Chapter 8
EMRIS
I watch from the porch as she sprints down the dirt road, shaking my head at her antics. There’s nowhere for her to go. That road alone stretches nearly ten miles. It will take her all day. I want her to believe she has a shot at freedom before I bring her back.
The plan wasn’t to keep her but to take her back to the bar and let her go about her normal life a tad richer—giving her hush money because it would only be fair after what we’ve put her through in such a short amount of time.
But she sealed her fate the moment she decided to fight me.
No one has ever dared to do that. It’s always been an easy fight.
Everyone is usually so scared, they cower and beg for their lives.
But not her.
She attacked me the second the doors to the van opened, and she didn’t stop. It was fun. It also made me fucking hard. I mean, come on—then she fucking stabbed me. It’s not deep, and the bleeding has already stopped, but she still did it nonetheless.
Maybe her crazy will match mine?
I leave the front door open as I walk down the steps to the basement, finding Carson having a difficult time getting up off the floor.
“She fucking hit me with a shovel,” he complains, rubbing the back of his head.
“Karma.” I shrug and scan the room. The broken chair is the first thing I notice. Glass scattered across the floor, followed by a trail of blood leading to the stairs.
“Did she get away?” Carson asks, his eyes following where mine are.
“Yeah, but she won’t get far. I need to swing into town and pick up a few things.
I’ll be back after.” I make a mental checklist of what I’ll need as I go up the stairs.
“Figure out a game plan. We need to find that Susie bitch before it’s too late.
And find out who the hell this girl is. I want a name and an address so I can go get her shit. ”
“What do you mean?” he asks. “Aren’t we taking her back?”
“Nah. I’m keeping this one.” I smirk, and Carson lets out a laugh.
“You know that’s not a good idea, right? Archer and Killian might get mad.”
“You think Killian, out of all people, would be mad about this? That man is fucking crazy. He won’t care.” Archer on the other hand…I’m not sure.
I don’t wait for his response as I climb the stairs.
This beautiful girl is mine, and she’s not going anywhere now.
I have three cars. My custom-built 1970 black Mustang, a white and red Jaguar, and an SUV.
A few years ago, Killian and I built the Mustang from the bottom up. It took us so fucking long to get her up and running since some of the parts we needed were extremely hard to find. The black, shiny exterior is what you’d see in those Ford magazines. Everything about this car is fucking perfect.
I grab the keys to my Jaguar instead of my Mustang, not wanting to chance any damage to it. The engine roars to life, and I blast the heater, attempting to take the edge off since I didn’t grab my jacket.
I head down the long dirt road, keeping my eyes peeled for my captive.
I press the gas, going well over what I usually do.
I want her to know I’m coming and that she didn’t get away.
I want her to be scared, to think I’m going to hurt her—and I just might.
Part of me wants to, the other part wants to fuck her nice and deep. I plan on doing both at some point.
Her small frame comes into view about a quarter of the way down the road, and I rev my engine, causing her to look over her shoulder.
She takes off running down the road like she has a chance to get away.
I don’t slow down until I’m right behind her, and even then, she doesn’t stop.
I press down on the gas and swerve around her, cutting her off, and she almost hits my car but manages to halt herself.
Putting the car in park, I swing my door open. She stands there in shock, but the door slamming shut seems to break her out of her trance.
Neither of us say anything for a few seconds as I lean back against my car. I’m not sure what she’s waiting for, but I’m a patient man. Kinda. She definitely isn’t the type of girl to listen, so there’s no way she’s willingly going to get into my car.
“What the fuck do you want?” She crosses her arms as if unsure of what to do.
Awe, a little spitfire.
“Well, if you didn’t stab me and run out of my house, I would’ve told you.” I shrug, copying her and crossing my arms over my own chest. “Get in the car. You’re bleeding.” I nod to her hands, wrapped with material from her shirt.
She looks down at her hands as if she forgot. “I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t look fine to me,” I say but she doesn’t respond, silence stretching between us.
“Get in the car.” I repeat, slower this time, but she still doesn’t move.
“Are you taking me home?” There is something in her voice, something I can’t place.
“Nope.”
“Then I’m not getting in the car.”
I let out a laugh, and she takes a step back when I push off the car. “I don’t remember giving you a choice.” I watch as her face turns white the closer I get.
She steps back again, and I take one forward. We do this a few more times before she decides she would like to try running... again. Unfortunately for her, I’m getting annoyed now.
I reach out and grip the back of her neck before she can get away. She cries out as I slam her back into my chest. I don’t loosen my grip as I lean down, dragging my nose through her black hair. Fuck, she smells like honey and vanilla. Her body doesn’t move an inch as we stand there.
“Let me go,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion as the weight of her fate settles in.
“No,” is all I say as I step back, turning her around before leaning down and pushing my shoulder into her stomach.
She fights me like she did the first time, but her punches aren’t as strong because of the cuts.
I’ll take care of them once we get back, but for now, she needs to learn what I say goes, and letting her go isn’t an option.
I pull open the trunk and move her down my body until my arm is under her back and at the crook of her thighs before dropping her to the floor of the trunk. She’ll be fine for the twenty minutes it’ll take me to get what I need.
“Maybe being shoved in a trunk will make you fucking listen?” I snap when she automatically tries to push herself out, but I don’t let her, blocking each of her attempts.
As I go to lower the top, she starts to protest. “No! No! Please. Please don’t lock me in here. I promise I’ll go with you. Please!”
“No thanks,” I say, looking down at her. She’ll be fine. Plus, I don’t trust myself being close to her. Not yet.
“Wait! Who the fuck are you? You’ve kidnapped me, and I don’t even know your name!” The panic in her voice makes me want to laugh.
“Emris. My name is Emris.”
I don’t say anything else as I lower the top of the trunk with a smile on my face.
“See you soon,” I chuckle as it clicks closed.
She screams, and fuck if it’s not loud. I tap the hood and then round the car, getting into the driver’s side and heading down the road. I need a few things to stock up on, then I plan on taking her to her place to get her stuff.
My phone rings from the cup holder, and I grab it, Carson’s name flashing across my screen.
Perfect timing.
“What’s up?” I ask, speeding down the road, making sure to hit every bump to piss her off. I chuckle when she yells from the trunk.
“What’s got you laughing?”
“Nothing. Got her in the trunk, and she’s not happy.” Another laugh shakes my chest.
He ignores my comment and gets to the point of the phone call.
“Jesus Christ. Okay, well, her name is Brielle Graves. She’s twenty-two. Rents a room at The Green Tree Apartments up the road from that bar. Mom died of cancer a few months ago, dad’s been gone since she was born. No siblings and no school records after high school.”
Interesting.
“Thanks. I’ll be back soon. Call Killian and fill him in on what happened. Keep the details about me keeping Brielle to yourself. I’ll tell him that when we go to the hotel.”
“Got it,” Carson says before hanging up.
I let all the new info about my captive sink in. Is what I’m doing wrong? Yep. Do I feel bad? Not really.
She will come around.
Eventually.
Turning up the radio, I drown out her occasional yells, whistling along to the song playing over my speakers.