my every move and another two outside, ready to jump in at the slightest hint of trouble.
I was good, but I couldn’t take four guys out at once. So I sat. I waited, biding my time for the perfect chance to escape. That came in the form of a massive explosion rocking the entire house.
My guards had run off straight away, either to check on their boss or save their own asses.
Either way, it gave me the opportunity I needed, smashing the lamp on the bedside table and using the wire in the light bulb to pick the lock.
It was piss easy. Nero had spent a good couple hundred bucks on a quality metal chain, but used a cheap lock to secure it. One you could buy at any garden variety hardware store.
Amateur.
I thought I was finally home free, until the door opened and in strolled that hunk of premium prime rib.
Fuck . Just thinking about him made my lady bits get all tingly.
I’ve always had a size kink; I get turned on by a distinct difference in size to my partner.
I wasn’t ashamed of it. I had a lot of kinks.
But fuck me , that Russian blue-eyed fucker was so fucking big that for a second I forgot all about my escape.
All I wanted to do was climb that out-of-this-world chiselled body and ride him until I passed out from orgasms.
He was Arnold Schwarzenegger big . I’m talking about his pre-movie days, back when he won Mr Olympia six years in a row.
He had the height (6’7, easy) the weight (enough muscles to rip through his fucking shirt like The Hulk) and a face carved from stone. His eyes were the most remarkable shade of blue I’d ever seen in my life, light and sparkling, like the sunshine reflecting off the ocean’s surface.
He was the entire goddamn package, and then he had to go and ruin it all by kidnapping me.
I had no idea who he was. His accent gave away his heritage, but that’s about all I could gauge from him.
That, and the fact that his presence demanded obedience.
It was in the way he held himself. The air surrounding him.
He expected complete and total submission.
And if you didn’t give it, he had the power to take it.
Case in point, me locked in this fucking trunk.
I beat against it one more time before slumping back, my breaths coming out short and quick.
Okay. Stop and think for a second. Weapons. Look for something to use as a weapon.
I couldn’t see a thing. It was pitch black and the air was stuffy, like there wasn’t enough of it. I felt around the small space for anything I could use to whack someone over the head with. A crowbar. A shovel. A jack. Fucking anything.
There was shit all, which only made my frustration at this whole situation soar higher.
For fuck’s sake. Would it have killed them to leave something in there? It was the cleanest trunk I’d ever fucking seen.
The car shook as the engine roared to life, the vibrations jostling me so much I had to grip the walls for stability. The car lurched forward, causing me to fly back, hitting the back of my head hard.
“Hey!” I yelled, rubbing the back of my head. “Watch it! You’ve got precious cargo back here!”
Whoever was driving responded by turning the music up so loud it drowned out my voice.
I narrowed my eyes. Asshole .
We drove for about an hour. Every time we stopped, I tensed, waiting in anticipation for the trunk to open. But then we’d be off again. I wanted to scream. This whole thing was filling me with nerves and adrenaline. I could barely sit still.
When we eventually came to a stop and the engine turned off, I knew we had reached our destination—wherever the fuck that was.
Thanks to my small stature, I was able to position myself so I was in a deep, low squat. It was by no means comfortable. I was hunched over to the point that I had to have my hands braced on the floor in front of me, but it was the best option I had.
I doubted I possessed the reach to kick my attacker when they eventually opened the trunk.
My legs were just too short. I didn’t want to risk my one chance of escape on a plan that had the potential to fail.
Whereas I knew I had the skill to leap up from a squatted position.
I might have tiny legs, but they are powerful.
Leg day was my favourite day of the week, and I never skimped on it.
I stayed quiet, deathly still, taking small, controlled breaths as my mind ran over all the possible scenarios. I had to throw everything I had at these fuckers. I had to escape.
I knew I was safe with Nero (to a point). He had to keep me alive to keep the cartel in line. He couldn’t hurt me.
