Chapter 6
Chapter Six
BYNN AND THE PILLOW MINT
The basement’s chill wrapped around me like a cold embrace, but it was the descending footfalls that caused my chest to tense. Joel appeared in the basement, the embodiment of suspicion, filling the doorway with his imposing presence. I straightened up against the wall of my cell, gripping the bars to anchor myself in the here and now.
“How are you today, Elizabeth?” Joel’s voice was as hard as the concrete beneath us.
The question grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. As if he actually cared about my well-being while keeping me locked up in this dank hellhole. I bit back a scathing retort, opting instead for a more measured approach.
“As expected, given your hospitality.” My response was sharp, edged with the sarcasm that had become my shield.
He stepped closer, the light from overhead throwing thin shadows across his rugged features. “Your father, what’s his endgame? Why did he betray us?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Here we go again with the Shoemaker inquisition. If I had a credit for every time they asked me about that manipulative bastard’s plans, I could buy my way out of this mess.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I was tired of pretending to be Shoemaker’s daughter, but I had to keep up the charade for Kay.
Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “Don’t play games with me, Elizabeth. Your father’s actions have hurt my business.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. The lie sat heavy on my tongue, but I forced it out anyway. “I’m not playing anything. I genuinely don’t know what he did to you.” Which was true. I had no idea why the Porters and Shoemaker were enemies.
He prowled closer to the bars, his presence suffocating in the confined space. “You expect me to believe that? You’re his daughter, for Christ’s sake.”
A bitter laugh bubbled up in my chest. If only he knew the irony of his words. I was about as much Shoemaker’s daughter as Joel was a humanitarian.
My hands tightened on the cold metal, my knuckles whitening. “Being his daughter doesn’t mean I’m privy to his schemes. You of all people should understand that family doesn’t always equal trust.”
Joel’s nostrils flared, a flicker of something—pain, maybe?—crossing his face before it hardened again. “You don’t know anything about me or my family. And it doesn’t change the fact that you’re our one bargaining chip.”
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cool bars. “And what does that mean? Why did you kidnap me?”
Joel’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Oh, sweetheart. Daddy dearest has something we want, and you’re our way of forcing him to give it to us.”
The endearment made my skin flush hot. I wanted to reach through the bars and slap that smug look off his face. Instead, I plastered on a mask of indifference, determined not to let him see how much his words affected me.
I scoffed, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. “Oh, really? I thought I was just eye candy for your drab little dungeon. How disappointingly utilitarian of you.”
“Cute.” He stepped a little closer, close enough for me to catch a whiff of expensive cologne. “But your quips won’t save you from what’s coming. Your father’s got the next three days to deliver the tech, or we keep his precious princess a while longer.”
My stomach lurched, but I forced a nonchalant shrug. “You don’t scare me.” But he did.
Joel’s face darkened, his jaw working as if chewing on a particularly unpleasant thought. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you? Must be genetic. Your old man’s silver tongue is what got us into this mess in the first place.”
If only he knew how un-genetic my sharp tongue was. I’d learned it on the streets, not from some fancy Elite businessman.
“Oh please.” I snorted. “Joel, if you fell for his sales pitch, that’s on you. Ever heard of due diligence? Or did you skip that day in Ruthless Business 101?”
He slammed his palm against the wall near my cell, the sound reverberating through the basement. “You think this is a game? Your father offered us tech and then pulled out of the deal at the last second. We had contracts signed and in place and he made us look like fools! He’s a fucking traitor!”
I blinked, genuinely surprised. “Wait, what?”
Joel’s gaze narrowed, searching my face. “You really don’t know, do you? Well, isn’t that interesting.”
A coldness ran down my spine. What the hell had Shoemaker gotten himself into? And more importantly, what had he dragged me into?
Before I could counter, the sound of more stomps on the staircase signaled an intrusion. Braxton and Sebastian entered the room. From the corner of my eye, I caught the warmth in Braxton’s smile, the thoughtful crease of Sebastian’s brow.
“Thought we’d find you here, grilling our guest,” Braxton said, his tone light, teasing. It was like a refreshing breeze in the stifling tension between Joel and me.
“Someone has to,” Joel snapped, but the ferocity seemed to have dulled a little bit in the presence of his two cousins, and his stance less rigid.
Braxton chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Hey, Joel, remember that time we snuck into your dad’s wine cellar? Uncle Fredrick was so pissed.”
Sebastian’s lips quirked. “How could I forget? You nearly knocked over that priceless Ming vase.”
Joel snorted. “Yeah, and Sebastian here squealed like a stuck pig.”
“Did not,” Sebastian protested, his calm demeanor cracking slightly.
Braxton grinned. “Oh, you absolutely did. Sounded like a teakettle on steroids.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fascinating. Really. You three should take this act on the road.”
Joel shot me a glare. “Nobody asked you, princess.”
