9. Riley
I’ve been staringat an ugly gouge in the top of the table I’m seated at for what feels like an eternity, but I still couldn’t say whether it’s the shape of a slash or a starburst or a fucking three-headed alien. It’s just a place to rest my gaze while my mind spins a million horrifying scenarios that I can’t seem to shut off, no matter how hard I try.
West Point has had Chloe for more than twelve hours.
My stomach clenches into a knot so tight that I feel sick, and I grit my teeth, forcing the nausea down. I get it under control and peek through my hair at the Reapers. This time, none of them are looking at me.
Good. They didn’t see my moment of weakness. I can’t afford to break down in front of them.
Which means the last thing I should be doing is letting myself think too hard about what Chloe might be going through right now… and Maddoc Gray really is an asshole, because he’s left me no choice but to do exactly that.
I don’t know if it’s a power play or if they’ve really got that fucking much to discuss before coming to a decision, but he’s left me alone too long with nothing but my own thoughts, and the worries that are trying to choke me.
I may have done everything I could to stay under the radar of the local gangs up until now, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely ignorant about the kind of businesses they’re involved in, or the kind of use they might have for a girl “bought” from someone like our father.
I squeeze my eyes closed, as if that will block out reality.
It doesn’t, and knowing that Chloe is in the hands of those thugs right now feels like I’m swallowing razorblades with a chaser of Jack.
When I glance over at the men’s table again, Maddoc is looking at me once more. He pins me with those piercing gray eyes and gestures me back over.
I swallow, my stomach somehow twisting itself into even more of a knot as I press my palms against the table and rise to my feet.
They’ve decided.
Trying to keep my features controlled, I throw my shoulders back and walk over to their table, using everything I’ve learned from being on stage to project confidence. I doubt they buy it, since they already know I’m desperate. Still, nothing good ever came from looking that way.
I keep my focus on Maddoc as I come to a stop in front of their table, since he’s clearly the one who matters here, but his hard-edged features give nothing away.
“Well?” I finally ask after a long moment of silence.
“You’re gonna come with us,” he says, flipping the envelope I gave him between his fingers as he stares at me like that’s supposed to make sense.
Whereis probably the question I should ask—or at least why—but as my heart jackrabbits, hope warring with fear inside me, the only thing I want to know is what it means for Chloe.
I lift my chin, crossing my arms over my chest. “Does that mean you’re going to help me?”
He’s stops flipping the envelope, then taps it on the table and slips it into his pocket. “Maybe.”
“What the fuck does maybe mean?”
His eyes go hard. “It means we don’t know whether you were sent here by McKenna, so we’re not letting you out of our sight until we figure that out.”
My jaw drops. “What the… I’m not… I need…”
I can’t believe they still think I might be working for that monster. The thought makes me so mad that I can’t even form a coherent sentence, and Maddoc doesn’t wait for me to get my shit together.
“You’ll be staying with us until we decide whether or not we can trust you,” he cuts in. “Then… we’ll see.”
I’m still reeling from the implication that I might be working with West Point, so it takes me a second to catch on to what he means. When I do, my heart lurches, fear rising up to swamp the anger.
Stay with them? No. No way.
I start to back up, glancing behind me as I prepare to bolt for the door.
“You really don’t want to do that,” Maddoc murmurs, his voice calm and commanding in a way that’s far more terrifying than if he’d tried to physically stop me.
Which he can. Any of them can, and I know it. Maddoc doesn’t move, Dante is still sprawled out in that deceptively relaxed pose he seems to favor, watching me with hooded eyes, and the other man, Logan, looks like coiled fury, tracking my every movement with those unnerving, icy eyes of his. None of them have even stood up from the table yet, but a part of me knows if I run for it, they’ll stop me.
“You came to us,” Maddoc points out as adrenaline sharpens my senses, my breath coming hard and fast. “Maybe we’ll help you, maybe we won’t. We’re gonna need more information to decide.” He leans forward, and I swear I can feel his gaze spear right through me. “But if you make a scene right now or try to run, you’ll regret it.”
My stomach twists. Fuck. I knew it was a risk coming to the Reapers, but I had no idea it would backfire on me like this. I had no intention of putting myself so completely at their mercy, and I’m not sure I can handle it, but I believe him. I will regret it if I fuck this up.
The one thing I have going for me is that I truly am not working for West Point. If Maddoc is telling the truth about that being their concern, they’re not going to find anything. And once they figure that out, hopefully they’ll decide to help.
Any humiliation, fear, or degradation I have to live through will be worth it if I can get Chloe back, so I force my heart rate to settle down and unclench my fists, then give him a slight nod.
“Okay.”
“Good. Let’s go,” he says, tossing some cash on the table as the three of them rise to their feet. I swallow hard as I notice the distinct shape of a gun tucked into his waistband.
