LYRA
O kay, so letting myself get kidnapped on purpose probably wasn’t my brightest idea, but how else am I supposed to keep these boys on their toes?
Playing the hero role is their exact type of foreplay, but I have to admit, playing the role of damsel isn’t usually my preferred cup of tea.
One thing is for sure, though: I seriously underestimated just how boring it was going to be. And dirty for that matter.
I’ve been sitting in this basement for well over an hour, and I have had just about enough.
Where are these boys? They should have been here, kicking my captors’ asses ages ago.
Sure, we’ve all been lying low since the cartel attack outside Black Velvet a few weeks ago, but this is just ridiculous.
The cops ruled it cartel business, a drug deal gone wrong that somehow ended up outside my bar.
Marcus and Dean were let off with a warning after insisting they were just doing their job and acting in self-defense, which was confirmed by the girls inside the bar who were closing up at the time.
As for me and the boys, our names were never mentioned, apart from when Marcus and Dean explained that I had already clocked out for the night and gone home.
The city-wide curfew was scrapped after that.
They held the DeLuca family responsible for all the murders, and just like that, life went right back to normal, and it’s never been better.
Except for right now. Though to be fair, I have no one to blame except for myself.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I let myself get into this situation.
Maybe I should give the boys a little warning before I do something like this again next time, but when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t resist. Besides, it’s not as though I couldn’t get myself out of here with nothing more than my wit, but I want to give the boys a chance to have their precious little egos stroked.
And maybe something else if they’re lucky.
Hunter would likely just roll his eyes at this whole situation, but Maddox . . . shit. He’ll be coming in his pants. This is like Christmas morning to him, and because of that, I have to see this through.
If only this chair wasn’t so uncomfortable.
The rope tying me down is mediocre at best, and more than scratchy against my wrists. Not to mention, the three men standing guard outside the door have done nothing but discuss sports for the past hour with the intellectual depth of soggy cardboard.
It’s wonderful. If they don’t shoot me soon, I might have to do it myself just to escape their conversation.
Don’t get me wrong, they break it up every now and then and come in to hit me with the usual threats and smack me around a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle, and it’s nothing they won’t die for either.
I let out a heavy sigh, loud enough to catch the guards’ attention. When the door opens, one of them marches in, gun in hand, and his narrow eyes are fixed on me. “What?”
“Do you have any hobbies? You know, apart from getting hard over football?”
His face scrunches, and I peer past him to the warehouse beyond his shoulder, groaning when I hear no signs of gunshots, splintering wood, or Maddox-shaped disasters. “Huh?”
I roll my eyes and relax back into my chair. “Never mind.”
Another twenty minutes pass, and my need to wait it out starts to fade, because if the shoe was on the other foot and one of the boys were in my position, I’d already be busting down the door.
I’m rapidly losing patience, and you bet the boys are going to hear about this.
The guards continue their conversation, and that’s when I realize they’re not even discussing real football. It’s fantasy football. And that right there is the perfect excuse to call it quits.
I adjust my hands behind my back, and within seconds, the itchy rope hits the ground with a soft thud, but it’s loud enough to gain the guards’ attention.
The moment their sharp stares shoot toward me, I spring from the hard chair, more than ready to bust my ass out of here, but not before I get payback for the times these assholes put their hands on me.
The guards crowd around me in the cramped room, but they don’t make a move. It’s clear that they don’t have the authority to do a damn thing.
“How . . . how did you do that?” one of them stutters.
I scoff.
“Easy. I’ve had that knot undone for over an hour. Just waiting for the right time.”
“So, you could have just gotten up at any time?” another asks, looking dumbfounded.
“Uhh . . . yeah.”
Complete silence.
The first stuttering guy gapes at me. “Then why didn’t you?”
I shrug, not prepared to tell them that I was waiting for my two heroes to come along and save me so we could fuck in the bloodshed we left behind. “I was simply overwhelmed by your fantasy football teams. It really does it for me, if you know what I mean.”
Their expressions darken, and I roll my neck and shoulders, preparing for what I can only assume is going to be an easy fight. After all, I can’t say I’ve ever had guards pause to ask questions before, but there’s always a first for everything.