I shrugged. “Yet here I am, forced to listen to your little trip down memory lane. Lucky me.”
Braxton’s grin widened. “Aw, come on. Don’t you want to hear about the time Joel got his head stuck in the banister when we were kids?”
“It wasn’t stuck,” Joel said softly. “I was...inspecting it.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “For two hours?”
“Shut it,” Joel mumbled, a hint of red creeping up his neck.
I listened to the cousins banter, my back pressed to the cool wall, as they shared memories of a past I knew nothing about. The laughter, the camaraderie—it was disarming. For a split second, I allowed myself to see Joel not as my captor, but as a man shaped by family and loyalty.
I smirked. “Let me guess, you were ‘inspecting’ it face-first?”
“I said shut up, you two!” Joel snapped, but there was less bite to it now.
Braxton snickered. “Oh man, remember how Aunt Mildred found him? She thought he was praying and started joining in!”
Sebastian’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Poor Joel was too embarrassed to admit he was stuck.”
“I wasn’t stuck!” Joel insisted, but a slow smile touched his lips.
I leaned back against the cell wall. “Well, this has been delightful. Really. But if story time’s over, I’d love to get back to my regularly scheduled imprisonment.” Then I smiled and said in a softer tone. “Must’ve been nice, having each other. A true family affair.”
A twinge of envy coiled in my gut. These guys might be kidnappers, but at least they had each other’s backs. Unlike some people I knew on the streets.
Their gazes turned to me, each holding a different expression of understanding. Joel’s tare narrowed, assessing whether my words held mockery or sincerity.
“Family’s everything,” Sebastian stated, and there was a gravity in his tone that resonated somewhere deep within me.
“Sure is,” I agreed quietly, the memory of my own little sister flaring bright and painful.
A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden sting in my eyes. Kay’s face flashed in my mind, her bright smile and unwavering optimism a bright contrast to the cold, damp cell surrounding me. I’d give anything to see that smile right now, to know she was safe. The sudden ache in my chest threatened to swallow me whole.
Joel’s brow furrowed, his earlier amusement fading. “What’s that supposed to mean? You referring to your old man? The asshole who double crossed us?”
I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance even with the ache in my chest. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud about the wonderful world of nepotism and inherited wealth. You know, the usual daydreams of us lowly peasants.”
Braxton let out a low whistle. “Damn, she’s got claws.”
“And a rather sharp tongue,” Sebastian added, a smile gracing his face.
I flashed them a sardonic grin. “What can I say? It’s a survival skill. You’d be surprised how far a quick wit can get you when you’re scraping by on the streets.”
Well, shit. Open mouth, insert foot. Way to go, Brynn.
Joel took a step closer to the cell, his earlier playfulness replaced by intensity. “What are you talking about? You live in a mansion with daddy Shoemaker, who has more money than God.”
Oops! I’d almost blown my cover.
My heart quickened, but I kept my expression neutral. “I-I meant...” Shit! How was I going to get out of this mess? I scrambled to recover, my heart pumping fast and hard. “I meant hypothetically, of course. One can’t help but wonder what it’s like on the other side of the fence. All that glitters isn’t gold, right?”
Smooth, Brynn. Real smooth. They’ll never suspect a thing now. Maybe I should’ve gone into politics instead of scavenging.
Joel’s gaze bore into me, suspicion etched across his features. “Funny way of putting it for someone who’s lived in luxury her whole life.”
“Oh, come now,” I said, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears. “You can’t possibly think I’ve been completely sheltered. Daddy dearest isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type.”
Braxton cocked his head. “No? What’s life really like in the Shoemaker castle?”
I swallowed hard, desperately grasping for details I’d gleaned about Elizabeth’s life. “It’s...cold. Sterile. Like living in a museum where you can’t touch anything. Every move watched, every word measured.”
Not too far from the truth, really. Just swap “museum” for “streets” and “daddy dearest” for “ruthless gang leaders.”
Sebastian’s expression softened. “That sounds...lonely.”
“Spare me the pity party.” Joel chuckled. “Poor little rich girl, trapped in her ivory tower. Cry me a river.”
I bit back a retort, reminding myself I was supposed to be Elizabeth. Instead, I shrugged. “You asked. I answered. Believe what you want.”
If only they knew the truth. I’d trade this “ivory tower” for a warm meal and Kay’s safety in a heartbeat. But hey, a girl’s gotta keep her secrets, right?
These guys had no idea how close to home they were hitting. Every word out of their mouths was like a little jab to my ribs, reminding me just how precarious this whole charade was. But I’d be damned if I’d let them see me sweat. After all, the streets of New Boston had taught me one invaluable lesson—never show your hand, even when you’re holding nothing but jokers.
Braxton leaned against the wall, a smirk on his lips. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly been locked away from the world, you’ve got quite the street-smart vibe going on.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What can I say? I’m a quick study. You pick things up, even from behind gilded bars.”
