Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
O liver
Fucking hell.
Oliver rubbed his hands through his hair once he was alone. His weakness was not something he planned on letting Londyn see.
But how could he not melt just a little when her pretty gray eyes searched his, hoping to find a sliver of humanity? How could he resist the tenderness that wiggled into his heart when her tight, little body gave in to his demands? His obsession was growing by the second, and damn, if he could see any way of escaping its clutches.
You’re supposed to end her life, remember? You even promised to do it quickly. Mercifully.
Fuck that.
After tasting her, using her, drinking in her sweetness and her fear until he was giddy, Oliver wasn’t so sure he could follow through on his promise. He didn’t want to kill her. He didn’t think he could endure a moment without her. She was unique in a way that didn’t make sense. His feelings for Londyn were not rational. Or smart.
Becoming attached to a woman wasn’t normal for him. He used them. Fucked them. Discarded them. That was his way. That was his life. Never get too close. Never let anyone or anything become so vital that it could be used as a weapon.
This world he and his brother inherited from their bastard of a father was cruel and unforgiving. It twisted love into hate. Acceptance into cruelty. And dependence into a curse. Loving someone could get you and that person executed.
Kingston didn’t believe that, of course. No, Oliver’s older brother had fucking rainbows and stars in his eyes, despite the lessons of their lifestyle. Because of Ava’s love, Kingston thought himself invincible. Although things had calmed down over the last year, Oliver was under no such illusions. If Kingston were honest with himself, he’d realize Oliver was right. The people you loved were never safe if you were stupid enough to claim them publicly. There was always someone waiting in the shadows. Waiting to destroy what you cared about. Waiting and watching for the moment weakness presented itself, allowing for total destruction.
Oliver wouldn’t allow that to happen to Londyn. He wouldn’t let another man ruin and tear this girl to pieces. Her fate was in his hands, and there it would stay until the day she took her last breath. He would hide his obsession from the world—keeping her for himself for as long as it took for the situation to play out. And he would harden his heart against the softening he was beginning to experience. It wasn’t safe for either of them.
Rising from the bed, Oliver grabbed the towels he’d used last night to wipe the blood from her back. He considered stripping the bed of the sheet. He shouldn’t care what his housekeeper thought of the soiled fabric, but something niggled at his insides. Shame, maybe, that he had so brutally used his prisoner, and now he wanted to conceal any evidence of it.
Crumpling the towels, he shoved them into the bathroom hamper along with the bed sheets. Miss Miller could just fucking deal with it and do the damn job he paid her to do.
Turning on the shower, he waited for the water to heat before stepping into the grotto. Some of Londyn’s blood was smeared across his groin, and faint traces of it still stained his cock even after he’d wiped himself. Placing a hand against the stone wall, he leaned forward, watching the water rinse it away until it flowed down the drain in little pink rivulets. His body hardened as he remembered placing Londyn on her hands and knees on the shower bench. His entire body throbbed with savage hunger at the memory of her sleek body shaking while his fingers thrust into her. He couldn’t wait to fuck her in that same position—on her knees and with her ass in the air.
Fuck. He needed to come again.
While it would be ideal if Londyn were there handling his current condition with her sweet mouth or tight cunt, Oliver realized he should curb his appetite. Taking her again so soon would likely hurt her. That left him with the option of jacking off alone. It might temper his hunger for a while. With a low groan, Oliver took himself in hand, gliding a palm over his rigid length until he finally came in a rush.
The release felt strangely empty. Unsatisfying, although his cum splattered across the stone walls. It wasn’t good enough. Hell, jacking off would probably never be good enough again. He doubted he’d be able to fuck another woman for a while after his prisoner was gone.
Rinsing the shower wall clean, Oliver cursed his own goddamn weakness. And his stupidity. He was doing exactly what he promised himself he would never do. He wasn’t the type to get attached. He wasn’t a man who cared. But everything was changing. Dangerously and recklessly, things were becoming different.
He was addicted to Londyn. She was all he wanted.
Oliver undid the tie, tossing it into the passenger seat of the black Mercedes S580 with a grunt of annoyance. He always wore a dark suit and matching tie when undertaking business on behalf of the family, and he hated the constrictive nature of the clothing. It was fortunate that recently, the jobs Kingston tasked him with were usually very easy to complete. Securing and arranging transportation of women that Winter Enterprises selected for rescue and dispatching the men who abused them while the law looked the other way was one of the relatively simple aspects of what he did.
Pulling away from the tarmac at the small regional airport, he considered the fastest route available to get back to the cabin when his cell phone chirped.
The caller was listed as unknown. Very few people had this number, and Oliver knew every single one of them. He clicked the call with a frown, waiting for it to connect to the car’s Bluetooth. Whoever it was, he didn’t have time for their bullshit. He wanted to get back to Londyn and resume where they’d left off.
“Yeah.”
“Winter? Lee Barlow here.”
Oliver’s jaw clenched with annoyance. “How did you get this number?”
“Doesn’t matter-”
Oliver cut the man off with a growl. “The fuck it does. Who gave it to you? Because I sure as fuck didn’t.”
Barlow paused and then said smugly, “You and I know that anything can be bought for the right price. Tell me, are you tired of her yet?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Oliver’s hand curled into a fist. One of the Russian owners of Diamond Lake Ranch was the likely culprit in passing along his private cell number.
“It’s been three weeks. Maybe you’ve already disposed of her? If not, I will pay your price to transfer ownership.”
“Fuck off. She’s not for sale,” Oliver replied calmly, his blood simmering with rage, although he maintained his composure. How dare this fucker think he stood a chance in hell of taking Londyn. “Not now. Not ever.”