I look away.
“Come on, princess,” Dante says, crowding against my side and taking my arm.
Logan glares at me, sandwiching me in from the other side, and I can feel Maddoc’s body heat crowding me from behind as we head to the door.
“Seriously?” I grumble.
I try to shake Dante’s hand off, glaring up at him, but he just tightens his grip and gives me a what are you gonna do look, shrugging one muscled shoulder.
We leave the bar, and I don’t bother asking about taking my car since it’s clear they were serious about not letting me out of their sight.
They shove me into the back of a shiny black Escalade, and as my ass hits the leather seat, it suddenly strikes me how far out of my depth I am. Coming to them in the first place wasn’t much of a plan, but I’ve been running on pure terror all day. My half-assed idea of asking for help is all the plan I had.
I have no idea what to do now, and I’m definitely no longer in charge.
The only thing I can do is go along for the ride and hope like hell that it will end with me getting Chloe back.
Maddoc slips into the driver’s seat, and Dante and Logan settle on either side of me in the back. As we pull away from the curb and head in the opposite direction of my apartment, I realize I have no idea how long they plan on keeping me… but it didn’t sound like it would be a short-term stay.
I clear my throat. “Can we at least swing by my place and get my stuff?”
“No,” Maddoc answers without turning around. “If you tell us where you live, I’ll send someone by to grab a few things, but we’re not chauffeuring you around.”
No, they’re fucking kidnapping me.
I glare at the back of Maddoc’s head, and next to me, Dante chuckles.
“We’ll make sure you have what you need,” he murmurs, his body heat burning into my side as he slings an arm over the back of the seat behind me.
“All I need is help getting Chloe back,” I whisper, stiffening my spine and pulling away. But Logan is right there on my other side, both of them taking up too much space, and there’s nowhere to go.
Dante’s leg brushes against mine, and I jerk my eyes up to meet his, unsure if the contact was deliberate or not.
Banked fire burns in his eyes when he glances down at me, a contrast to the bland, indifferent expression he wore in the bar when he told his two friends about our hookup. For a split second, my body reacts to the way he’s looking at me, a rush of remembered heat pouring through my veins.
It feels impossible that I fucked him less than twenty-four hours ago. Honestly, it feels like an entirely different lifetime. Nothing is the same now. Everything is so much more complicated. So much more dangerous.
I look away, pulling all my limbs in tight and trying not to notice that Logan has his eyes on me too.
These two are like fire and ice, and I don’t know how to handle being sandwiched between them.
Logan’s face is set in a cold, hard mask that doesn’t take away from his sleek good looks but does absolutely terrify me. I have no idea what I did to make him hate me so much, or what kind of bullshit he’s sitting there assuming about me, but while I have no doubt that any of these three men would kill me without a second thought if they uncovered something to make them doubt me, Logan is the only one who looks like he might actually enjoy it.
I suppress a shiver and do my best to pretend neither one of them exists until we finally pull up in front of a surprisingly nice house in a neighborhood I never would have pegged as the home of the Reapers. These guys are clearly doing well for themselves. Not that surprising, I guess, based on rumors about their gang’s activity.
Maddoc pulls into the driveway, and I glance around as the three of them lead me into the house.
The entryway is clean and bright, with nice lighting and a broad stairway leading up to the second story. But the windows look like they’ve been reinforced to be bulletproof, the doorway we walked through has an industrial style lock, and off to the right in what’s probably supposed to be a living room, I’m pretty sure I see a gun lying on the coffee table.
Panic rises up in a sudden wave as the lock on the door clicks into place behind us. I’m on the Reapers’ home turf, in their inner sanctuary, and I’m sure they’re not going to let me leave until they’re good and ready.
Shit. What the hell am I doing here?
I whirl to face Maddoc, trying to keep the fear from showing on my face as I cross my arms over my chest. “Okay, I did what you wanted. Now start working on getting my sister out.”
He raises his eyebrows, seeming surprised by my sudden outburst, but I don’t stop. I can’t. All of my panic is pushing at the inside of my chest, demanding that I do something. I need to make sure the risk I took was worth it.
“Now,” I insist. “I came with you. You’ve got me. Now give me your word you’ll help me.”
Dante hums under his breath, and Logan’s eyes narrow. The two of them have been flanking Maddoc, and now they each step forward at an angle, surrounding me roughly between three large bodies.
“That’s not the way this is going to go, butterfly,” Maddoc murmurs. “You’re not the one calling the shots here. If we help you—and like I told you, that’s still up for debate—we’ll work to get your sister out on our own time, doing it our own way.”
“She’s my sister. I get a say in—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “You don’t.”
“Listen—”
“No,” he repeats, a hard edge to his voice this time. “And if you want that help you keep begging us for, then you’ll shut your damn mouth unless I ask you to open it. Or maybe we’ll change our minds about even considering giving you our help.”