But these guys? Yeah, there was no doubt in my mind they’d hurt me or kill me the second they got what they wanted.
Muffled voices reached my ears. The crunching of footsteps on gravel surrounded me.
Fuck. How many of them were out there?
It didn’t matter. It was do or die, kill or be killed. I had to fight, regardless of how many of them were out there waiting for me.
Restlessness filled my bones. I clenched my fists on the floor repeatedly, waiting, tension tightening my body.
The voices outside got louder. Closer. A beep rang out and I shifted slightly in preparation. A sliver of light cut through the darkness as the trunk slowly began to open.
In a move that would have made my PT proud, I shoved the trunk wide open and leapt up in a powerful jump, wrapping myself around the guy who stood at the back of the car.
I managed to catch a brief glimpse of him. Tall. Slim build. Dark hair. Brown eyes. But that’s all I saw before I gauged that motherfucker’s eyes out, ramming my thumbs deep into his pretty eyes.
He screamed, thrashing wildly from side to side, trying to dislodge me.
I clung to him, refusing to let go. He lost his footing and tumbled backwards.
I held on and rode him all the way down, his back smashing into the ground hard.
At the very last second, I managed to unwrap my legs from around his waist so my knees took the brunt of the fall.
I’m not going to lie, it fucking hurt. A lot . But I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain.
My head snapped up, my eyes flicking around quickly, taking in my surroundings.
A beautiful Victorian-style house lay in front of me, its dark sconces illuminating the exterior in the darkness.
Structural damage was evident, one side of the house undergoing massive repairs, but that didn’t take away from its beauty.
It was one of the most hauntingly stunning pieces of realty I’d ever seen. A true piece of architectural history.
As much as a part of me was dying to see if the inside was just as spectacular as the outside, I knew I had to run in the opposite direction. Despite its alluring beauty, whatever lay in that house was deadly for me. I had to get as far away from it as possible.
My hands were wet and sticky with blood, the soft squishy sensation of his eyeballs throbbing against my thumbs making me shiver. He was still screaming, thrashing beneath me like a bucking bull.
I ripped my thumbs out of his eye sockets with a sickening squelch and got to my feet, giving him one last kick to the side just because I bloody well felt like it.
Guards appeared from the house, their guns drawn and aiming my way. I backed up a few steps and spun on the balls of my feet, preparing to make a run for it when I ran smack into a wall of immovable muscle.
“Ow! What the fuck?!” I grunted, falling back and landing hard on my ass.
Standing over me was the handsome Russian giant.
He arched an eyebrow. “Where are you running off to, malyshka ?”
Shivers ran down my spine. Fuck, that deep rumbly voice. I had no idea what he just called me. Russian wasn’t a language I was fluent in, but who the fuck cared when he sounded like that?
Not me.
I glared up at him, getting to my feet. Brushing my hands against my legs, I ran my eyes over the wide-open space surrounding me. Off in the distance I glimpsed tall iron fencing (likely encompassing the entire property), and what looked like a guard house stationed at the main gate.
I looked at the fine specimen before me. This dude was big, but was he quick? Surely all those hard, toned muscles ought to slow him down, right?
Could I make a run for it?
As if sensing my thoughts, Big Guy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. His muscles strained against his dark, long-sleeved shirt as he put two fingers in his mouth and blew a loud, ear-piercing whistle.
Vicious barking ripped through the air. Half a dozen dogs came barrelling around from both sides of the house, their paws kicking up dirt and gravel as they raced towards me.
They were Rottweilers. Big, beefy dogs. Strong, muscular. They surrounded me on all sides, barking and growling like savage beasts, their sharp canines snapping in the air.
Alright, making a run for it is out of the question .
The noise was deafening. The rabid snarling. The screams of the guy flailing on the ground behind me. It was a constant irritating racket that was slowly driving me mad.
Big Guy barked out a harsh command in Russian. “Sidet!”