“Thought I’d do you a favor by throwing the offer out there. Ruel says a third party is interested in taking her. Said if the funds come through, they’ll hold another auction and hunt. Of course, since she’s no longer a virgin, the bidding will be greatly reduced. But I hope we can avoid that.” Barlow hesitated. “I’d like to work out a deal before they take her back…”
“Take her back? Not fucking happening.”
“That goddamn sale should have been voided that night, Winter,” Barlow said, his tone rising in anger. “You cheated?—”
“Cheated? I cheated?” Oliver snarled softly. “You were fucking about to rape the girl.”
“So what? I caught her first. She was mine to fuck right then and there.”
“You may have caught her, Barlow, but I’m the one who tracked her through the woods. I’m the one smart enough to take out my opponent by any means necessary. And I’m the one who carried her back and was recognized as the obvious winner.”
“You almost gave me a goddamn concussion.”
Oliver laughed. “You were compensated for your loss. Ruel gave you your choice of women and the freedom to do whatever you wanted.”
“I was not given free rein. And I certainly did not have permission to do what I would have done to Item Number Fifteen. She was why I bid in the first place. It was the perfect opportunity to hunt human prey and decide the manner of her death. You stole that remarkable experience away from me,” Barlow grumbled. “The Andrey brothers have promised a second hunt, open to other bidders. If we handle this ourselves, we won’t get screwed over by those fucking Russians.”
“I don’t give a fuck what they’ve promised. I hunted her. I caught her. I’m keeping her. She’s fucking mine .”
Barlow’s laugh was dry. “Don’t be so sure of that, Winter. They have their own sick methods of getting what they want. With certain law-enforcement factions behind them, I don’t doubt they will succeed. But maybe I will beat them to it.”
“Barlow, I want you to understand something. I’m like my brother. Only I’m worse. I’ve tortured more men than I can count and eliminated far more. I am not secretly tormented by this necessity in my life. The Andrey brothers are aware of this, but you don’t know me as well as them. I’m saying this because I want you to remember this. It’s the only time I’ll give you a warning. Don’t fuck with me. And if I ever see you near her , regardless of how innocent the circumstances may be, I will rip you limb from limb and use your head as a paperweight on my desk. Now, lose my fucking number.”
Oliver ended the call.
Over his dead fucking body would he ever give his prize up. Yeah, he’d cheated during the hunt, but that was to be expected. He did what was necessary. That’s what a Winter did. They cheated. Lied. Stole. Killed. And all in the name of getting what they wanted.
“Fuck!” Oliver shouted into the emptiness of the car’s luxury interior.
Barlow’s call was a warning. It was likely already in the works if the Russians had publicly stated their intention to hold another hunt. And what law-enforcement entity was driving the reversal of the permanent sale?
The biggest question was why the apparent fixation on Londyn? Oliver knew some men relished the opportunity to hunt and dispose of a woman. It was a depraved excitement available to the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world. That Londyn was a quiet nobody was a bonus. Being a beautiful, innocent girl made her invaluable. With her background, she would never be missed. No family would be looking for her. No close friends organizing search parties or candlelight vigils. With the overwhelming obligations of school and caring for a seriously ill sister, would anyone raise an eyebrow at the suggestion that Londyn ditched her problems to start over somewhere?
But then again, maybe this didn’t have anything to do with Londyn herself. Maybe this had everything to do with his botched deal with the Russians the year before. They’d been furious when he backed out of selling Ava to them. He hadn’t cared then, and he didn’t now. Especially since he’d reluctantly paid a fortune to smooth things over. Oliver never gave the organization a reason for his decision to back out, but murdering his own partners and reconciling with Kingston made it obvious to the casual observer. It was possible that Ruel and Erik still held grudges even while they smiled, took his money, and kept his membership active at Diamond Lake Ranch. Maybe he’d been too arrogant, too assured of his own ruthless reputation to recognize they hadn’t let any of it go.
Oliver’s teeth clenched with frustration. None of these conjectures or theories mattered. He didn’t give a fuck what the Andrey brothers wanted and/or expected. Londyn wasn’t going back to them, nor would Lee Barlow ever get his hands on her.
She was his. No other man would have an opportunity to take her from him.
He drove the winding mountain roads as if he were a professional racecar driver. It was dangerous, but he could not dispel the sense of urgency hounded him. He’d left her alone for too long, and not restricting her contact with others was a gamble he shouldn’t have taken. Of course, he’d checked the camera system often during his absence, ensuring that Londyn remained in the house. But his fingers itched to touch her silky skin. His lungs couldn’t expand to full capacity without her nearby. And his heart thumped sluggishly when he couldn’t hear her soft breathing. He wondered if he might be going a bit insane. Never had he felt such an overwhelming need for physical contact with someone to feel whole.
It was a four-hour trip to reach the cabin. Oliver made it in three.
While waiting for the gate to swing open, he pulled up the cameras. He didn’t want to search the entire house for her. This was a more efficient method of quickly locating her so he could go straight to her. But her bedroom was empty. As was the library.
For a second, Oliver’s heart stuttered. Had his little dove foolishly attempted an escape?
His footsteps were hard, heavy, and impatient as he ascended the terraced steps in a rush. Entering the open living room and attached foyer, Oliver considered checking the cameras again but stopped when he heard voices, feminine voices coming from the kitchen. Londyn’s sweet voice was instantly recognized, but the giggle that followed was not.
A pang of regret slammed the inside Oliver’s chest, bouncing off his ribs almost painfully.
He’d never heard Londyn laugh. Hell, he’d never even seen her really smile. The fact he suddenly wanted to bask in the sunshine of her happiness was alarming.
Even worse?
He wanted to be the reason for her joy, which was both terrifying and infuriating.