Chapter 43 #2
“Get to it, Tucker.” Cortez’s voice oozed with the perversity of the moment as he pressed the flat of the knife against my neck.
Dragging his forehead back to mine, Drew’s hands found the bare skin on my shoulders, and I didn’t have to look at him to know that his eyes were now closed, too.
The pads of his fingers were warm against my rapidly cooling skin, and even though the situation didn’t call for it, my skin flared into goose pimples, following the line as he traced the faint veins in my shoulder and down my bra strap.
My breath stuttered as I dragged it in, and despite every eye in the place burning into the two of us, all I saw was Drew.
Leaning forward, he ran his nose down mine, his warm breath bathing me until his lips met mine.
It was so hard to stay focused with him so close, when he was touching me that way, but his whispered words and the eyes of every asshole in the building kept me focused.
The gentle tug on the lace made me shiver in horror at the thought of anyone seeing more of me than they already had, but he rolled the material down, exposing more of my skin and brushing his thumbs where he wanted them to go.
It was like the air had been taken from the building. It was a collective inhale from the simple shift of the material, and Drew seemed to feel it the same way I did.
He was focused—focused on me, and with every touch he made, I started to believe that he was losing himself the way he did when it was just the two of us in the privacy of our bedroom.
He hitched in a breath, sliding one hand up to my neck while the other stayed over my breast, and when he began to kiss along my jaw and I could practically hear the hammering of his heart, I felt his tension.
All eyes were on Drew’s touch, sickeningly encapsulated by their perverted natures and the curiosity of how far he was willing to go with his last wish.
They were too engrossed, wondering if Drew would use his last moments alive to fuck me in front of them all.
Their minds had gone to such a depraved place, they didn’t even seem to register how close Drew’s hand was to the blade of Cortez’s knife.
Neither did I. Whether it was love, hope or the simplicity of wishful thinking, my body had fallen under his spell. Every brush of his lips and fingers had me sinking deeper into the security net he had fabricated for me.
It was then that it happened.
“Run,” he whispered, his lips still against my skin.
My mouth parted to ask how, but before I even had time to form the thought, Drew’s arm had tensed and snapped for Cortez’s blade, the sudden movement of his attack catching the Emp off guard as he ripped it from his grip, twisting it around in a half circle to slash it through the air and stab it directly in the waist of the man behind him.
The warehouse filled with primal growls and gasps of disbelief as Drew pulled the knife out of his victim’s flesh, spun it in his grip, only to launch it through the air straight in Cortez’s direction.
I didn’t look behind me. The only reason I knew it had hit was the loud groan of pain that was distinctly Chester Cortez.
I barely had time to shift my shaking limbs when Drew had a gun shoved into my hand and was grabbing one in each of his, swinging them around on the men closest to him.
One fired, one didn’t, and as much as I wanted to stick around and make sure he was safe, there was a louder part of me—one I’m pretty sure he’d conditioned—that knew if I stopped now, I would get us both killed.
We had the element of surprise but that wasn’t going to last forever.
I couldn’t fuck up his plans now. I had to run.
I dodged every hand that seemed to reach for me as I moved, my head finding solace from my predicament by throwing football plays in my mind, keeping me occupied away from the horrific reality I was slap bang in the middle of.
My eyes darted around the place, looking for the best means of escape. I couldn’t double back on myself, which meant the only way I had to go was forward, toward the only door I could see in the darkness.
I burst through it like hell was on my heels, and barely stopped to glance around.
All I knew was that it wasn’t the exit I’d been praying for.
Instead, it was an even darker room than the one I’d been in before.
There were no lights, not even a bared, dull bulb that had been the only illumination in the torture room.
It was just dirty, grimy windows that barely allowed a diffused glow through them.
I didn’t stop running. I couldn’t, and as I passed all the old machinery, I heard boots slapping the concrete behind me.
I was being followed, which was only confirmed all the more when I heard the metallic slam of the door being thrown closed and locked behind us.
I darted between the machines as fast as I could and looped around on myself in the maze, effectively losing him and forcing myself into a crouch behind a corner.
In order to stay alive, I had to be silent, and I had to keep moving.
I just hoped it was enough.