“Well,” I say, stretching my fingers out. “It’s been lovely, but it’s time for me to get going now.”
As I step toward the door, one of the guards shifts directly into my path, a sharp glare cutting toward me.
“Oh, you don’t want to do that,” I warn him.
He just smirks, as though truly believing that the three of them are the real threats in the room.
I lean back an inch, drop my body, twist, and let my legs do all the work.
A beautifully executed butterfly kick sends the guard shooting back against the wall, hitting his head hard enough to knock him out cold.
The other two guards gape for a second before springing into action, but I’ve already beat them to the punch.
As the one on the left rushes in, I throw my hand out, catching him right in the throat before sending my elbow straight back and hitting the third in the stomach, watching them both double over.
I linger for a moment longer, watching them cough and sputter on the floor, and I consider taking their guns and ending their lives, but truth be told, they’re just a couple of losers who really have no business being here.
I bet some asshole paid them a couple hundred bucks to stand guard for the night, but it’s clear they’re severely out of their depth.
Instead, I just stride out of the small room and into the main warehouse just in time to see Hunter’s Challenger explode right through the old doors, splintering the wood into a million little pieces.
The car stops in the center of the warehouse and they both barrel out, weapons drawn and faces hard, preparing for war. It’s hot, really fucking hot. But I’m pissed.
My heart races, seeing the genuine fear on their faces, but I go right ahead and trample that out of existence. “Where the hell have you two morons been?”
They both freeze, their stares coming to me, but they don’t dare ease up on their weapons.
“What are you talking about, Savage?” Maddox questions, peering past me to the guards laying on the floor, still sputtering.
“I was testing your response time, which was a huge fail by the way. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour and a half,” I tell them. “Do you have any idea how bored I’ve been? Fantasy football! That’s all I’ve heard about. It’s driving me insane.”
Hunter blinks. “Lyra—”
“An hour and a half,” I say. “I could have watched a whole movie.”
Hunter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose while Maddox has the nerve to look genuinely offended. “We came as fast as we could.”
“I know coming fast is your specialty, but there was nothing fast about this,” I tell them.
“I had this whole thing planned. You were going to race in and be my heroes and then we were gonna fuck like wild animals. It was going to be great, but you took literally a whole lifetime to get here. And now the Challenger is all scratched up.”
Hunter presses his lips into a hard line, glancing back at his car before fixing that hard stare on me again. “I fucked up my car for nothing?”
“Well, it wasn’t for nothing. I really was being held hostage in there. It was just . . . You know what? It doesn’t matter,” I say, striding up to him and pushing onto my toes to kiss him. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
His hand finds my waist, pulling me in. “How?”
“I’ll buff out every scratch. Absolutely naked.”
His brow arches, and Maddox curses under his breath. “Goddamn it. I knew I should have brought the bike.”
I laugh as I glance over toward him. “Hey, you can watch, too, big guy. You know I like it when both your eyes are on me.”
Hunter gets back to business, his hand tightening on my waist. “Alright, if your life currently isn’t in mortal danger, and you’re done fucking with my patience, could we go home? We’ve got something to show you.”
My body stiffens. “Like what?”
Maddox grins from across the warehouse, shoving the gun into the back of his pants. “If we told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”
My heart starts to race. “A surprise?”
Hunter leads me back to the Challenger. “Mm-hmm. Now get your ass in the car before I have to put it there.”
“Oooh, I’ve got grouchy Hunter tonight,” I tease, stepping past him to get in the car. “I like it.”
The drive home is suspiciously silent, and by the time we’re pulling into the driveway, I’m all but bursting from the seams, desperate to know what this little surprise is all about.
But when Hunter cuts the engine, and I step out onto the pavement, I see a strange red glow coming from just behind the house.
I suck in a breath as Maddox comes to stand next to me, his hand dropping to my ass. “Tell me I’m imagining things,” I say, fighting the tears welling in my eyes.
“I can’t do that.”
“Holy shit.”
Hunter moves past us to unlock the door, and the moment it opens, Smooch barrels out, jumping up at my chest and almost knocking me over.