Chapter 15
My jaw aches, but at least Sam’s going to do what he can for Chelsea and I. If all it takes is my agreement and my seemingly willing body, I’ll do it.
He helps me to my feet, pressing another kiss to my swollen lips. “I’m sorry,” he says for the hundredth time.
The doorknob rattles, Brad attempting to force his way inside after growing increasingly frustrated by Sam dragging out the last moments of our alone time.
The lock disengages and the door slams open, missing Sam by a fraction of a centimetre.
Brad’s furious gaze sweeps the room, eyes narrowing once they land on me.
“What the fuck are you doing in here? I said it was time to go.”
“Sorry, guess I missed the part where Maximus died and made you the fucking boss.” Any softness Sam showered me with is gone in an instant. Replaced by the condescending dick from before as a sly grin pulls at his mouth.
“Why is she un-gagged? You’re supposed to be prepping her for delivery,” snaps Brad.
I hate that he talks about me like I’m not a person, just a fucking product for purchase, packaging, and transportation.
I suppose, in his eyes, I am…Chelsea too.
It unnerves me how well he was able to play us.
Putting up the front of having humanity, when clearly he lacks any positive emotions at all.
“Not that it’s any business of yours since I’m sure you were up to the same things as us, but this little slut here…
" Sam fists his hand in my hair, yanking my head back, “was begging for her freedom.” Wincing from his roughness, I glare at him, about to give him a tongue lashing. His eyes don’t dare leave Brad’s face, but his fist loosens then tightens in my hair.
It’s enough of a signal for me to shut the fuck up and take it.
I saw the aftereffects of Brad’s time with Chelsea, and I’m lucky as fuck to be getting out of this pretty much unscathed.
Brad grumbles some half-ass response, knowing he doesn’t have a leg to stand on if he was out there assaulting my sister. “Whatever. Shut her up before she starts screaming her head off, then get out here and help me with the final clean up. We have to go, water’s choppy this morning.”
“Sure thing, partner.”
Brad scowls at Sam, who shoots him a wink in return. Turning, he takes two steps toward the exit. “Door stays open.”
“You got it.” Sam nods.
Brad strolls out of the bathroom, turning out of sight, and Sam abruptly kicks the door closed, locking it.
“What are you—” Sam’s hand quickly but gently lands over my mouth, silencing me.
His finger raises over his lips. “Shhhhh,” he whispers so low I can barely hear.
Moving closer, his lips brush against my ear.
“I have to check in after the cruise, I’ll find you then.
” His hand reaches behind me, and the sound of tape pulling off the roll awakens a new type of fear.
I willingly have to accept my fate while hiding the small bloom of hope that Sam can do something about it when he returns.
“Just be good until I get back, and don’t get yourself killed.
Can you promise me that?” He pulls away slightly, gaze flitting over my face.
Slowly, I nod. What other choice do I have?
There’s no family for me to run to. They’re the reason Chelsea and I are in this situation.
She’s all I have, and if Sam will do whatever he can to get us out of it because of this connection he feels, I’ll nurture that growing adoration inside him until it blossoms into love.
Then once we’re safe, I’ll kill him myself for ever manipulating me like this.
Sam rips the strip of tape off the roll. Hanging his head, he sucks in a deep breath, huffing it out. “I hate this.”
“It’s okay,” I breathe. “Do it.”
His blue eyes slowly raise, dragging up my body and stopping when they lock with mine. “I can’t.”
“Please, Brad won’t be nice about it.”
Still, he hesitates, not moving a muscle.
Inching up on my tiptoes, I press my lips into his.
I only mean for it to be brief, to transfer him the courage he needs to seal the tape over my mouth once more, but the tragedy of the last few hours slams into me.
My hopefulness from before crashes down around me, its shards working painfully beneath my skin.
I pour what could have been into the kiss, as it becomes the only thing keeping the sob wanting to break free locked up.
Sam abruptly pulls away, and I lose my footing, falling into him. My arms are still tethered behind my back, and the fright of face-planting on the hard tile takes over the despair that was threatening to break me.
He catches me before I hit the cold floor, righting me on my feet before releasing me. “Thank you,” I murmur.
“No, don’t fucking thank me. I don’t deserve it.”
“Fine, I won’t thank you now. I’ll thank you when this is all over and you’re the hero. Deal?”
Sam’s blue eyes light up as they lift to mine, and he nods slightly. The longer we drag this out, the more worried I become about Chelsea alone out there with Brad. I need Sam on my side though, and it feels like I’m being split down the middle by the urge to be in two places at once.
Sam balls up the previous piece of tape, tossing it into the trash can. Before ripping a new piece, he tilts my chin up and sweeps my hair away from my face. The gesture is sweet, and should be appreciated, but I hate him.
I should hate him.
But I want him to kiss me again.
The sticky tape seals my lips as his press lightly against my forehead.
“Ready?”
“Mhmm.”
Sam swings open the door, and immediately in my field of view is Brad with a knife pressed to my sister’s throat. A thin stream of blood trailing down her slender neck.