Gilded bars, my ass. The only bars I’d ever known were the rusty fire escapes Kay and I used to climb when we needed a quick getaway.
Joel’s hands suddenly slammed against the cell bars, making me flinch. “Cut the crap. Who are you really?”
I steeled myself, meeting his gaze. “I’m exactly who you think I am. Elizabeth Shoemaker, daughter of the man who screwed you over. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it. But I’d learned long ago that sometimes the best defense was a good offense. Keep them on their toes, keep them guessing.
Sebastian stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Easy, cousin. She’s just trying to get under our skin.”
I forced a smirk, hoping it masked my growing panic. “Is it working?”
Joel scowled. “You call getting caught and locked up fun?”
I leaned forward, meeting his gaze. “Well, the company’s not half bad. Plus, I get three square meals a day and a roof over my head. It’s practically a five-star hotel.”
If only they knew how true that was. Compared to the dumpsters and abandoned buildings Kay and I had called home, this cell was practically the Ritz. But I couldn’t afford to get comfortable.
Braxton chuckled, earning a glare from Joel. Sebastian, however, remained thoughtful, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
“You’re not like the others we’ve dealt with,” Braxton said softly.
I arched an eyebrow. “Should I be flattered or offended?”
“Neither,” he replied. “Just...intrigued.”
I felt my pulse quicken, aware of the dangerous game I was playing. One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and my cover—and possibly my life—would be forfeit. The trick was to keep them guessing, keep them off balance. Because the moment they thought they had me figured out was the moment I’d lose everything. And right now, I couldn’t tell whether I was about to pull off the greatest con of my life or plummet into the abyss.
“Well, as much as I’m enjoying this little interrogation session,” I said, forcing a yawn, “I think I’ll turn in for the night. You gentlemen wouldn’t happen to have a mint for my pillow, would you?”
Joel snorted, but I caught the hint of amusement in his expression. “Don’t push your luck, princess.”
I gasped in mock offense. “I had hoped we were developing such a lovely rapport. I’m hurt, Joel. Truly wounded.”
Braxton burst out laughing, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Oh, man, she’s got you pegged, cousin.”
Sebastian’s gaze lingered on me, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. “Somehow,” he murmured, “I think she’s more than just our prisoner.”
“I ought to check in for a meeting,” Braxton said, his voice carrying a hint of responsibility beneath its usual levity. “See you soon, Elizabeth.”
Joel nodded, his gaze still locked with mine. “Yeah. Let’s leave Elizabeth to her peace and quiet.” The way he said my name—well, not my name—suggested he wasn’t fully convinced, but for now, he seemed content to play along.
Braxton winked at me before turning to follow Joel up the staircase. Once they had vanished from view, the basement felt colder, the silence heavier. Only Sebastian remained, his presence like a solace and a curse all at once. He approached my cell, his eyes searching.
“Are you okay, Elizabeth?” His voice was gentle, with a touch of concern that didn’t belong in this grim setting.
“Sure,” I lied, my shoulders slumping. I couldn’t let myself be swayed by kindness. But then, why did my body betray me, leaning into the bars, aching to close the space between us?
“Sebastian...” I looked into his deep brown eyes, so full of sincerity.
“Tell me the truth,” he urged.
The truth? That I craved the touch of a man who should be nothing more than my jailer? That the memory of the hot, sweaty, great sex we’d had only fueled the desire and despair within me?
“About what?” I whispered.
“Nothing,” he conceded faintly. His hand reached through the bars, fingers grazing my cheek as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a flash of desire through me, waking every nerve ending with lust and longing.
His fingers moved down my cheek, coming to rest under my chin. He tilted my face up, and I found myself lost in his intense gaze. “But this...this feels real. Doesn’t it?”
It did. Alarmingly so.
Sebastian leaned in, and suddenly the world beyond the cell faded away. His lips met mine, and my knees nearly buckled beneath me. The kiss was a delicious contradiction – passionate yet tender, demanding yet giving. My hands found their way to his back, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were a lifeline.
I returned the kiss with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of my conflicted emotions into it. The taste of him, the warmth of his body pressed against mine – it was intoxicating. My head spun, and I found myself craving more.
Just as abruptly as it began, Sebastian pulled away. The sudden absence of his touch left me reeling, struggling to catch my breath.
“Sebastian...” I gasped, trying to steady the lust exploding in my body from that kiss.
“Shh.” He hushed me, his thumb touching the line of my jaw. “You don’t have to say anything.”
But I did. I wanted to scream, to rage, to demand answers. I wanted to beg him to kiss me again, consequences be damned. The words bubbled up inside me, threatening to spill over.
Instead, I watched in agonized silence as he turned and walked away. The cell door closed with a soft click, leaving me alone with the ghost of his touch and the chaos of my own thoughts.
I pressed my forehead against the cool metal bars, willing my throbbing heart to settle. What had just happened? And more importantly, what was I going to do about it?