Sweet Captivity Excerpt
“You don’t want to do this,” I choked out past the lump of terror that clogged my throat. I kept a wary eye on the wicked hunting knife Cristian Moreno held naturally at his side, as though it were an innocuous extension of his arm rather than a threat to my life. “Let me go.”
He threw back his head and laughed, his perfect white teeth flashing as the booming sound assaulted my eardrums. My hands shook violently, causing the ropes that bound my arms behind me to chafe against my wrists.
The burn of the rough fibers against my skin and cold bite of the metal chair beneath me were peripheral; my entire focus was centered on Moreno and the way the gleam of the spare overhead light bulb made his dark eyes glint as sharply as the knife in his hand.
“No, Samantha,” he corrected me calmly, his light Colombian accent making his deep voice almost lyrical when he spoke my name.
“You’re never leaving this place. Not alive, at least. If you answer my questions, I might be inclined to mercy.
Otherwise…” He left the unspoken threat hanging in the air, the implication clear.
I would experience agony before he finally disposed of me.
No. Don’t think like that.
I gasped in several deep breaths so I could manage to speak again.
“My friends will find me,” I asserted, knowing Dex wouldn’t leave me to die here. My best friend would do whatever it took to rescue me.
“If they do, they won’t find more than what’s left of your body.”
Ice crystallized in my veins. He took a step toward me, raising the knife. I tried to shrink away, but the unyielding metal chair behind my back kept me immobile.
“You can’t hurt me,” I said desperately, twisting against my restraints. “If you kill me, my friends will hunt you down.”
His dazzling smile illuminated his darkly handsome features with cruel amusement.
“I want them to know what I’ve done. Your death will be a warning. We’re going to send a little message to your friends.” He gestured behind him, and for the first time, my gaze darted away from the threat before me.
A man loomed a few feet away, the light on his smart phone indicating that he was recording me. A wicked scar puckered his tanned cheek, deepening his fearsome scowl. His black gaze bored into me, his dark glare penetrating my soul. I shuddered and tore my eyes away, unable to bear looking at him.
Moreno laughed again. “What, you don’t like my little brother?
” He cocked his head at me. “Maybe I’ll give you to him to play with, after I’m finished with you.
He has… very unique tastes.” He reached for me, his long fingers trailing down my cheek.
I cringed away, my stomach churning. “I think Andrés will like you. Such pale skin. It will mark up nicely.” He shook his head slightly, still smiling.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself. He can have you when I’m done. I’m going to extract my answers first.”
The sharp knife kissed my throat, and I choked on a scream as horror overwhelmed me.
Cristian stepped behind me so his brother’s camera could get clearer footage of what I was enduring. His big fist tangled in my hair, jerking my head back so I had no choice but to stare up into his cruel black eyes.
The cold tip of the knife scraped upward from the center of my throat, grazing over my skin as it traced a path under my chin.
I stopped breathing when the flat of the blade swiped across the line of my lips.
A high whimper slipped through them, the resultant vibration threatening to make the knife pierce my skin.
As it was, the tightly packed nerve endings on my lips sparked as the cool metal kissed them.
The knife left my mouth, but I didn’t have time to suck in a panting breath before the frigid blade returned to my throat.
“You were in my territory today, watching my people. One of my men followed you home. Who are you working for?” he demanded.
“I’m FBI,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. With the knife at my throat, I could scarcely draw the breath I needed to speak.
He frowned at me. “A sniper made an attempt on my life a few days ago. The feds wouldn’t assassinate me. Who are you really working for?” The blade sliced a thin, stinging line across my throat.
“I really am FBI,” I said in a rush, the truth spilling from my lips.
If he knew I was a federal agent, he wouldn’t dare hurt me.
“My name is Samantha Browning. I’m a tech analyst. Well, I was.
I’m a field agent now. I’m not trying to kill you.
We’re investigating you. You have to know you’re on our radar.
Please, I swear I’m FBI.” I was aware that I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop pleading for my life.
He considered me for a long, terrifying moment, weighing my fate. “You’re a tech analyst? That means you have access to all the evidence the feds have on me. If you’re telling the truth about who you are.”