My stomach feels like it drops right out of my body. An acidic, coppery taste coats the back of my tongue as bitter disappointment edges out the fear churning inside me.
“I should have known,” I mutter, shaking my head in disgust. “You’re too fucking scared of West Point to actually go after them. Is that it? Then I’ve got no reason to be here. Either promise me you’ll help me go up against Austin McKenna or let me go, because—”
“Strip.”
“I—what?”
He didn’t even yell, but the single word almost knocks me off my feet. Those cloud-gray eyes of his burn a hole right through me, and even though he hasn’t made a move, I flinch.
“I said, strip,” he repeats, his voice a low growl. “You should know how. Isn’t that what you do for a living?”
I swallow. What the actual fuck? Is he trying to humiliate me? Trying to remind me that he’s in charge here?
Even though the anger still simmering in my veins wants me to tell him to go fuck himself, I don’t. I’ve already admitted that I’ll do anything for Chloe, and I meant it. I’ll even do this if I have to.
Still, I hesitate, because Maddoc is wrong about one thing. I may be a professional stripper who’s used to undressing on stage for a bunch of strangers… but this is nothing like that.
There are no lights. No costume. No music. Just me and these three ruthless men.
“If I have to tell you again,” Maddoc says after a beat, “it’s not gonna end well for you.”
I clench my jaw, hating the shiver that goes through me at his unyielding tone. I know I have to do it. I’ve already let my agitation and anger come close to fucking this up, but the Reapers really are my only chance. Maddoc hasn’t explicitly refused to help me, but if I piss him off any more, he probably will. Hell, he’ll probably kill me.
My skin prickles under the men’s unblinking gazes, but I refuse to look at either of Maddoc’s seconds-in-command. I’m sure I’d see Logan coldly gloating, and Dante… god, I don’t even know what kind of expression I’d see on his face. Trying not to imagine it, I kneel down and unbuckle my boots, then stand again and kick them off.
I make no effort at all to be sexy as I shrug out of my calfskin jacket and let it drop to the floor. The cell phone I’ve got in the pocket clunks against the floor, and I wince as I peel off my white shirt, hoping like hell that the screen didn’t crack.
I tug the shirt over my head and toss it down onto the growing pile on the floor, my movements quick and efficient. It’s like ripping off a Band-aid, and I can’t afford to lose my nerve.
I didn’t bother with a bra tonight, and even though I’ve been topless in front of more men than I can count, I suddenly feel naked and vulnerable in a way that I never have up on stage as my nipples pebble from the sudden exposure to cool air.
Gritting my teeth, I try to ignore the feeling as I shimmy out of my tight pants. Leather pants are a bitch to get in and out of even at the best of times, and when I hear Logan scoff behind me and mutter, “You’re not very good at this, are you?” I’m seriously fucking tempted to turn around and sling them at his head.
Instead, I kick them to the side and refuse to turn around, even though I can feel both Logan’s and Dante’s eyes boring into me from behind.
When I’m almost completely naked, I stand in front of Maddoc, hands on my hips and chin raised. “Happy?”
“Not even close,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to the panties I’ve left on. “Those too.”
They’re a high-cut, pale blue silk the exact color of the teardrop-shaped nose ring I chose not to wear tonight, and although they cover more than the g-strings I wear at the club, it somehow feels like they hide less.
Or maybe that’s just because they’re the last thing separating me from complete submission to Maddoc’s will.
Hooking the waistband of my panties, I slip them down, losing my last layer of armor. When I’m completely bare, I straighten, trying to pretend my heart isn’t racing.
Maddoc eyes me with a hard expression, his gaze locking with mine for an extended moment before slowly working its way down over my body. I track the movement of his eyes, watching the way they flick back and forth lightly as he takes in every inch of me.
Somehow, his careful perusal makes me hyper aware of him.
Of being naked for him.
Of how fucking big he is, and how very much I’m at his mercy. He’s not just in control of this moment, but of his whole organization, including the two men at my back.
He could tell them to do anything right now. Tell me to do anything. And he’d get his way.
He comes closer, invading my space, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done to keep my shoulders straight and my legs locked. To keep my breathing calm even as my heart tries to pound its way out of my chest.
“You came to us for a reason,” he says, stopping so close to me that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I can feel his body heat radiating into my bare skin, and it makes my nerve endings prickle. “You came because we’re the fucking Reapers, and you know what that means in this city.”
“That’s right,” I whisper hoarsely, then clear my throat. “I did.”
“We didn’t get where we are by being stupid, and we sure as fuck didn’t do it by being trusting.” He spits out the last word like it disgusts him, his full lips curling into something like a snarl. “You say you want our help against West Point? You’re fucking ballsy for waltzing into our territory with McKenna’s name on your lips, and goddamn lucky that I ever let you get this far. But I meant what I said at the bar. We don’t know if we can trust you… and this is step one in finding out.”
Before I can ask him what he means, his inked hands are on me. Touching me. Running over my skin like he fucking owns it.
“Asshole,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
He doesn’t stop. “I have to check.”
“For what?” I ask as he palms my ass, running his fingers down the crevice. “You really think I have McKenna tucked up there?”
“A wire, a weapon,” Maddoc answers, his callused fingers moving over my body with a clinical thoroughness that makes me want to knee him in the balls the way I took care of that musclehead at the club the first time he cornered me.
“Do you see a fucking wire anywhere?” I grit out instead. “Jesus, this isn’t Red Sparrow.”
“No, I don’t see one,” he replies without any inflection, sliding his hands around my hips and cupping my pussy. He pushes two fingers into me. “That’s why I’ve got to check.”
No warning. No request. Just his thick fingers in my most intimate place.
My breath hitches, adrenaline bursting through my veins. I try not to move, but maybe Maddoc can see the way my legs are shaking, because he loops his free arm around my back, holding me against him as he presses his fingers deeper.
My arms are stiff at my sides, but my fingers curl and straighten as all the air in my lungs seems to get trapped there. I’m still a little sore from fucking Dante last night—he’s big, and it had been a while—so maybe that’s what makes my body respond the way it does.
Heat floods my lower half, my inner muscles clenching around Maddoc’s fingers before I can stop them. His head is tilted down, allowing him to watch my expression as he searches me, and I can’t help but notice the way his pupils widen and expand, turning his gray eyes even darker.
Can he tell I’m getting wet? Can he feel that?
His fingers press deeper, and maybe it’s an accident or maybe it’s not, but the heel of his hand grinds against my clit.
Fuck.
My fingers curl all the way into fists this time as I fight to suppress the shiver that tries to run through my body. Maddoc’s nostrils flare slightly, just the tiniest flicker.
Then, finally, he pulls his fingers out. “Turn around.”
“What?” I blink, the relief I was about to feel evaporating in an instant.
He doesn’t ask me again, just does it for me. He spins me in place where I stand, and suddenly his hard body is pressed against my back as I stare at Dante and Logan. The two of them watch as Maddoc cavity checks my ass, his fingers already slick and wet from being inside my pussy.
“Spread your legs,” Maddoc commands, his arm tightening around my waist to keep me in place. “Wider.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, but I do it.
I wish I could close my eyes, but I can’t. It would be too much of a show of weakness, and besides, I’m afraid that if I cut off that sense, it would only heighten my other ones. So I stare defiantly back at Logan and Dante, doing my best not to think about what this must look like to them.
Logan’s face is impassive, his gaze cold as it burns into me, but there’s a slight flush high in his cheeks that matches the one I feel in my own. Dante, on the other hand, isn’t even trying to hide his reaction. His eyes are hooded and dark, roving over me with a possessive familiarity that makes my pulse race.
Maddoc only uses one finger instead of two, thank god, thrusting slowly in and out of a hole I’ve never let any man enter before. Twisting inside me to make sure I haven’t smuggled in some fucking C4 at West Point’s bidding or something. His arm is still around me, his fingers splayed over my ribs, and I can feel the roughness of his callouses as he adjusts his grip, holding me tighter as he presses his finger a little deeper.
“She’s clean,” he says after another moment, pulling his finger free and taking an abrupt step back.
I wobble, then lock my knees so I won’t collapse into a heap.
Maddoc walks around me and gathers up my clothes, then tugs my phone out of my jacket pocket.
“You’re dismissed,” he says, speaking to me without looking at me. “Logan, take her to her room.”
I’m still naked, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of fighting him about that when he’s already thoroughly humiliated me. But my phone? I need it, and not just because it’s my only link to a world where I’m not controlled by the whims of the Reapers. What if Chloe manages to reach out to me somehow?
“Wait. I need—”
My voice breaks off as Maddoc’s head jerks up and he finally meets my eyes. His expression tells me everything I need to know, and since I don’t actually have a death wish, I snap my mouth shut and follow Logan when he heads up the stairs.
The tall blond man doesn’t say a word, just leads me to a room on the second floor and gestures me inside, then closes it behind me with a soft finality that feels infinitely more frightening than if he’d thrown ten deadbolts.
There aren’t any, not on the door, but that doesn’t change anything. I press my naked back against it and wrap my arms around myself, thankful for the small mercy of being alone as the shakes set in.
I came to the Reapers for help for my sister, because she’s not in a position to help herself. Not as a prisoner of the sadistic head of the West Point Gang. But even without any locks on my door, I can’t escape the sickening dread that fills me at the thought that I might not be able to help her at all.
Not when I might have ended up just as much a prisoner as Chloe.