“I am,” I said quickly. “You can’t hurt me. If you do, my friends will come after you.”
“I think I’ll give you to my brother, after all,” he mused.
“He’ll make sure you’re telling the truth.
I’d rather not mutilate you, if you’re going to be useful to me.
Andrés has more creative ways of breaking women.
And I’ll keep our little video to ourselves.
If you are who you say you are, I’d rather your friends at the FBI didn’t know I have you. ”
The knifepoint pressed against my cheek, just below my left eye. The pressure increased slightly, and I felt warmth bead on my skin. It slid down my cheek like a crimson tear. My eyes watered, and Cristian’s handsome face wavered above me.
“Maybe I’ll give you a scar to match my brother’s first,” he mused.
A deep growl sounded from a few feet in front of me, and I knew it came from Andrés. I couldn’t so much as glance in his direction; Cristian’s long fingers in my hair kept me immobile.
A sharp grin lit his features with amusement. “Apparently, he wants you mostly intact. Should I give him what he wants?”
The fearsome growl sounded again, a wordless warning. I shuddered, equally as frightened of the prospect of his desire to have me as I was of the knife piercing my cheek.
“Not the face, then,” Cristian said decisively. “But I think I’ll let Andrés see what he’s getting to work with.”
The knife left my face, but the blade instantly hooked beneath the top button of my shirt.
It gave way easily as the sharp steel tore through thread.
He continued to move the blade downward, trailing a sickening path between my breasts, over my navel, down to the top of my slacks.
The fabric fell open with a flick of the knife, leaving me exposed in my white cotton bra.
A plea for mercy locked in my throat. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. My mind began to shut down, the adrenaline created by fear clouding my brain.
Cristian’s fingers tightened in my hair, giving me a bite of pain. “Stay with us, Samantha,” he ordered smoothly.
The world sharpened around me with cruel clarity just before pain sliced into me.
The tip of the knife grated a torturously slow line along my right collarbone.
The cut was shallow, but blood welled up as the blade scraped bone.
The scream that had been trapped inside me burst out as pain seared through me.
He hooked the blade beneath the little strip of cotton at the middle of my bra, parting the fabric and exposing me.
My scream choked off on a sob as terror mingled with humiliation.
“What do you think, hermanito?” Cristian asked with mild interest. “Is she pretty enough for you? She’s not a great beauty, but her nipples stand out nicely against her pale skin.”
My skin turned frigid, my flesh pebbling as ice sank into my veins. I vaguely recognized that I was going into shock as my entire body began to shake violently.
“And her eyes are quite lovely,” he continued in detached observation. “So much fear there. You like when they’re frightened, don’t you, Andrés?”
His low grunt in reply rolled around my mind, but my capacity for conscious thought had been ripped to shreds. The knife left my breasts to slice through the ropes that bound my wrists behind me. I slumped forward, my watery muscles incapable of holding me upright.
Strong arms closed around my shoulders, bracing me before I slid to the floor. I was dimly aware of my body being lifted. My head lolled back, and the last thing I saw before my mind short-circuited was Andrés’ fearsome, scarred face looming over me.
Stinging pain on my chest yanked me back to awareness, and I bolted upright with a gasp.
Panic blinded me, but firm hands gripped my upper arms, pressing me back down against something soft that cushioned my body.
I was no longer sitting on the unyielding metal chair.
I recognized the feel of a mattress beneath me, and my torso was pinned down against it by a strong, masculine hold.
I squirmed and kicked, instinctively trying to fight my way free.
I became aware of cool air against my breasts, and I realized I was still exposed.
My heart hammered against my ribcage, and I doubled my efforts to fight off the man holding me down, my fingers clawing blindly.
His hands easily encircled my wrists, trapping them at either side of my hips.
“Calm down, cosita, or I’ll have to restrain you.” I recognized the soft Colombian accent.
Moreno had me. He’d hurt me, stripped me…
Oh god. He’d given me to his terrifying brother. Andrés.
And now I was half-naked and helpless in his steely hold.
I couldn’t stop thrashing, my muscles rippling with effort to break free. My stomach twisted, nausea rising as the full horror of my situation came down on me.